I have often said that prayer is relationship with God. It can take many forms - talking to God, being silent with God, using traditional forms such as the rosary, etc. Sometimes we ask God for something, sometimes we thank God for something, and sometimes we do not know what to pray. Sometimes we pray for faith. One of my favorite lines in Scripture is the father of a little boy, who says in response to Jesus' proclamation that everything is possible for one who has faith, "I do believe, help my unbelief!" (Mark 9:24)

There have been very few times in my prayer when I have felt some sort of concrete response, and even those times, there was no booming voice from heaven telling me what to do or what I needed to hear. It was more subtle than that. Most of the time, I suspect God answers our prayers in ways we never even realize or recognize. We are reading the book Eat, Love, Pray by Elizabeth Gilbert for our book club right now, and her description of a prayer experience really resonated with me. Gilbert was raised Christian, but had not really practiced her faith as an adult. At a low point in her life, in the middle of the night on her bathroom floor struggling with her misery in an unhappy marriage, she says she begins to pray. She begins, amusingly enough, by introducing herself to God - literally. She says,

"That's right--I was speaking to the creator of the universe as though we'd just been introduced at a cocktail party. But we work with what we know in this life, and these are the words I always use at the beginning of a relationship." (pg. 15)

As she cries, she begs God over and over to tell her what to do, and she says that she hears a voice. But the voice is not that, in her words, "Old Testament Hollywood Charlton Heston voice," but rather:

"It was merely my own voice speaking from within myself. But this was my voice as I had never heard it before. This was my voice, but perfectly wise, calm and compassionate. This was what my voice would sound like if I'd only ever experience love and certainty in my life. How can I describe the warmth of affection in that voice, as it gave me the answer that would forever seal my faith in the divine?" (pg. 16)

I like to think that this is how God speaks to us. That there is this inner voice within us, if we really and truly listen to it, that is God's voice speaking in us and through us. So what did the voice say to her? Here is the real brilliance of it - the voice told her to go back to bed. That is it. She reflects:

"It was so immediately clear that this was the only thing to do. I would not have accepted any other answer. I would not have trusted a great booming voice that said either: You Must Divorce Your Husband! or You Must Not Divorce Your Husband! Because that's not true wisdom. True wisdom gives the only possible answer. Go back to bed, said this omniscient interior voice, because you don't need to know the final answer right now, at three o'clock in the morning on a Thursday in November. Go back to bed, because I love you. Go back to bed, because the only thing you need for now is to get some rest and take good care of yourself until you do know the answer. Go back to bed so that when the tempest comes, you'll be strong enough to deal with it. And the tempest is coming, dear one. Very soon. But not tonight. Therefore: Go back to bed, Liz."

This passage made me cry. It just speaks to me of God's presence with us in our darkest moments. Prayer, relationship with God, is not about God "fixing" things or solving our problems for us. Prayer is about letting God be with us and love us during the good times and the times when life seems so very hard.

Death has a way of bringing life into very sharp focus, especially when that death is unexpected and tragic. We generally cannot listen to the news these days without hearing about death: the soldiers and civilians in Iraq, the miners in Utah, the victims of the floods in the midwest, the victims of the earthquake in Peru. The list could go on and on. At the same time I am very fortunate in my circumstances in life that death is usually not a part of my day to day existence, therefore when it does touch my life, it is unexpected and tragic. This past week the wife of one of my relatives unexpectedly died from a blood clot that went to her heart. She injured her foot a couple of weeks ago, the blood clot formed without anyone's knowledge, and now suddenly she has died. She leaves behind her husband and 3 year old son. In the midst our sorrow, I am forced to recognize that life is a very precious and fragile gift. I take it for granted. For the most part my family members have lived long and happy lives, dying in their 80s or 90s. That is my paradigm and my expectation: that I and those I love will live, that life is somehow a given. But it is not, and it can be lost suddenly and unexpectedly. People who live in war stricken countries or even in the more violent neighborhoods of our own country realize this much more vividly than I usually do. In having that sort of lived ignorance, I am very fortunate. That potential loss of life, for me who can see this instance as somewhat the exception to the norm, makes me appreciate how grateful I should be for each moment of life, for each relationship with a loved one, for the beauty of nature that constantly surrounds me, for the very breath that I breathe, and for the fact that all of the cells and organs in my body operate day in and day out the way they are supposed to.

In Deuteronomy, God says to the people,

I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life, then, that you and your descendents may live, by loving the LORD, your God, heeding his voice, and holding fast to him. For that will mean life for you. 30:19-20

Death can cause us to despair or it can cause us to choose life, forcing us to recognize that what we have here does not last forever. It is an extraordinarily precious gift that we are given to cherish and to make the most of each and every day.

I have been reading Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander by Thomas Merton over the last couple of weeks as part of my daily spiritual reading. I want to begin by quoting a lengthy passage from this work that was written in the 1960s and continues to be so very relevant today:

It is no exaggeration to say that democratic society is founded on a kind of faith: on the conviction that each citizen is capable of, and assumes, complete political responsibility. Each one not only broadly understands the problems of government but is willing and ready to take part in their solution. In a word, democracy assumes that the citizen knows what is going on, understands the difficulties of the situation, and has worked out for himself an answer that can help him to contribute, intelligently and constructively, to the common work (or "liturgy") of running his society.

For this to be true, there must be a considerable amount of solid educational preparation. A real training of the mind. A genuine formation in those intellectual and spiritual disciplines without which freedom is impossible.

There must be a completely free exchange of ideas. Minority opinions, even opinions which may appear to be dangerous, must be given a hearing, clearly understood and seriously evaluated on their own merits, not merely suppressed. Religious beliefs and disciplines must be respected. The rights of individual conscience must be protected against every kind of open or occult encroachment.

Democracy cannot exist when men prefer ideas and opinions that are fabricated for them. The actions and statements of the citizen must not be mere automatic "reactions"--mere mechanical salutes, gesticulations signifying passive conformity with those in power.

To be truthful, we will have to admit that one cannot expect this to be realized in all the citizens of a democracy. But if it is not realized in a significant proportion to them, democracy ceases to be an objective fact and becomes nothing but an emotionally loaded word.

What is the situation in the United States today? (100-101)

The question with which Merton ends his reflection is one we must ask ourselves today. We finished two different series at the parish recently, one on Vatican II and the other on immigration. In the series on Vatican II, we ended by discussing Gaudium et Spes (The Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World). If you have not read this document, you should click on the link above and begin. The Council calls all of us to take responsibility as citizens, not only of our country, but of the world, and be an active part of working toward solving the problems of the world such as the economic disparity between the rich and the poor and issues of peace and justice.

Too often politics in our country is all about rhetoric instead of education, sound bytes rather than constructive reflection. The politicians define themselves in opposition to one another instead of entering into dialogue to find common ground and ways to move forward and make progress. Too often we as citizens don't bother to inform ourselves but simply swallow the party line, preferring ideas and opinions that are fabricated for us, as Merton says, rather than doing the hard work of thinking through the issue for ourselves.

