1. Year A / Eastertide / 2nd Sunday (Divine Mercy Sunday)
    Readings: Acts 2.42-47/ Psalm 118 (R/v 1) / 1 Peter 1.3-9 / John 20. 19-31


    Easter reveals to us the beautiful truth of who we are in the risen Jesus. You and I are God’s beloved. And as God’s own, we can live as God’s Easter people. You might say that we are called to be “eastering” all the days of our Christian life.

    What is “eastering”? We can catch a glimpse of what it is about by paying attention to our 1st Reading at every Sunday Mass from Easter to Pentecost. These readings from the Acts of the Apostles tell us of how the first disciples live their faith; they live in the Spirit of the risen Jesus. This is what Easter living is about.

    Our 1st Reading describes what Easter living entails. The Christians listened to the apostles’ teachings about living in Jesus’ ways. They practiced them by living in community, and by sharing everything in common. They prayed to God through Jesus. They worshipped at Eucharist together. More importantly, they live in Jesus’ Spirit of joy that praises God, in his Spirit of sincerity of heart that follows God’s ways and in his Spirit of generosity that fulfilled God’s will to serve all peoples.

    Indeed, Easter is God’s invitation for you and me to live like them, in Jesus’ Spirit.

    In our gospel passage, the risen Jesus shows us how to "easter" in the daily life we share with one another. He brings peace and joy to his disciples who are in sadness because they think him dead. He brings them love when they feel abandoned because he is no longer with them. He brings them fellowship by coming among them when they feel alone. And, he brings them certain hope when they are fearful and doubtful about how to live as he taught them.

    Indeed, in Jesus we can live as an Easter people. He is our hope to accomplish this. Our 2nd Reading reminds us of this. According to Peter, we are can live this Easter life because of our love for Jesus: “although you have not seen him you love him.”

    But you and I know how challenging—even difficult—it can be for us to live out our love for Jesus fully and happily. Perhaps, when we struggle with living the Christian life and see how we fail to do this well, we say, “O Lord, will I ever get it right?” Or, when we find ourselves committing the same sins this past week, even after a good Lenten confession for Easter, we might have cried out. “Lord, this is too hard; why should I bother?” 

    But we can take comfort that none of us is alone in this struggle. You and I are struggling together. The good news is that Jesus is faithfully keeping company with us in this struggle. And, because we are all walking together on the road of Christian life with Jesus, we can support one another. The even better news is that God’s Spirit is already and always at work in us; it is this Spirit that helps us to love Jesus and to follow him.

    Consider how true this is for us today: we have come again to hear Jesus' words that teaches us and to be fed by his body and bread that nourishes us. Why do we keep coming to Jesus? Why do we continue loving him? Why does his memory not fade away from us?

    A good Jesuit friend answered these questions in this way: “If we love Jesus it is because he is still with us. Humans beings do not love old memories. We may be curious, even passionate, about old historical facts, but we do not change our lives because of them. We love Jesus not as a vague memory, but as someone who is our contemporary. We are not neurotic people: we love Jesus because he lives with us today.”

    And, we find Jesus most especially with us when we gather, like we do now as the church. Jesus is present here with us, loving us and allowing us to love him, and as we love one another by worshipping together. 

    Today’s gospel reminds us that we will always find Jesus in our midst; he comes to be present to us. This is the experience Thomas had. He was not with the community of disciples on Easter Sunday. Hence, he did not experience meeting the risen Jesus. Thomas’ doubt was not because he didn’t believe in Jesus; it was because he had not yet seen the risen Jesus. The next Sunday, Thomas was with the disciples, and when Jesus came, he immediately recognised him, and cried out, "My Lord and my God."

    John’s message in today’s gospel is clear: our Sunday gathering is where we will encounter Jesus most fully. This is where we too cray our, "Our Lord and our God." To be sure, Jesus does not appear to us here as he appeared to the disciples then. This does not mean, however, that Jesus is absent. It does not mean, either, that our faith is blind. It simply means that Jesus is not anymore visible in his historical body. But he is present, not absent. We know this from the fact we are loving him and that we continue to experience the abundant life that flows from him. Indeed, we know Jesus is with us because it is in our loving Jesus that we experience him loving us. This is the truth of how Jesus is in us and we are in Jesus. This truthful reality is what can enable us to live as an Easter people. And because we can live it, Jesus refers to us when he says to Thomas, "Blessed those who believe without seeing." 

