Our Song of Mercy

Last night, I went for a walk through the nearby college campus. As I was passing by one of the parking lots, I saw a van from the university that is used by the college marching band. Emblazoned on the side of the van was the name of the band with the catch line, "Music Without Mercy."

I laughed to myself as I thought what this could possibly mean. Do their flutes shoot out flames of fire? Or do they use tubas as cannons?

While it is humorous to imagine this scenario, I then thought about the fact that everything in our world - perhaps even our music - can sometimes be devoid of mercy. There is a real need for mercy.

Mercy is God's radical love and acceptance of us for who we are and where we are in life. Mercy does not demand that we conform to impossible standards and forsake our natural goodness and beauty. Mercy affirms that we created in love by God and that God wants to save us from all that keeps us burdened and prevents us from being our truest and most free selves.

We do indeed have a song of mercy, one that was recited by a pregnant virgin in the hill country of Nazareth. This unexpected-yet-expectant mother of our Lord Jesus sang of God's mercy and all the ways God reaches out to save us. For us Christians, especially in a world where there is "music without mercy," this is our song of mercy:

The Canticle of Mary (Magnificat)

Luke 1:46-55

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,

And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior

For He has looked with favor on His lowly servant.

From this day all generations will call me blessed,

The Almighty has done great things for me and holy is His Name.

He has mercy on those who fear Him in every generation.

He has shown the strength of His arm.
He has scattered the proud in their conceit and has lifted up the lowly.

He has filled the hungry with good things,

And the rich He has sent away empty.

He has come to the help of His servant Israel,

For He has remembered His promise of mercy,

The promise He made to our fathers,

To Abraham and his children forever.

Triduum: Three Days of Gift

It is striking for me to think just how incredibly good and generous our God is to us. This isn't an aloof god who is far-removed from our needs, our desires, our hopes, our dreams, and our failures. This God - our God - is the living God who chooses to dwell among us amidst our personal histories, with warts and glory and all.

In Jesus, we have encountered God-among-us in the most intimate way. Through our sinful inclinations, we have proven time and again that we do not always share in this desire for love, life, and intimacy. Still, our poorest choices do not deter our good and generous God. During these three holiest of days, the Triduum, we remember and enter into the most profound mystery of God's love in Jesus. During these days, we are given the very gift of God.

On Holy Thursday, Jesus was determined to show his disciples the depth of God's love and goodness. "Though he was in the form of God, Jesus did not regard equality with God something to be grasped at. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave" (Phil. 2:6-7). At this Last Supper, Jesus tied a towel around his waist and washed the disciples' feet. Jesus did not disdain the feet of these liars, cowards, and betrayers. He loved them with the greatest love, a love that was willing to lay down his own life for them and for all of humanity, even "while we were still sinners" (Romans 5:8). Jesus saw the worth of every disciple, despite their sins.

As if this gift of Jesus the Servant was not enough, Jesus then took the bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to the disciples as his very Body. And then with the cup, he blessed it and shared it, giving it to the disciples as his Blood poured out. From that moment, Jesus perpetually gave us his Eucharistic Body and Blood as a lasting memorial of this gift of God's love. This love of Christ Jesus is willingly sacrificed for each of us - for the whole lot of humanity: cowards, liars, and betrayers. This gift of Jesus' very self, a gift of love and an offer of salvation, always remains freely available for us to take, to eat, to drink.

This love, however, has a cost. We could not accept the immediacy of this love. All of us - Jew and Gentile - have rejected this gift. It seems paradoxical to call this day Good Friday. This is a day of injustice, arrest, torture, and death. We see the darker side of humanity in Peter, Judas, Pontius Pilate, the Roman guard, and the Temple officials. Yet, this day is indeed good because we also encounter a love that is stronger than the forces of death. Jesus forgives the repentant thief (cf. Luke 23:43) and asks forgiveness for those who have done this to him (cf. Luke 23:34). Jesus gives testimony to the Truth without violence or revenge (cf. John 18:37).

Jesus dies at the hands of sinners. Jesus is buried. Jesus is swallowed up into the earth. In the gift of his great love, God in Jesus experiences our humiliation, our suffering, and our death.

