Mon, 5/25/2020: "I am not alone."

Today's Mass readings can be found: [HERE].

Today, nationally, we celebrate Memorial Day, during which we honor our fallen comrades who paid the ultimate sacrifice for God, country, and family. We call to mind their memory, and visit their tombs. We decorate their graves and offer up a prayer of gratitude for their service.

From a natural standpoint, it is right and just to honor these heroes who spilled their blood to preserve us a nation.

As the saying goes, grace builds upon nature, and we see how this natural instinct reaches perfection at the Holy Mass through God's grace. At the Holy Mass, we honor Jesus Christ, who offered himself in sacrifice as the Lamb of God who is the perfect holocaust before the Almighty God. He did this for all of humanity and to restore creation.

But we do more than merely call him to mind. We go to Mass to encounter Him. We meet and receive him in the Holy Mass as the Eucharist. And we do more than recall a memory of him. Through the Mass we actually enter into the original event. Christ's Resurrection from the dead has shattered the limitations of time and space, so that at every Mass, we truly enter into the paschal experience of 2000 years ago.

It is right and just to glorify Jesus Christ, and in Jesus Christ, the Father. The Lord is the true hero, the Christ, the Messiah, who spilled his blood on the Cross and from the Chalice to preserve his chosen people.

In our gospel today (Jn. 16:29-33), Jesus tells his disciples: "I am not alone, because the Father is with me." Further, Jesus is not alone because we are with him. As he said before, he would be in us; the Father in him, and he in us. At every Mass, we truly rest in his divine presence. May God bless you.

Leonardo Da Vinci, The Last Supper: image retrieved from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Last_Supper_(Leonardo)

Sun, 5/24/20: Ascension of the Lord

My father was a sailor in the United States Navy for twenty years, and at times throughout those years, his mission had kept him at sea for many months. When the time came for him to return home, my mother would bring my brothers, my sister, and me to Pearl Harbor, so that we could be reunited with dad as soon as possible. We would stand there at the harbor; but we were never alone. We were one among many military families ready to greet the fleet at her arrival.

As we’d look over the waters, we’d eventually see the fleet break over the horizon. The number of ships would increase as they approached, and seem to fill the entire harbor; ships of different sizes and shapes. They were many, but they were all united under one banner. Proudly, they carried the flag of the United States of America; the flag which had finally come home.

Soon, we’d be able to distinguish the individual ships. My own eyes would scan the fleet, until they found the hull number 1077; the USS Oullet—my father’s ship. At that point, the fleet would be near enough for those on shore and those at sea to see each other face to face; because standing along the rails of each ship were the sailors themselves, their own eyes searching the port for their loved ones. One could see on each of their faces a mixture of pride in their mission and nation; and a longing to see their loved ones again; and joy when their eyes would find them standing there at the shore.

Deep calls to deep in the roar of waters, sings the psalmist. And it was true. Shallow emotions have no place among loved ones who have been separated for so long. When family was finally reunited with the beloved one, no words were necessary. One could simply be there, joyful at the real presence of the other; a joy was shared among all who were present. That burst of joy at the return of the fleet washed away whatever anguish of separation that lingered up until that moment of reunion.

That’s a story of just one family—my family; but the truth is that all of us, at some point or another, have experienced, or will experience, the anguish of separation. Whether it involves graduations where sons and daughters leave for college, or one’s children leaving the home to begin families of their own, or other friends and family moving away to begin work in a new place, we all know the sorrow that touches upon us when we say goodbye. Many know the pain of burying someone they love, knowing that they will not see that person again in this life.

But by the grace of God, we also know the joy of reunion; of seeing a beloved one again face to face. And so, we all have experienced a hint—just a small hint—of that drama of the Son’s return to his Father in heaven.

Today, we celebrate the mystery of the Ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ into heaven. Today, we share in the Father’s joy at the return of the Son. A very long time ago, a mission had called the Son to come down from heaven; to begin his voyage into our humanity. There was a reason for the Son’s departure from heaven; which we recall every time we pray the Creed: for our sake and for our salvation, he came down from heaven. His mission was to save us; to set us free.