    The place where we best can be with Jesus is when we are one with the Church, the body of Christ. I’d like to suggest that it is when we participate more fully in the life of the Church, in the life of the body of the Christ, that we can touch Jesus: the sacraments make him visible; the Word of God make his voice audible; our living together as his body make his touch, his embrace, his lifting us up palpable. 

    Indeed, it is in our coming together to pray, to worship, to care, to forgive, to lift up one another that we keep the memory of Jesus alive for us and living in our midst. When we do this, we make God’s Easter love for us real, this love of God that saves us and gives us fullness of life. Indeed, when we do for this with grateful rejoicing, especially for others to know God, we are in fact “eastering.” 

    Some of us may be disappointed or even angry with the Church, disfigured as she is by human sinfulness. Yet, it is in the Church, in our coming together as a Christian community that we can always live as an Easter people. Why?  Because Jesus keeps calling us to come together to live more fully in his risen Spirit. No matter how sinful and broken we might be, or how saintly and whole we are, Jesus keeps calling us to become one with him, so that we can know the love of God in him and so live God’s love with and for one another. This is how we are to live we as an Easter people. 

    Let us live like this, then. And as we do so, let us join the Jesuit poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins in praying this simple but hope-filled prayer for Christian living he once wrote: “Let Jesus easter in us, and let him be a Dayspring to the dimness of us.”





    Preached at St Peter’s Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    photo: easter vigil from www.christchurch.org


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  2. Year A / Eastertide / Easter Sunday
    Readings: Acts 10.34a-43/ Psalm 118 (R/v 24) / Colossians 3.1-4 / John 20.1-9


    Here we are: 
    we have walked the Lenten way of conversion and accompanied Jesus over the triuduum, and this Easter morning, we have come rejoicing. 

    Here we are:
    with family and friends in Church, dressed in our Sunday best and partaking in this liturgy of Easter joy with holy water and holy smoke, with Resurrection songs and readings, with Hallejuahs and Glorias—all of which proclaim Jesus is risen! 

    Here we are:
    invited to feast with Jesus and one another on this most happy day. Happy because whether we are saintly or sinful, you and I already have a reserved place at Jesus’ table because of his’ death and resurrection.

    Here we are:
    another Easter Sunday in the history of our lives. Or, is it?

    Imagine that you and I are in class. The professor is teaching. Suddenly, he stops and says to Michael seated here: "Listen, Michael. Just listen. Don’t look around now, Michael, but there’s someone seated behind you who loves you, and will always love you." 

    To the world and to us in class, the professor’s revelation would mean nothing at all. But to Michael it would mean something, if not everything.

    Indeed, how can this revelation of someone loving him not affect him? Not touch the deepest core of his being? How can he not start looking for these signs of being loved? How can this revelation not transform him, transform the way he lives and how understands himself ? How can it not make him thankful for the one who loves him? Truly, how can this revelation of being loved not change everything about his life?”

    What if you and I are being invited this Easter to see and to live our Christian faith in the same way that Michael is invited by his professor’s revelation to live his life anew? 

    What does it mean to live in the light of the Easter revelation that we are God's beloved? 

    Peter and John race to the tomb upon hearing Mary Magdalene’s report that the stone was removed. Peter goes in first and discovers it empty. John, the beloved disciple, follows. It probably took him a minute or two to see what the scene revealed; he might have closed his eyes to remember Jesus. Then, taking a deep breathe, he believed: Jesus is not dead; he is alive. This is the same experience Mary Magdalene had in another part of the Easter story. Weighed down by sadness outside the tomb, she hears Jesus calling her name; his voice reverberates within her as the living presence of him who is not dead but alive, and alive to love her still. 