The recent discussion series we had on immigration was a shining example of the exact opposite of this type of complacency. Here a group of intelligent, committed Christian Americans came together to struggle with a very complex problem, to understand better the different viewpoints, and to try to figure out how they could individually make a difference. In a time when our politicians have somewhat given up on this issue, it was invigorating to see a group of people willing to stay with the issue and the struggle to figure out what the right course of action might be. There was no consensus in the group of what the solution might be, but everyone agreed that we could not give up. These people were doing exactly what Merton maintains the citizens of a democracy must do if democracy is to work: they were struggling to understand the situation and its difficulties and trying to figure out their own answers in a way that would allow them to contribute "intelligently and constructively" to solving the problem. This is the challenge and the beauty of democracy.

I was sitting on our deck up north with my eight year old niece watching the sunset, and she commented on the peace and quiet. She lives in a house with 2 parents, 4 kids, a dog, a talking bird (Macaw), doves, and rabbits (her dad is a magician). Sitting on the deck, she said to me, "Sometimes at mass Fr. Tom closes his eyes, and we all take a moment. That is about the only peace and quiet I ever get!" Out of the mouths of babes! We do not live in a culture that values silence. With all of our cell phones, ipods, entertainment systems, etc., not to mention just the chaotic households many live in, how often do we get to truly experience silence? And yet we have a deep need for silence and contemplation. Even an eight year old can recognize that fact!

In the Vatican II series we are currently having at the parish, we just discussed the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy. While the main point of the document is the importance of the "full, conscious, and active participation of the laity" in prayer and song (which, by the way, is prayer - in fact Augustine says singing is praying twice!), there is also a line in the Constitution that notes the importance of times of reverent silence during the liturgy. I have been at parishes where the pastors have tried to incorporate such times of silence, and the tangible uncomfortableness of many people is almost amusing, if it weren't so sad. We don't know how to be silent. Sitting and being silent is often regarded as a waste of time in our very efficient society. At my parents' church up north, the priest would sit down after the homily and close his eyes for a good amount of time. Since the church was usually full of tourists, who were unaware that this was his normal mode of operation, eventually you would hear the whispers, "Is he alright? (he was in his late 70s or early 80s) "Did he fall asleep?" Silence often seems to indicate to us that something has gone wrong. Silence is often referred to as "awkward". In theatre, silence often means that someone has forgotten an entrance or a line, so the after that silent pause, the other actors quickly jump in and improv to fill that silence until everything is on track again. Hence the other assumption that is sometimes made when a priest is silent: "Did he forget what comes next?"

And yet most of us do also know peaceful silence. Many of us have experienced that beautiful silence of holding a sleeping child. Loved ones know what it means to walk or sit in companionable silence. There is a song that came out not too long ago by the Dixie Chicks called "Easy Silence." The refrain is:

The easy silence that you make for me. It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me. And the peaceful quiet you create for me, and the way you keep the world at bay for me.

The song immediately captivated me because it just invokes that sense of loving silence. In our spiritual lives, we need that kind of silence as well. We need to simply be with God. In Centering prayer they say,

"God's first language is silence."

One does not necessarily need to spend 20 minutes in silence as we do in centering prayer; even just taking a few moments during the day to be quiet is important, as Scripture advises us, to

Be still and know that I am God.
-Psalm 46:11

Last night I saw the movie, Into Great Silence. Not only is the movie filmed at the Grande Chartreuse Carthusian monastery where the monks spend most of their time in silence, but the film itself is basically silent. There is no narration or music, other than the occasional scene in which the monks are chanting or very rarely speaking. Most of the movie is simply silent, allowing you to hear the natural sounds from the fall of footsteps on the stairs to the sound of the wind or the water. While I will admit, the movie is quite long, and I did get rather restless during the middle section, it is also unbelievably beautiful. You enter into the monks' silence, and the filming directs your attention to the simple beauty we often miss in the chaos of our lives, from a drop of water to the way the sunlight shines on the wooden floor. The natural beauty, from the majestic French Alps to the minute intricacy of a seed pod, is heightened through the calm quiet of the movie. Reiterated through the movie is the written line from the prophet Jeremiah (20:7) that would appear on the screen,

"You seduced me, O Lord, and I was seduced."

A more accurate translation (which did come through in French and German, also written on the screen) is, "You seduced me, O Lord, and I let myself be seduced." Actually, our English translations often uses the word "duped" instead of "seduced" (Jeremiah is rather upset with God in this passage), and I like both translations, depending on my mood, but my challenge to all of us this week is to take a moment to let ourselves be seduced by the silence of God.

Prayer is the subject of this Sunday’s gospel, and in it, we are told to be persistent and ask for what we need in prayer. Why do we pray? We do not pray to change God; we pray to be in relationship with God. In the movie Shadowlands, C.S. Lewis (played by Anthony Hopkins) says,

“I do not pray because it changes God. I pray because it changes me. I pray because the need flows out of me constantly.”

In other words, it is not as if God has determined a certain event will or will not happen (the Packers will lose to the Bears), but we pray, so God’s mind is changed and the outcome is altered (the Packers beat the Bears). Granted, this is a somewhat trivial example, but there can be a tendency to ‘use’ prayer this way with major issues as well – illness, getting a certain job, safety in traveling, etc. The danger with such prayer is that when one’s wish does not come true, one’s faith can be shaken. At the same time, we do need to pray for all of those major issues in our lives (though maybe not for the Packers to win) as well as minor ones. Why? Because prayer is about being in relationship with God. We share our deepest thoughts and the desires of our heart with the one who created us, loves us, and knows us better than we know ourselves. We do so through prayers of intercession, but also through prayers of praise, thanksgiving, and even lament. The difference is not whether or not we pray for things we want and need, but how we understand that prayer. Prayer is not a way to control or manipulate God.

When we pray, we are responding to God’s universal call to us. There is something in the way in which we are created that gives us a desire for relationship with God. Theologian Karl Rahner says that each of us has been created to be a ‘hearer of God’s Word’. St. Augustine says,

“You created us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”

In other words, we are already hard-wired for God. God’s call to each and every person is built in, and prayer is one of the ways in which we respond to that call, thus entering into a covenant relationship with the one who calls us. At the same time that we offer our response in prayer, we remember that our ability to respond is in itself a gift from God.

We also believe that God hears and answers our prayers. In saying this I do not mean to contradict what I said earlier about not controlling God. It may be difficult at times to recognize the answer to a prayer. While God is calling us into relationship, a relationship must be freely entered into by both parties. We are called to put some effort into the relationship and persevere even when we do not see or understand the response to our prayer. One’s relationship with God will have the same ups and downs that any human relationship encounters. In my own prayer life there are times when I feel very connected to God and other times when I feel like God is totally absent. It is at those times that I must call on all of my resources of perseverance and the help of the Holy Spirit to trust that God never abandons us, even when life seems the darkest or prayer seems the most empty. Sometimes that is when God is actually the closest. The mystic, saint, and doctor of the Church, Teresa of Avila, went through three years of a ‘dry period’ in her prayer, a dark night where she felt entirely abandoned by God. Her advice to us was whatever you do in those moments, do not stop praying because to do so is to take yourself out of relationship with God.

As reports started trickling in last week about Pope Benedict XVI proclaiming the Catholic Church the "one true Church," I must admit that I was loathe to even delve into the story. Yet, when I did, my overall reaction was that the media was making a much bigger deal of this than was necessary. This is front page material for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel? Really? The reaction of most Protestant leaders was something to the effect of "yeah, we know they think that." So what is this story all about?