"Something strange is happening - there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness," begins one ancient Holy Saturday homily. "The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep." Even in death, Jesus provides us with another gift of love: the gift of silent waiting and anticipation. We wait for God to act, just as those disciples waited with much pain and anxiety. As the world remained wrapped in long silence, Jesus was at work, restoring all things in God. Death could not silence the power of love. Jesus descended into the very depths of hell, of isolation, and death. In the silence of the tomb, God's love was at work.

It would only be on the third day - on Sunday - that this silence  would be broken by the words of life and love triumphant over the grave: "You seek Jesus of Nazareth, the crucified. He has been raised. He is not here. Behold, the place where they laid him!" (Mark 16:6). Jesus, who had given us the gifts of his service, his Body and Blood, his death, and his sacred silence, now gives us yet another gift: new life!

Our good and generous God is the giver of many gifts. These are not abstract nor are they generic gifts. But in Jesus Christ, God gives us those gifts for our lives that carry us from sin to forgiveness, from darkness to light, from suffering to freedom, from death to new life.

All paintings used in this post are by Sieger Köder.

Beauty in Life's Blemishes

[Note: The following is a reflection that was given on Monday night during St. Matthew's Lenten Holy Hour.] 

Have you ever heard of the practice of kintsugi? I never had either, but recently I learned that kintsugi is a practice done in Japanese pottery in which a crack or blemish in the pottery is filled with gold to preserve the artwork. The flawed and broken pottery becomes even more valuable than before. The art is more beautiful because of the flaw, not in spite of its imperfection.

Example of kintsugi pottery

It might be surprising to hear, but this is true about our lives as well. Yes, we know too well those areas of our lives where we are cracked and blemished. We experience low self-esteem and anxiety. We suffer from compulsions like greed and lust. We are weighed down by self-pride and impatience with others. And we listen to voices that tell us we’re not good enough or holy enough.

In so many ways, we think that these cracks, flaws, and blemishes are barriers that keep us from God’s love. But my friends, Jesus’ life, mission, and ministry show us something else: that God loves us, not in spite of our blemishes, flaws, and cracks, but precisely through and in our weaknesses.

Jesus encounters us in our hurts, woundedness, sin, and struggle Jesus does not wait for us to be perfect or complete. Rather, our cracks, wounds, and flaws become the privileged place of encounter with Jesus.

This is the lesson we learn once again from tonight’s Gospel passage. The woman was caught in adultery. Yet in Jesus, she does not find condemnation, but a voice of mercy – a tender voice of forgiveness, and a voice that challenges her to conversion. In Jesus, the woman finds a new way forward from here brokenness towards healing and hope.

During the entire season of Lent, we have heard of the many ways in which the Lord Jesus encounters others in the cracks, the blemishes, and the imperfections of their lives. Three weeks ago, we heard about the Samaritan woman at the well and her movement towards conversion. Two weeks ago, we read of the miraculous cure of the man born blind and his discovery of faith in Jesus. And just yesterday, we head how Jesus went down into the depths of grief and death with Martha and Mary and freed his friend Lazarus from the sleep of death. 

In all these moments, Jesus enters into the messiness and chaos of life to bring healing, hope, and restoration. Jesus does the same for us, too.

Jesus and the woman caught in adultery

-Jesus wants to bring us the great gift of the Father’s mercy and forgives to those areas of our lives in which we are ashamed, to those areas trapped by sin, just like the woman caught in adultery. Are there any public or private sins that I am need of forgiveness?

-Jesus wants to speak to our hearts’ deepest desires and longings. Like the Samaritan woman at the well, Jesus wants to restore us to friendship with him and right relationship with others. How open am I to conversion?

-Jesus desires to illumine our lives with the truth of faith. Like the man born blind, Jesus wants to gives us sight, to see him with eyes of faith and to see our brothers and sisters with eyes of love. What is blinding me from trusting God in my life? What blinds me from seeing God’s goodness in others?

