Get out of his way

St. Maria Goretti

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Fall to the ground and die. Lose your life. Hate the world. Not exactly the Hallmark Card affirmations we usually associate with Christian joy. Taken together these admonitions ground a philosophy of living that directly opposes the nihilism we breath in everyday. The 21^st c. American version of nihilism produces entitled, emotion-driven, therapeutic, and narcissistic individuals who cannot imagine a world w/o their unique presence. It is easily the deadliest gas we can breath over time. As followers of Christ, everything we are and do is given in witness to our humility, our total and irrevocable dependence on God. Just being human persons striving for holiness is an incomparable witness to God's mercy. We cannot do it w/o Him. So, when Christ tells us to die to self, lose our lives, and hate the world, he is revealing a truth absolutely foundational to our salvation: I cannot be saved. You cannot saved. Only we can be saved and only then by becoming Christs in Christ. I cannot be both Christ and me at the same time. You cannot be both Christ and you at the same time. But together, we can be Christ – one body, one heart, one mind.

Paul asks, “Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ?” And then he teaches, “Whoever is joined to the Lord becomes one spirit with him.” If we are one body and one spirit with Christ, then we will suffer and triumph as he suffered and triumphed. Both our sufferings and our triumphs occur in the world, but their effects echo in eternity. So, we bear witness to them as sacraments of love – external signs of Christ's mission and ministry to die and live again for the sake of sinners. How do we bear witness to Christ? We get out of his way. We die to Self, surrendering the need to be the Star of a life that was never ours to begin with. 

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What's keeping you from the Cross?

14^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving, TX

I have been crucified to the world and the world to me. Through the cross of Christ Jesus, I have been crucified. What is it to be crucified? In the literal sense, it means that I've been nailed to a cross, executed as a criminal. But Paul is writing to the Galatians. He is quite plainly not writing a letter while hanging from a cross. So, being crucified to the world and the world to him must be taken metaphorically. Maybe being crucified is a way of saying dead to the world or detached from the world. That's certainly part of what it means. But Paul says that it is through the cross of Christ that he and the world are crucified. So, the cross of Christ is the medium, the means through which all this crucifying is done. Not just any old cross. Not just any old execution. But that specific cross on that particular day with that exceptional body and soul. Every other crucifixion is an execution. A run-away slave. A deserter. A rebel. But this crucifixion, the one Paul takes into himself, that crucifixion is a sacrifice. The victim, the priest, and the altar are all Christ Jesus. And thus from all eternity, we are gifted with the Sacramentum caritatis.

And that is what we are here this morning to participate in – the sacrament of charity. We are here to be crucified. We are here to be crossified. To be joined to The Cross of Christ, to be transformed into victims, priests, and altars for the salvation of the world. How else can we honor our baptismal vows? How else can we follow Christ? Two thousand years after the resurrection and there is still work to be done. Not just busy work, paperwork, or make work. But the real work of bearing witness to God's freely offered mercy. The real work of preaching and teaching the Way, the Truth, and the Life. The real work of living as Christs in the world w/o becoming subject to the world. Lots of work yet to be done. And looking around us – at the Church, at the world – we can see that only a few are putting their hands to the plow. Jesus himself says that the laborers are few but the harvest is abundant. We can be both alarmed and comforted by this truth. It has always been so. The question for us this morning: am I one of the laborers working to bring in the harvest? Am I among those who will be crucified, crossified for the sake of Christ's mission? If your answer is no, or I don't know, what's keeping you from the Cross?

Maybe it's one of the Usual Suspects: fear of rejection or defeat; false humility; cowardice. Could be one of the Big Seven: wrath, maybe. Or greed. Both attach us to this temporary world. All seven lead us down into irrationality and passionate self-destruction. If I were a betting friar, I'd bet it's Pride – that original sin that lies to us, telling us that we can be god without God. That we can be Christ without the Cross. That we can labor for the harvest without sacrifice, without love, without giving glory to the Father. That the labor itself is all that counts. My work, my time, my treasure. Never once giving thanks and praise to God for the gifts He gives. As if, we are working out of what we have earned rather than received. Pride fools us into thinking and believing that the imperfect can be perfected by the imperfect. That wounds heal wounds. That sin forgives sin. That death conquers death. Only love can do these things. Only divine love can do them perfectly. And divine love hangs on The Cross. If you will be a laborer for Christ, you will be crucified. To the world, you will dead. For Christ and his Church, you will be more alive than when you were first born.     

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Break your chains!

NB. This is my last Mass at OLR. I am moving back to Irving, TX on Monday, June 27th. 

13^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

Christ set us free! From what? From the Law and from sin and death. How did he set us free? By taking on our broken human nature, dying on the Cross, and rising again from the tomb. Where and when did he set us free? Jerusalem in the first century. And here and now. New Orleans in the 21^st century. Most importantly, why did Christ set us free? Paul says it as plainly as it can be said: “For freedom Christ set us free.” For no other reason are we set free from the slavery of sin and death. And so, Paul urges us not to fall back into sin, not to put ourselves back into chains. He says, “...do not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh.” Do not abuse your freedom as a chance to wallow in the world – the world of violence, hatred, lust, anger, and revenge. That world refuses the gift of freedom and is kept in slavery to serve chaotic passions absent reason. So, do not abuse your freedom, Paul, says; “...rather, serve one another through love.” That's true freedom. Not a license to do whatever we feel like doing. Not permission to pick and choose from among nearly infinite options. But the recognition that we have an end, a goal and that goal is best reached by loving service to our neighbors.

Loving and serving our neighbors is nothing new for those who follow Christ. The only element of our loving service that changes is the circumstances in which we serve lovingly. It might be a war, a plague, a natural disaster; or something less dramatic like a death in the family or a financial crisis. What never changes is the urgency of our service, the urgency of our YES to Christ. This urgency is daunting; it's intimidating because we have our things to get done. I've been packing and cleaning these last three weeks. Not only my own stuff but the accumulated stuff of 98yrs in St. Dominic Priory. I wanted to be focused and diligent. But Christ kept calling me to service. I had to serve on the Provincial Chapter for two weeks. I had to arrange and preach the funeral of a brother who died earlier this month. I had to take over the financial management of the priory. I had to preside at the profession of the Priestly Fraternity of St. Dominic. Among a thousand other acts of service. I was annoyed, impatient, sometimes rude, and always reluctant to give my time. Then, I read the Gospel for this evening: “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God.” Chastened, I closed my big whiny mouth and got back to work.

