Monthly Archives: April 2017

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The names of the twelve apostles are these: first Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother; James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James the son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus, Simon the Cananaean, and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.  (Matthew 10:2-4)

Tomorrow begins the Holy Triduum with the Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper.  Certainly, our focus remains on the Lord and his institution of the Eucharist, the Mass, and Holy Orders.  But let us not forget those twelve men who sat down with Him that night to eat the Passover.  Over the past three years, they had seen the blind given sight, the lame made to walk, even the dead rise again.  Some had seen Jesus transfigured in glory.  All had seen him walk on water.  Most, if not all, from the very first moment they saw Jesus and heard his voice, gave up everything they had known in order to follow Him.  Yet despite all they had seen and experienced as the closest friends of the Christ, they still were not prepared for the horrific events to begin later that night when one of their own would betray their Master.

And, in some respects, that does not surprise us.  For while the Gospels give us more information and about some apostles and much less, if anything, about others, we see how, collectively, they often failed to understand everything Jesus was telling and teaching them.  In this regard, it can be easy for us to view them through a critical lens, wanting to hold them to a somewhat higher standard than ourselves because they walked and talked with our Lord--in the flesh--every day.  But doing so forgets that these were ordinary human beings like you and me.  More importantly, it overlooks that they were sinners in need of a savior, just like us.

In fact, if we look closely, I think we can see ourselves in them--through their very own words.  I choose here Peter, the impetuous "leader" of the apostles (always named first in the Gospels) upon whom Jesus founded His Church and gave the keys of the Kingdom; Thomas, often called "doubting"; and John, the disciple whom Jesus loved" and author of the fourth Gospel.  For the purpose of this exercise, certainly other apostles could be chosen, but the Gospels put more words on the lips of these three (together with more information about them) than most others.

So, as we prepare for the Triduum and the glorious coming of Easter, let us put the words of these three apostles into own mouths and place their actions into our own lives.  Perhaps we are not so very different from them after all:

  • Have you ever cried out, like Peter, "Lord, save me!" as you began to sink in the tumultuous waters of this life, asking Jesus to reach out catch you after you tried walking out toward Him?   (Matthew 14:28-32)
  • Or maybe, during times of stress and confusion in your life, you've said to Jesus "Lord, [I] do not know where you are going; how can [I] know the way?"  (John 14:5-7)
  • Nevertheless, during times of great spiritual consolation, or simply after Jesus is made present on the altar during Mass, you've no doubt cried out like John, "It is the Lord!" (John 21:7)
  • And during those mountaintop moments, I bet, like Peter, you've said "Lord, it is well that we are here," wanting to pitch your tent on that mountain and stay there with Jesus forever.  (Matthew 17:4)  During those times, you confidently declare with Peter, "I will never fall away." (Matthew 26:33)
  • But such highs sometimes seem all too brief, and in darker moments of despair, perhaps related to the death of a loved one, maybe you've said, like Thomas, "let us go also, that we may die with him."  (John 11:16)
  • Or instead of humbly asking for God's will to be done, have you demanded of Jesus, like John (and his brother James), "Teacher, [I] want you to do for [me] whatever [I] ask of you," seeking some type of material comfort, power or prestige?  (Mark 10:35-37)
  • Perhaps, during severe times of doubt and testing, you longed for--if not demanded--physical proof of faith in Christ, saying, like Thomas, "unless I see in his hands the print of the nails, and place my finger in the mark of the nails, and place my hand in his side, I will not believe."  (John 20:25)
  • Or, even worse, in order to avoid the ridicule of others, or just to get along with the world, maybe you've denied Jesus in words or actions, saying multiple times like Peter "I do not know the man!" (Matthew 26:72-74)
  • But, also like Peter, you know of our Lord's unfathomable mercy, and after weeping bitterly over your sins, you've approached the great sacrament of reconciliation, saying with Peter "I am a sinful man, O Lord" (Luke 5:8); wash "not my feet only, but also my hands and my head."  (John 13:9)
  • And then, washed clean by the blood of Christ, you see things anew, and cry out with Thomas "My Lord and my God!" (John 20:28-29)
  • Restored to a state of grace, you've no doubt stood beneath the Cross on Good Friday like John, your arms wrapped around the Blessed Virgin Mary, taking her into the home of your heart, as you hear Jesus exclaim "Behold, your mother!"  (John 19:27)
  • And having seen Christ's love poured out on the Cross, you say Him, like Peter, over and over again, Lord, "you know that I love you."  (John 21:15-17)
  • Finally, when all is said and done, when you've come to that realization that nothing in this world can fill that hole in your heart, you've fallen on your knees and said "Lord, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life; and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God!"  (John 6:68-69)

Yes, I think there's some Peter, Thomas and John in all of us.  At least I know there is in me.

Saints Peter, Thomas and John, pray for us!

God love you.