The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (not Pope Benedict XVI, by the way, though he did approve the statement and gave basically the same interpretation in Dominus Iesus in 2000 when he was Prefect of the CDF) released a document entitled, "Responses to Some Questions Regarding Certain Aspects of the Doctrine on the Church." The CDF is responding to the work of some unnamed theologians that may involve "erroneous interpretation which in turn may give rise to confusion and doubt" and so are "clarifying the authentic meaning of some ecclesiological expressions used by the magisterium which are open to misunderstanding in theological debate." When the Protestant leaders responded that these statements are not saying anything that has not already been said, they are absolutely right. The Commentary itself states that to respond to this issue the CDF has "chosen to use the literary genre of Responsa ad quaestiones, which of its nature does not attempt to advance arguments to prove a particular doctrine but rather, by limiting itself to previous teachings of the Magisterium, sets out only to give a sure and certain response to specific questions." The main issue is how one is to interpret the line from Vatican II's Dogmatic Constitution on the Church that the universal Church or the Church of Christ, which is referred to in the Creed as one, holy, catholic (which means universal, by the way, not Roman Catholic), and apostolic, "subsists in the Catholic Church." The controversial word is "subsists." Some (including some of those present at the Council) argue that the "subsists in" was used instead of "is" to indicate that the universal Church is not limited to the Catholic Church, that in fact, the concept of the universal Church is a larger or wider concept than the Catholic Church, while nonetheless acknowledging the union of the Catholic Church with the universal Church. The clarification in the current document, which simply repeats what had already been said in Dominus Iesus, states that the phrase "subsists in" means "the full identity of the Church of Christ with the Catholic Church. The important factor that was revolutionary in the Constitution on the Church at Vatican II was the teaching that there are "numerous elements of sanctification and truth" in the non-Catholic Christian churches (or ecclesial communions, if you prefer) and that "the Spirit of Christ has not refrained from using them as instruments of salvation." If you remove the double negative from that statement, it says that the Spirit has/does use them as instruments of salvation. This development was truly ground breaking in an era with Catholics and Protestants did not even enter one another's churches! As for the interpretation of the phrase "subsists in", it is not a teaching that could not possibly be reinterpreted at a later date, but to clarify the interpretation at this point (even if some disagree with that interpretation) is part of the teaching office of the magisterium of the Church. Because of the media spin, I think it is more important than ever for us to reach out to our Protestant brothers and sisters in Christ in ecumenical dialogue and prayer personally witnessing to our respect for their deep faith witnessed in their communities, their prayer, and the way they live their lives.

With the recent headline about Pope Benedict's (or really the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith's) teaching on the Church, I thought about writing on that, but I wanted to talk about an experience I had while on vacation in Mexico last week (hence why there was no blog entry last week) while it was still fresh in my mind. I promise I will address the recent statement about the Church next week, which will also give me time to do a bit more research! This story comes with pictures though as an added bonus!

The friend with whom I was traveling knows a young man, who I am going to call "Abraham" (not his real name, of course, but I will call him after thefounding father of the Judeo-Christian-Islamic tradition who was himself a migrant) in his early 30s who is among the undocumented here from Mexico. "Abraham" works for a hotel in the laundry service in the States. We decided to go and visit his family in Mexico. One of the consequences of the fact that "Abraham" is undocumented is that he has not seen his family in seven years, since he obviously can't return to Mexico to visit on holidays and family occasions. He is from a small "rancho" that we reached by driving on very hilly dirt roads for a good 20-30 minutes (with the help of a local from the nearest city whom we hired to come along with us and give directions; it turned out that the rancho we were looking at is basically made up of one extended family, and he knew of the family and where they lived).

We arrived at a collection of maybe 20 houses (though I use that term rather loosely by our standards), stopping every so often to ask the way to "Abraham's" mother's house. When we arrived, she was a bit leery of who these strangers were, but when we explained who we were and the connection with her son, tears immediately filled her eyes. She was completely overwhelmed to meet someone who had seen the son she had not seen in seven years only days before. She introduced us to "Abraham's" sister-in-law and proudly showed us pictures of his brother's wedding that had taken place last April, but which "Abraham" of course could not attend. She also introduced us to "Abraham's" grandmother who lived across the road. We went to visit the chapel, which was nicer than any of the homes we saw. She was extremely proud of that chapel, though they only celebrate mass there once every one to two months when the priest is able to get out to their rancho.

We then met "Abraham's" aunts, uncle, and cousins. His sister-in-law went to fetch "Abraham's" brother and bring him home from work so that he too could meet us. They brought out wooden benches, and we all sat in the cool shadow of the church while we talked. His cousin told us that her husband, and the father of her four year old daughter, was in Alabama. She had not seen him in two years. They told us they had all been wondering who we were as we drove into the village, asking one another about the car driving through with the "white girl" in it (that was me!). We were the first Americans that had ever been to their village. They went to get a bottle of Coke, which they apparently bought to serve us (though I am not sure where they bought it, as there did not seem to be any type of store anywhere - perhaps from a neighbor?). We speculated later on about their incredible hospitality in desiring to serve us when they clearly had so little themselves. They wanted us to stay for lunch as well, but we refused, saying we needed to be moving on before that.

They took us around the village, including up to the top of a hill that held a brick and cement cistern to gather water, which was then piped down to spigots in the yards (no running water in the houses) of the individual homes. They proudly explained that that cistern contained the water that served the entire village. They showed us the one room school where "Abraham" had been educated until he was old enough to work, after which time he worked during the week and attended school in town on Saturdays. We then returned to "Abraham's" home, where they explained that they had built their new home with money that "Abraham" had sent them from the U.S. This is the house in which "Abraham" grew up:

This is the picture of the house they have since built with the money "Abraham" has sent:


Still not much by our standards, with two rooms, and no glass on the windows, but clearly a vast improvement to their previous home. Furthermore, "Abraham's" brother introduced us to "Abraham's" animals, the animals that have been bought with the money he has sent home: goats, pigs, and cows.

They also showed us a full grown mango tree that "Abraham" had planted before he left. We took pictures of all of them and the village and "Abraham's" home to take back to him. They said he would not even know the children under seven, but they would explain to him who was who when they spoke with him on the phone. He does call home periodically, but since they have no phone in their village, he calls someone in the neighboring village. His mother then has to be sent for so that she can come and talk to him on the phone. While we did not meet his father, my friend told me that "Abraham" has been sending money home recently so that his father can buy a truck - his first ever, having only ever had a donkey previously. They were a wonderful family who all gave us hugs as we said goodbye. The little girls picked some of the orange flowers I had admired off a tree and gave them too me. The hardest part of the morning for me was the emotion that filled the face of a mother who had not seen her son in seven years and her incredible gratitude (and his whole family's joy) at having been able to have some contact with some small portion of his life in the States. When we consider the issue of immigration in our country and ponder the teachings of our Church, it helps to have a human face on the issue and to see first hand both the struggles involved for the families of the undocumented, but also the reason they take the risks they take. I share this story and these pictures with you so that we can all ask ourselves, if we were in their situation, what would we do? "Abraham's" family has been able to vastly improve their lives by the mere fact of his making minimum wage at a hotel laundry in the United States. For many of these families immigration (legal or otherwise) isn't a choice, it is a matter of survival.

