DEATH AND RESURRECTION
Monday, April 5, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
EASTER:
BELIEF IN LIFE AFTER DEATH
BELIEF IN LIFE AFTER DEATH
INTRODUCTION
The title of my homily is, “Easter: Belief in Life After Death.”
As I was getting out of my car last Wednesday – in the outside parking lot at the Mall – I noticed a bumper sticker on a parked car right in front of me. I collect bumper sticker sayings that grab me. This one read, “I believe in life before death.”
I went fishing for a piece of paper in my pocket and wrote that down.
I like that message – because I want to live life to the full in the here and now – and I have met people who seem to put too much of their energy and anxieties into worries about what happens after death. It also appears that people do good and avoid evil in the here and now, not because of the here and now – but because of the hereafter. Doing that we might miss the people right in front of us – as well the implications of the present moment.
Thinking on what I preach about – I believe I concentrate on the here and now – more than the hereafter – seeing that religion takes place in church but especially outside of church – where we spend most of our time and life.
The title of my homily is, “Easter: Belief in Life After Death.”
As I was getting out of my car last Wednesday – in the outside parking lot at the Mall – I noticed a bumper sticker on a parked car right in front of me. I collect bumper sticker sayings that grab me. This one read, “I believe in life before death.”
I went fishing for a piece of paper in my pocket and wrote that down.
I like that message – because I want to live life to the full in the here and now – and I have met people who seem to put too much of their energy and anxieties into worries about what happens after death. It also appears that people do good and avoid evil in the here and now, not because of the here and now – but because of the hereafter. Doing that we might miss the people right in front of us – as well the implications of the present moment.
Thinking on what I preach about – I believe I concentrate on the here and now – more than the hereafter – seeing that religion takes place in church but especially outside of church – where we spend most of our time and life.
I like to see each meal as a Mass, each shower or washing as a baptism, a fresh start, a feeling of newness, each “I’m sorry” as a sacrament of reconciliation, each affirmation of each other as a confirmation of the gifts of the Holy Spirit, etc. etc. etc.
I love the words of St. Irenaeus – an early Christian – killed around the year 200 A.D. – who said “The glory of God is a human being who is fully alive.” [Adversus Haereses – 4th Book]. Every parent knows the truth of that when they see their kids fully alive on the playing field or in a play – or having a great slumber party – or doing a reading at Mass – or hunting for Easter eggs or chocolate Easter eggs, so too our God, our Father, rejoices when seeing us fully alive and searching for the surprise of new life.
Don’t we love it when we see grandparents laughing while playing cards or out on the dance floor – or cracking on each other?
So that bumper sticker is a creed: “I believe in life before death.”
And then like any creed we agree upon, we need to put it into practice – making it more than just words.
Am I alive or am I dead? Am I excited or exhausted? Do I jump out of bed each morning – longing for a new day of life, service and surprise?
Frank Lloyd Wright once described bureaucrats as, “dead at 30 and buried at 60.”
I hope that’s not true – but there are some jobs I know I wouldn’t want – but I’m glad someone’s doing them – and I hope they love their job.
It’s NCAA basketball time – and almost baseball season, but all of us can connect with Erma Bombeck’s famous line, “If a man watches three football games in a row, he should be declared legally dead.”
Who of us wants to be described as, “Dead! Dull! Boring! Eternal couch potato? Unalive? Same Old Same Old Person every day?”
Some people sound like they are repeating TV talk shows – and the rest of the people in the room want to run! They want to run because this other person doesn’t seem to be another person – someone we might enjoy a cup of coffee or a cup of tea or a Doctor Pepper with.
Just yesterday a lady told me she was recently at Mass at another church – I’m glad it wasn’t this church – and this little girl yelled out – pointing to the priest, “He doesn’t want to be here!”
Did he hear that? Did the little girl want to there? Do I want to be here – on this planet – enjoying this great gift of life that God has given me?
I picture Jesus standing in front of some people who look like they are dead – and he screams out loud into the cave of their ear what he said at the grave or cave of Lazarus: “Lazarus come forth! Wake up. Come back from the dead!” And Lazarus came back from the dead.
