Resurrection on the Road to Emmaus

*dedicated to all of those who have lost especially loved ones during this pandemic.

During the pandemic turbulence of sensationalism, cancellations, conspiracy theories and tragic loss of life, I found myself walking the road to Emmaus, one I’ve walked before.  A stranger dressed for rain joined me.  He asked, “What’s running through your mind as you walk along?” Luke 24:13 

                  So much was running through my mind.  I didn’t know where to start.  I listened to our steps on the wet pavement.

                  “I’ve run into a few fleeing Jerusalem, headed to Emmaus, tonight,” the stranger observed.

                  “A lot of folks have scattered out of there, today.  A man named Jesus was unjustly accused, tortured, crucified and …”  Graphic images churned my stomach.  I felt despair, ashamed.

                  “And?” the stranger pried.

                  “The masses publicly humiliated him while he hung stripped of all human dignity, no clothes, no respect for his mother or the people who liked the guy.  Then they jeered mocking him to come down off the cross. To save himself like he said he would.”  Anger surged.  “Some lady shouted, ‘Lazarus raised from the dead was all smoke and mirrors!’”

                  “What happened?”

                  “At one time, Lazarus raised from the dead was good enough for me,” I professed.

“No, what happened to Jesus?”

“He just hung there and died like anybody else.  He didn’t save anybody, not even himself,” I stated feeling mislead.  Perhaps, the falling mist clearing the atmosphere would clear my mind.

The stranger offended me, casually rattling off his next statement.  “One of the thieves hanging next to your Jesus can acquit himself better than you.” I stopped aggressively searching the stranger’s eyes.  Without flinching, he stated directly, “I heard the ignorant crook recognized Jesus as the Son of God right there.  Sounds to me, you gave up hope when Jesus was crucified.”

Feeling defensive, I recoiled.  “Three days earlier, Jesus had twelve disciples when he was arrested.  The last man standing was a lone disciple Jesus asked to care for his mother.  Where were the crowds supporting him?”

Attempting to absolve myself, I reconciled. “I was at the Sermon on the Mount.  Jesus told of lifting the down-trodden, flipping the norm with gifts of the beatitudes.  (Luke 24:13-35)  He fed the hungry, cured the sick and the lame, drove out addictions, demons, forgave sins, changed water to wine, brought sight to the blind….”   

“So, if Jesus did do all those things, what are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid of death and everything associated with it.  Fear of being rejected, of not being good enough, of losing everything, of failure, of loneliness, loss of health, friendship, my reputation, security.”  I kicked a stone on the wet pavement spraying water before us.  “Consider our vast poverty, justice to the highest bidder or slickest talker, terrorism, medical care to the wealthy, the lust of greed and power, abuse of immigrants which now includes the two of us as we scatter from Jerusalem.”  I scoffed, “I often wonder when enough is enough?”

“Sounds like this Jesus-guy entered the muck and the folks he served took it to him!”  The stranger walloped the stone bouncing it over a wooden bridge we began to cross.   “You’re telling me Jesus chose to serve in the midst of betrayal and denial, division and deceit, in the ugliness of the world on his own journey.  He’s stripped of everything; pleasures, clothing, honor, friendship; and then sentenced to death.  As he suffers, naked, he is mocked.  Why do people act so cruelly?”

“I find it interesting,” my companion continued.  “I’ve been told Jesus repeated often, ‘Do not be afraid.’”  We passed beneath a street light chasing our shadows into darkness.  “Ironic, isn’t it?  You seem to be headed into the darkness away from the light where nobody can see you.  Chance you’re wondering whether you’re headed in the right direction?”

As we climbed a hill, mere silhouettes in the darkness, I was glad to fade into night.

“I heard a teacher, say that ‘fundamentally, fear of death is at the root of all sin, of all evil, including original sin.’¹ I must admit he made a very compelling case.  Half the humans that ever lived died under the age of 5; war, horrible diseases, genocide, hunger, all assaults on humanity.²  I wonder,” the stranger asked pausing me with a tap to my shoulder, “if the Author of all life, of all creation and beauty came again, would people kill him again?”³

                  “Betrayal by an intimate friend, disciples sleeping with indifference, false testimony when witnesses speak, indifferent to the truth, denials by friends,” I recited.  “Is that me?  Am I ignorant?  Am I blind?  Do I not recognize Jesus for who he is?”

                  “Appears to me, as Jesus walked the streets of Jerusalem, all sin converged upon him.  Jesus freely carried it up the cross.  Then, he dropped a torpedo at evil’s core.  Raised on a cross of greed vs generosity, lust vs love, despair and anger vs hope and service, where Jesus entered, no one could keep him down.”