"I praise you for I am wonderfully made" was the response we sang for the Psalm last Sunday. A friend of mine who is a cantor remarked that she found it a bit funny to be singing those words from Psalm 139. We are taught to be so humble, and here it seems as if we are bragging about ourselves! We are wonders though, and we should be aware of and grateful for that fact! Psalm 139 is a well known favorite. This section of it states:

You formed me in my inmost being;
you knit me in my mother's womb.
I praise you, so wonderfully you made me;
wonderful are your works!
My very self you knew;
my bones were not hidden from you,
When I was being made in secret,
fashioned as in the depths of the earth.
-Psalm 139:13-15

Psalm 139 has been set to music in such well-known hymns as "You Are Near" by Dan Schutte and "O God, You Search Me" by Bernadette Farrell. While both songs emphasize the fact that God created us and knew us in the womb, Farrell picks up this specific line, "For the wonder of who I am, I praise you." I have always loved that line in her song and wonder how often we do stop and thank God for the wonder of who we are. Do we really look at ourselves and marvel at the creation we are? Do we marvel at our role as co-creators with God in choosing the person we become, realizing what an awesome gift and responsibility that is? In many translations of the Bible, this line is translated as "I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made." There is another song that I have always loved by a Christian singer Rich Mullins that picks up this theme. In his song, "We Are Not as Strong as We Think We Are," he sings:

We are frail; we are fearfully and wonderfully made.
Forged in the fires of human passion,
choking on the fumes of selfish rage.
And with these our hells and our heavens so few inches apart,
we must be awfully small and not as strong as we think we are.

This is one of the things that amazes me about human creation; we seem to be so incredibly strong and so very frail at the same time. We have an unending ability to hurt one another. There is a great vulnerability in being human, and it seems the more human we become, the more vulnerable we are. And yet we have this incredible strength to endure. The song always reminds me that that strength to endure comes from God; that in realizing our dependence on God, we find our strength and our freedom. It is when we try to shoulder the world on our own that we run into trouble. It also reminds me of our need for one another. The irony of life is that we depend on the very people to whom we become the most vulnerable and who have the greatest power to hurt us.

For me, it all comes back to this incredible gift of human life we are given, and how we choose to use it. Are we living the lives that allow us to actualize our full potential as human beings? Are we enabling others to do the same? In moral theology the basic criterion for judging issues is whether or not a certain action or course of action leads to human flourishing. Do our lives enable others to flourish? Are we ourselves flourishing, and if not, is there something we can do to change that fact? We praise God for the wonder of who we are by living our lives in a way that allows us to be the creation God intended us to be! We are only given one life, are we truly appreciating it? There is a great line that I have been reflecting upon lately and will leave you with:

"I gave my life to become the person I am today.
Was it worth it?"
- One, Richard Bach

As someone who spends a good hour and a half to two hours on the road going to and from work, I was intrigued to hear that the Vatican's Pontifical Council for the Pastoral Care of Migrants and Itinerant People had published a document entitled, "Guidelines for the Pastoral Care of the Road." The document made headlines for giving the "Driver's Ten Commandments":

I. You shall not kill.
II. The road shall be for you a means of communion between people and not of mortal harm.
III. Courtesy, uprightness and prudence will help you deal with unforeseen events.
IV. Be charitable and help your neighbour in need, especially victims of accidents.
V. Cars shall not be for you an expression of power and domination, and an occasion of sin.
VI. Charitably convince the young and not so young not to drive when they are not in a fitting condition to do so.
VII. Support the families of accident victims.
VIII. Bring guilty motorists and their victims together, at the appropriate time, so that they can undergo the liberating experience of forgiveness.
IX. On the road, protect the more vulnerable party.
X. Feel responsible towards others.

While there have been some amusing jokes made in the media about the Church speaking out on this issue, I actually think there is much wisdom in these guidelines. I will be the first to confess that I am an impatient driver, and I have a tendency to speed. While these "commandments" are a good reminder to all of us that when we take to the roads we have a responsibility for our own lives and the lives of those around us, the document actually goes far beyond simply stating these basic rules of the road.

While the document acknowledges the benefits of increased mobility in our world, it also uses our role as drivers as a metaphor for our approach to life. Are we aggressive, self-centered, and domineering as drivers? Do we manifest an attitude that respects the life, needs, and rights of others? What is it about driving that can bring out the worst aspects of ourselves? Being responsible drivers is not simply about "being nice," but can be a matter of life and death:

During the 20th century approximately 35 million people lost their lives in road accidents, whilst around one and a half billion were injured. In 2000 alone, deaths amounted to 1,260,000, and it is also noteworthy that around 90% of accidents were due to human error.

We literally hold one another's lives in our hands when we drive; and the tragedy of an accident is not only for the victims and the families of the victims, but for the driver who never intended anyone harm, but must now live with the consequences of the accident.

While the section on driving got the most (only?) press, it is important to note that that section is only one of four in the document. The remaining sections are on the liberation of prostitutes, the care for street children, and care for the homeless. The document speaks of the slavery of prostitution as human trafficking and exploitation. It recognizes that not just women, but also men and children are victims of this form of exploitation. The document notes that many prostitutes experienced violence and sexual abuse as children and that prostitution is often the effect of an unjust society where people are looking for a means to support themselves and their families or a way out of an impoverished country. The document states that:

The victims of prostitution are human beings, who in many cases cry out for help, to be freed from slavery, because selling one's own body on the street is usually not what they would voluntarily choose to do. Of course, each person has a different story to tell, but a common thread of violence, abuse, mistrust and low self-esteem, as well as fear and lack of opportunities, runs through them. They all bear deep wounds that need healing, whilst they seek relationships, love, security, affection, self-assertion and a better future for themselves and their families.

The "deeply rooted problems" of the "customers" are also acknowledged. A call is issued for churches to offer solidarity and compassion, engaging in an active involvement to bring about the end of this form of exploitation and to foster opportunities for the rehabilitation of its victims, both prostitutes and customers.

The section on street children, defined as "those with no ties to their families, which means that they have made the street their place of abode," notes that there are around 100 million children living on the streets, and the numbers are increasing. Added to this number are those who have a home and a bed they return to at night, but who spend most of their waking hours on the streets. The document notes the primary causes for this phenomenon as:

Increasing family breakdown; tensions between parents; aggressive, violent and sometimes perverse behaviour towards children; emigration, which entails uprooting from everyday life and consequent disorientation; conditions of poverty and hardship that destroy dignity and deprive people of the wherewithal to survive; the spread of drug addiction and alcoholism; and prostitution and the sex industry, which continue to take an extraordinary toll of victims, often driven by terrible violence to the most brutal kind of slavery. Other factors are wars and social disorder that upset normal life, including for minors, and the spread, primarily in Europe, of a "culture characterised by pleasure and transgression" -- which should not be underestimated -- in environments marked by a lack of reference values, in which young people in general suffer from loneliness and an ever deeper sense of the emptiness of existence.

Again we, the Church, are called upon to address these very serious issues in our society and our world.