-Jesus desires to raise us up to new life, not just at the End Times, but now. Like Lazarus, Jesus wants to bring new life to all those areas in our lives that are enclosed in the darkness and lifelessness of our self-imposed tombs. 

What area of my life needs to be freed from tomb?

Tonight, we have ample opportunity to explore how it is that Jesus encounters us in our broken and flawed part of our lives. In the sacrament of reconciliation, we hear the Lord’s words of forgiveness and mercy. And sitting here in prayerful adoration of our Eucharistic Lord, we can ask Jesus to send his Spirit to reveal to us all those ways he encounters us and continues to do so in our lives. In all these ways, and in so many other ways, Jesus has been working toward our restoration. Jesus seeks to forgive us, to offer us the great gift of healing, of hope, of new life.

But Jesus does not act because we are perfect, whole, or complete. Rather, we experience Jesus’ salvific work in the cracks, blemishes, and brokenness of our lives. These are privileged places of encounter. Like the art of kintsugi in which cracks are beautified and made precious with gold, so too are our lives made beautiful when the cracks and blemishes of our lives encounter the saving love, grace, forgiveness, and peace of Jesus Christ.

Hell is Isolation

[Note: The following is a reflection that was given on Monday night during St. Matthew's Lenten Holy Hour.]

In his 1944 play “No Exit,” the French existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre writes about three people condemned to hell, which in the play, is a waiting room. During the play, the three characters torture each other with their selfish words and actions. One of the characters goes on to declare: “Hell is other people!”

But my friends, in tonight’s parable from the Gospel of Luke, we hear from the heart of Jesus that hell is not other people. Rather, hell is being isolated from other people!

In many ways, we are the ones who create large chasms between us and other people. Through our creature comforts, our selfishness, and greed, we barricade ourselves from reaching out to other people.

During his life, the rich man de-humanized Lazarus. He never once offered food, shelter, or medical aid. He never once even acknowledged Lazarus, even though the poor man was lying at the rich man’s doorstep. As we hear in the parable, it is only in the afterlife when the rich man wants something does he acknowledge Lazarus's identity. The rich man requests that Lazarus dip his finger in water and quench his thirst.

It is at moment that the rich man condemns himself. He knew who Lazarus was during his life, but never bothered to reach out to him, never spoke his name. Yet now, only when the rich man wants something, does he speak the name of the poor man. The rich man is thus condemned through his own individualism and selfishness.

God doesn’t send us to hell. No. We condemn ourselves to this eternal isolation whenever we refuse to recognize the dignity of another human being and whenever we isolate ourselves from loving God in our neighbor – especially the needy, the poor, and the marginalized.

In his letter to mark the beginning of Lent, Pope Francis reflects on this particular passage about Lazarus and the rich man. In his reflection, Pope Francis says that this parable reminds us that every person is a gift and that every person is a treasure given to us from God. Every single life has been created in and through God’s creative act of love. Every life therefore, is precious, sacred, and has a purpose. Every person has a story and a name. Every person reveals to us something unique about God's love and goodness.

The rich man in the parable does not recognize the sacredness that is present in others, that was

present in Lazarus. In his letter, Pope Francis goes on to diagnose the rich man in the parable. According to Pope Francis, the reason that the rich man did not love his neighbor - the reason why the rich man did not see poor Lazarus as a gift and a treasure - was because he had closed his heart to the Word of God.

The Word of God has incredible power to transform our hardened hearts, to melt away our self-imposed isolation, and to lead us in conversion from sin to new life in God.

During this Fourth Week of Lent, as we come closer to Easter, it is worth considering how well we are listening to the Word of God. Tonight is a good night to meditate on God’s Word of salvation. Tonight, as we sit before the sacramentalized and enfleshed Word of God in the Blessed Sacrament, we are challenged to imitate our Eucharistic Lord. We are called to be like Jesus:

-to be like Jesus who did not disdain to become like one of us;

-to be like Jesus who experienced our sufferings and humiliations;
-to be like Jesus who experienced a dehumanizing death;
-to be like Jesus who chooses to identify with the poor, the vulnerable, and the marginalized.