    Like John and Mary, we too are God’s beloved. Jesus’ death and resurrection reveals to us how much we are loved by God. Loved not because we have done anything to deserve it. Rather, loved because we God’s very reason for loving.

    What if we are to truly experience this revelation of God’s love in Jesus for just a minute or two this Easter? What would it mean for us? How would it change us, even if the world continues to be the same?

    Consider how we are probably experiencing this revelation even now:  

    We are here,
    alive and celebrating Easter. What moved you and me to come this morning and celebrate? I believe it is God’s love in our lives; the depth of God’s love that we remember, celebrate and believe in this morning—in Jesus’ death and resurrection, God’s love saves us. 

    We are here,
    with family and friends singing Alleluias and savoring the goodness of salvation. What binds us together still, in spite of those moments when we have quarrelled and been less than giving and faithful to one another? I believe it is the spirit of God’s reconciliation at work in us. This Spirit is Easter’s gift because Easter is the truth of God reconciling himself to us in the risen Jesus. 

    We are here,
    about to eat his body and drink his blood. What will draw us—even as we continue struggling with our faults and sinfulness—to still come to this table to be fed and nourished in a few moments? I believe it is the awareness we have experienced deep within us  God’s mercy this Lent, and which Easter proclaims in Jesus’ death and resurrection as God's way of drawing us into his eternal happiness.

    If you sense any of these—or something as simple as the goodness of this spring morning, or the goodness of an Easter lunch, or even at the end of this day, that this day is blessed—than you are experiencing the revelation of being beloved by God. This is what we celebrate today: that we are not only saved and alive in the risen Jesus but in him, God's love is alive with us and for us. 

    How can this revelation, then, not make a difference in our lives? How can it not challenge us to see and live our lives anew in the risen Jesus? 

    If you agree with me that this revelation of being beloved by God must make a difference, then, this awareness challenges us to celebrate this Easter Sunday differently.

    Easter isn’t for one day in the year, or one hour at this Mass. The reality of Easter is meant to be our life-long joy and our life-long way of living the Christian faith. After all, we are an Easter people.  How can we live as an Easter people? 

    We can begin by realizing that our Lenten practices have provided us with a renewed ways of living. What we began in Lent, Easter invites us to continue doing. 

    Like John who goes forth to evangelize, our prayer life will nourish our relationship with God and enable us to proclaim God’s good and saving love. 

    Like Mary who comforts the dispirited disciples with news of Jesus’ resurrection, our alms-giving will help us reach out to all, especially, the less, and to care for them with God’s love. 

    And like Michael whose world is no longer the same because he now knows he is loved, you and I cannot bluff ourselves any longer than tomorrow is just another day; it is rather, God’s day with us. And so our fasting, should keep us hungry for God’s daily bread.

    To live in these Easter ways involves our commitment, our energy and our willingness to cooperate with God’s spirit. 

    In the coming days, we might want to sincerely wish each other, including our enemies, a heartfelt “Happy Easter.” We might also want to reach out more intentionally to others in need, and to share the Easter joy. And we might want to more consciously work at reconciling with God and one another when we sin. And finally, we might make more of an effort to keep coming to this feast with Jesus and each other, and so become for others what Jesus is for us, bread for life. 

    Living this new way is not something you are being invited to do today. It is also what I have to work on in my life, especially as I prepare to leave Boston and to head home to Singapore to begin my new ministry. In these next weeks here, I will have to be less selfish about saying goodbye. I don’t like goodbyes; they are painful. It is the part of Jesuit life I like least. I would rather go quietly away. But it always takes two to say goodbye.  And so, I must be less self-centred about this. If I truly care for and love my friends here, especially, my Jesuit brothers, I must be less selfish, more generous and indeed open to let them say their goodbyes in their own loving ways—ways I know are their gifts for me for the road ahead.

    Indeed, if you and I can continue to celebrate Easter joy and to love in all these Christ-like ways of emptying ourselves for others, not only today but always, then we can make real what our Easter revelation proclaims: God’s love in Jesus is alive. And, it has changed us and our lives. 