The final section is on the homeless in general. It calls on us as Church "to accompany and serve these people whatever their moral or personal situation might be." Furthermore, we are called to recognize that:

People who live on the street are looked on with wariness and suspicion, and being homeless is the start of gradually losing one's rights. It is more difficult to obtain welfare, almost impossible to find work, and no longer possible to obtain identity papers. These poor people become a nameless and voiceless crowd, unable to defend themselves and find the necessary resources for a better future. The Word of God censures any form of irritation or indifference towards poor people (poverty fatigue), reminding us that the Lord will judge our lives by assessing how and how much we have loved the poor (cf. Matthew 25:31-46). According to Saint Augustine, we are requested to help any poor person so as not to run the risk of denying someone who might be Christ himself.

We are reminded that the homeless are in need, not only of food and shelter, but also of "kindness, respect, and human warmth." There is so much in this document to think about, pray about, and act upon! I am struck by how unfortunate it is that most of the time we hear very little about the wisdom that the Church offers in the documents it publishes and that when the media does pick up a story like this because of its "curiousity" element, it leaves out the most important parts. (Note: If you would like to read the document yourself, you can access it by clicking here!)

Water is the source of life. This concept struck me profoundly as I flew to the west coast for the first time in my life this past weekend. I sat with my nose pretty much glued to the window for the last hour of the trip as we flew over Utah, Nevada, and California. What I saw was miles and miles and miles of completely uninhabited land in an overpopulated world and in a country that is currently debating the problem of immigration. So why is this land unpopulated? Granted, some of it is preserved as national parks, but mostly it is unpopulated because there is no water. What I saw from the plane was beautiful, but it mostly was rock and dirt with very little evidence of vegetation. I saw shades of russet and white and black, but no green, no trees that I could make out. Interestingly enough, during my morning commute this week I listened to a series on NPR about the struggle over water in the west, primarily focusing on the conflicting needs of rural and urban areas, especially the massive amounts of water used in Las Vegas. The main source of water for the region is the Colorado River, with its reservoirs, Lake Mead and Lake Powell. What I learned in listening to that series is that there is also water in that area in deep underground aquifers. Where that water springs up to the surface, life blooms in the desert. Little pocket communities develop around these sources of water.

Water is the source of life. We use it in baptism to symbolize our new life in Christ. We use it at funerals symbolize our being born into eternal life. We go through the desert of lent for forty days, only to renew our baptismal vows and be sprinkled with the water of life for the next fifty days. We use water to bless ourselves and our lives. Deserts also play a role in our spiritual life. We experience desert times, times where we wander as the Israelites did, unable to recognize God working in our lives. We experience the parched desert times when we thirst for God as did the psalmists:

Like a deer yearns for living streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. (Ps. 42:2)

At the same time, the desert is a place we voluntarily go, as did Jesus, to pray. In the early church there was a strong tradition of desert fathers and mothers who went out into the desert to live, to pray, and to be with God. The desert is a place where we can be alone with God, and in that solitude, come to recognize our thirst for God, our absolute dependence on God, and come to know more intimately the One who is the source of our life. Jesus offers us "a spring of water welling up to eternal life," (Jn. 4:14) so that we will no longer thirst. Water is sacramental. The next time we get a drink of water or wash our hands or dip our hands into the baptismal water fonts as we enter a church, the next time we turn a faucet and water comes pouring out, let us be thankful that we have water, that we have life, and most of all that we have a relationship with the one who is the source of all life.

On Sunday several of the area churches sponsored an ecumenical program in which Dr. Calvin DeWitt, a professor at the UW-Madison Nelson Institute of Environmental Science, spoke on "Science and Religion: Partners in Environmental Understanding and Action." DeWitt has been instrumental in getting top scientists and religious leaders together to discuss how leaders from both areas can work together to protect the environment. DeWitt said that at one of these meetings, it was actually the top evolutionary biologist who suggested that they use the term "the creation" instead of "the environment." The reason was twofold, first to offer an olive branch, so to speak, to the religious community, but also because "the creation" includes humankind, not separating humans out from the environment in which we live. DeWitt explained that changing the terminology does away with the false dichotomy that raises the question of which we should value more, humans or the environment. You cannot choose between humans and the creation because humans are part of the creation.

Another important point that DeWitt made was about the translation of Genesis 2:15:

"The LORD God then took the man and settled him in the garden of Eden, to cultivate and care for it."

The Hebrew word that is translated "cultivate" in this passage (from the New American Bible) actually means "serve." It is the same word that is used in the conclusion of the book of Joshua, in which Joshua says to the people:

"Decide today whom you will serve, the gods your fathers served beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose country you are dwelling. As for me and my household, we will serve the LORD." Joshua 24:15

The same word that is used to refer to our relationship with God is used to refer to our relationship to the world God has created. We are to serve both. We are stewards of the earth. DeWitt also spoke of the Endangered Species Act as today's Noah's Ark, saving the very animals that God created. When Genesis 1:28 speaks of humankind having "dominion" over the creatures of the world, it must be read in the context of what dominion means in a religious context. As DeWitt points out, our model for what it means to have dominion is Jesus Christ, who has dominion over us and all creation. We are to care for the creation as Christ's stewards, taking the same care as Christ takes with us. We have been given a divine mandate and responsibility; I would hate to think of standing face to face with a God who asks, "What have you done to my creation?"

The US Bishops have declared "A Million Prayers Initiative" for the week of May 20-26, asking Catholics this week for two things regarding the immigration situation in this country: prayer and action. As the Congress debates immigration reform, the Bishops ask us to take the time to pray the Justice Prayer:

Come, O Holy Spirit!
Come, open us to the wonder, beauty, and dignity of the
diversity found in each culture,
in each face, and in each experience we
have of the other among us.
Come, fill us with generosity as we are
challenged to let go and allow others to share with us
the goods and beauty of earth.
Come, heal the divisions
that keep us from seeing the face of
Christ in all men, women, and children.
Come, free us to stand with and for those
who must leave their own lands in order to find work, security, and welcome in a new land, one that has enough to share.
Come, bring us
understanding, inspiration, wisdom, and
the courage needed to embrace change
and stay on the journey.
Come, O Holy Spirit,
show us the way.

In addition to praying this prayer, the bishops have asked us to take action by contacting our senators and representatives. Ask them to support immigration reform that does the following:

• To make family a priority in immigration law
• To insist the worker programs contain protection for U.S. and migrant workers
• To allow for an earned legalization program for the undocumented in the country
• To restore due process protections
• To respond to the economic, political, and social root causes of migration.

The Senate recently introduced S. 1348, the Secure Borders, Economic Opportunity, and Immigration Reform Act of 2007, but the Bishops have serious concerns with the bill and would like to see the following improvements made to the bill:

Title IV – Temporary Worker Program
Legislation: S. 1348 fails to provide a path to citizenship for
temporary workers and their families. It also limits to two years the time temporary workers can bring their family members with them to the United States. A worker is eligible for up to 6 years. It also requires that a worker return home for a year after working for two years (two working, one at home, etc.), which could lead to visa overstays and an increase in the undocumented population.

Title V --- Family Reunification
Legislation: Title V of S. 1348 eliminates several categories of family immigration (1,2b, 3, and 4) and reduces the number of green cards available to parents of U.S. citizens to 40,000 a year. It clears up backlogs in the family preference system for anyone who applied prior to May 2005, but penalizes those who filed after that date. It replaces the family preference system with a “point” system skewed to highly educated and highly skilled workers.

