Mark 10:45

Tag: Jesus

  • Remaining Connected

    Remaining Connected

    Acts 15:1-6; Psalm 122:1-2, 3-4ab, 4cd-5; John 15:1-8

    As Acts of the Apostles 15 begins, the Church finds herself in serious disagreement. This is no small matter; it’s about salvation itself. Should Gentiles adopt Jewish customs and practices, or not?

    So what do they do?

    First, notice what they don’t do: They don’t split into new churches. They don’t ignore the problem and hope it will go away.

    Instead, they do what the Psalm describes: they “go to the house of the Lord.” That is, they come together. They go to Jerusalem. They talk. They argue. They discern.

    And that’s exactly what Jesus told them to do, though perhaps not in the way we expect.

    Before he ascended to the Father, Jesus knew his Church would encounter things he had not addressed explicitly. So, how did he deal with that – by leaving them a rule book, or saying, “When problems arise, just remember what I said and you’ll be fine”?

    No. As John reminds us, Jesus said, “Remain in me, as I remain in you… If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask for whatever you want and it will be done for you.”

    “Remain in me…” doesn’t mean just remembering the past. It’s staying connected to the living God — the Vine, without whom we can do nothing.

    And he adds, ‘if my words remain in you.’ Not just remembering them, but letting them take root in us… shape us… change what we desire. So that, when we ask, we are no longer asking only for what we want… but for what God knows we need.


    Ultimately, we find, as in Acts today, we may not always have the answer right away… but by staying united, staying attentive, and open to the Spirit, the right answers will come.

    Before the Church could say, “It has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us”… they first had to remain.

    Remain together. Remain in Christ. Remain open.

    The Church bears fruit not because she always has quick answers… but because she remains in Christ long enough to receive the right ones.

    This is true in our own lives too, of course. When we or someone we know is suffering, in conflict, or going through a difficult time, it’s tempting to want quick answers. This is only natural. Still, as Christ reminded us in the gospel, without him, we can do nothing. In him, we can do all things – even endure what we may have thought was unendurable. And, we may well find that the endurance of that suffering leads to great fruit indeed – a deeper, more lasting union with Christ than we ever thought possible.

    —

  • What is it about Jesus?

    What is it about Jesus?

    Wednesday of the 3rd Week of Easter

    Acts 8:1b-8; John 6:35-40

    This may sound surprising or counter-intuitive, but it’s true: the places in the world where the Church is the most highly persecuted or suppressed right now – Iran, Nigeria, China – are also places where it is growing… fast.

    This has happened for as long as the Church has existed. We see it today in Acts 8; despite believers in Jerusalem being persecuted, the Church continues to grow.

    Why? I think it has something to do with the behavior of the persecuted disciples.

    First, we hear that “devout men buried Stephen and made a loud lament over him,” then that many Christians preferred prison over recanting their faith. The quiet witness of these disciples carries a dignity and strength that evangelizes. Seeing it, outsiders might ask, “What is it about Jesus that makes his followers so dedicated?”

    Second, “those who had been scattered went about preaching the word.” Like a fulfillment of our Lord’s parables, these seeds took root where the Word had not gone before, and there blossomed new church communities. Again, this is the witness that makes outsiders ask, “What is it about Jesus that attracts people in such numbers?”

    What is it about Jesus? He tells us in the gospel: “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.” Because we are made in the image and likeness of God, each of us has a hunger that nothing and no one but Him can satisfy. Not only that, he says that “everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have eternal life, and I shall raise him on the last day.”

    The Bread of Life Eternal. We don’t need to guess the effect; Acts tells us. Once the Samaritans see and experience Christ through the ministry of those disciples, they have a joy that no one and nothing can take from them.

    Given this witness, the Church doesn’t grow despite persecution; it grows because of it.

    Does that mean persecution is necessary? No. What is necessary is to find ways to do what persecution does – strip away the worldly distractions that lead us to hunger for what can never truly satisfy, and ask ourselves, “What are we really living for?”

    The Church has given us a good way to answer that: the works of mercy. When we feed the hungry, visit the sick, forgive someone who has hurt us, give our time to someone who can’t repay us, something happens: Distractions begin to fade, our hearts begin to change, and we see more clearly that Christ really is enough.

    And people notice. Not all at once, and not with a lot of fanfare, but quietly, as in Acts. They wonder, “What is it about this person? What drives them? They’re Christian… is it their faith?”