    Then, others who see us will say, “We know they are Christians: see how they love one another. Truly their Jesus is risen, and he is alive in them! Alleluia!”




    Preached at Blessed Mother of Teresa of Calcutta Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    image: from the internet (the octavius winslow archive)

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  3. Year A / Holy Week - Triduum / Good Friday
    Readings: Isaiah 52.13-53.12 / Psalm 31 (R/v Luke 23.46) / Hebrews 4.14-16; 5.7-9 / John 18.1-19.42


    Tonight, you and I have come to commemorate Jesus’ crucifixion and death. 

    Perhaps, we have come with the expectation of faithfully fulfilling what this holy day asks of us: to remember, to celebrate and to believe in God’s love that saved us for eternal life in Jesus. We might expect then to grow in faith as we listened to the readings, venerate the cross and receive communion today. 

    But I believe we have come for a simpler and more honest reason: compassion. Our compassion for Jesus brings us here to remember his passion. This passion which is really his time of loving us to the end so that we are reconciled with God. Like Mary, the other women and John, you and I have chosen to come in from the cold and the dark because of our compassion for Jesus. 

    We can act in this way for Jesus because of what Jesus first did for all of us. He stayed with us in compassion. He did this through his teaching, healing and death on the Cross; these are the ways he showed us to be with God and to enter into the fullness of life God wants to share with everyone. 

    In our accompaniment, we cannot give Jesus what he gives us, God’s life. But we can give him what we hear in 1 Corinthians 13--that more excellent way of loving another. This involves keeping faith with him in God and accompanying him with hope for God. This is what friendship between people of faith is all about. I believe we have come to stay in compassion for Jesus not just because he is Saviour and Lord, but because he is also friend to each of us, in one way or another.

    And it is as friend that Jesus freely climbed onto the Cross so that he could lovingly lay down his life for us. I do not call you servants, he said; I call you friends. And no greater love has a friend then to lay his life down for his friends.   
    Today, especially, he invites you and me, his friends, to fall under his cross; he calls us to lay down our own crosses under his Cross. He knows the many different crosses we carry in our lives. Crosses of sickness or addictions; crosses of painful relationships or lost ones; crosses of suffering economically or struggling with simply being happy; yes, even those crosses of our messed up Christian lives that we tried to straighten out this Lent. Whatever the crosses we are bearing now, they all share one hope: to find God’s love in order to keep on living. On the Cross, Jesus assures us that God's love is for us and is with us. So, we need not be afraid to take up our crosses and live.

    Whatever pains and fears we may have about carrying our crosses -- whether great traumas, smaller nagging ones or even insignificant ones -- Jesus on the Cross tells us that he does not only want to be with us as we carry them. Rather, he wants to carry our crosses for us. Jesus thus assures us that our vulnerabilities, our frailties, our anxieties need not prevent us from living God’s life for us. 

    Indeed, to look at Jesus’ wounded and bruised body hanging on the Cross is to see all the stories of our life -- the bright and the promising, the dark and the painful, the holy and the human -- traced into the story of his passion. His story is not a dead-ended tale; it is God’s story of life and hope for us. Why then should we fear our death or the daily dyings in our lives?

    There is no reason to be afraid because "when Christ came into our midst to redeem us, he descended so low that after that no one would be able to fall without falling into him” (Hans Urs von Balthasar). In Jesus, we can all fall into our pains and fears, fall into our dyings, and fall into the truth of who we really are--God’s beloved. And, in our falling, we will find him already there for us. There is Jesus breaking our fall. There is Jesus catching us. There is Jesus holding us.

    So, let us not just stay with Jesus in our compassion this evening; let us fall. Let us fall into Jesus who took away the sins of many, and won pardon for our offenses (Isaish 53.12) in history. And let us keep falling again and again into Jesus because he continues to forgive us and to take away our sins.