Three people approach Jesus to express their desire to follow after him. Each one has an excuse for not doing so immediately. They didn't feel the necessary urgency in taking up their crosses. The first thinks that following Jesus means literally traveling around in his entourage. Jesus teaches him (and us) that following him is not a matter of physical proximity to him but rather a matter of loving service wherever we find ourselves. The second wants to bury his father first, an ancient religious custom worthy of respect. Jesus teaches him (and us) that those who do not follow him are already dead. Let them bury those who have died. We have work to do right now. The last, wants to say goodbye to his family before he follows Christ. Again, a failure to feel the urgency of loving service. Jesus teaches him (and us) that once we've chosen to follow him, there's no looking back. Serve or do not. There is no try, there is no turning around to contemplate what we've left behind. Our work as followers of Christ is before us, waiting for us up ahead.

So, when Paul says that Christ freed us for freedom, he means that Christ saved us from sin and death so that we may serve lovingly without the distractions of sin and death. The works of the flesh keep us bound to sin, chained in slavery. Each of the three who wanted to follow Christ were slaves to a demand, a custom, an idea of living that prevented them from enjoying the urgency of Christ's work. What is the chain binding you? Probably one of the usual suspects: money, time, false humility; pride, hoarding your gifts for yourself, impatience with other sinners. Or, is that just me? Maybe you've acquired an odd notion of love – it's all about feeling warm and fuzzy! It's all about unconditional approval and acceptance. Or some weird idea about service – it's the gov't's job or Church agency's job or those-other-people-over- there's job. No where to lay your head. Let the dead bury the dead. Don't look back. “I say, then: live by the Spirit and you will certainly not gratify the desire of the flesh.” Christ set us free for freedom. Christ set us free so that we might live in the state of being free. Free from sin. Free from eternal death. Free from the poisonous narcissism that is consuming our nation. Free from the irrational passions that are herding our neighbors into hell. Free from all of those things-of-the-flesh that turn us into fools and deceive us into believing that we can be God w/o God. Christ set you free for freedom. Beware that you do not sell yourself back into slavery. 

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It's a strange silence: Br. Roger's funeral homily

Br. Roger Shondel OP Funeral

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic Church, NOLA

Those who have died in Christ minister to those left behind. Their ministry is to be the object of remembrance and prayer, and a sign of hope for the resurrection. Just not being here with us is a prompt, a push to contemplate the inevitability of our own lives coming to an end. Death comes slowly – over decades; then quickly – a matter of minutes. And it's during the slow-time of death that we plant, cultivate, and harvest the memories and prayers that mark those we love as ministers of Christ. Their not being here motivates us to ponder being with them again. It compels us to cherish the promise of Christ that those who remain in him will rise again. And so, here we are this morning to be motivated, to be prompted into remembering and praying; to be pushed into cherishing again Christ's promise of the resurrection. And our minister is Br. Roger Shondel. Seventy-eight years old. Sixty years a Dominican brother. Forty of those years living right here at St. Dominic Priory. Br. Roger was a whirlwind of organization, focus, and energy; a tireless example of dedication to the work of the Order – teaching, counseling, welcoming, and service. We can hear his absence in the priory. It's a strange silence.

But it's a silence that moves us to remember. It moves us to remember that we do not live in Christ to die eternally. Jesus says to the grieving Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” Those who live and believe in Christ will never die. That's our promise of resurrection, of life eternal. And that is our source of hope as we mourn the death of our brother, Roger. Tears and pangs of grief do not betray this hope. Nor do anger, regret, helplessness, or fear. All of these are our limited ways of adjusting to his absence, our shocked and pained ways of getting used to his new ministry to us. As we pray for the repose of his soul and remember his hurricane-level power to get things done, we also remember that he gave sixty years of his life to bear witness to the truth of Christ's promise of eternal life. Jesus asks Martha, “Do you believe this?” Do you believe that if you remain in Christ you will rise again? Do you believe that to abide in Christ now is to abide with him forever? Martha answers, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.”

At 3.30 in the morning, during the school year, I would find Br. Roger in the dining room, burning an English muffin in the toaster and prepping his coffee. He would laugh at my disheveled appearance (Me! His prior!) and attempt to engage me in conversation. I would give him a long uncaffeinated death-stare, and he would mumble something about the lack of discipline among these younger friars. I could feel a Back-In-My-Day-Story coming on, so I'd waddle away as fast as I could. And if I spilled coffee on my way up in the elevator and didn't clean it up properly, I'd hear about it that afternoon. Occasionally, I'd get a talking-to about brothers not returning their dishes to the kitchen. We're missing six spoons, eight forks, three bowls, and steak knife! Yes, he counted the dishes. He also decorated the priory for the holidays. Kept the priory books. Made sure we always had plenty of paper towels and laundry detergent. One year, while he was visiting his sister, Joanie, we called him and begged him to come home b/c we'd run out of dinner napkins! I'm betting he was tempted. He loved “my girls” at DHS. Told stories about them at table. If he was at home, he was at common prayer. His silence among us is huge.

And so, his ministry to us will be huge as well. We're here this morning to pray for the repose of the soul of Br. Roger. That he may come face-to-face with the God he served so faithfully for so many years. That he may be at peace at last and find his place at the Wedding Feast, a feast he would no doubt plan, organize, and execute w/o breaking a sweat. We are here to mourn his silence and to be reminded that those who remain in Christ will find eternal life in the resurrection. Paul writes to the Romans, “What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? No, in all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us.” In all things we conquer through Christ who loves us. Death comes slowly – over decades; then quickly – in a matter of minutes. But to die in Christ is to die to death and live forever with him. Remember that by remembering our Br. Roger. Pray for him and remember. 

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The Power of the Eucharist

Corpus Christi

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic/OLR, NOLA

Jesus, his disciples, and a huge crowd of random people who want to hear what Jesus has to say – they all find themselves in a deserted place. A place w/o food, water, shelter. Not much to recommend it for comfort or protection. The disciples suggest to Jesus that he send the people into the nearby villages for the night, so they can find a bed and something to eat. Jesus answers with an apparently less-than-helpful suggestion of his own: “Give them some food yourselves.” You can almost see and hear the disciples' aggravation and frustration. Here we go again! Another lesson in mystery. Another impractical exercise to show us up. Where are we going to get enough food for this many people? How would we get it to them even if we had it? They're perfectly capable of finding food for themselves! OK. Maybe that's what I'd be thinking. Maybe the disciples were a little more docile to the Lord's lessons. Regardless, the problem before them must've seemed insurmountable at the time. And it is. . .until Jesus intervenes and shows them the miraculous power of his blessing. In that deserted place, he shows them all the power of the Eucharist.