    Our witness becomes evangelizing.

    So, the question for us is simple, but challenging: Where is Christ inviting me to live more simply, more faithfully, more like those Jerusalem disciples? Where is he asking me to let go of what doesn’t satisfy, so I can more deeply experience the Bread of Life who does?

    When we do that, we don’t just hear His promise. We live it. And others will see it.

    And, most importantly, they will see Christ better by it.

    —

  • One Small Step

    One Small Step

    Wednesday of Holy Week

    Isaiah 50:4-9a; Matthew 26:14-25

    Notice in Matthew’s gospel how eleven of the Apostles say, Surely it is not I, Lord? while only Judas says, Surely it is not I, Rabbi? The evangelist doesn’t do this by accident; to Judas, Jesus may be many things – teacher, sage, gifted healer, moving speaker – but whatever he is, he is not Lord.

    Like Judas, many people cannot make the leap from “Teacher” to “Lord.” Perhaps they’re afraid of what it would mean. If Jesus is Lord, then his words can no longer be taken as opinion, his actions no longer regarded as merely well-intended, his death no longer understood as the death that comes to us all.

    And if we’re honest, I think we all know that temptation.

    • To admire Jesus… without fully surrendering to him.
    • To agree with his teaching… without living it every day.
    • To forgive… when it’s easy.
    • To love… except when it costs us.
    • To trust… but only when we understand.

    That one change – from “Teacher” to “Lord”… One small step for the tongue. One giant leap for the heart.

    This is the leap of faith.

    Yes, it asks a lot, but it gives so much more.

    Today, as we prepare to walk with our Lord through his Passion and death, let us take a moment to thank God for the gift of faith, to pray that others may cast aside their fear and make it their own, and that our own faith may be strengthened not only to call him “Lord,” but to do all he has asked; to love as he loved – to the death.

    For our actions, born of that love, may become the “well-trained tongue” that speaks to hearts in ways that our words never could.

  • Broken Open and Poured Out

    Broken Open and Poured Out

    Monday of Holy Week

    Isaiah 42:1-7; John 12:1-11

    One of the things I find so interesting about a master artist is that, in their hands, even the simplest thing can acquire a depth I would never have seen or imagined.

    The Evangelist John is such an artist. In his hands, even a simple alabaster jar full of perfumed oil comes to symbolize the whole Christian life.

    How so?

    On one level, it’s just a jar. An earthen vessel, fragile and limited. But on a deeper level, isn’t that us? Each created with a deep, interior space that only God can fill.

    And the perfume – again, on one level a rare, costly aromatic. But more deeply, how like God’s grace! Once poured into us, its fragrance waits to be poured out upon the world.

    Pouring is exactly the action featured in the readings. First, Isaiah sees a mysterious Servant as a vessel filled with the Spirit of God: the oil poured in. Then, in the gospel, Mary pours the oil on Christ, recognizing him as that Servant who, not crying out, not shouting, will soon pour out his Spirit for the life of the world.

    It is in the imitation of Christ that we are the alabaster jar. The oil is the grace of God poured into us at Baptism, strengthened and renewed at this altar, given not to be kept, but to be poured out so that others may live.

    I think Mother Teresa understood this. She and her sisters included this prayer every day after Communion: “Dear Jesus, help me to spread Your fragrance wherever I go… let them look up and see no longer me, but only Jesus.”

    Of course, we cannot spread that fragrance unless we too are broken open and poured out, so let this be our prayer this Holy Week:

    Lord, we pray that whatever is “breaking” or happening in our lives right now — in our families, our health, our hearts — may it not be wasted. Rather, may it be Mary’s alabaster jar. May the fragrance of God’s grace poured out by our service fill not only this House but the entire world.

  • The Point of the Law

    The Point of the Law

    Wednesday of the 3rd Week of Lent

    Deuteronomy 4:1, 5-9; John 6:63c, 68c; Matthew 5:17-19

    On a break during Canon Law class, the professor told me about a case he studied years before.

    On one side was a priest whose behavior showed a blatant disregard of Canon Law. He acted as if it simply didn’t apply to him. On the other side, the prosecuting priest was just as extreme in the opposite direction. He clung so tightly to the letter of the law that he almost made it an end in itself.

    The professor said that every clergyman must remember above all the last canon in the Church’s law. Its final line says this: ‘The salvation of souls must always be the supreme law of the Church.’ “So remember,” Father said, “when you deal with people, the law isn’t there to control them or to be ignored. The law exists to save souls.”