    And as we fall into Jesus, let us let God love us through him, our friend. Let us let God love us with the certainty that Jesus will catch and hold us. And more beautifully, let us let God love us in Jesus who will always do what he did so eloquently once before on this day--lift us up with him on the Cross, so as to place us in God’s merciful and tender embrace, saved.
    Preached at Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    photo: from the internet (ebibleteacher.com)


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  4. Year A / Lent  / Palm Sunday
    Readings: Matthew 2:1-11 / Isaiah 50:4-7 / Psalm 22 (R/v 2a)/ Philippians 2: 6-11 / Matthew 16:14-27:66 


    It is quite a spectacle, isn’t it?  The crowds laying down cloaks and branches on the dusty road and cheering. People in the procession waving palm branches and singing Hosannas. There’s a festive, joyful air about this scene. And there amidst this swirling of human activity, adulation and anticipation is Jesus, riding a donkey. This Jesus whom they hail as their Messiah-king. This man of whom some others ask, “Who is this?” What a whirlwind of sight, sound and smell. What a spectacle of promise: the only way this procession must be headed is onward; this is how the crowds expected it to end with Jesus freeing them from Roman oppression.

    As you look on this scene, who you do identify with? The crowds welcoming Jesus as king? The ones who ask, “Who is this?” May be one of the disciples? Or, could it be that bystander who just watches Jesus ride by and shrugs her shoulder, saying, “Ok, so what?” Or, someone for whom this means nothing at all. May be, you might even identify with the donkey that Jesus needs to complete his journey to the Cross.

    Whoever we identify with, today’s readings push us into the arching current of a great river. This is how Holy Week will unfold. The grace of this holy time will bear us along its unfolding story—like that current—into the unimaginable triumph of Jesus over sin and death. It will carry us, moreover, into the ineffable joy of God’s delight in saving us into new life. Yes, you and I are bound for the Easter glory. 

    But the readings today have one and only one direction to get us there: down. 

    Jesus enters Jerusalem triumphantly. But as soon as the cloaks are retrieved and the branches trampled upon, this triumph unravels; it hurriedly spins downwards into complete disaster.  In a matter of days, Jesus will give himself up to be arrested, tortured horribly, and sentenced to death. He will be hung up to die a slow, humiliating and excruciating death. Here is the king of the Jews, condemned to die like a common criminal.

    Here is Jesus, our Savior and Lord put to death by sin and evil.  By my sin and my evil; by your sin and your evil. Yes, by our sin and our evil. I suspect we would rather pass over this moment of truthfulness, because who amongst us is comfortable with the fact that human sinfulness—our sinfulness—is the reason for Jesus, God-with-us, to die this kind of a death? 

    It would be much easier, and more comfortable, to arrive quickly at – and to rest in – Easter. But there’s no way to Easter except descent. The one way up is down. 

    Jesus shows us this; in love, he chose to die for us, and in love, God raised him up in glory. His entry into Jerusalem is his free and loving choice to enter into death for us to live. He dies in order to fulfill God’s desire that you and I can be raised up into the fullness of life with God, again. 

    And, Jesus does this by a life of compassionate self-giving.  In Holy Week, God invites us to learn from Jesus how to be compassionate and to give of ourselves to one another, especially those in need. And through them, to give ourselves to God, like Jesus did. Indeed, there’s no way to enter the fullness of Easter joy except through the utter goodness of compassionate self-giving. And this must first involve our own compassionate self-giving to accompany Jesus this week. Then, we will be able to hear fully the Good News of God saving us in Jesus.

    But we struggle to take this downward route of Jesus. We struggle because the way down means surrendering what we want and accepting in faith what God wishes for us. It means giving up power and embracing service. It means not having my way and following Jesus’ way. It means ultimately to let God transform us in ways that resemble death—us dying to those parts of ourselves that are no longer alive or can give life—so that he can raise us up into fullness of life with Jesus.

    Ask and you shall receive. We should ask to rejoice at Easter, but let us do this by also asking for the grace to be with Jesus in a more intimate way in his Passion. Then, our journey with Jesus to the Cross and into the Resurrection need not be simply one of watching from the sidelines, cheering him on today and maybe as the week progresses, still standing by. Instead, it can be one of intimate accompaniment, so beautifully imaged in Mary, the women and John—who suffering with him in his pain—walked with him to the Cross and stayed with him at its the foot, loving him to the end, as he loved them and us to his very end.