Am I happy to be alive? Do I believe in life before death?
I see people worried about hell, heaven and purgatory. I would stress being aware that heaven, hell, and purgatory, can also be right now.
I like Albert Camus’ bumper sticker like saying, “I shall tell you a great secret, my friend. Do not wait for the last judgment. It takes place every day.” The Fall [1956]
Okay, having said all that, I want to address in this homily the hereafter. Relax this is my regular 10 minutes – 5 pages – 14 pica homily. The title of my homily after all is, “Easter: Belief In Life After Death” and here I am yaking mainly about the here and now.
TODAY’S GOSPEL
The last line in today’s gospel intrigued me, “For they did not yet understand the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead.” [John 20:1-9]
I asked myself, “What does that mean?” “Do I understand that Jesus had to rise from the dead?”
That’s a big question! Many people think: when we die, that’s it. That’s all there is. Nobody has ever risen from the dead!
They it hit me – the depth as well as the centrality of what Paul said about the resurrection in many of his letters - especially his First Letter to the Corinthians, Chapter 15. To paraphrase Paul: “If Christ did not rise from the dead, then the whole house of cards crumbles. If Christ did not rise from the dead, open up the doors and let’s get out of here. We’re a bunch of fools. If Christ did not rise, then nobody rises. If Christ did not rise from the dead, then there is no meaning to Baptism, not truth to Eucharist, no Christianity, no truth to all these things we believe.”
Yet we do believe. Okay we have doubts at times. Then our prayer changes to the prayer of the man in the gospel who came to Jesus for him to heal his son, “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.” [Mark 9:24]
Did he hear that? Did the little girl want to there? Do I want to be here – on this planet – enjoying this great gift of life that God has given me?
I picture Jesus standing in front of some people who look like they are dead – and he screams out loud into the cave of their ear what he said at the grave or cave of Lazarus: “Lazarus come forth! Wake up. Come back from the dead!” And Lazarus came back from the dead.
Am I happy to be alive? Do I believe in life before death?
I see people worried about hell, heaven and purgatory. I would stress being aware that heaven, hell, and purgatory, can also be right now.
I like Albert Camus’ bumper sticker like saying, “I shall tell you a great secret, my friend. Do not wait for the last judgment. It takes place every day.” The Fall [1956]
Okay, having said all that, I want to address in this homily the hereafter. Relax this is my regular 10 minutes – 5 pages – 14 pica homily. The title of my homily after all is, “Easter: Belief In Life After Death” and here I am yaking mainly about the here and now.
TODAY’S GOSPEL
The last line in today’s gospel intrigued me, “For they did not yet understand the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead.” [John 20:1-9]
I asked myself, “What does that mean?” “Do I understand that Jesus had to rise from the dead?”
That’s a big question! Many people think: when we die, that’s it. That’s all there is. Nobody has ever risen from the dead!
They it hit me – the depth as well as the centrality of what Paul said about the resurrection in many of his letters - especially his First Letter to the Corinthians, Chapter 15. To paraphrase Paul: “If Christ did not rise from the dead, then the whole house of cards crumbles. If Christ did not rise from the dead, open up the doors and let’s get out of here. We’re a bunch of fools. If Christ did not rise, then nobody rises. If Christ did not rise from the dead, then there is no meaning to Baptism, not truth to Eucharist, no Christianity, no truth to all these things we believe.”
Yet we do believe. Okay we have doubts at times. Then our prayer changes to the prayer of the man in the gospel who came to Jesus for him to heal his son, “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.” [Mark 9:24]
And if we read the after Good Friday stories in Matthew, Mark, Luke and today from John, we hear stories about how belief – faith – takes time – and some get there faster than others.
In today’s gospel there is the mention of “the other disciple”. Many consider this to be John – but we’re not sure. It could be us. It could be the one who in any age or any time – gets in next to Jesus – and Jesus sees this one as the Beloved Disciple.