    That’s exactly what Christ teaches in today’s Gospel. When he says he has not come to abolish the law but to fulfill it, our minds might jump to the Pharisees or others, who treated the law as an end in itself. But I believe he was also thinking of people who lived as if God’s commandments were optional.

    Maybe, before my mind jumps to anyone else, I should take a look at myself. Are there times in my life – like when I do something wrong – that I look the other way, make excuses, or go easy on myself? And are there other times when I’m hard or unforgiving – say perhaps when someone offends me or someone I love? The truth is, I don’t have to look very far to find that I myself live on both sides of the continuum; I am both priests Father talked with me about.

    All the more reason for me to remember Father’s lesson – the law exists to save souls, to give life. The Gospel Acclamation said it so well – His words are Spirit and life (John 6:63, 68); medicine for the soul and meant to bring us all to everlasting life.

    So when Jesus says he has not come to abolish the law but fulfill it, he’s reminding us of something simple but very profound: God did not give us his commandments to control us or offer suggestions. He gave them to save us.

    With that in mind, here’s a way we can live out the gospel this week: Choose one commandment and bring it to life in a small, concrete way. For example, if it’s the Fifth Commandment, speak gently in a situation in which you might otherwise speak in anger. If it’s the Seventh Commandment, be honest yet gentle, even if that’s inconvenient. In all things, let the law guide you to life, not weigh you down.

    When we do such things, our actions show the world that the most important thing is that the law points the way to Jesus, who himself is the Way.

    And the Truth.

    And the Life.

    —

  • Being a “Keeper”

    Being a “Keeper”

    Monday of the 3rd Week of Lent

    2 Kings 5:1-15ab

    When I was a boy, our family car stopped running while Dad and I were visiting one of his friends. A big, powerful engine… completely frozen. Dad and his friend tore the engine apart and discovered the problem: a tiny metal piece called a “keeper” that held a piston in place. Just a little part, no bigger than your fingertip. But without it, the whole engine was useless.

    Again and again in Scripture, God works through small voices:

    • A shepherd boy defeats a giant.
    • A widow’s two coins outweigh a fortune.
    • A child’s lunch feeds a crowd.
    • And today, a little slave girl starts the miracle that heals Naaman.

    I think the lesson is clear. We should never dismiss someone because they seem insignificant. God chooses whomever He wills, not whoever makes sense to us.

    The slave girl is a perfect case in point. On the one hand, she had no power, no position, no influence. On the other, she did have the courage to speak the truth she knew: “If only my master would go to the prophet in Israel…”

    Because she spoke, a man was healed. And that healing began with something very small: one person willing to speak, and another willing to listen, even to someone he could have easily ignored.

    This raises two questions for us:

    First: Who are the little voices in my life? Who might God be speaking through that I tend to overlook? A child… a spouse… a friend… a stranger… even someone who irritates me.

    Second: To whom might I be the little voice? Maybe God wants to use one small word from me – a word of encouragement, an invitation, a reminder about prayer, a quiet act of kindness — to start something good in someone else’s life.

    Sometimes the engine of grace in someone’s life is waiting for one tiny “keeper”— one small voice willing to speak. Let us ask Almighty God for the grace to hear that voice ourselves, and to be that voice for others.

  • Coming to the Well

    Coming to the Well

    3rd Sunday of Lent

    John 4:5-42

    During Lent, the Church quietly leads us through the great needs of the human heart. In the first three Sundays, we encounter three of them: Faith, hope, and love.

    On the first Sunday of Lent, we saw how faith is tested in hunger and isolation. Physically, Jesus was alone and weakened by a long fast; spiritually, though, he was as strong as ever and never alone. Why not? Because his union with the Father remained intact. The same is true for us; faith strengthens and sustains us. Without it, we are weak and alone.

    Then on the second Sunday of Lent, we saw how hope is strengthened despite the trials we face. At the Transfiguration, the disciples were given a glimpse of who Jesus really is. This was the sign that says, “Suffering is not the end. Glory is real.” Hope in Christ prevents discouragement; without it, suffering becomes meaningless.

    Now, on this third Sunday of Lent, we come to the well, as does the Samaritan woman. No hunger, no glory, just thirst. But not for water. No, something much deeper. In her case, I think it’s for dignity and belonging. She comes to the well alone during the heat of the day, when it’s deserted. Why? It’s hard to believe it’s by her choice. Perhaps she has been shunned by the townspeople on account of her several marriages. If so, that would be worst of all. As someone once observed, the worst loneliness isn’t being alone; it’s being with people who make you feel alone.