And what is this power? It's not the power to shame people into sharing the food they've squirreled away for themselves. It's not the power to say grace before a meal. It's not the power to organize a large crowd into smaller modules for efficient distribution of foodstuffs. The Miracle of the Feeding of the 5,000 reveals the Eucharist's power to nourish as many as will come to be nourished. Those who follow Christ – even into the deserted places of the world – will be fed. They will be nourished. 5,000; 10,000; 1.3 billion. They will all be fed. How? With what? Wrong question. The right question is: with whom? With whom will they all be fed? And we know the answer to that question; otherwise, none of us would be here this morning/evening. We are all fed by the Body and Blood of Christ Jesus – true food, true drink – for the salvation of the world and life eternal. The power of the Eucharist is the power to take fallen men and women, sinners subject to death, and start them toward a fundamental transformation, turning them into Christs, perfecting in them the image and likeness of God who made them. All who would be fed, changed, saved; all who would be Christ for the world will be fed. They will be changed. They will saved.

From whatever deserted place you may come, if you choose, if you will it, you will be fed and changed and saved. As 21^st century Catholics, we are accustomed to hearing that the Eucharist is about establishing and thriving as a community of believers. We share a sacramental meal. This sharing binds us together more closely in prayer. All true. But not all the truth. Our older brothers and sisters are accustomed to hearing about the Eucharist as a sacrifice, a sacramental memorial of Christ's sacrifice on the Cross. Our Mass takes us to Calvary where we participate in the saving grace of Christ's death. Again, all true. But not all the truth. The truth we don't hear much about is the ancient understanding of the Eucharist as a means of becoming Christ ourselves in the world – as the way we sinners are not only joined to a community, not only joined to Christ's sacrifice as participants but also joined to Christ so that we may become Christs to be Christs in the world. Knowing this, knowing that you can become Christ, do you still find yourself among the 5,000 in that deserted place, waiting for your portion of fish and bread? Do you still want to be fed by the Body and Blood of Christ?

If so, then you will come forward and receive. But understand who and what you are receiving. Our modern minds tell us we are receiving symbols of Christ's body and blood. Bread and wine. Tokens, stand-in's for the real thing, which is no longer available to us. Our modern minds tell us that what's real is what's physical, what's knowable with the senses. We see, taste, touch bread and wine, so the bread and wine must be just bread and wine, just a symbol. Not the real thing. False! Christ is truly present – body, blood, soul, and divinity. The really real is not limited to the physical, the empirical. That's a modern prejudice. The really real includes the spiritual, the non-empirical. It includes the sacramental, external signs of internal graces. It includes the substantial, what a thing truly is in itself. The bread and wine are substantially, sacramentally Christ's Body and Blood, and no less really real simply b/c his presence is not physical. When you come forward to receive, know and believe that who you are receiving IS Christ. Not a symbol, not a token, not a stand-in. But Christ – body, blood, soul, and divinity. You are what you eat. If you will be Christ in the world, you must be nourished by Christ in this world. This IS my Body. This IS my Blood.

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Worry is a Master

11^th Week OT (S)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic Church, NOLA

Worry is a Master. And by master here I mean not only an overlord or a ruler but also a teacher. Master comes from the Latin magister, the name for a university teacher in the Middle Ages. So, when Jesus says that we cannot serve two Masters, he is saying, we cannot be ruled by two rulers; we cannot learn from two teachers. Case in point: worry. If worry is your chosen ruler, your chosen teacher, then you have learned that fretting, hand-wringing, and obsessive attention to control are all good ways of making sure that everything works out in your favor. Headaches, ulcers, panic attacks, and sleepless nights always result in you getting what you want. Right? That's the lesson of Prof. Worry. You can control everything and everyone even remotely connected to you and your needs. By obsessively focusing on everything that can go wrong, you are able to realign the trajectory of the entire universe and bend people and events to your will – a will, btw, that you must also believe is all-knowing and infallible. If you're going to bend the universe to your will, you must truly believe that your will is already perfect! IOW, Prof. Worry is teaching you to believe that you are God.

That's what anxiety/worry is: faithlessness. Or better, faith in Yourself alone. To worry is to place total faith, total hope in your own ability to discern and accomplish what you already believe is your perfect will. It's to serve Yourself as if you were God. You are your own master, your own teacher. “[You cannot] serve two masters. [You] will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other.” If you have chosen Christ as your master, your teacher, then you cannot serve Yourself as a god. I am not all-knowing. My will is far from perfect. I am fallible, prone to error, and sometimes just plain dumb. My own history is one long story of making bad choices and suffering the consequences. Does this sound familiar? Why in the world then would I think that my fretting, my hand-wringing, my anxiety could alter so much as an atom in its course? Prof. Worry is a liar. He's a false teacher and failed scholar. By his own admission, he is faithless. Why would any rational soul listen to him? Surrender yourself to the only True Master, Christ Jesus. We are not gods. He is God. He will provide. And we must receive. Give thanks and praise and. . .stop worrying. 

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Where is your heart?

11^th Week OT (F)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic Church, NOLA

You may feel it too. Something is changing; something is shifting in this temporary world. I mean, things are always moving, always sliding about. That's the nature of all created things. But right now, out there, it just feels to me like Something Big is coming. Maybe it's b/c the Dominicans have had four deaths in the last two weeks, including our own Br. Roger. Maybe it's b/c we just elected a new Provincial. We're leaving St. D's. Y'all are getting a new Pastor and PV. Fr. John's mother is not doing well. Lots is going on. Lots of moving, shifting, sliding about. And that's just right here in this parish. Don't watch the news if you're prone to angry outbursts. Out there is far, far worse. It's enough to upset the stoutest stomach. As I feel the rolling start, I hear Christ say to his disciples, “Peace be with you.” And the HS comes to reveal the Father's enduring truth. The truth is: Christ doesn't change. He doesn't slip or slide. He doesn't evolve or develop or “grow with the times.” He is the Rock, the foundation stone – the center of the hurricane and the peace which passes all understanding.

Knowing all this, where do you build your faith? On what do you build your faith? Better yet, in whom or what do you invest your faith? Here's what Jesus says, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and decay destroy, and thieves break in and steal.” “Treasures” here can be literal stuff like property or money. But you can also treasure ideas, habits, attitudes, preferences, prejudices, politics, relationships. You can treasure people, pets, careers. All of these – money, habits, people – all of them are subject to thieves and death. Anything of the earth and on it is subject to change. That's the nature of created things – to change. What doesn't change? Christ. His truth. Therefore, “store up treasures in heaven,” store your treasures where change is unnecessary b/c your treasures are already perfect. Christ makes this truth easy for us to understand: “...where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.” If you treasure the things of this world, then your heart, your center, is down here in the chaos of creation. If your treasure is kept in heaven – perfect, unchanging – then your heart is in heaven already. Let the world slip, slide, quake, and rattle about. It will burn, heal, and burn again. You, remain in the peace of Christ.  