The gospel writers play with this – who’s going to be first, who’s going to # 1 – who’s going to be next to Jesus in the Eternal Wedding Banquet. Won’t we be surprised! But we don’t know. Hopefully, we will know this in eternity.
ETERNITY: LIFE AFTER DEATH
I often think of a moment at my brother’s grave – standing there in prayer with my brother’s best friend – who said he doesn’t believe in life after death. It was one of those life moments that had a profound impact. I’ve often think about it. Do I believe in life after death? I do! I believe in life after death, because of my parents and my upbringing as a Catholic. In contrast, others don’t have this belief. So I pinch myself. Belief is a gift. Belief in life after death is a total gift. It can’t be proved! We have to die to find out.
At the age of 70, I obviously think about this question more than when I was 40.
In today’s gospel there is the mention of “the other disciple”. Many consider this to be John – but we’re not sure. It could be us. It could be the one who in any age or any time – gets in next to Jesus – and Jesus sees this one as the Beloved Disciple.
The gospel writers play with this – who’s going to be first, who’s going to # 1 – who’s going to be next to Jesus in the Eternal Wedding Banquet. Won’t we be surprised! But we don’t know. Hopefully, we will know this in eternity.
ETERNITY: LIFE AFTER DEATH
I often think of a moment at my brother’s grave – standing there in prayer with my brother’s best friend – who said he doesn’t believe in life after death. It was one of those life moments that had a profound impact. I’ve often think about it. Do I believe in life after death? I do! I believe in life after death, because of my parents and my upbringing as a Catholic. In contrast, others don’t have this belief. So I pinch myself. Belief is a gift. Belief in life after death is a total gift. It can’t be proved! We have to die to find out.
At the age of 70, I obviously think about this question more than when I was 40.
The first thing I go with is what is called Pascal’s Wager or Gamble. Blaise Pascal [1623-1662] was a French mathematician, scientist, philosopher and theologian at times. Various folks punch holes in his argument – saying maybe we’ll wake up realizing we picked the wrong religion. I apply the gamble only to God. I’m gambling that the moment after we die, we’ll either know or not know. If there is nothing, then we’ll never know. But if we gambled that there is a God waiting for us after death, then we guessed correctly big time.
So I start with that. What kicks in second – after Pascal – is Jesus.
I make my act of faith in Jesus Christ – in his words of hope, “I am the way, the truth and the life. I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me, even though he die, will live.”
Then third and last comes the following thought and reasoning – that spins around my brain from time to time – and I found out – around the brain and reasoning of a lot of people.
I call this the “Fair is fair!” conversation with God.
There has to be a resurrection – not only because Jesus died around 33 and was killed unfairly – and didn’t get a chance to round out his life more, but also what about all the babies who have died and never had the time of their life that I have had. What about all those millions and millions of Jews who were killed in the Holocaust – and millions and millions and millions of people who were blown up or killed or raped and murdered – in the violence of war or by crazies down through the centuries. What about all the young men and women killed in war - in combat - or just in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Fair is fair. There has to be a hereafter. Fair is fair.
CONCLUSION
Easter is a good time to think about heavy things. Roll away the big stone and experience these questions with Jesus the Risen Lord. Amen. Alleluia.
Painting on top: The Resurrection [1510] - part of Matthias Grunewald's altarpiece in St. Anthony's Monastery, Isenheim, Alsace
RESURRECTION
Quote of the Day: April 4, 2010 - Easter Sunday
"The entire character of a man's whole life depends on whether he answers 'Yes' or 'No' to the historic fact of the Resurrection."
John E. Large, The Small Needle of Doctor Large, 1962
"The entire character of a man's whole life depends on whether he answers 'Yes' or 'No' to the historic fact of the Resurrection."
John E. Large, The Small Needle of Doctor Large, 1962
Picture on top: Resurrection. It's on the front wall in St. Paul de Meythet Church in Meythet, a suburb of Annecy, south-eastern France. Painting 1998 - by Arcabas (Jean-Marie Pirot).