    Can we do this? Can we be compassionate in our self-giving to accompany Jesus? I believe we can; we have an examplar, a shepherd, a guide who has showed us how to: “Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God
 something to be grasped. Rather he emptied himself.” 

    Jesus suffered. Jesus died. Jesus was buried. And according to the Apostle’s Creed, on the third day (a day we cannot yet see), he rose again from the dead.

    Come, let us follow him.





    Preached at Blessed Mother of Teresa of Calcutta Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    photo: internet

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  5. Year A / Lent  / 5th  Sunday
    Readings: Ezekiel  37.12-14/ Psalm 130  (R/v 7) / Romans 8.8-11 / John 11.1-45
    Have you ever had to wait? 

    Wait for something as ordinary as the MBTA train to take you from Park Street to Field’s Corner? Or, wait to be accepted for a job or to to be admitted into college? Maybe, even to wait for your immigration papers to come through so you can become an American citizen? Perhaps, you have waited too for something more extraordinary, like hearing someone you love say, “I love you too,” or someone you’ve hurt say, “I forgive you; you’re still my friend.”

    Waiting can be an anxious, even a confusing moment. It can be exhausting. It can lead to disappointment and sadness when our waiting leads to nothing. Or, it can lead to much joy when what we wait for comes true. 

    Our gospel passage today presents us with an image of waiting. In their sorrow and pain, Mary and Martha wait for Jesus to come and to comfort them. They wonder when he will come. In fact, they have already waited for his coming to heal Lazarus. For as Martha says, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” But Jesus did not come in time and Lazarus died. 

    Like Mary and Martha, we too might have had similar moments of waiting. We might find ourselves wondering where Jesus is in a time of trial or loss. When a family member dies, we might ask, “Why did Jesus let her die?” Or, when we have to accompany a friend in great pain, we might ask “Where are you Jesus when we need you most?” In moments like this, Jesus seems far away, doesn’t he? 

    Yet, Jesus does come to Mary and Martha; he shows up after Lazarus’ death. We too might have experienced Jesus showing up after an experience of death and loss. Yes, Jesus does come; he always will. Jesus will never fail us. Jesus is always faithful to us because he desires only one thing: to give the fullness of life with God. 

    I’d like to suggest that the good news our gospel reading offers us on this 5th Sunday of Lent is that Jesus is always faithful. 

    Jesus’ faithfulness to humankind is the lesson we can learn from Mary and Martha’s waiting. Even though Lazarus died and they may have lost hope, they still waited. And they waited, even if they may not have known exactly what they were waiting at this time of sadness, of mourning and may be even of confusion with Lazarus’ death.  What they learnt when Jesus finally comes is that he is particularly faithful in order to give us life to the full. We see this when Jesus, filled with compassion, he raises Lazarus from the sleep of death.

    You might ask, what has Jesus’ faithfulness to do with our Lenten journey? I’d like to suggest that it has to do with the grace of Lenten waiting—that is, with God’s certain action to convert our hearts and to transform our lives, so that we can better enjoy the fullness of life with God. This is what our Lenten hope is all about, and that Easter attests with joy to us.

    I'd like to believe that you and I have been experiencing this grace of Lenten waiting in these past weeks of Lent. This is the grace of God working to transform us as we journey with Jesus to the Cross and into his Resurrection. Our Lenten practice of fasting, prayer and almsgiving have helped make our waiting fruitful; they re-made our waiting into an active time of slowly and surely being transformed spiritually. 

    As we look back on this time, we can probably see some changes in our lives. Perhaps, we are more aware of God in our lives. Or, we are kinder and more patient with others around. Maybe, we are more honest about sinfulness and our need for God’s mercy.  Even if these changes are small and few, there is change and conversion. These must surely testify to God accomplishing the good work God began in each one of us when we said “yes” to walking this Lenten journey on Ash Wednesday. 