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Trinity: a mystery of wonder and reason

Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

    What's the fundamental difference between science and faith? Scientists work to expose the mysteries of the universe by the use of reason alone. Believers – Christian believers – work alongside mystery in reason and wonder to expose themselves to God and His handiwork. Scientists hope to learn more about the universe for the sheer delight of gaining practical knowledge. By learning more about His creation, believers hope to grow closer to their Creator, thus making their joy complete. The fundamental difference btw science and faith hinges on mystery. For science, a mystery is a problem is to be solved. For faith, mystery is a truth not yet revealed. What we share with science is the alluring power of Not Yet, the seduction of knowing just enough to keep us motivated to learn more. When Jesus says, “I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now,” scientists hear a challenge but believers hear a promise. That promise, the promise of the coming of the Holy Spirit, is fulfilled at Pentecost. And with the coming of the Holy Spirit, God reveals the central mystery of the faith: He is Three in One.

How to describe this essential mystery? We could say that the Trinity is like a single drop of water in three forms: fluid, frozen, vaporous. But the Trinity is Three in One simultaneously, while a drop of water cannot be fluid, frozen, and vaporous all at the same time. We could say that the Trinity is like a woman who is simultaneously a mother, an aunt, and a sister. But the Trinity is Three in One absolutely, relative only to one another, while a woman is a mother, an aunt, and a sister only in relation to her children, her nieces, and her siblings. We could say that the Trinity is like a person with three jobs: Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. The Father creates; the Son redeems; and the Spirit sanctifies. That's not wrong as such but if the Three are One then all Three must each be Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. You begin to see the problem, right? How do we describe what is essentially unsayable, indescribable? We know that God is Three Persons in One Divinity, but how do we make sense of this mystery? We wait. Jesus says, “I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now. . .” He doesn't say that we can never bear all that he has to tell us; we just can't bear all the truth right now. So, we wait and trust and hold ourselves in hope that the fullness of this mystery will revealed when we are finally perfected. All will be well.

And we know that all will be well b/c, as the Catechism teaches us, “The ultimate end of the whole divine economy is the entry of God's creatures into the perfect unity of the Blessed Trinity” (n. 260). The whole point of God's cosmic plan of salvation is to bring us to Him to live perfectly united in Him. Do we need a scientific understanding of the divine mysteries to be perfect? No. Besides, science cannot perfect us. Do we need to work along side the divine mysteries in wonder and reason in order to be made perfect? Yes. B/c we cannot be made perfect, we cannot be brought to God w/o our consent and help. Mysteries of the faith – like the Trinity, the Incarnation, the Resurrection – are all revealed truths that we do not yet fully understand. We know that God is Three Persons in One Divine Being. We know that Christ is fully human, fully divine. We know that Christ was raised from his tomb body and soul. And we even have some inkling of what these mysteries mean to our daily lives as followers of Christ. What we don't yet know, what we cannot yet bear, is the weight, the fullness of these truths completely revealed. For that we must wait to see God face-to-face. And to see Him face-to-face, we must submit to the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

The Holy Spirit urges us to live trinitarian lives. We read in the Catechism: “Everyone who glorifies the Father does so through the Son in the Holy Spirit; everyone who follows Christ does so because the Father draws him and the Spirit moves him” (n. 259). Open yourself to being drawn by the Father to follow Christ. Open yourself to being moved by the Spirit to follow Christ. Follow Christ – completely abandon yourself to him – and you will find yourself working along side the mysteries of faith in reason and wonder, opening your heart and mind to all that God has to show you. When Jesus says, “I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now,” scientists hear a daring challenge but believers hear a loving promise. Christ promises to make us strong enough, whole enough, beautiful enough to bear up under every truth, all truth, fully revealed and wondrously arrayed. And because of this promise “we boast in hope of the glory of God.” 

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Get busy getting holy!

Ascension of the Lord

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

Right before their eyes, Jesus rises into the clouds and vanishes. Understandably, the disciples are astonished. They just stand there gawking, mumbling among themselves. Two angels appear and ask a truly bizarre question: “Why are you standing there looking at the sky?” Um, maybe because we just watched our teacher and friend shoot off into the heavens! Not something one sees everyday. Surely the angels know that Jesus has ascended to the Father. And surely they know why the disciples are surprised by the event. So why ask them why they standing there looking at the sky? The question has a rhetorical feel to it. I mean, it's meant to make them think about Jesus' ascension as one more event in a long list of astonishing events that started with the Gabriel's visit to Mary. If you get that Jesus is the Son given flesh and bone; and you get that he came to suffer and die and rise again for the forgiveness of sin; and you get that he visited you in the flesh after he rose; if you get all of that, then why are you standing there looking at the sky? Given all that has happened, why is his ascension so astonishing? The angels understand that the disciples do not. Understand, that is. Do we?

Do we get the Ascension? Sure, we know that it's about Jesus being taken up into heaven after his post-resurrection visitation with his disciples. He appeared to them in a locked room. Doubting Thomas poked his fingers into the Lord's wounds. Jesus walked with some of them on the Road to Emmaus. He was with them when Peter took an unexpected swim during a storm while fishing. Then, one day, Jesus, right before their eyes, whooshes up into the clouds. We know this much. But do we know why the ascension happened? What it tells us about us and our way to perfection in heaven? The key to understanding the Ascension is to remember that everything that happened to Jesus is happening and will happen to his Body, the Church, and is happening and will happen to each one of us as members of the Body. We follow Christ. Where he went, where he goes, and where he will go. We follow. The Ascension reveals that we too will rise with the Lord and sit at the right hand of the Father. This is made possible by the Son taking on our human nature, becoming sin for us, and freely dying and rising again to kill death. With his Resurrection, our fallen human nature is healed. With his Ascension, our perfected human nature is raised to eternal life.

Of course, none of this will happen without us. That is, God will not save us or raise us up without our cooperation, without us working along with Him to achieve this end. He wills that we all return to Him. He also wills that we do so freely. And this is why the angels ask the disciples their rhetorical question: why are you standing there looking at the sky? The subtext of the question is: you have work to do! Stop gawking at the clouds and get busy! Get busy doing what exactly? Get busy following Christ in the world. Get busy preaching and teaching his Word. Get busy healing, freeing, witnessing, feeding, and taking care of his people. Get busy growing in holiness: on being Christ in the world and not being of the world. Get busy living out the Way and the Truth. Get busy forgiving, loving, and showing mercy. Get busy with surrendering control to God and giving Him thanks and praise for His abundant gifts. All this busyness may sound like frenzied effort, like frantic activity. So, following Christ means that we're all to become Marthas? Running around, working ourselves to the bone? No. Our busyness is about intent and focus. It's about putting first things first. It's about keeping the end in mind, the goal squarely set upon our hearts.