Saturday, April 3, 2010
TRUTH WILL
SET YOU FREE
Quote of the Day: April 3, 2010 Holy Saturday
"Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again."
William Cullen Bryant [1794-1878], The Battlefield [1839], stanza 9
Picture on top - part of the famine ship sculpture at the National Famine Memorial, County Mayo, Ireland, in sight of Croag Patrick.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
HOLY THURSDAY:
IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED
IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED
Pat and Mike – late 40’s – every Thursday evening – volunteering at the Catholic Shelter on the Bowery – New York City, Manhattan – from 5:30 till 10:30 P.M. They have been doing this for the past four and a half years.
They would walk up from Wall Street where both worked for different firms – same kind of work – paper – lots of paper. And it was supposed to be a digital paperless world.
They would meet outside Pat’s office building and walk up together the mile plus walk – their exercise for the day – chatting as they walked about their day, their families, this and that. Then they would serve at the shelter – help feed Bowery guys – all men – and then get on the subway near Broadway and head home at 9:30 P.M.
Their wives thought it was great to know their husbands were making this sacrifice. It was real. It was not talk. It helped folks. Their wives thought this was part of the Catholic faith they hoped their kids would pick up by example – knowing their dads were volunteering to help the homeless.
That Thursday – it was Holy Thursday – both said as they walked – “Too bad we’re at the Catholic Shelter tonight. We’re missing the Holy Thursday Services back in our churches in Brooklyn.”
Two blocks away from the shelter they saw him – in an alley – laying there – sort of shivering in the cold – in a T-shirt – and the weather was a bit chilly that late afternoon in New York City.
They stopped and then headed for the guy in a dirty T-shirt, sneakers, and tan stained pants.
“Buddy are you hungry?”
“Starving,” came a muted moan.
“Okay, come with us.” They helped the guy up and it was like a Marx Brothers comedy. In fact Pat and Mike started to laugh as they had him in the middle – with his arms draped over each of the their shoulders and they sort of carried him the next two blocks to the shelter.
Shower. The guy really needed a shower. Wooh! The Phew!
They got him in the front door of the shelter. It was semi-packed with all kinds of guys their age, younger, and some older – many in need of a shave – some playing cards – some playing pool – some sitting all alone – on the five couches scattered around the room. Guys who don’t know guys don’t crowd couches.
The other volunteers were all busy getting ready for supper in the back section of the first floor of the shelter. The fold up tables were all set up. Pat and Mike would usually be the ones to place paper plates, paper napkins, Styrofoam cups and plastic silverware on the big long rectangular tables. 3 guys in aprons were cooking and stirring big pots. One yelled, “It’s spaghetti night, Pat and Mike. Don’t you wish you were Italian?”
Mike said, “We got ourselves a starving customer here – but first we’ll get him to his bed and a good shower.”
Three guys sitting there started clapping. They had got a whiff of the man they had brought in and could tell his tan pants needed to be discarded as soon as possible.
They found out the man’s name was Jack – just Jack – and that was enough for a passport into the shelter for the night.
Pat and Mike – with much difficulty – got Jack up to the third floor – using the stairs. There was no elevator.
They brought Jack to his bed and said, “Sit down here for a moment.”
Then Pat and Mike headed for a closet and got him donated underwear, socks, shoes, and a suit.
Then they brought him to a shower and Jack went for it. In fact, you could hear him say a few times from the other side of the curtain, “Good…. Good…. Good! I needed this.”
The water and the soap and the shower rehumanized Jack.
He came back to the bed in his towel and Pat and Mike turned away so he could get dressed.
When they turned around he was sitting on the edge of the bed in pants, a fresh shirt, a tie, and a suit jacket. No socks yet.
Pat bent down and dried Jack’s feet with a clean towel. Then he put socks on Jack. Mike had taken his sneakers and got a size match with a decent pair of donated shoes. Then he bent down and put shoes on Jack.
Jack looked good.
Pat said, “We dumped all your clothes in the garbage over there. They’re history. Now let’s get something to eat.” Before dumping the tan pants, Pat had checked the pockets. Nothing. Not even a dirty handkerchief. The man had nothing but a name and now a new suit.