                  “Sacred and defiant!  The wicked unjust exercise of power meant to terrify the world intersected defiant love, justice, mercy, forgiveness.” Though momentarily caught in a moment of rebellion, I quickly surrendered. “For the death of His Son, God could have wiped out the world in its entirety.  But.  That is not what he promised.  It is not what Jesus lived.”

                  Another, scattered in the night, jogged past us at a distance as if we may pose a potential threat to them.

                  “He promised to rise from the dead.  Rising from the dead is unnatural,” I stated as a matter of fact.  “Death is natural.  Loss is natural.  Grief is natural.  When a human being goes into the ground, that is that. You do not wait around for the person to reappear so you can pick up where you left off.  The only place springtime happens in a cemetery is on the graves, not in them.”⁴

                  “Life is a continuum.  Why can’t rise be natural?  God planted a seed of life in us that cannot be killed.”  The stranger paused.

                  “At death, something left the earth.  The words we have are so thin.  Life, soul, the miraculous energy that drives bone and meat toward love and light, … gone.” We passed a cross street as a dog howled in the background.

                  “But not gone!  Is there a wilder, crazier, truer belief than rising?” the stranger challenged, eyes enthralled.  “And if life is miraculous opening, why cannot death be a miraculous opening also?”⁵

                  “God embraced the human condition with the birth of his Son.  Despite our muck, he still embraces us.  He rose above.  And now He’s pulling us out of our own tombs.  Love conquers the cross and will continue to do so!”

                  “You heard Jesus tell you, ‘I am going away and I will come back to you.  Do not let your hearts be troubled, trust in God and trust in me.' (John 14:28) To rise is natural, but will only become an expectation when we give mercy, provide peace, and offer forgiveness.”

                  We began to enter the light beneath another post.  The stranger paused to allow another to scurry into the distant darkness.  “This I know; Jesus is who he said he was.  He spoke and acted in the person of Christ.  He in person was/is/will continue to be the highest good.  Our sins He forgives.  He first shows his wounds – then, no vengeance but wishes us peace. He shows who is our King and what our mission should be.  How do we approach darkness?  Through service to each other we become light of the Eucharist.  Jesus’ light breaks through the darkness.  Jesus did this in the midst of darkness in the world, betrayal, deceit, trial, death.”⁶

                  The burden with which I started my walk began to lighten.

                  “Jesus’ resurrection liberates us, validates the Kingdom among us is now!  Jesus has every intention of going head to head with our false gods; Jesus does not wait until life-after-life to deal with you and me.  Get rid of the idea that the kingdom Jesus proclaimed is purely other worldly.  New life is intended to begin now; it has to do not only with where we live and how we work, what we eat and drink, but also with where our neighbor lives, especially those neighbors who would gladly feed upon the crumbs from our groaning tables.”⁷

                  “We are part of the Kingdom of God here and now!  We must commit and act to care for our world and to provide for all of creation.  We must be the forces of freedom, justice, truth, love.  We are obligated to care for the jewel of the universe, planet earth, to resist greed, to quit worshipping the false gods of greed, power, racial and economic bias, threatening egos, injustice, fame, privilege, abuse of class-neighbor-children- spouse, meanness.  Without humility, integrity, mercy, forgiveness, all lead to a fear of death … all lead to doubt in resurrection.”

                  Together under heavy mist, we enter light beneath a streetlamp.  Water dropped from the bill of the stranger’s cap.  He reached into his pocket and pulled forth a piece of crusted bread.  He broke it in two and gave half to me. 

                  The stranger opened me.  “I delivered the Kingdom.  It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you. (John 15:16)  As the Father loves me, so I also love you.  Love one another as I love you.” (John 15:9-10)

                  Overcome, I felt Metanoeo!  I felt the One walking beside me challenging me to revolutionize my way of thinking, acting, being.  Turn my thinking inside out and let my feelings and behavior follow suit.⁸

                  Before I could respond, tears welled in my eyes as he touched my face.  “Do not be afraid.  I have risen!”  Whereupon He vanished from my sight! (Luke 24:31)

                  In heavy mist, I turned to return home to Jerusalem.

                  As I age, I have tried to turn my expectations of the world more to myself.  I have been asked by many students and adults of various faiths if Catholics stand before their congregations to proclaim they’ve been saved.  My response; yes.  Every time I accept the Eucharist, I proclaim Jesus is Lord and Savior.  I also renew my efforts to give myself to Christ and all of creation that Christ is within!

                  I celebrate in thanksgiving being immersed often in the gifts of life.  I ponder life’s experiences.  From Mystery, all I know and experience came to be.  To Mystery, I will return and continue to experience.  