That end, that goal is perfect union with the Father in heaven. The Ascension reveals to us that we are created by the Father and recreated by the Son to live in the Lord's presence eternally. That is God's will for us. We are free to choose this end or reject it. That is also God's will for us. Christ's death, resurrection, and ascension make our free choice possible by freeing us from the slavery of sin. Now that we are free, we can choose. If you choose your supernatural end – life eternal in heaven – then you act out that choice by doing all that the Lord did. Everyday. All day. Until you die. If you choose to reject your supernatural end, then you freely give yourself back to sin and live eternally as you lived temporally, refusing to receive God's love. In his justice and love, God respects your choice. And you are separated from God and the company of the blessed. Your choice. The Ascension – along with all of the other astonishing events of the Gospels – encourages us to look past and through a life lived according to the world's standards and onto a life lived as a Christ growing in holiness. So, the angels ask, why are you standing there looking at the sky? Get busy getting holy!

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The Best Prayer

6^th Week of Easter (S)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic Church, NOLA

Does God answer your prayers? God the Father provides for us in abundance, always. Yet, we often pray as if He were a stingy Santa Claus or tightwad genie. We beg, bargain, threaten, and otherwise miss the whole point of being children of the Father. Ask and you will receive. Asking is receiving. God gives; we receive. The procedure here is pretty simple: ask for what you need; God gives; you receive. What's not so simple is habituating yourself to not getting what you asked for in the form you asked for it. A child asks Mom for a snack. She gives the child an apple. Not what the child wanted. He was thinking more along the lines of ice cream. He asks for ice cream. Mom says no. Now the child believes that Mom doesn't love him and wants him to starve. Do we do the same when we pray? Rather than telling God what you want, try asking God for what you need and let Him decide how best to meet that need. He is, after all, God. And you and I, after all, are not. Perhaps the best way to pray is this: “Lord, I need whatever you have to give me today, and I receive it with praise and thanksgiving. Amen.” 

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Ask, receive, give thanks

St. Philip Neri

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic Church, NOLA

Philip Neri, known as “Pippo” to his friends, is the Saint of Joy and the Second Apostle of Rome. He was a practical joker, an eccentric, and a tireless confessor. Philip knew the dangers of anxiety, how worry eroded the soul's relationship with God. At its root, anxiety is faithlessness given physical form in the body. Cramps, headaches, ulcers, grinding teeth – all bodily symptoms of a failure to trust in God's providence. Paul urges the Philippians to dispel anxiety with prayer and thanksgiving; anxiety is overcome with gratitude. How so? God provides. We receive. We receive God's gifts as gifts. We give Him thanks, acknowledging our total dependence on His graces. Knowing that all we have and that all we will ever have comes from God dispels any concern we may have for tomorrow. God will provide what we need. No more, no less. Cramping your body and soul with worry will not force God to act according to your will. Anxiously grinding your teeth will not move God's hand. Try gratitude instead. Ask, receive, and give thanks. We belong to Christ. And he will always provide.

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Strength to bear the Truth

6^th Week of Easter (W)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic Church, NOLA

Jesus has more to tell to the disciples, but they can't bear it right now. He sends the HS to guide them to the fullness of truth. The Athenians worship an Unknown God. With the help of the HS, Paul convinces some of them that this god is actually God Himself. What is unknown becomes known. He who is hidden is revealed. The work of the HS here is not the work of an oracle or a fortune-teller. The work of the HS among us is the work of the Love that the Father has for the Son and the Son for the Father. That Love creates and re-creates; He brings light out of darkness; He pulls back the veil of ignorance and makes us know. Why does He do this? Because we are limited creatures, moving slowly through the time and space we've been given. We don't always see clearly. And there are some truths we are not yet ready to bear. However, abiding faithfully in the HS, we can come to see what we need to see. The Unknown God is revealed as the Father. Some in Athens saw; some did not. The question to ask: am I ready to see? Am I ready to hear? If so, ask the HS to reveal His truth. And ask for the strength to bear the truths you need.

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A dangerous game

6^th Week of Easter (M)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic Church, NOLA

The Lord plays a dangerous game with our lives. By opening our hearts to his Word and the HS, he puts a target on our backs. By calling us to repentance and conversion, he sets us against the spirit of the age and demands that we stand firm. By revealing himself as the Truth and taking us in as brothers and sisters in the Truth, he makes us orphans in a world of lies. Of course, we have the option of ignoring both the Word and the HS. We can freely choose not to become brothers and sisters to the Christ and carry on in sin toward death. But if we choose to hold our hearts open, the HS will come to stay. And his presence will push aside the darkness, the lies, the confusion, and even death itself. As all the apostles but John discovered, the prince of this world will not tolerate too bright a light for long. There's the danger to our lives. By receiving His Word and the HS, we freely choose to help the Lord affix that target. There can be no whining from us about opposition or persecution. Jesus says that abiding in the HS will bring both. What we can do is abide in peace and shine so brightly in faith that it blinds the Devil himself.   

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No deal for the peace of the world

NB. the coffee was strong this morning, so I'll probably revisit this one for tomorrow's Mass. It's a bit. . .extra.

Audio File

6^th Sunday of Easter

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLPH/OLR, NOLA

The peace of Christ is NOT the peace of the world. Jesus himself says so. What's the difference? The peace of the world comes with accommodation and compromise; with going-along-to-get-along. We “fit in with” the world. We “settle into” the spirit of the age and float along with its currents, surrendering ourselves to the speed and direction of whatever fad or mad fashion pushes the hardest and pulls the longest. The peace of the world is narcotic. And addictive. It promises all those things that we hope will keep us safe. Safe from what? From whom? From the world itself, of course. Money keeps us safe from poverty. Power keeps us safe from slavery. Security keeps us safe from fear. But poverty, slavery, and fear belong to the world. So do money, power, and security. The peace of the world is a protection racket. “In exchange for your immortal soul,” the Spirit of the Age declares, “I promise to protect you from Me. I will give you everything you need to protect yourself from the evils I myself cause. Deal, or no deal?” The peace of Christ says, “No deal.” A heart given to Christ rests quietly in his peace. We are unaccommodating, uncompromising; we are unafraid and untroubled.

Or. . .we should be given the nature of Christ's peace. Jesus says to his twitchy disciples, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you.” NB. Not only is his peace different from the world's peace but the way he gives his peace is different as well. The world's peace is a protection racket that does nothing more than protect us from the world itself. And its peace is purchased with our soul. Christ's peace is the peace which passes all understanding, keeping our hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God. AND. . .it is given to us. Not sold to us, nor bartered with us, nor loan out with interest. Given. Freely handed over without obligation or attachment. While the Spirit of the Age is a loan shark and extortionist, Christ is a victim whose sacrifice frees us from sin and death. Worldly peace mires us in fear, spiritual poverty, despair, and ultimately leaves us to prostitute ourselves for the barest acknowledgment from our Betters in the world. Christ's peace frees us from fear with the already fulfilled promise of resurrection. Christ's peace alleviates our spiritual poverty with the Father's gratuitous mercy. Christ's peace destroys despair with everlasting joy, now and in the kingdom to come.