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We all experience darkness at some point in our lives.  But what comes after that darkness--how we choose to respond to it--usually determines the course of our earthly lives and beyond.  Just as God gives us small foretastes of heaven from time to time in order to remind us that this world is not our true home, so He allows us to suffer desolation when we separate ourselves from him through sin: the darkness of Hell.

I've been reading the book of Exodus as part of my Lenten journey this year.  As is often the case with Sacred Scripture, the typology, symbolism and foreshadowing of Christ and the New Covenant contained within the Exodus story has been truly eye-opening.  Christ as the new Moses, the slavery of the Israelites v. the slavery of sin, and the parting of the Red Sea as a type of Baptism are just a few examples that come to mind.  Yet one short passage in Chapter 10 has spoken to me more than any other so far: the plague of darkness.  Recall that God--working through Moses and Aaron--had sent eight plagues upon Pharaoh and the Egyptians--none of which had yet convinced Pharaoh to release the Israelites from slavery.  Pharaoh's heart remained hardened.  For the ninth plague, "the Lord said to Moses, 'Stretch our your hand toward heaven that there may be darkness over the land of Egypt, a darkness to be felt.'"  (Exodus 10:21)  Then "there was a thick darkness in all the land of Egypt three days; they did not see one another, nor did any rise from his place for three days."  (10:22-23)

A darkness to be felt - the words literally jumped off the page at me the first time I read them.  As I prayed and meditated on the passage, it struck me how well these words described all those times in my life when I've been away from God.  I can vividly recall occasions where this "thick darkness" consumed me; a darkness felt in the very depths of the soul.  Even more, this darkness can be so pervasive that it causes us to lose sight of God and prevents us from seeing the needs of others in our life.  It can be so all-consuming that we lose the desire and ability to "rise from [our] place," pick up our cross, and follow Christ once more.

Yet even in the darkness, God never abandons us.  Because His light--the light of Christ--"shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."  (John 1:5) No matter how thick the darkness may be or how deeply it is felt, the Light will always break through if we but open our eyes a little to see it.  The Light may seem distant; the rays may be tiny at first.  But inevitably, at some point, God opens the curtains to the darkened intellect of our minds, calling us to Himself,  reminding us of His love, mercy and forgiveness.

Of course, how we choose to respond to the darkness--and the eventual cracks of Light--remains totally up to us.  Although the plague of darkness initially caused Pharaoh to relent and let the Israelites go, he quickly changed his mind; his heart hardening when he learned that the Lord also demanded that he let the Israelites take their "flocks and herds" with them.  (Exodus 10:24-28)  "Get away from me," he said to Moses (10:28), but really he was saying this to God.  For as miserable as the darkness was, Pharaoh preferred it over the will of God.  "[T]he light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light."  (John 3:19-20)  And so it is with  us sometimes.  Perhaps we've lived in darkness so long that our eyes have become used to it, fooling us into to believing that we can actually see reality.  In that condition, the Light is a shock to the senses, and--like coming out of a darkened theater into the sunlight--we cover our eyes and curse the illumination.  Or, sometimes, as appealing as the Light may be initially, there is something we are unwilling to give up--the "flocks and herds" representing the pet sins in our lives that the Evil One has convinced us we cannot live without.  So we retreat back into the familiarity and false comfort of the darkness.

It does not have to be so.  Jesus tell us: "I am the light o the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."  (John 8:12) As much as we yearn for this light of life--for deliverance from the darkness--Jesus desires to give it to us even more.  And no matter how many times we turn him away, shutting our eyes to the Light and returning to the darkness, he will never stop seeking to shine His Light upon us.  The painting above illustrates this truth as well as anything I've ever seen.  It sits on my desk at work, and sometimes I feel like I could gaze upon it for hours.  Notice how Jesus appears to be in a darkened forest (or perhaps a garden) as he approaches a wooden door, carrying the Light he seeks to give all men.  The door has not been opened for some time, evidenced by the growth of brush and brambles over and about it.  Gently, he knocks on the door.  "Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any one hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him . . ."  (Revelation 3:20) "Open the door or your heart to me," He says, "you have been in darkness long enough.  Don't you realize that I too suffered the darkness when I walked this earth?"  Indeed, though He was without sin, Jesus experienced the agony of the effects it, taking on the sins (past, present and future) of the entire world into his very being--a darkness felt so much that he sweated drops of blood.  (Luke 22:44) We have a Savior who knows what true darkness is; a Savior who conquered that same darkness of sin and death the Cross.

St. Augustine wrote: "[O]nce a man cries out from the depths, he rises because his very cry will not suffer him to be at the bottom for long."  So as we approach the end of Lent and the start of Holy Week, let us cry out to God and allow Him to raise us out of the depths of darkness.  For He intended from the beginning of creation for us all to be "sons of light and sons of day . . . not of the night or of darkness."  (1 Thessalonians 5:5)  And then, on that glorious Easter morning, may we all bathe anew in the Light of His Resurrection.

God love you.