Since Christ is resurrected, we can look with new eyes and a new heart at every event of our lives, even the most negative ones. Moments of darkness, of failure and even sin can be transformed and announce the beginning of a new path. When we have reached the lowest point of our misery and our weakness, the Risen Christ gives us the strength to rise again. If we entrust ourselves to him, his grace saves us! The Lord, Crucified and Risen, is the full revelation of mercy, present and working throughout history.”—Pope Francis
The tricky thing about Easter is that while our faith and often our minds tell us that now life is all alleluias and rainbows, the reality is that sometimes we’re still caught in some dark places. We might not be quite feeling the joy of resurrection. In today’s Gospel, Peter, James, John and the other disciples are going back to their fishing boats. We get the sense that they’ve given up on this life of proclaiming the Good News. They’re discouraged, they’re confused. They’ve seen the Risen Christ in the upper room but then he vanished again. It turns out the fishing isn’t all that great either. But they listened to the stranger on the beach telling them to try the other side of the boat. And Peter remembered the very beginning of his time with Jesus, when the novice told the experienced fisherman how to catch fish. He recognized the voice, the call, the inspiration. And, once again, his life was about to change. Pope Francis reminds us that at the heart of it all—our joys, our sorrows, our trials, our challenges, our heartaches—God’s presence is as simple and profound as a fire, a simple meal, a new way of seeing reality. The death and resurrection of Jesus reminds us that God knows it’s never easy. The Risen Christ bore the wounds of the cross as a sign of that. Remember that he’s with us every step of the way, loving us, nudging us forward, showing us a new way to see.
“Even on the cross He did not hide Himself from sight; rather, He made all creation witness to the presence of its Maker. Then, having once let it be seen that it was truly dead, He did not allow that temple of His body to linger long, but forthwith on the third day raised it up, impassible and incorruptible, the pledge and token of His victory. “ — St. Athanasius of Alexandria
“The saints flinch as instinctively as others when the cross comes along, but they do not allow their flinching to upset their perspectives. As soon as it becomes clear to them that this particular suffering is what God evidently wants suffered, they stop flinching. Their habitual state of surrender to God’s will has a steadying effect: they do not get stampeded into panic or despair or rebellion or defeat.”—Dom Hubert van Zeller, The Mystery of Suffering
Jesus said that the Son of Man will be lifted up. He also said, “When I am lifted up from the Earth, I will draw all men to myself.” And, He does. However, He doesn’t draw people up to Him on the cross just for them to say, “Gee, that must hurt.” This is not a spectator sport. Rather, our good Lord reaches down from the cross and says, “Take My hand and come up to Me, because this is the way to salvation. Join Me on the cross.” Paul finally learned that lesson. He wrote, “Now, I rejoice in sufferings for Your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of His body, that is, the Church.” Our sufferings, all the crosses we carry and the crosses we carry for others are redemptive. They are not only for ourselves, but for others. We join Christ in the sacrifice like the good thief on the cross. We unite ourselves to Him, so that He will raise us up. You do that when you make your Morning Offering: “I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day.” All those crosses God allows us to carry…Ugh. I don’t know about you, but I’m not crazy about mine.
We also join Christ in the sacrifice during the Mass by true and active participation. So, what is true and active participation? It’s not those who sing the loudest, pray the loudest, or run a ministry. Whatever that is. The term “ministry” really means nothing. It only applies to Holy Orders, but it has been so overused, it means nothing now. True and active participation is the giving of your human nature to the priest who acts in the person of Christ on the altar. He takes your human nature in the offertory, immolates them, and makes them one with the sacrifice of Christ. He immolates them on the altar as part of the sacrifice of God’s love for us. That is true and active participation. This is how we unite ourselves and become one with the sufferings of Christ just as the Blessed Mother, Saint John, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary of Magdala did at the foot of the cross…especially the Blessed Mother…her human nature was suffering for Him. For us, it’s only intellectual, so it doesn’t matter whether you feel it or not. That has nothing to do with its effectiveness. However, it’s only when you do that you are one with Christ on the cross.