So, what about those times when we are afraid? Ready to accommodate or compromise? What about those times when it seems that despair is the only proper response to circumstance? We've all been there. Death. Disease. Natural disasters. Job loss. Marriage problems. Doubt. Personal demons, mental illness, deadly vices. Where is Christ's freely given peace in the middle of a hurricane or a divorce or a child's death or a crisis of faith? It's right where it has always been. Right there; it's right there [point to crucifix]. The Spirit of the Age, its peace, makes no sacrifice. It takes. It manipulates by nature. It feeds on fear and worry. And bets on you and me being too weak in the face of terror to resist. But Christ, Christ went to the Cross. He went to the Cross so that you and I can be raised up above all that would drag us down. He died to kill death. And death, death-eternal, is indeed dead. Loss hurts. No doubt. Loss hurts. Placed along side the peace of Christ, loss is gain. Loss binds us closer to Christ. Loss clears our eyes and ears to better see and hear the love of Christ who lost it all for our sake. The peace of the world – that peace sells us the lie that loss is avoidable. The price we pay for believing the lie is crippling debt. Debt to the spirit who would prefer we just die.

So, if the peace of Christ is so precious and useful, how do we acquire it? What novenas do we have to pray? How long do we have to fast? How big a check do we need to write? The genius of the peace of Christ is that there is nothing we have to do but receive. Nothing to give or beg or borrow or steal. Just receive. Choose to be in the peace of Christ. It is already, always given. Jesus says, “My peace I give you.” When those inevitable losses come, when disaster strikes, receive the peace of Christ. Know he is with you. Always with you. He never left. He sent his Holy Spirit to travel with us. And that spirit of love remains. Every loss is gain in the presence of the Holy Spirit. His ministry is strength, endurance, patience, and, if you will receive it, peace. We travel through this world as citizens of the kingdom. Our passport is the peace of Christ.

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As I have loved you

NB. The last bit of this homily is a repeat of last Sunday's homily. 

5^th Sunday of Easter

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

Judas leaves the room. . .and then Jesus says what he needs to say, “I give you a new commandment: love one another.” Why does Judas leave? And why does Jesus wait for him to leave? Judas leaves because he is on an urgent mission, a mission to sell Jesus to the temple guard. Jesus waits for Judas to leave because he – Jesus – is also on an urgent mission, a mission to die for the sins for the world. A vital part of that mission is to leave his disciples a legacy of love. They are to become preaching and teaching witnesses to his death and resurrection. Judas, who cannot love, cannot be part of that legacy. So, Jesus waits. Judas leaves. And Jesus commands his witnesses to love one another. Why love one another? So that all will know that we follow Christ. Judas does not follow Christ. He does not love Christ. He cannot bear witness to what will happen in Jerusalem on the cross and near the empty tomb. He, literally, walks out on love. He walks out on Christ to betray him for money. Judas is what happens to us when we betray Christ for money, power, popularity, standing in the world, or all of the above. He eventually hangs himself. Judas is what happens when we sell Christ to the highest bidder at the Auction of the Spirit of the Age.

So, how do we sell Christ at the Auction of the Age? Easy. First, we accept that anything and everything is for sale. Loyalty. Land. People. Our souls. We accept that anything and everything has a price. An exchange value. Then, second, we calculate how much whatever it is we have is worth to the world. Our loyalty. Our family and friends. Our immortal souls. What's it all worth? Judas calculated that Jesus was worth thirty pieces of silver. He took the deal. Upheld his end of the bargain. And decided later on that his own life wasn't worth his betrayal. Next, we find a way to think/feel our way to justifying the deal we've made. I needed that promotion. My family deserves the best. It was a small compromise, just a minor concession. I can do a lot of good in this position of power. With all this praise. I have a platform. So did Judas. His platform was a rope and a tree. Finally, we try to convince ourselves that our betrayal is what Jesus would've really wanted. He really wanted us to kneel to lies, confusion, death, and the powers of the world. He really wanted us to rebel against his Father and pretend to be gods. He really wanted us to put Now over Forever and hold ourselves up as idols of human perfection.

No! None of this is love. All of this is idolatry and pride. None of this is the Good we are made to pursue nor the Good we are made to become. It's the gospel of Judas, the Bad News of Me First, Me Last, Me Always. What Divine Love requires is that we always and everywhere will the Good of the other. Friends. Enemies. Family. Persecutors. Neighbors. Even those who intentionally do us evil. Dying, from the Cross, Jesus pleads, “Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.” So, yes, we sell Jesus to the highest bidder when we compromise doctrine, or dilute moral teaching, or corrupt the liturgy. We sell him every time we commit a mortal sin and call it Good. These are all common enough temptations in the world. But we can also sell him and our love for him when we take up the tactics of the world to fight the world. When we put on the armor of convenience and expediency. Sure, we can win a political battle here and there. We might even win a decisive, worldly victory. But we have done so by accepting cash or applause or power in exchange for Christ. Is this the love he calls us to? No. It isn't.

We have a huge test of Christ's love coming very shortly. It seems likely that the SCOTUS will release its opinion tomorrow overturning Roe v. Wade. We can and should rejoice, if this is so. Here's the challenge to those of us who have prayed for this outcome for decades: Know who the Enemy is! Pro-abortion politicians are not our enemy. Planned Parenthood and NARAL are not our enemy. Women who get abortions are not our enemy. Not even the abortionists themselves are our enemy. Our enemy is the Spirit of the Age, the spirit that convinces them and us that death is a solution to suffering. That dark spirit feeds on anger, misery, violence, and self-righteousness. It feeds on pride and hatred and rage. As followers of Christ, we do not and cannot respond in kind to those who see themselves as our enemy. Meeting this spirit's anger with our own, or its intolerance with our own, or its violence with our own is an exercise in failure on our part and a triumph for the Enemy's recruitment program. The Enemy wants/hopes/counts on us to meet its tit with our tat. To go round by round blow for blow. Why? Because when we do so, we provide it with everything it needs to accuse us before God. To bring us before the Father and say, “See! Your sheep are no better than mine!” We respond by doing the work Christ has given us to do. We continue offering adoption services as we have for centuries. We continue providing free pre-natal care as we have for centuries. We continue supporting families as we have for centuries. And we help those women who have had an abortion recover and heal. Our response is to starve the Spirit of the Age, feeding it nothing but Christ's love, his mercy, and his peace. Without Judas the Betrayer present, Jesus says to those who follow him, “Love one another as I have loved you.”