    But we are human. And so, it should not be surprising that want to see immediate results. We want to experience instant change. But as we look at ourselves after these past weeks of Lent, the honest truth is that we might not be changing as fast as we want to and in the ways we expect.

    This might make some of us impatient; we may have wanted a immediate transformation. Others may be hard on themselves as they had expected to see bigger and better changes in their lives. Still, a few more might be despairing because they still find themselves doing the same sinful habits, unable to completely get rid of them. 

    However, we judge ourselves for not having done enough, let us pause and look at where we are now. We are here, in Church. We have come in good faith, even as we struggle because we want to keep trying again and again to turn our lives around. And our coming here is already a good sign of how we are cooperating with God to slowly but surely turn our lives around. So, we should be thankful that we are indeed cooperating with God, even though the struggles to live better a Christian life remain.

    Indeed, if we feel that our Lenten conversion isn’t going as we expect it to, it would be good for us to remember that Jesus faithfully came to Martha and Mary in his time. Jesus’ certain and faithful action, I believe, must challenge us to be patient with God about our own Lenten conversion. God will certainly transform our lives around this Lent. But we need to let God do this in God’s time and in God’s way, and not according to our schedule or our expectations. 

    Even if we think our Lenten efforts are not good enough or that they have not made us more saintly, our gospel reading invites us to hold on in these next two weeks before Good Friday and Easter. We’re being asked to hold on and to wait with even more openness for God who desires to transform us so that our Lenten conversion will be complete. We might think that with more two weeks to go, we don't have much time to change. For God, however, two weeks is enough time. Here, near the end of Lent, it is good that we are reminded that God moves in God’s time. And God’s movements in our lives, we would be wise to remember, are always for our salvation from sin and death and our transformation into God’s likeness so that we can enjoy eternal life. 

    What should matter more for us—as we continue waiting for the fullness of our transformation—is how we will respond to Jesus and his promise of God’s salvation for us. “I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus says to Martha; “he who believes in me, though he dies, yet shall live and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die.”

    “Do you believe this?” Jesus asks Martha. He also asks you and me this same question today. It is a question that challenges her, and each of us, to answer not with the mind, or with theology or philosophy. Jesus is asking us to respond only with our heart and our faith. He is inviting us to do this by surrendering ourselves to him, as he surrendered himself to God. Martha’s answer is exemplary: “Yes Lord. I believe you are the Christ.” What is your response? What is my response? 

    How we respond to Jesus will determine the quality of our waiting for God whose  desire to transform us is certain. God who wants to transform us, so that we can die more freely to our sinful selves with Jesus on the Cross, but, more so, be raised more completely with him in his resurrection into fullness of life with God. Yes, what will be your response be to this certainty of God's love that Jesus will faithfully accomplish for us?

    If our answer is “yes,” then, let us experience this certainty fully and joyfully by having the courage to open ourselves more and more to Jesus who is our resurrection and life. What can help us to open ourselves to Jesus, and to rest even more in him, is to keep pondering in our hearts that he alone has the words of eternal life for us. 



    Preached at St Peter's Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    photo: savin hill t-station by adsj, dorchester, boston (march 2014)

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"Bukas Palad"
"Bukas Palad"
is Filipino for open palms
Greetings!
Greetings!
Peace and welcome, dear friend.
I hope you will find in these posts something that speaks to you of the God who loves us all and who always holds us in the palm of his hand. Blessings!
The Liturgical Calendar / Year C
The Liturgical Calendar / Year C
Faith & Spirituality
Faith & Spirituality
Tagged as...
Tagged as...
Blog Archive
Blog Archive
Fall in Love, Stay in Love
Fall in Love, Stay in Love

"Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute way final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything."

Pedro Arrupe, sj, Superior General, 1965 - 1983

About Me
About Me
My Photo
is a 50something Catholic who resides in Singapore and works for the Church. He is a priest of the Roman Catholic Church.
Disclaimer
Disclaimer
©adrian.danker.sj, 2006-2018

The views I express in these pages are personal. They do not speak for the Society of Jesus or the Catholic Church.
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