There will always be temptations from the cross. Just as Christ was tempted many times to come down from the cross, we will be too. What were the first three temptations? “All religion is just a show.” “If you have good music, a praise band or whatever, people will come.” Our Lord says this is not a show. This is an act of love. “Well, you know with religion, you gotta give people food and stuff.” “Everybody will be happy if they take your stuff and give it to somebody else.” “It’s all power.” “It’s all Socialism.” “True religious charity is just giving them bread…they will be fine.” How many fat people are there in prison? A lot. It’s not that they lack food. Their problem is that they practice evil. Now, there are a lot of people outside of prison who practice evil, but they haven’t been caught yet. It’s all about power. “Well, if we had fairer laws, then we wouldn’t have any problems.” That’s not true. We have more laws than lawyers know about. Oh, by the way, drugs are illegal. Did you know that? Apparently, a lot of people don’t. Read the sheriff’s blotter report, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
Another temptation is to deny the divine message. You see, we are much brighter in the 21st Century. We know better, because we are so enlightened and so highly educated. We can’t write in cursive, but we are really educated. We know what God’s word truly means. Before, they weren’t too sure, because they were all stupid. When Christ proclaimed that marriage was between one man and one woman unless separated by death, everyone left Him except the 12 apostles. People didn’t like that. Also, when Peter tried to sway Christ from going to the cross, He called Peter, “Satan.”
The third type of temptation is the Eucharist. “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink His blood, you have no life in you.” “Oh, He didn’t really mean that.” That’s what He said, and He meant it. The words really mean that. Everyone left Him except the 12 apostles. The last temptation was, “Come down from the cross, and we will believe in you.” In His heart, Christ was saying, “You don’t understand. You’ve forgotten your education.” “If the Church changes its laws, everyone will come back.” Really? We have Mass in English. We have Mass in Spanish (Spanglish). We have Mass on Saturdays at 5 pm. We have Mass on Sundays at 9:30 and 12:15. We have confessions face-to-face, although not here, because it’s not safe for the priests anymore. So, where is everybody?
Temptations in one form or another will assail us. “Am I doing something wrong because I’m tempted?” No, you are doing something right, because you are tempted. Our Lord says, “Come up to Me. Come up. I am trying to give you eternal happiness. I am trying to give your soul peace.” So, we have a tug of war with Christ on the cross. He wants to pull us up, and we want to pull Him down. Instead, we can unite ourselves in the sacrifice of Christ in the Morning Offering prayer, resignation to our exterior and interior crosses, and resignation of the will…the most difficult cross. In the midst of temptation, the good thief on the cross accepted the suffering for his sins, and was united with Christ. What did Christ tell him? “Today, you will be with Me in paradise.”
How will you apply this message to your life? Will you unite yourself in the sacrifice of Christ by saying the Morning Offering prayer? Will you accept your interior and exterior crosses and join Christ in His suffering?
You can read all of Father Fitzgibbons’ sermons by going to https://annunciationcatholicalbemarle.com/ and clicking on “Blog” then “Categories” and then “Sermon Notes. From a cell phone, click on “Blog” then “Menu” and then “Categories” (located at the end of page). There is also a search box if looking for a specific topic.
Self-denial is never an end in itself but is only a help toward greater charity—as the life of Saint John Joseph shows.
John Joseph was very ascetic even as a young man. At 16, he joined the Franciscans in Naples; he was the first Italian to follow the reform movement of Saint Peter Alcantara. John Joseph’s reputation for holiness prompted his superiors to put him in charge of establishing a new friary even before he was ordained.
Obedience moved John Joseph to accept appointments as novice master, guardian and, finally, provincial. His years of mortification enabled him to offer these services to the friars with great charity. As guardian he was not above working in the kitchen or carrying the wood and water needed by the friars.
When his term as provincial expired, John Joseph dedicated himself to hearing confessions and practicing mortification, two concerns contrary to the spirit of the dawning Age of Enlightenment. John Joseph of the Cross was canonized in 1839.