    Although it’s hard to be fully in touch with her circumstances, I think we can all understand isolation and loneliness. A recent survey has found that, despite all the connections we make on our cellphones and computers, loneliness in our society is widespread, especially among young people.

    How can this be? There may be many reasons, but one thing is clear: when God is removed from the center of life, something essential is lost. As the Church reminds us these first three weeks of Lent, without faith in God, we mistrust; without hope in Him, we despair; and without the love of God, we remain alone, no matter how many people are around us. As a culture, we thirst like the Samaritan woman does: for communion, for belonging, and above all for grace – the only thing that can make us whole – for grace is participation in the life of God.

    Our Lord’s response is instructive for us. Aware of her circumstances, what does he do? Well, first look at what he doesn’t do: He doesn’t give her rules or command her to repent. No; he gives her himself. And that encounter restores what is lacking in her life – dignity, truth, and belonging.

    That is charity. That is the love of God.

    And look at the effect! In these brief few minutes under that hot Mediterranean sun, a woman who arrived at the well alone leaves her water jar behind and runs back to the town. A moment ago, it was as if she was hidden; now, she is not only making herself seen, but also heard – by bringing people to Christ.

    That kind of transformation is waiting for each of us, and shows us the importance of Baptism. The virtues of faith, hope, and love infused in us by God at our baptism aren’t simply things that are “nice to have.” Without them, we live surrounded by people, yet untouched at the center. With them, communion with God and each other is not only possible, but is ours for the asking.

    But that means we have to ask. How? Well, as with the Samaritan woman, Jesus waits at the well. Where’s that? Right here, in the tabernacle. As St. Josemaria Escriva once said, “When you approach the tabernacle, remember that Jesus has been waiting for you for centuries.”

    Knowing that, I invite you this week – today if you like – to come and make one deliberate visit to the Lord. Sit right here in the church. Stay five extra minutes after Mass today or during the week. Or, visit him in the Adoration Chapel. Whichever you do, tell him honestly where you thirst. If you don’t know, tell him that, too. Ask him to show you those places in your life, and help you with them.

    Then listen. He will speak.

  • What Heaven Notices

    What Heaven Notices

    Wednesday of the 2nd Week of Lent

    Matthew 20:17–28

    Someone once told the famous evangelist Billy Graham that God would surely reward him for his greatness as a preacher. Graham replied that he once dreamed about that.

    In his dream, he died and went to heaven. As he entered, Peter ushered him toward the heavenly throne. Once there, the Lord said, “Everyone, the great preacher, Billy Graham, is now here with us.”

    After a long, mystified silence, an angel asked, “Who, Lord?” Smiling, God said, “Oh, I’m sorry. You know him as Ruth Graham’s husband.”

    And when they heard that, all of Heaven cheered.

    While it’s a charming story, it makes a serious point. When we think of greatness, what do we think of? Being above others? Higher up? Recognized? Applauded?

    That seems to be what James and John had in mind in today’s Gospel. They wanted the seats of honor, one at our Lord’s right, one at His left, when He comes into His kingdom. But notice the timing; they ask this just after Jesus told them for a third time He’s going to Jerusalem to suffer and die. His emphasis is the cross; theirs is thrones.

    But notice, too, that Jesus doesn’t scold their desire for greatness. Instead, he redefines it: “… the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them… it shall not be so among you.” In other words, greatness in the Kingdom of Heaven isn’t found in being above others, but in reaching toward them. Not in climbing higher, but in bending lower. Not in being served, but in serving.

    Then we hear the decisive words: “The Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.” Jesus hasn’t just redefined greatness, he has embodied it.

    This is what Jesus asked of James and John, all of his Apostles, and everyone who calls themselves Christian.

    Billy Graham understood that. He didn’t want to be remembered for eloquence or influence. He wanted to be remembered for love. Because in the end, titles fade. Recognition fades. Even the memory of accomplishments fades. Only love remains.

    Of course, the desire for greatness isn’t wrong. God placed it in us. As Holy Father Benedict XVI said, we weren’t made for comfort, we were made for greatness. But Lent teaches us that greatness is found in the narrow road of self-gift and service. We are asked to fast, pray, and give alms, not to be impressive but to be free – free to serve as Christ served.