Title VI --- Legalization Program
Legislation: Title VI of S. 1348 would provide a “Z” visa for undocumented persons and allow them to apply for permanent residency within 8 years. Unfortunately, it would not allow immediate family members to join the eligible worker until a green card application is approved, a minimum of eight years. It also requires the visa holder to return to his/her country of origin to apply for a green card.

For more information on the Bishops' position, see their website, Justice for Immigrants. For a fast and easy way to take action, visit Catholic Relief Services' Action Center.

This Sunday we will celebrate the feast of the Ascension of the Lord, traditionally referred to as "Ascension Thursday," as Acts tells us that Jesus appeared to the disciples during the forty days after Easter before ascending into heaven. The feast has been moved to Sunday to enable more people to take part in the celebration (in other words, even though it was a holy day of opportunity, as my professor liked to call them, very few people were actually attending mass when it was on Thursday). The result of this move, however, is that we do not hear the readings for the Seventh Sunday of Easter.

I was struck by the fact that the first reading for the Seventh Sunday of Easter tells of the stoning of Stephen, because one of the headline videos on CNN today is a video of a 17 yr. old girl being stoned to death. (To see the video, click here, but be aware that the content is graphic.) Watching the video gave a whole new level of awareness to my reading the story of Stephen and other Christian martyrs who have been stoned, making me wonder how willing I would be to stand up and publically proclaim my faith under such terrifying circumstances. During the Easter season, during which the second reading is taken from the Acts of the Apostles, we hear the stoning or threat of stoning the early followers of Christ faced. In addition to Stephen's death, a death that Paul watched, Paul himself is stoned in Lystra and left for dead, but he didn't die, so his disciples are able to help him leave the city. Jesus was threatened with being stoned more than once, and of course, he prevents the stoning of a young woman in the Gospel of John. Stoning is horrific both in the suffering of the victim and in the mob mentality it emerges from and engenders.

More importantly, the video made me mindful that people, frequently women, are still suffering this fate today. The 17 yr. old girl in question was a Kurdish girl of the Yezidi faith (a pre-Islamic religion). She was stoned for being involved with a Sunni Muslim Iraqi boy. Yezidi girls are not allowed to date or marry outside of their religion. The stoning was an "honor killing." In retaliation, Sunni Iraqis attacked and killed 23 Yezidi men. And so the cycle of violence continues. Stoning is an issue in terms of such "honor killing" and as a form of execution in many parts of the world. Before we cast the first stone, so to speak, we must look at our own record. In our own Scripture, people were to be stoned for sacrificing their children to the god Molech, for blaspheming the name of the Lord, for being "spiritists" or mediums, for not keeping the Sabbath, for trying to convince another to serve other gods, for being a stubborn or unruly son who will not listen to or obey his father or mother, for having sex with a betrothed girl or being that betrothed girl, even if she is raped (in a city; if it takes place in a field, she is not guilty since she may have yelled for help and not been heard). As a country we also must not be quick to cast the first stone. We might not stone people, but remember that stoning is first and foremost (both now and in the days of the early Christians) a form of execution, a sentence handed down in a court of law after a trial; and as a country, we do execute people. It is difficult to take the moral high ground on issues such as this when our country is listed by organizations like Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and the Roman Catholic Church, next to countries like China, Saudia Arabia, Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq, etc, in terms of human rights abuses in this regard. I won't continue on this line, as I have written on it previously, but the Church's teaching on this subject is very clear! For more information, see the USCCB website! When we read the stories of Christians being stoned, let us pray for all those who are being executed, both in our own country and around the world, and let us pray for all those who suffer religious persecution.

The news stories this week read something like, "Six Islamist Jihadists. . . " or "Six foreign born Muslims. . . " or "Six Islamic Militants. . . " These were followed by stories of "Muslim community fears backlash. . ." Now the men arrested in the planned attack on Fort Dix are self-proclaimed Muslims and pronounced that their plan was, in their minds, "jihad" in defense of their religion, so one cannot fault the media for proclaiming them as such. I continue to be concerned, however, about how little many people seem to know about Islam, and the contradictory perspectives and at times caricatures people in this country encounter. Obviously the Muslim community in the US has similar concerns, hence their legitimate worry about a backlash.

One of the difficulties Americans face is that like any world religion, Islam is not a cookie-cutter religion. Not only are there different sects of Islam, Islam is practiced differently in different parts of the world. Muslims themselves have very different viewpoints regarding Islam depending on their own upbringing in the religion. On the extreme level, it is the same as Catholics and members of the Ku Klux Klan both calling themselves Christian. Even within mainstream Islam though, there are differences similar to those among "conservative" and "liberal" Christians. How many of us have at one point in time met an ex-Catholic who had a VERY negative experience in the Catholic Church? Asking that person to tell you about Catholicism and a person who has found their life rejuvenated by practicing the Catholic faith is going to yield two very different pictures of what "Catholicism" looks like.

One can quote seemingly violent passages of the Qu'ran. One can also quote excessively violent passages from the Bible

"Slay, therefore, every male child and every woman who has had intercourse with a man. But you may spare and keep for yourselves all girls who had no intercourse with a man." - Numbers 31:17

Oh, but that is the Old Testament, some of you may protest!"

"If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple." - Lk 14:26

Or again:

"He [Jesus] said to them, "But now one who has a money bag should take it, and likewise a sack, and one who does not have a sword should sell his cloak and buy one." Lk. 22:36

But these passages are taken out of literary and historical context, you may protest. Exactly! But they are there to be misinterpreted by those who might choose to do so. In the Christian world of the Middle Ages, during the Crusades, in colonial times, during the Salem witch trials, etc., passages in the Bible were often used as a divine mandate for violence.

Even before the stories in the media this week, I was struck when two friends were talking about reading the writings of two different Muslim women with two completely different viewpoints about women in Islam. One was Ayaan Hirsi Ali, who wrote Infidel, a book that tells her story of experiencing a very oppressive Islamic culture first in Somalia, then in Saudi Arabia, and finally in Holland, where she left the Islamic faith and began speaking out publically on the dangers to women in Islam. The other is Ingrid Mattson, a former Catholic, who is the first woman and the first convert to be the President of the Islamic Society of North America (I have to point out here, that no woman has ever been the head of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops). Her experience is that the religion of Islam is very liberating for women. Both stories are important, because they bring home the very different ways in which the religion of Islam is practiced in the world. Neither woman is "wrong". Islam can't be judged in theory; it can only be judged in practice. The same is true for Christianity.

A friend of mine told me about a fascinating article on Slate.com, "God is in the Dendrites: Can Neurotheology Bridge the Gap Between Science and Religion?" As neuroscientists have started to study various types of religious experience, we end up with the chicken and the egg question - which came first, brains predisposed to religious experience or religious experience that developed certain areas of the brain? Further questions are asked about the meaning of brains that have the mechanics for religious experience, such as were the brains created by God to facilitate such experiences or are such experiences simply physical occurences that create an illusion of a God? The answer to this question is one that cannot be scientifically proven one way or another. It simply comes down to faith and/or opinion.