“We are carved of immense confusing holiness that the whole point for us is grace under duress; and that you either take a flying leap at nonsensical illogical unreasonable ideas like marriage and marathons and democracy and divinity [and resurrection], or you huddle behind a wall.  I believe that the coolest things there are cannot be measured, calibrated, gauged, weighed, or understood except sometimes by having a child patiently explain it to you, which is another thing that should happen far more often to us all.

                  In short, I believe in believing, which doesn’t make sense, which gives me hope.”⁹

"Be Good" painted by a child and placed on my path in the woods!

Don’t be distracted or diverted.  TAKE THESE TO FULL SCREEN!  Be grateful and dance for a little time!!!

Where Love is Found by Daniel Schutte    

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAkK8FBbH6E#action=share

Join in the Dance by Daniel Schutte

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y3g39nC27dI&feature=youtu.be

Peace!

¹ Bishop Barron of Los Angeles, Good Friday online homily 2020.

² Fr. John Kavanaugh, SJ  Good Friday homily online 2011.

³ Russian author of Pride and Prejudice and philosopher, Dostoevsky, was asked this question.

⁴  Barbara Brown Taylor, author and Episcopal priest, from Give Us This Day, April 2020.

⁵  Brian Doyle, p. 61, Grace Notes, Catholic author and editor of Portland Magazine, University of Portland.  Brian recently died of brain cancer at the age of 60.

⁶  Bishop Barron online homily Easter 2020.

⁷  Will Willimon, professor Christian ministry at Duke Divinity School, retired Methodist bishop.  p. 12 Plough Quarterly, Spring 2020.

⁸  Sr. Mary M. McGlone, Sts of St. Joseph Carondelet, National Catholic Reporter, Fifth Sunday of Easter, Scripture for Life, May 9, 2020.  ‘Metanoeo’ Peter uses Greek verb evangelizing in Acts of the Apostles.

⁹  Brian Doyle, p. 57, Grace Notes.

All Are Welcome

All are welcome, all are welcome, all are welcome, in His Name.

Public masses are open today in our archdiocese.  HALLELUIAH!  For me, this is a true blessing.  This morning I saw many of the same familiar faces that I recognized from my sporadic 6am daily mass attendance over the years.

I spent the past 2 month ducking into our church, open for adoration, at many different times.  Although each visit was a treasure, only once was I lucky enough to stumble in just as one of the priests was beginning to quietly celebrate his own private mass.  Just to witness the Sacrifice was a true spiritual treasure.  He was celebrating in Latin, and the 4 years I spent in Latin class in high school failed me completely.  He was practically whispering, and he was celebrating away from me, but it was amazing to be there to witness what was undeniably the Eucharistic Celebration…regardless of how it looked and how it sounded.

It had been 2 months since I had last received the Eucharist.  After receiving and returning to my pew, I felt a growing heat all over my body.  It was not a feeling of gentle warmness.  It was not a comfortable glow inside of me.  I became warmer and more uncomfortable as I prayed.  I cannot explain what happened, but if I can be so bold as to make an analogy, it felt like a fever quickly rising in me.  Just as a fever is your body’s reaction to infection, and works to burn away all that is impure, no matter how uncomfortable, I feel as if the grace of the Sacrament may have been burning my spiritual impurities.  As I finished my prayer, the fever that had grown inside of me immediately subsided.

The Source and Summit of our faith, the Eucharist, is now open to us.  It is a true blessing that dispensation has been extended as well.  Those at most risk, or those simply uncomfortable, can rest easy, without obligation.  I pray that I am prepared to continue to face public mass.  I have no worry or concern over the virus.  I know the risks, the studies, the guidelines, and act with open eyes in ways that I must personally choose, which are best for my family.  (Bear with me.)  I DO have concern with church…with my ability to stay focused on the miracle taking place at mass.

Is that blue tape, used to block off pews, going to hold up, or fall down by weekend masses?  That old guy isn’t even wearing a mask.  He’s gotta be 85, why is he here?  Who else is here?  I think I know that guy, but he looks like Jesse James getting ready to rob a train in that bandana.  Did someone just cough?  Did the priest just cough right in the middle of consecration?  When was he supposed to wear a mask?  Who’s wearing gloves?  Did I touch the pew?  These pews really need some new wood stain.  I wonder if the antibacterial cleaner is stripping off the finish.  Is the priest going to talk about all of this in his homily?  Would it be better if he did, or didn’t?  Are we going to wave at each other during the sign of peace?  Nevermind, we’re still skipping it.

Nothing in the above paragraph has anything to do with the true reason for attending mass.  It is all theater.  Unfortunately, it is theater I fear I may allow to distract me.  I reject that this is the ‘new normal’ we have to get used to.  I reject that premise, because once you get used to a new normal, then it just becomes ‘normal’.  There have been too many new social ‘normals’ in society over recent years that we are told we simply need to get used to.  Many of these new social normals fly directly in the face of our faith. 