Once, we were all enslaved to sin and death; but the Son sailed across that infinite distance that separates God and man, and he entered into our human condition. And he did this purely out of love; for you and for me. There was no other reason. He emptied himself unto even death, death on a Cross, so that we could truly say that there is no human experience that is untouched by his grace; that no one, however lost or abandoned they might seem or feel—that person is never truly forsaken or alone—because Christ turned even death itself into the gateway to eternal life.

By dying he destroyed our death; by rising, he restored our life. And when his mission was complete, it was time to return home. And when he did, he wasn’t alone. With him, was an entire fleet of those ancient saints who had long awaited his coming. All of them came from different times and places throughout human history, all unique and distinct in their own way. And they were also united under one banner, the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. Their flags were made white in the blood of the Lamb. The gates of heaven had finally been reopened, and the children of the Father had come home.

For his part, the Father wasn’t alone in awaiting his Son’s return. All the hosts of heaven were with him; all the choirs of angels and archangels; thrones and dominions; virtues, powers, principalities, seraphim and cherubim; they all sang the ancient hymn of glory from time immemorial: Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of Hosts; heaven and earth are full of your glory, Hosanna in the highest!

And when the Father and the Son saw each other again, face to face, the eternal Love between them—the Holy Spirit—burst forth in a light that pierces every darkness. Heaven itself couldn’t contain such a light, and so it overflowed and filled all of creation—renewing creation with pure and perfect grace. That’s Pentecost, and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit into the world, which we’ll celebrate next week.

We remember this mystery in the Solemnity of the Ascension, but in truth, we celebrate this mystery at every single Mass. We truly share in the Father’s joy at the return of the Son. Listen closely the next time you hear the Eucharistic prayer. In the words: “through him, with him, and in him—we’re talking about Christ—O God, almighty Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours, forever and ever.” Those words call to mind the mystery of the Son’s return to the Father.

And once again, the Son does not return alone. Like the ancient saints, who were with Christ at his ascension, we too ascend to the Father spiritually, whenever we receive the body and blood of Christ in the Eucharist. This happens sacramentally in the Mass. And yet it also foreshadows the final glory to which we all are called, when by the grace of God, we too behold the face of the Father, and enjoy his vision for all of eternity.

At the end of our lives, by our fidelity to Christ now, may we find the Father waiting, with all of the choirs of angels and saints, with all of our loved ones, happy to welcome us to our eternal home, rejoicing at our return. May God bless you.

Christi Himmelfahrtby Gebhard Fugel, c. 1893; retrieved from Wikipedia: [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feast_of_the_Ascension]

Sat, 5/23/20: To the world and back

Today's readings can be found: [HERE].

In our gospel passage today, Jesus tells his disciples: "I came from the Father and have come into the world. Now I am leaving the world and going back to the Father" (Jn. 16:28).

Some of you have seen our recent parish strategy, titled, "A Pastoral Approach," in which we discuss the pastoral strategy of Holy Family Church in the years to come. The three "elements" of the parish's mission, which can be found [here], intentionally follow the pattern of our Lord's mission, which Jesus mentions in our gospel passage today (i.e. his coming from the Father and his return to the Father).

Likewise, as Jesus came down from heaven to accomplish his work of salvation and then returned to the Father, so also do parishioners depart from Holy Family to minister as stewards in the world before returning again to gather in worship. And as Jesus was sent by the Father, so the disciples are sent by the Son. And as the Son is loved by the Father, Jesus now tells the disciples, "The Father himself loves you" (cf. Jn. 16:27a).

This isn't a contrived mission statement. It's a statement that summarizes the dynamic that first exists between the Father and the Son, and into which the disciples and we are invited. We leave the Church in order to serve in the world after being strengthened by grace in the Eucharist. And then we come back again in thanksgiving to honor and praise our God, and to be nourished again in Christ to repeat the cycle. That pattern defines the activity of the disciple; there and back again, with the Eucharist as the fulcrum. Soon, public Masses will resume, and the great return will be consummated.