As for which comes first, the chicken or the egg, I suspect it is like most of our other traits, that there are differences physiologically that make a person more prone to religious/meditative feelings or experiences, and then that part of the brain is developed and enhanced through actual religious/meditative practice. Our intellectual frameworks, belief systems, etc., also affect the experiences we have. The Newburg study (Eugene D’Aquili and Andrew Newburg, The Mystical Mind: Probing the Biology of Religious Experience) shows that Buddhist monks and Franciscan nuns, when meditating, initially display similar MRI patterns , but if you read further in the study, there is a point in the meditative experience where those patterns diverge, and they describe their experiences differently. The Franciscan nuns speak of a oneness with God, whereas the Buddhist monks speak of an impersonal void (D’Aquili and Newburg, “Religious and Mystical States,” Zygon 23:178). The scientists tell us that the divergence of areas in the brain that are stimulated in the experience (as shown in the MRI patterns) corresponds to the nuns experiencing a positive feeling and the monks experiencing a neutral feeling, hence my argument that the fact that they come to the experience of meditation with different intellectual frameworks actually affects the experience itself. The physiological activity in their brains is different because they are operating under different belief systems. Does this mean that religious experience is a product of our brains? Yes and no. Yes, in the very physiological way that I just described, but no in that the physiological basis of the experience does not negate the religious nature of the experience.

From a religious perspective (note that I am going beyond what science can prove or disprove at this point), we are embodied spirits. We do not have spiritual experiences that do not involve our bodies. Of course religious experience is physiological! The embodiedness of the experience does not make it any less of God. In Catholic theology there is a principle that God works through secondary causes. It is this principle that allows Catholic theology to see very little conflict between most areas of science and religion. Scientific explanations do not discredit theological explanations. Ultimately they should enhance theological explanations by filling us with a wonder and awe of the God whose creation is so intricate and beautiful, from the expanse of the universe to the tiniest details of every atom. That human brains should be created in such a way as to be able to have an experience that gives them a sense that there is something "more" than our own existence doesn't "prove" the existence of God, but for those of us that do believe, it sure does make sense. That those same brains are able to reflect upon theological concepts and that the different concepts in turn affect the experience one has, says something even greater to me both about free will and the infinitely, incomprehensible mystery that we call God.

This weekend we are celebrating the sacrament of Confirmation in the parish. So many people have a misconception about the sacrament of Confirmation, understanding it to be the moment when the individual "confirms" his/her faith. Confirmation is not about something the individual does; it is about something that God does. In Confirmation, God confirms you. You have been chosen by God to be a disciple, to be a witness, to be a sacrament of God's love in the world. There is also a role for the individual, which is to accept that mission (picture Mission Impossible - "your mission, should you decide to accept it . . .") and to use the gifts that God has given you to live out that mission.

The Jesuit theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar taught that it is in our mission that we receive our identity, our personhood. He taught that God creates each of us with a telos (Greek for end or purpose). It is in and through prayer, through our relationship with God, that we discover the mission or purpose that is "specifically designed for and tailored to each individual" (Theo-Drama III, 249). One only becomes conscious of one's mission through encounter with God. Confirmation can be one such encounter, where we realize we have been specifically called by God to accomplish something of God's plan for the world. It is then through living out that mission that we truly discover who we are, who we have been created to be. Each person's mission is also a participation in the mission of Christ, so that as we live out our mission, we become more holy, more Christlike, and ultimately find our fulfilment as a human person.

So often in this world we tend to search for meaning, looking for that which is going to fulfill us and make us happy. The Christian message is so simple - that our fulfillment is not found in ourselves, but in living lives of love and service. It is in giving of ourselves that we truly find ourselves. We spend our entire lives living out our mission, and in doing so, discovering ever more deeply who we truly are. Doing so takes a life of continual prayer and discernment, for rarely is the path we should take crystal clear (life would be much easier if it were, but probably not nearly as interesting). Most of the time I would guess there is no single right path, but rather many different paths we can take, all of which provide opportunities for living out our life of discipleship and mission. And so I leave you, and our Confirmands, with the words of Psalm 143:

In the morning let me know your love, for I put my trust in you. Make me know the ways I should walk; to you I lift up my soul. Rescue me, Lord, from my enemies; I have fled to you for refuge. Teach me to do your will, for you, O Lord, are my God. Let your good Spirit guide me in ways that are level and smooth.

Like many others, I was stunned and deeply saddened by the tragedy at Virginia Tech on Monday. My heart goes out to the loved ones of those who died. My heart also goes out to the parents and sister of Seung-Hui Cho. I have not heard a lot about his family, one article simply said his parents were not at home when the reporter knocked on their door, and for this I am grateful. I can't even imagine what it must be like to experience not only the death of your child, but the knowledge that your child did such a horrific thing. With all that the media has reported about this young man, from his own writings to the way he is described by teachers and classmates, it is clearly evident to me that he was seriously mentally ill. He was living in some kind of personal hell, and while many around him saw that, no one knew precisely what to do about it. This fact in no way excuses or lessens the horrific things he did, but it does make me wonder what brings a person to that point, and so I pray for him and his family as well as for all of the others who have suffered in this incident.

The tragic death of 33 people and the nations' focus on the event also makes me reflect on how fortunate I am to live a life in which I am stunned by this event. My presupposition is that when students attend classes at universities, they will be safe. My presupposition is that when I go to the grocery store or stop to fill my car up with gas, I will be safe. Yesterday at least 197 people were killed in attacks across Baghdad. 140 of them were at a market and many of those killed were women and children. I don't know what it is like to live in a world where I could be killed driving home from work or buying my food for the week. I don't know what it is like to live in the inner city in the US and worry about the safety of my children when they play outside or wait for the bus in the morning. I don't know what it is like to live in a refugee camp in Chad or Darfur and fear being raped or killed when I go to get water or firewood to keep my family alive. And so when 32 people are tragically killed at a US University, I am stunned.

Last Sunday we heard of Mary Magdelene discovering the tomb empty, and this Sunday we will hear of the appearance of the risen Lord to the disciples and then to Thomas. Here we have the beginning and the end of chapter 20 of the Gospel of John. What we miss, unless we were able to attend daily mass on Tuesday, is the middle of this chapter, which is the encounter of Mary Magdelene with the risen Lord. A couple of years ago, I was fortunate enough to hear a talk on this chapter by Sandra Schneiders, and I hear the chapter in an entirely different way now.

This chapter is about coming to belief. The themes of presence and absence, seeing and touching, all play a role in this account of the transition from a belief in Jesus based on his physical presence among the disciples to our belief today in the continued presence of Christ in our midst, but in a new way. As Schneiders laid it out, the story begins with the physical absence of the Jesus and a problem - where is the Lord? Note that the empty tomb does not engender belief, but confusion, concern, fear. The immediate assumption is that the body has been taken. What brings the disciples to faith is the encounter with the risen Lord.

Sandra Schneiders points out the interesting paradox in John's gospel. In the encounter with Mary Magdelene, Jesus tells Mary not to touch him, but in the encounter with Thomas, Jesus commands Thomas to touch him. Schneiders explains the difference by associating Mary, on the one hand, with the transition from the pre-Easter Jesus to the Easter Jesus. Jesus is present now in a new and different way; he is present now in the community of believers. The prohibition against touching him exemplifies that difference. Thomas, on the other hand, represents that transition from the Easter Jesus to the post-Easter Jesus. The disciples believe because they have seen the Lord. Thomas has not seen the Lord, and refuses to believe. He does not accept the testimony and witness of the others, of "the church". When Jesus appears again, he says to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. . . . do not be unbelieving, but believe" (v. 27). To see in John's gospel is to come to faith, which Thomas does in his exclamation, "My Lord and my God!" The new generations of believers will have to come to faith through the testimony and witness of others; by spiritual sight, not physical sight. That spiritual sight will then allow them to encounter the risen Christ.