The same Eucharistic Lord whom we honor and adore is the same Word of God who is enfleshed in Lazarus and the many poor and abandoned members of our community and society. Hearing the Word of God means that we are attentive to the cries of our brothers and sisters who sit at our doorsteps – the cries of those who hunger for justice, for peace, for safety, and for mercy.

Truly hearing the Word of God means learning the names, the faces, the stories, and the challenges of the poor and homeless here in East Stroudsburg. Truly hearing the Word of God means that we name the struggles of our own lives, and those of our families, co-workers, and of our Church so that we can come together in solidarity to address whatever suffering our brothers and sisters might be facing. To truly hear the Word of God challenges us to move beyond our impulses to be greedy consumers who are overly materialistic. The Word of God challenges us to be generous with our time, our possessions, our love. 

The Word of God challenges us to be like Jesus.

If we are attentive to the Word of God and if we listen to and embody this Word, then the Lord will move us to a deeper love and solidarity with all of humanity. When this happens, we will finally be able to see, cry out, and embrace Lazarus at our doorstep.

We must allow Jesus the Word of God to save us from that chasm of separation that we often create for ourselves... from the hell of isolation.

St. Joseph: Lover of Poverty

[Note: The following is a reflection that was given on Monday night during St. Matthew's Lenten Holy Hour.]

I recently discovered an old traditional litany to St. Joseph. One of the titles that St. Joseph went by in this litany was "Lover of Poverty...St. Joseph, Lover of Poverty, pray for us!"

I have to admit, this title is somewhat peculiar to me. It sounds a little odd. Afterall, we are often made to think that it is bad to be poor and that only when we are rich, comfortable, and surrounded by material wealth and security that we will be truly happy and blessed.

But my friends, if we truly explore what our Catholic-Christian faith teaches us and if we look also to the example of St. Joseph, then we will quickly realize that true happiness and true blessedness comes in recognizing and embracing our poverty.

You might remember that Pope Francis was officially installed as the Bishop of Rome four years ago on the Feast of St. Joseph. Pope Francis has reminded us that we are to be a Church that is poor and a Church that is for the poor. We see this in how Pope Francis has chosen to live, shirking palaces in place of a hotel room - abandoning limousines and choosing simple cars.

But even more than embracing material poverty, Pope Francis has challenged us as a Church to recognize and embrace our spiritual poverty. We all struggle. We all sin. We all fall to our own plans, schemes, and desires. And yet we have been saved in and through God's love. We have experienced the Lord's profound gift of mercy. We are saved, not based on our own merit, but on God's goodness to us.

When we empty ourselves of those material possessions that distract us and make us competitive...when we empty ourselves of the need of being in charge of our lives...when we empty ourselves of ego, pride, and individualism...then we will find that our hearts are free and available to do the will of the Lord. In our poverty - in being poor, empty, and available - we find that we can better hear the voice of God in our lives.

This is why we can look to St. Joseph as our model of discipleship, as our model of embracing material and spiritual poverty. As a poor laborer, Joseph was empty of the material things that distract us from our living relationship with God. Joseph was empty of vengeance and cruelty when he found out Mary was pregnant. Joseph was empty of fear when he, with Mary and the child, fled to Egypt and escaped those violent forces that sought the life of Jesus. Joseph was empty of his own wants, dreams, and desires. In the poverty and emptiness of silence, Joseph was commissioned through an angelic voice to care for Mary and Jesus as husband and father.

St. Joseph reminds us that true blessedness lies in our poverty.

Tonight, as we sit here in silent adoration of our Eucharistic Lord, who himself chose to be poor, empty, and available in order to do the Father's will, let us take stock of how well we are embracing our call as baptized Christians to embrace and love our material and spiritual poverty. What might be getting in our way? What possessions or wealth holds us back from our commitment as disciples? What prevents us from being completely open to doing the will of God in our lives?

We may not always live up to our calling, but thankfully we have a God who is patient and merciful, a God who tenderly shows us how to embrace this poverty of spirit. And in St. Joseph, we have a role model, a patron, and a guide who shows us how to live in a spirit like Christ - free to do the will of the Father because he is poor, empty, and available.