They helped Jack down the stairs – but he moved much better than on the way up.
Downstairs once again they introduced Jack to some of the regulars – and one or two shook his hand, “Nice suit. Jack. Nice suit.”
This got the first real smile out of Jack so far.
Then Pat and Mike helped prepare the tables for supper and then brought out the bread and water and butter and parmesan cheese.
The chef yelled – ringing a big bell, “Supper’s ready!”
All the men moved or shuffled towards the 53 available seats. That was the count that night.
Some of the men knew to pause – for a prayer. About a dozen guys watched. They had not been here before or were out of it.
Dinner went from 7 till 8 P.M.
Pat and Mike – in aprons and smiles – as well as 6 other guys served lots of spaghetti – lots of bread – lots of comments.
This was important to these volunteers. You could tell it made them feel worthwhile. Even though they had stressful work all day, Thursday evenings at the shelter was their best work of the week.
From time to time Pat and Mike would stop to interact with Jack – making sure he was okay – as well as chatting with a few of the other regulars.
More than half took seconds. For some – probably Jack as well – this might have been their only meal of the day. Others knew of soup kitchens in the area as well.
At 8 guys drifted back to the card tables, a TV set that had a basketball game on, or the pool table. Some drifted upstairs to their beds.
Pat and Mike and the rest of the crew were cleaned up by 9 PM and they would sit and chat and kid with the guys till it was time to get home themselves.
They noticed Jack had slipped upstairs on his own – so they went up at 9:20 to say good-bye and good night – and surprise – Jack was in bed crying – with a rosary in his hands. He told them one of the other men had given him a rosary. They shook his hand and said, “We got to get home to our families.”
Jack said, “Thanks guys. Thanks!” Then he added, “I hope my family back in Denver are okay tonight.”
Pat and Mike said, “We do too.”
And they headed downstairs – said goodbye to two of the staff who were there for the night – and headed for the subway and home.
As they were sitting in the subway car, Pat said to Mike, “Did it hit you?”
“Hit what?”
“Did it hit you that we really didn’t miss the Holy Thursday Mass tonight? We had everything but the wine.”
They would walk up from Wall Street where both worked for different firms – same kind of work – paper – lots of paper. And it was supposed to be a digital paperless world.
They would meet outside Pat’s office building and walk up together the mile plus walk – their exercise for the day – chatting as they walked about their day, their families, this and that. Then they would serve at the shelter – help feed Bowery guys – all men – and then get on the subway near Broadway and head home at 9:30 P.M.
Their wives thought it was great to know their husbands were making this sacrifice. It was real. It was not talk. It helped folks. Their wives thought this was part of the Catholic faith they hoped their kids would pick up by example – knowing their dads were volunteering to help the homeless.
That Thursday – it was Holy Thursday – both said as they walked – “Too bad we’re at the Catholic Shelter tonight. We’re missing the Holy Thursday Services back in our churches in Brooklyn.”
Two blocks away from the shelter they saw him – in an alley – laying there – sort of shivering in the cold – in a T-shirt – and the weather was a bit chilly that late afternoon in New York City.
They stopped and then headed for the guy in a dirty T-shirt, sneakers, and tan stained pants.
“Buddy are you hungry?”
“Starving,” came a muted moan.
“Okay, come with us.” They helped the guy up and it was like a Marx Brothers comedy. In fact Pat and Mike started to laugh as they had him in the middle – with his arms draped over each of the their shoulders and they sort of carried him the next two blocks to the shelter.
Shower. The guy really needed a shower. Wooh! The Phew!
They got him in the front door of the shelter. It was semi-packed with all kinds of guys their age, younger, and some older – many in need of a shave – some playing cards – some playing pool – some sitting all alone – on the five couches scattered around the room. Guys who don’t know guys don’t crowd couches.