    Actually, as he still serves. For Christ serves us today, as he has every day for centuries, in the holy Eucharist. The One who is truly seated at the right hand of God the Father comes to us again; not to be admired from a distance, but to serve us with His very Body and Blood.

    Then he sends us out to do the same.

    So today the question isn’t: “How can I be recognized,” but “whom can I serve in a way that no one will notice?”

    That is greatness in the Kingdom. And that’s what Heaven notices.

  • Full of Emptiness

    Full of Emptiness

    Monday of the 2nd Week of Lent

    Daniel 9:4b-10; Luke 6:36-38

    Visiting a newly built Catholic church, I asked my host why it was so plain and unadorned. He replied that the planning committee chose a Buddhist-inspired design to help people “come to emptiness” in prayer.

    Later, a priest commented on that idea. He said, “The problem with that kind of design is that our goal as Catholics is not to come to emptiness. Just the opposite! We are to come to the fullness of life in Christ.”

    Of course, emptiness has value. We need to empty ourselves of sin. We see that in the reading from the Book of Daniel. He stands before God and confesses, “We have sinned.” Daniel doesn’t blame others. He humbles himself, empties himself of pride.

    That kind of emptiness is holy; it makes room for mercy.

    But emptiness is not the final goal, fullness is. And in today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us how fullness comes: Give, and gifts will be given to you… a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing (Luke 6:38). In the marketplace of his day, a merchant would press and shake the grain to make sure the measure was full, not skimpy. Then it would be poured into the fold of the buyer’s garment.

    Jesus is describing overflowing abundance.

    But notice the order: Give, and you will receive. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Be merciful as your Father is merciful.

    We may think we’ll be full if we protect ourselves; measure carefully; give only what feels safe. But Jesus says the measure we use on others will be used on us.

    That isn’t a threat, it’s a promise. If we measure generously, forgive generously, and show mercy generously, God will do the same to us.

    So, today the question is simple: Where am I measuring tightly? Who needs my mercy? Who am I still judging instead of forgiving?

    We empty ourselves of sin, yes. But we fill ourselves with Christ by giving. And when we dare to give generously, we find that God’s generosity is infinitely greater: packed together, shaken down, and overflowing.

  • Three Reasons to Thank God

    Three Reasons to Thank God

    Wednesday of the 1st Week in Lent

    Jonah 3:1-10; Psalm 51:3-4, 12-13, 18-19; Luke 11:29-32

    Today we heard again from that beautiful penitential psalm, Psalm 51. David’s yearning for forgiveness is plain, but I think equally plain is his desire to feel the restoration of joy that follows it. We can hear it in lines like, “Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that you have crushed rejoice… Restore to me the joy of your salvation” (Psalm 51:9, 12). Contrition blossoms into the thanksgiving of a joyful heart.

    I’m sure the people of Nineveh felt that same joy after heeding Jonah’s warning and coming to repentance. I’m also sure that many of us, after leaving the Confessional, feel it too.

    In that spirit, my advice based on these readings is to take a moment today to thank God in three ways.

    First, thank God for the signs He has sent you. Nineveh had Jonah. The Queen of the South had Solomon. Who did you have? I can think of so many – my parents, the nuns, priests, and laypeople who taught me, the priests who formed me, the bishop who ordained me, parishioners who pray for and sustain me. Let us thank God for all those He put in our lives who brought us to faith, formed us in it, or have encouraged us to keep trying.

    Second, thank God for the times He has made you a sign to others. You might think, “Hey, I’m no sign. I’m just an ordinary person.” So was Jonah! Did you notice the first reading began by telling us this was the second time God sent him? The first time, Jonah ran away! Still, despite his failings, God used him. Jonah needed God’s strength (we call it fortitude) and so do we. It takes strength to stay married, to forgive, to keep praying despite setbacks. Those are all signs to others, and you’ve done them. And because you did, others have seen that faith is not just possible, it’s life giving. Thank God!

    Finally, thank God for the Sign that is greater than all others. In the gospel, Jesus said, “Something greater than Jonah is here.” Indeed! Here, at Mass, is something far, far greater than Jonah or Solomon. Of course, the sign isn’t a prophet pointing or warning; it is our Lord’s true, total, and abiding Presence. Yes, Nineveh had a preacher, but we have the Eucharist. They had a warning, we have Mercy Himself.

    No wonder the gospel acclamation urged us to return to God. There is no better place to thank Him – in His House, and before His Eucharistic Face.