Reflection
John Joseph’s mortification allowed him to be the kind of forgiving superior intended by Saint Francis. Self-denial should lead us to charity—not to bitterness; it should help us clarify our priorities and make us more loving. John Joseph is living proof of Chesterton’s observation: “It is always easy to let the age have its head; the difficult thing is to keep one’s own” (G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy, page 101).
Katharine Drexel (November 26, 1858 – March 3, 1955)
If your father is an international banker and you ride in a private railroad car, you are not likely to be drawn into a life of voluntary poverty. But if your mother opens your home to the poor three days each week and your father spends half an hour each evening in prayer, it is not impossible that you will devote your life to the poor and give away millions of dollars. Katharine Drexel did that.
Born in Philadelphia in 1858, she had an excellent education and traveled widely. As a rich girl, Katharine also had a grand debut into society. But when she nursed her stepmother through a three-year terminal illness, she saw that all the Drexel money could not buy safety from pain or death, and her life took a profound turn.
Katharine had always been interested in the plight of the Indians, having been appalled by what she read in Helen Hunt Jackson’s A Century of Dishonor. While on a European tour, she met Pope Leo XIII and asked him to send more missionaries to Wyoming for her friend Bishop James O’Connor. The pope replied, “Why don’t you become a missionary?” His answer shocked her into considering new possibilities.
Back home, Katharine visited the Dakotas, met the Sioux leader Red Cloud and began her systematic aid to Indian missions.
Katharine Drexel could easily have married. But after much discussion with Bishop O’Connor, she wrote in 1889, “The feast of Saint Joseph brought me the grace to give the remainder of my life to the Indians and the Colored.” Newspaper headlines screamed “Gives Up Seven Million!”
After three and a half years of training, Mother Drexel and her first band of nuns—Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament for Indians and Colored—opened a boarding school in Santa Fe. A string of foundations followed. By 1942, she had a system of black Catholic schools in 13 states, plus 40 mission centers and 23 rural schools. Segregationists harassed her work, even burning a school in Pennsylvania. In all, she established 50 missions for Indians in 16 states.
Two saints met when Mother Drexel was advised by Mother Cabrini about the “politics” of getting her order’s Rule approved in Rome. Her crowning achievement was the founding of Xavier University in New Orleans, the first Catholic university in the United States for African Americans.
At 77, Mother Drexel suffered a heart attack and was forced to retire. Apparently her life was over. But now came almost 20 years of quiet, intense prayer from a small room overlooking the sanctuary. Small notebooks and slips of paper record her various prayers, ceaseless aspirations, and meditations. She died at 96 and was canonized in 2000.
Reflection
Saints have always said the same thing: Pray, be humble, accept the cross, love and forgive. But it is good to hear these things in the American idiom from one who, for instance, had her ears pierced as a teenager, who resolved to have “no cake, no preserves,” who wore a watch, was interviewed by the press, traveled by train, and could concern herself with the proper size of pipe for a new mission. These are obvious reminders that holiness can be lived in today’s culture as well as in that of Jerusalem or Rome.
“And so the idea of peace came down to do the work of peace: The Word was made flesh and even now dwells among us. It is by faith that he dwells in our hearts, in our memory, our intellect and penetrates even into our imagination. What concept could man have of God if he did not first fashion an image of him in his heart? By nature incomprehensible and inaccessible, he was invisible and unthinkable, but now he wished to be understood, to be seen and thought of. But how, you ask, was this done? He lay in a manger and rested on a virgin’s breast, preached on a mountain, and spent the night in prayer. He hung on a cross, grew pale in death, and roamed free among the dead and ruled over those in hell. He rose again on the third day, and showed the apostles the wounds of the nails, the signs of victory; and finally in their presence he ascended to the sanctuary of heaven. How can we not contemplate this story in truth, piety and holiness?”— St. Bernard, p. 186
Bishop Barron has recorded and released his reflections on the Stations of the Cross, an ancient Christian devotion that draws us into the spiritual space of Jesus’ suffering and death.
These beautiful and powerful video reflections are the perfect resource for this penitential season of Lent.