The other volunteers were all busy getting ready for supper in the back section of the first floor of the shelter. The fold up tables were all set up. Pat and Mike would usually be the ones to place paper plates, paper napkins, Styrofoam cups and plastic silverware on the big long rectangular tables. 3 guys in aprons were cooking and stirring big pots. One yelled, “It’s spaghetti night, Pat and Mike. Don’t you wish you were Italian?”
Mike said, “We got ourselves a starving customer here – but first we’ll get him to his bed and a good shower.”
Three guys sitting there started clapping. They had got a whiff of the man they had brought in and could tell his tan pants needed to be discarded as soon as possible.
They found out the man’s name was Jack – just Jack – and that was enough for a passport into the shelter for the night.
Pat and Mike – with much difficulty – got Jack up to the third floor – using the stairs. There was no elevator.
They brought Jack to his bed and said, “Sit down here for a moment.”
Then Pat and Mike headed for a closet and got him donated underwear, socks, shoes, and a suit.
Then they brought him to a shower and Jack went for it. In fact, you could hear him say a few times from the other side of the curtain, “Good…. Good…. Good! I needed this.”
The water and the soap and the shower rehumanized Jack.
He came back to the bed in his towel and Pat and Mike turned away so he could get dressed.
When they turned around he was sitting on the edge of the bed in pants, a fresh shirt, a tie, and a suit jacket. No socks yet.
Pat bent down and dried Jack’s feet with a clean towel. Then he put socks on Jack. Mike had taken his sneakers and got a size match with a decent pair of donated shoes. Then he bent down and put shoes on Jack.
Jack looked good.
Pat said, “We dumped all your clothes in the garbage over there. They’re history. Now let’s get something to eat.” Before dumping the tan pants, Pat had checked the pockets. Nothing. Not even a dirty handkerchief. The man had nothing but a name and now a new suit.
They helped Jack down the stairs – but he moved much better than on the way up.
Downstairs once again they introduced Jack to some of the regulars – and one or two shook his hand, “Nice suit. Jack. Nice suit.”
This got the first real smile out of Jack so far.
Then Pat and Mike helped prepare the tables for supper and then brought out the bread and water and butter and parmesan cheese.
The chef yelled – ringing a big bell, “Supper’s ready!”
All the men moved or shuffled towards the 53 available seats. That was the count that night.
Some of the men knew to pause – for a prayer. About a dozen guys watched. They had not been here before or were out of it.
Dinner went from 7 till 8 P.M.
Pat and Mike – in aprons and smiles – as well as 6 other guys served lots of spaghetti – lots of bread – lots of comments.
This was important to these volunteers. You could tell it made them feel worthwhile. Even though they had stressful work all day, Thursday evenings at the shelter was their best work of the week.
From time to time Pat and Mike would stop to interact with Jack – making sure he was okay – as well as chatting with a few of the other regulars.
More than half took seconds. For some – probably Jack as well – this might have been their only meal of the day. Others knew of soup kitchens in the area as well.
At 8 guys drifted back to the card tables, a TV set that had a basketball game on, or the pool table. Some drifted upstairs to their beds.
Pat and Mike and the rest of the crew were cleaned up by 9 PM and they would sit and chat and kid with the guys till it was time to get home themselves.
They noticed Jack had slipped upstairs on his own – so they went up at 9:20 to say good-bye and good night – and surprise – Jack was in bed crying – with a rosary in his hands. He told them one of the other men had given him a rosary. They shook his hand and said, “We got to get home to our families.”
Jack said, “Thanks guys. Thanks!” Then he added, “I hope my family back in Denver are okay tonight.”
Pat and Mike said, “We do too.”
And they headed downstairs – said goodbye to two of the staff who were there for the night – and headed for the subway and home.
As they were sitting in the subway car, Pat said to Mike, “Did it hit you?”
“Hit what?”
“Did it hit you that we really didn’t miss the Holy Thursday Mass tonight? We had everything but the wine.”
“Missed it?” said Mike, “Holy Thursday. We were there.
Painting on top: The Washing of the Feet by Chislaine Howard 1953, Methodist Collection of Modern Christian Art
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