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Hearing, knowing, loving

4^th Sunday of Easter

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

St Dominic Church, NOLA

Being a former farm boy, I am not all that happy about being compared to sheep. Sheep are dirty. Loud. Stupid. And they stink. When I was in seminary, our preaching and Scripture professors told us to think carefully before we called God's people “sheep.” Is that really the image you want to leave with your parishioners? That they are dirty, loud, stupid, and stinky? If you call yourself a shepherd, then you're the keeper of the sheep; the rustler of the sheep; you poke at them to make them go where you want, and when the time comes, you fleece them! So, maybe the whole sheep/shepherd image is a bit outdated. Unless, of course, you remember that back in Jesus' day sheep were a foundation stone of the economy. They provided just about everything needed to survive. They were cared for almost like a family's children and were protected from lions and wolves. That sheep/shepherd image has two sides. The side Jesus uses this evening is the side that places the sheep well within the family, well within the protection of the Father. He places us – his sheep – in familiar territory, in comfortable reach of food, water, and shelter. He places us – his flock – within reach of his Word.

Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” How do we explain that some who heard Jesus teach and preach turned away from him? That some openly opposed him? That others started to follow him but abandoned him along the Way? And still others stuck with him almost to the end? Those who have ears to hear will hear and those with eyes to see will see. Those who are most in need of mercy and desirous of it will hear and see the mercy Christ offers to them. The “poor” – those who live lives of spiritual poverty – see the riches Christ offers them. They recognize those riches as theirs, or they don't. They receive those riches, or they don't. IOW, we will choose to follow Christ, or we won't. There is no halfway. If we choose to follow, we follow. We follow behind, stepping where he steps and heading in the same direction at the same pace. If I am running head, or walking off in another direction, or skipping along toward a cliff – I am not following. I can say that I'm following Christ, but I can also say that I'm the 25yo multi-millionaire quarterback of the NOLA Saints. Don't make it so. Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” If you follow Christ, he knows you. And if he knows you, then you have heard his voice.

To be a follower of the Good Shepherd means that you belong to a flock, a family of individuals who heard the voice of Christ and chose to follow him. We came into an existing family, a long-lived, long-suffering family that's been through every trial and tribulation the Enemy could invent. For over 2,000 years our flock has endured, persevered, rebuilt, struggled, and fought for the faith on just about every continent in every language known to man. And here we are doing it some more! We endure and persevere and rebuild and struggle and fight for the faith b/c we chose to follow the Good Shepherd. We rely on his protection, his strength, his love, his mercy. And we will always have all that we need to carry on. Some will hear and turn away. Others will hear, join us, and leave. Still others will recognize in the voice of Christ – that's me and you – the Father's offer of mercy and stay with us. If you'll forgive the image – they will add their stink to ours and become invaluable sheep. About us and for us, Jesus says, “I give [my sheep] eternal life, and they shall never perish. No one can take them out of my hand.”

No doubt you have heard the news that the SC is probably going to overrule Roe v. Wade and end this country's fifty-year long nightmare of abortion-on-demand. Some states will continue to allow abortion. Some will regulate it and others ban it altogether. Several national abortion rights groups have called on supporters to disrupt Masses this Mothers' Day morning. I doubt we'll see anything like this NOLA. However, what we will see is increasingly angry, intolerant, and violent threats to the Church. And thus staying in Christ's flock will increasingly come at a price. Remember: we live in the world; we are not of it. We belong to Christ. And Christ calls us to stand fast and firm against the furious assaults of our ancient Enemy. Abortion supporters are not our enemy. Women who have obtained abortions are not our enemy. Even the abortionists themselves are not our enemy. Our enemy is the Spirit of the Age, the one who feeds (and has always fed) on our rage, our self-righteousness, our hatred, and our pride. Christ the Good Shepherd commands us, his sheep, to starve this dark spirit, and to offer it nothing but mercy, peace, and the Father's abundant love. Meeting this spirit's anger with our own, or its intolerance with our own, or its violence with our own is an exercise in failure on our part and a triumph for the Enemy's recruitment program. The Enemy wants/hopes/counts on us to meet its tit with our tat. To go round by round blow for blow. Why? Because when we do so, we provide it with everything it needs to accuse us before God. To bring us before the Father and says, “See! Your sheep are no better than mine!” Christ calls us to stand fast and firm against the furious assaults of this ancient Enemy. How? Prayer. Daily prayer. Personal prayer. Prayer together as his flock. The rosary. Divine Mercy. St. Michael the Archangel. Fasting. Fasting with the intention for rescue for those deceived by the Enemy. Fasting to protect ourselves against deceit. Fasting for strength for our shepherds. Works of Mercy. Working as Christ in the world. Giving to ministries that work with expecting mothers. To ministries that help women heal from abortion. To ministries that facilitate adoption. Forgiveness. Go to bed each night with no one owing you a debt. Forgive abundantly, freely, recklessly. The Enemy cannot abide the peace of Christ.

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We need a bigger boat

3^rd Sunday of Easter

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic Priory, NOLA

Judas sells Christ to his enemies for thirty pieces of silver. Peter, the Rock, denies belonging to Christ three times that same night. In the ensuing chaos after Christ dies on the Cross, Judas commits suicide. Tellingly, he hangs himself on a tree. The disciples flee to the Upper Room in despair. Everything they'd hoped for, planned for, dreamt about is in ruins and nothing makes sense. Then, Jesus starts appearing to them in the flesh, his resurrected flesh. He proves who he is with his wounds. He eats with them. He teaches them. Even Doubting Thomas is convinced! Now, they are together in Galilee where Jesus promised to meet them. Peter decides to go fishing, but the fish are too busy to be caught. Jesus appears to them with some helpful advice. And they land a net full of fish. Finally! All the chaos, despair, grief, and fear begin to fade and a mission starts to take shape. With one question, Jesus sets this band of sorry students on their apostolic path, “Peter,” he asks, “do you love me more than these?” Peter, you denied me in the Garden as I said you would. But now, do you love me? This is also Christ's daily, hourly question to you and to me.

Why does Jesus need to hear the answer to this question? Surely, he knows Peter's heart. Surely, he knows that Peter denied him in the Garden out of panic and fear. Of course, Jesus knows this. But does Peter? Does Peter know why he denied Christ? It would appear that he doesn't. Just look at his luck with the fish. Twice we read that Peter goes fishing and catches nothing; that is, not until Christ appears and re-teaches him how to fish. Peter fails to provide...twice. Peter fails to see the Lord for who he is...twice. And twice Peter is confused by the Lord's instructions, nearly drowning himself one time in a panic. This time he is distressed b/c the Lord keeps asking him, “Peter, do you love me?” He answers, “Yes, Lord, I love you.” Three times he hears the question and three times he answers yes. And each time he answers, Jesus, orders him to feed his sheep. To feed the Lord's sheep, Peter must love the Lord. Fear, panic, despair, crippling doubt, anxiety, distress...none of these put fish in the boat. None of these put sustenance on the table. Peter the Rock, the foundation of the Church, must himself be grounded on the bedrock of loving Christ. Love me first, Jesus says, then feed my sheep.