Tonight we begin the Triduum (Latin for "three day") with our Holy Thursday service, The Mass of the Lord's Supper. The Triduum is one service that begins tonight, includes the Good Friday liturgy, and culminates in the Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday, the highest, holiest celebration in our Church year. In these three days we enter into the paschal mystery, the suffering, death, and resurrection of Christ. Tonight we will hear the earliest account of the Last Supper, the reading from Paul's Letter to the Corinthians (written a good 15-30 yrs. before any of the gospel accounts). Paul is writing in response to the disreputable behavior of the Corinthian community at their celebrations of the Lord's Supper. I once heard a priest in a talk on the Eucharist say, "Thank God for the drunks at Corinth!" Those drunks are the reason Paul recounts the words of Jesus at the Last Supper. Paul's insight in this 11th chapter of this letter is that when the Corinthians mistreat their fellow Christians, when they let some in their community go hungry and suffer while they indulge themselves, they do not recognize Christ, and thus eat and drink judgment upon themselves. They do not discern the body. In other words, they do not recognize that they are the body of Christ, and when they do not recognize Christ's presence in one another, they do not recognize Christ in the body.

The gospel we hear from John gives a similar message. In the Gospel of John, there is no account of the sharing of the bread and wine. Instead we hear about the washing of the feet. Jesus washes his disciples feet, a gesture of love, concern, humbleness, service, and tells them that as he has done for them, so they are to do for one another. In this passage is one of the most profound lines in John's gospel for me:

I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do. (John 13:15)

If we could live by this one line in the Gospel, we would have understood Jesus' entire life and message; we would have understood what it means to be a Christian. We literally wash one another's feet at the Holy Thursday service. If you have ever had your feet washed, you may know that it is not always a comfortable feeling. You have to be willing to be a bit vulnerable to have your feet washed. You have to recognize another's vulnerability and trust when you wash her feet. In many places 12 are picked to have their feet washed. I have also attended at places where everyone washes someone's feet and has her own feet washed. The theme of Holy Thursday is what it means to be a member of the body of Christ, the continuing sacrament of God's love in the world.

On Good Friday we venerate the cross. We do not worship the object, but rather express our devotion to what the object stands for - the crucifixion of Christ. The cross represents Christ's sacrifice for us and his solidarity with us in our moments of worst suffering. The cross should tell us that we are never alone, even when we feel abandoned by all including God. The cross is the symbol of God's love for us poured out. The cross tells us that God's reaction to our sinfulness is to love us without any conditions. Nothing we could ever do can "separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:39)

Easter, like all of our feast days, begins at sundown Saturday night. At the Easter Vigil, we begin in darkness as the Paschal candle is lit. The light of Christ's resurrection is spread through the entire church, as each of us receives the light and then gives what we have received, the pattern of our Christian lives. We hear the story of salvation history - the way God has worked in our history from the moment of creation. We welcome new members into the Church and renew our own baptismal vows, seeing in the waters of baptism that we have become new creations, we have put on Christ, we are transfigured. We again receive what we are and become what we receive in the Eucharist, and we are sent out into the world to take the Easter light into all the darkest places in our lives and our world.

This week we will hear two different accounts of the passion narrative during Holy Week, the one from the lectionary cycle (this year Luke) on Palm Sunday and the one from the Gospel of John on Good Friday. These readings and the veneration of the cross on Good Friday call to mind for us the meaning of the crucifixion in our salvation. I have often reflected on what we mean when we say that we are saved through Christ's death on the cross, that in this act is the forgiveness of sins and the redemption of humankind. After Pope John Paul II died, I read Crossing the Threshold of Hope, responses John Paul II wrote to interview questions he had been given. One of the passages profoundly impacted the way I thought about the cross and salvation. In the context of a discussion about suffering, Pope John Paul II says:

In a certain sense one could say that confronted with our human freedom, God decided to make himself "impotent." And one could say that God is paying for the great gift bestowed upon a being He created "in his image, after his likeness" (cf. Gn 1:26). Before this gift, He remains consistent, and places Himself before the judgment of man, before an illegitimate tribunal which asks Him provocative questions: "Then you are a king?" (cf. Jn 18:37); "Is it true that all which happens in the world, in the history of Israel, in the history of all nations, depends on you?"

We know Christ's response to this question before Pilate's tribunal: "For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth" (Jn 18:37). But then: "What is truth?" (Jn 18:38), and here ended the judicial proceeding, that tragic proceeding in which man accused God before the tribunal of his own history, and in which the sentence handed down did not conform to the truth. Pilate says: "I find no guilt in him" (Jn 18:38), and a second later he orders: "Take him yourselves and crucify him!" (Jn 19:6). In this way he washes his hands of the issue and returns the responsibility to the violent crowd.

Therefore, the condemnation of God by man is not based on truth, but on arrogance, on an underhanded conspiracy. Isn't this the truth about the history of humanity, the truth about our century? In our time the same condemnation has been repeated in many courts of totalitarian regimes (p. 65, italics in original).

Reflecting on this passage, I thought, everytime we fail to see what is sacred and give reverence and respect to what is sacred, we are guilty of the very sinfulness that led the people of Jesus' time to crucify him. Everytime in our own lives we fail to recognize God in our midst, we crucify Christ. We crucify Christ in our blindness or apathy toward the suffering of the innocent. The cross is not about God substituting punishment of Jesus for punishment of us; it is our false judgment of God - a judgment not based on truth, but on our arrogance and underhanded conspiracy, our attempts to protect the status quo, to maintain our power and control -- in a word, what we call original sin. Pilate asks, "What is truth?" In the passion narrative, Pilate does not recognize truth when it is right in front of him. Peter denies the truth. Judas betrays the truth.

God's reaction to our sinfulness is not wrathful punishment, but rather is to embrace it in a willing acceptance of the cross and to redeem it through an outpouring of love for us. God brings resurrection out of our crucifixions of God. In that is the forgiveness of our sins - that God looks at us, sees us for who we truly are (sees the truth) and all that we have done and failed to do, and loves us unconditionally. God enters into solidarity with us, into union with us, and draws us into the divine embrace of the Trinity. Through our baptism we are always, already forgiven all that we do, because by the Spirit we are united to Christ on the cross and our sinfullness is redeemed and transfigured in the resurrection. In our baptisms, we are plunged into the death and resurrection of Christ. At reconciliation we experience and celebrate that unconditional love and forgiveness that calls us to be and reminds us that we always can be more. At Eucharist we renew and rejoice in our unity with God and one another through receiving and being the Body of Christ; and in accepting the cup, we accept God's mercy and forgivenenss, renewing the covenant, surrendering to God, and joining our "Amen" to God to the Amen of Christ on the cross. As we renew our baptismal vows this Easter, may all of our sinfulness be transformed and transfigured by the love God has poured out for us on the cross.