St. Joseph, Lover of Poverty, pray for us!

Snow, Blizzards, and Forgiveness

It seems especially appropriate that during today's snow storm, we hear this from the prophet Isaiah in today's readings:

"Wash yourselves clean! Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes; cease doing evil; learn to do good. Make justice your aim: redress the wronged, hear the orphan's plea, defend the widow.

Come now, let us set things right, says the Lord: Though your sins be like scarlet, they may become white as snow; Though they be crimson red, they may become white as wool."

St. Matthew's Church, East Stroudsburg, PA

Let's remember all those who lack adequate warmth and shelter today. May we, as individuals and as society, work to address the coldness of injustice that we have shown to the poor, the homeless, and our marginalized sisters and brothers.

And remember that just as the snow blankets our yards, our streets, and our homes, so too does God's mercy and forgiveness blanket our sins, faults, and failings.

Stay warm and safe today!

Our Daily Crosses

[Note: The following is a reflection that was given on Monday night during St. Matthew's Parish Lenten Holy Hour.]

"Take up your cross daily and follow me." -(Luke 9:22-25)

Whenever I hear this Gospel that was just proclaimed, I think of a family I know well. The adult children care for their aging parents. When all is said and done, they might spend four or five hours each evening cooking, cleaning, and watching after their parents. All of this is on top of caring for their own families and careers. The siblings all admit that this is exhausting work at times, yet this is the task they have been called to do. And so, even though it is not always easy, they faithfully and lovingly attend to their parents' needs.

I also think of a young woman I know. At times, she suffers from anxiety and bouts of depression. Sometimes, life can be a challenge and burdensome. During these moments when the anxiety and depression are particularly strong, she struggles to maintain her faith. "I hate that I feel this way, but I can't help it. Why do I have to be the one with anxiety and depression?"

It is the Cross.

The Cross is an anomaly. It is counter-intuitive. St. Paul described the Cross as a scandal to Gentile and a stumbling-block to Jews. But the Cross - taking up our Cross daily - is what Jesus tells us tonight is the condition for our discipleship.

What does it mean for us to carry our Cross? In calling us to carry our Cross, Jesus asks of us to be aware of that which burdens us. We are to be in touch with the suffering we face in life, whether it is physical, emotional, or spiritual. We need not be ashamed or hide the Crosses in our life. It might seem counter-intuitive, but when we embrace our Cross and accept our humanity (and its limitations), we actually come closer to our God. Our Crosses remind us of our loving dependence on God!

The Crosses we carry daily, however, are only half the story. Our faith reminds us that in the Paschal Mystery, Christ Jesus carried his own Cross, bore the wounds of sin and suffering in the crucifixion, died, and was raised by the power of God's faithful love on the third day.  And just this past Sunday, we heard the Gospel account of the Transfiguration of the Lord. We were again reminded that Jesus' glorification can only be understood in light of his suffering on the Cross.

The Crosses we bear in life always lead us to encounter Jesus. And an encounter with Jesus always leads us to new life, a new direction, a new horizon. In dying to self and in taking up our Cross, we will experience new life in God.

"Jesus und Simon von Cyrene" by Sieger Köder

Now, we must clarify that God does not desire that we suffer God is not cruel or vengeful. God is not sadistic. Rather, God's love is so abundant, so overflowing, brimming over the surface, that it cannot be contained. God's love transforms all, even the darkest of nights and the heaviest of Crosses. We all carry our Crosses daily. No matter what form, shape, no matter how heavy, long-lasting or short-term, physical, emotional, or spiritual...we all have a Cross to carry!

But let us remember that Jesus has gone before us, that Jesus carried his own Cross. And now, during our Lenten journey, Jesus invites us to once again take up our Cross, to carry our own Cross, to embrace our Cross, to follow him. In doing so - in taking up our Cross daily to follow Jesus - we will soon find that Jesus actually walks alongside us. Jesus is there to help us bear the weight of our Cross, our life, our discipleship. Jesus is there to transform our Cross into something new, something transfigured, something salvific.