When Jesus is finished teaching Peter that loving him is the bedrock of feeding his sheep, he turns to you and me and asks, “Do you love me?” We might wonder why Jesus needs us to love him. He sounds like a too-needy friend who pesters us for constant attention. Or maybe a spouse who doesn't trust the weekly “I love you” and needs more. Of course, Jesus isn't us this question for his benefit. He knows the answer already. The question is for our benefit. Hearing the question and answering it requires us to pause and survey our thoughts, words, and deeds. We have to take stock, a quick inventory of how we actually feel about the Lord. Do I love him? Or do I love the idea of him? Do I love my image of him? Maybe I love my version of him, my personalized concept of who and what he is to me. Maybe I love the Good Shepherd and the Teacher but not the angry guy flipping tables in the temple yard, the one talking about unrepentant sinner going to hell. Maybe I love the Just Judge who rigorously enforces the moral standards I approve of but not the one who forgives with the Father's mercy. You'll notice that Jesus doesn't ask Peter, “Do you love your version of me?” You'll notice that he doesn't ask you or me if we love what we like about him and ignore the rest.

The Lord asks, “Do you love me?” Does all of you love all of me? Do you love the Good Shepherd, the Just Judge, the one who feeds the five thousand; who whipped the money changers; who shamed the ones who accused the adulterous woman; who threatens divine torture for those who refuse to forgive; who called the little child to him and taught us that we must love him and hate mother, father, son, and daughter? Do you love Him? Jesus the Social Worker and Jesus the Great High Priest? Jesus the 1^st century rabbi and Jesus the Incarnate Son of God? Peter fails as a fisherman b/c he loved his fear, his panic, and his doubt more than he loved his Savior. When Peter obeys the Lord, his net is full and so is his love. And out of this love, Peter will feed the Lord's sheep. When the Lord's sheep are fed in love, they mature in love and love in turn. The net gets bigger. The catch grows. More and more are fed. More and more come to love the Lord. And we welcome more and more fishermen. Jesus looks down from heaven, smiling, and says, “I think we're gonna need a bigger boat!”

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Can you live and die for Christ?

2^nd Sunday Easter

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

Just one week later and the scene is tense. The disciples are frightened and disbelieving, maybe even on the edge of freaking-out and abandoning the Gospel altogether. And who can blame them? For three years they've followed the man Jesus as he wandered the countryside teaching and preaching the conquering power of the Father's freely offered mercy. Healing the sick, exorcising the possessed, multiplying bread and fish to feed the thousands, the disciples had every good reason to trust that their teacher was exactly who he said he was. And then Judas sold him to the temple priests and the Romans nailed him to a cross. At the expected moment, when the Son of God should have come down from the cross and laid waste to his enemies with thunder and fire, at that moment, he instead cried out to his Father – Why have you forsaken me? – and died. Now his body is missing from the tomb and no one knows where they took him. Hunted as traitors and heretics, the disciples hide in fear, wondering what went wrong and why. To their surprise and shame, the resurrected Lord appears in their midst, and says, “Peace be with you.” Despite their lack of faith, their abandonment of hope, the Risen Lord shows them his mercy.

Or maybe he shows them his mercy b/c of their lack of faith and abandonment of hope? When Thomas the Twin returns to their locked-down hide-out, the other disciples bear witness to the Lord's appearance. He refuses to believe their testimony; he refuses to believe that the resurrected Lord appeared to them, showing them his wounds. In defiance and with all the arrogance of a modern American, Thomas announces, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” One week later – this week – the Risen Lord appears again in their midst and again shows them the Father's mercy, “Peace be with you.” And rather than punish his arrogant disciple, Thomas, the Lord does the unexpected again. He relieves Thomas' disbelief in the only way that Thomas could accept: “Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe.” The Lord's gift of Divine Mercy moves Thomas to an act of faith. He shouts, “My Lord and my God!” 

We can sympathize with Thomas' disbelief. We can sympathize with his faith. No doubt each one of us have lived through days and weeks of disbelief, and days and weeks of vivid faith and hope. We can even sympathize with the frightened disciples, locked away in their hide-out. Over the centuries, the Church has thrived in hiding and barely survived out in the open. We've ruled empires and been ruled by them. We've shaped whole cultures and allowed ourselves to be shaped by them. Whether we are hiding in fear of the State or openly thriving in the marketplace, there is one constant that never fails us: God's enduring and freely offered gift of mercy for the forgiveness of our sins. That offer, this gift never changes. Our Lord always appears in our midst and says, “Peace be with you.” The stillness of that hope and the constancy of that faith pulls us to believe in him and belief in him gently lays us down with love. Thomas' arrogant demand for physical proof is born of fear. If what his fellow disciples tell him is true, then he is obligated to act, to change, to become someone wholly given-over to the power of Spirit who is Love. That commitment is more than just frightening; it's dreadful, filled with the possibilities and promises of giving testimony to an event he himself did not witness. Can he bring himself to live as a follower of Christ and die as his witness when he does not/cannot know if Christ is truly risen?

That's a question we must ask ourselves. Can we? Can I live as a follower of Christ and die as his witness when I do not/cannot know if Christ is truly risen? It's one thing to live as a follower of Christ, to live using his words and deeds as my model. It's a whole different kind of thing to die b/c I live according to his words and deeds. Thus, we are tempted to surrender to the world every day. And in small, quiet ways we do. We surrender a piece of our freedom in Christ every time we sin. We surrender every time we fail to bear witness. And it will all end in total surrender to the world if we do not surrender totally to Christ first. A total surrender to the world will not end the Church. The Church will always endure. What will come to an end is the life in Christ for those who give up, for those who – like Thomas and the disciples – choose despair over hope, choose hiding-in over going-out. When Thomas sticks his hand into Christ's wounds he shouts, “My Lord and my God!” What went on in his head during those seconds btw feeling our Lord's torn flesh and his confession of surrender? Maybe he realizes his mistake and repents. Maybe he feels ashamed of his denial. Maybe he is convicted in his heart that his mind is wrongly closed to believing what he cannot see. Maybe, just maybe his fear is given rest and his anxiety is appeased by the knowledge that his fellow disciples have testified in truth: the Lord is no longer in his tomb! Thomas is made faithful by the radical truth that his Lord and God is truly risen! Knowing the Risen Lord and believing in the Risen Lord makes Thomas a man-sent-out, an apostle. A man who is what he does and does who he is.

Each one of us is made faithful by the truth of the Risen Lord. If you come forward this morning to eat his body and drink his blood, you are putting your hands into his wounds. Do not be unbelieving but believe. Do not be unknowing but know. And ask yourself: if I can live as a follower of Christ, can I die as a follower of Christ? To say yes I can is the beginning of your surrender.

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