I do not reject safety, but I do long for the day that I can celebrate mass with many smiling faces around me.  I long for the day I can exchange “peace” with the families sitting near me.  In the meantime, I do not accept the new normal, because I want to continue to remember these simple joys that come from being together within the community of the Body of the Church.  I do not want to gain a comfort with losing these, and want to continue to look forward to their return.  Until then, as always, I still long for the Eucharist. 

For those who cannot, or choose not, to join in the public Sacrifice of the Mass, I respect your situation, and I continue to pray for you.  For those who choose to attend, I warn you of the new theater that exists, which is ancillary to the mass.  Although we have seen it in public settings over the past months, they were foreign to me in the setting of mass, and these were a few of the thoughts and struggles that unfortunately distracted me.  Perhaps my sharing might help some of you be prepared so that you may better focus on what is truly important.  NOT to prepare you to get used to any new normal, but to allow you to isolate the theater that faces us, from the Mass we all used to know. 

I pray that we each may see the mass as a child.  Not with the immaturity of focus that would have us playing with blue tape on the pews and looking all around.  But rather, with the wonder and awe that comes with seeing the miracle before us on the alter, with fresh, innocent eyes, an innocent faith, and the ability to have tunnel vision towards that Sacrifice, while being (reverently) oblivious to all that surrounds us.    

Matt Buehrig

The Lion and the Lamb

I heard a story recently about a baby lion that was born.  The baby was there with his mother and there was an attack.  The attack was brutal, and the mother was killed.  The father in an attempt to save the cub threw him in the bushes.  Then the father was killed as well, but the baby lion lived.  After the massacre was done, the lion woke up all alone, barely functioning at such an early age.  Just then a herd of sheep came by, “Baaa…baaaa.”  The lion cub came out and one of the sheep rubbed up against him, and before you know it, in a few months, he had joined the herd.  This little lion would walk around with these sheep saying, “Baaaaa…..baaaaaa,” acting and sounding like a sheep.  Then one day, a group of lions came upon the herd.  They sliced up all the sheep around them.  The little lion, who is not so little anymore, watches all this around him saying “Baaaa….baaaa.”  He’s horrified by it all.  He’s in shock as this one giant male lion approaches him.  The giant lion smacks the young lion on the head and says, “What the hell is wrong with you?”  He grabs him by the mane and takes him to the stream.  He forces the young lion to look down so he can see he’s not a sheep.  But the young lion is still not convinced.  So the big lion tries to feed the young lion some of the sheep.  He tries to spit it out not wanting to betray his brethren, but the big lion shoves the lamb into his mouth and forces him to swallow.  Then something magical happens.  Somewhere deep inside, the lion remembers who he truly is.  That there is something inside of him that nothing can ever take away.  Nothing.  Something so strong that it can be kind but powerful, and as the food goes down, everything changes.  He stops saying “Baaa…..baaaa” and he lets out a huge “ROAR!!!”

I can’t help but see myself at times as this lost lion.  Different tragedies in my life have caused me to loose sight of who I am, and who I was meant to be.  I go about my days in the warm comfort of the herd, believing all of the lies they continue to tell me.  

Baaaa….baaaa – your life is about you and your comfort.  

Baaaa….baaaa – when you fail, everyone will abandon you.  

Baaaa….baaaa – God is distant and uninterested in the details of your life.

Jacob’s blog last week reminded me that these lies I keep believing have me worshiping self-reliance rather than having faith that I will be provided for.  This is a knot I need to untie- or better yet, I need to hand over.  It’s time I realize that I can’t control my daughter’s depression, where my grandson will live, or my failing business.  I need to trust that it will be ok and believe that my version of ok, might not be what’s best for me.  I don’t think that if I pray that God will do all of the work.  I do think that if I trust Him, He will give me the strength and resilience to overcome whatever I’m faced with.  I have a sign in my office that reads, “The will of God will never take you were the grace of God will not protect you.”  I need to let that soak in.  Rather than focusing on solving my problems on my own, I should spend more time letting God’s grace take a crack at it.  My role in that is to stop blocking His grace with my pride and sin. 

We are just a few short days away from being able to receive the Eucharist again, my brothers.  I pray that this time it is different.  If you find yourself lost, let these words grab you and force you to look at your reflection.  When you go to mass for the first time in months, take in that lamb and let it resonate deep inside, reminding you who you truly are.  I’m sure our awesome priests would have no problems if after receiving the body of Christ, you turn around and let out an epic “ROAR!!!”