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Sunday, March 31, 2013

take five for Easter

Full text of Pope Francis' Easter Vigil Homily.  A suggestion for reading this... set five minutes when you know you won't be disturbed...turn off the music and commit to this page for five minutes...try not to flick over to another page, stay with it! This beautiful reflection from Pope Francis proclaims the resurrection in a powerful, attractive and digestible form. Taking five minutes to ponder his reflection might well change your life.

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 
In the Gospel of this radiant night of the Easter Vigil, we first meet the women who go the tomb of Jesus with spices to anoint his body (cf. Lk 24:1-3). They go to perform an act of compassion, a traditional act of affection and love for a dear departed person, just as we would. They had followed Jesus, they had listened to his words, they had felt understood by him in their dignity and they had accompanied him to the very end, to Calvary and to the moment when he was taken down from the cross. We can imagine their feelings as they make their way to the tomb: a certain sadness, sorrow that Jesus had left them, he had died, his life had come to an end. Life would now go on as before. Yet the women continued to feel love, the love for Jesus which now led them to his tomb.  
But at this point, something completely new and unexpected happens, something which upsets their hearts and their plans, something which will upset their whole life: they see the stone removed from before the tomb, they draw near and they do not find the Lord’s body. It is an event which leaves them perplexed, hesitant, full of questions: “What happened?”, “What is the meaning of all this?” (cf. Lk 24:4). Doesn’t the same thing also happen to us when something completely new occurs in our everyday life? We stop short, we don’t understand, we don’t know what to do.  
Newness often makes us fearful, including the newness which God brings us, the newness which God asks of us. We are like the Apostles in the Gospel: often we would prefer to hold on to our own security, to stand in front of a tomb, to think about someone who has died, someone who ultimately lives on only as a memory, like the great historical figures from the past. We are afraid of God’s surprises; we are afraid of God’s surprises! He always surprises us! 
Dear brothers and sisters, let us not be closed to the newness that God wants to bring into our lives! Are we often weary, disheartened and sad? Do we feel weighed down by our sins? Do we think that we won’t be able to cope? Let us not close our hearts, let us not lose confidence, let us never give up: there are no situations which God cannot change, there is no sin which he cannot forgive if only we open ourselves to him.
But let us return to the Gospel, to the women, and take one step further. They find the tomb empty, the body of Jesus is not there, something new has happened, but all this still doesn’t tell them anything certain: it raises questions; it leaves them confused, without offering an answer. 
And suddenly there are two men in dazzling clothes who say: “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; but has risen” (Lk 24:5-6). What was a simple act, done surely out of love – going to the tomb – has now turned into an event, a truly life-changing event. Nothing remains as it was before, not only in the lives of those women, but also in our own lives and in the history of mankind. Jesus is not dead, he has risen, he is alive! He does not simply return to life; rather, he is life itself, because he is the Son of God, the living God (cf. Num 14:21-28; Deut 5:26; Josh 3:10). Jesus no longer belongs to the past, but lives in the present and is projected towards the future; he is the everlasting “today” of God. This is how the newness of God appears to the women, the disciples and all of us: as victory over sin, evil and death, over everything that crushes life and makes it seem less human. 
And this is a message meant for me and for you, dear sister, dear brother. How often does Love have to tell us: Why do you look for the living among the dead? Our daily problems and worries can wrap us up in ourselves, in sadness and bitterness… and that is where death is. That is not the place to look for the One who is alive!
Let the risen Jesus enter your life, welcome him as a friend, with trust: he is life! If up till now you have kept him at a distance, step forward. He will receive you with open arms. If you have been indifferent, take a risk: you won’t be disappointed. If following him seems difficult, don’t be afraid, trust him, be confident that he is close to you, he is with you and he will give you the peace you are looking for and the strength to live as he would have you do.
There is one last little element that I would like to emphasize in the Gospel for this Easter Vigil. The women encounter the newness of God. Jesus has risen, he is alive! But faced with empty tomb and the two men in brilliant clothes, their first reaction is one of fear: “they were terrified and bowed their faced to the ground”, Saint Luke tells us – they didn’t even have courage to look. But when they hear the message of the Resurrection, they accept it in faith. 
And the two men in dazzling clothes tell them something of crucial importance: “Remember what he told you when he was still in Galilee… And they remembered his words” (Lk 24:6,8). They are asked to remember their encounter with Jesus, to remember his words, his actions, his life; and it is precisely this loving remembrance of their experience with the Master that enables the women to master their fear and to bring the message of the Resurrection to the Apostles and all the others (cf. Lk 24:9). 
To remember what God has done and continues to do for me, for us, to remember the road we have travelled; this is what opens our hearts to hope for the future. May we learn to remember everything that God has done in our lives.
On this radiant night, let us invoke the intercession of the Virgin Mary, who treasured all these events in her heart (cf. Lk 2:19,51) and ask the Lord to give us a share in his Resurrection. May he open us to the newness that transforms. May he make us men and women capable of remembering all that he has done in our own lives and in the history of our world. May he help us to feel his presence as the one who is alive and at work in our midst. And may he teach us each day not to look among the dead for the Living One. Amen.



Easter - in a minute

He is risen indeed - Alleluia.  

Click on the image below to reflect on the significance of Easter; not simply an historical event, not a mere resuscitation of a body, but an earth-shattering event which transforms suffering into a hope-filled journey, destroys death, and makes true life, a reality.







Saturday, March 30, 2013

Alleluia!


Christ has Died - Christ is Risen
Ria Bancroft 1975-1977
Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament Christchurch - Tabernacle Doors



Thursday, March 28, 2013

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

letting go - in a minute

Have you ever heard a well-intentioned speaker talking of the life of faith as a journey of 'letting go'.  Were their examples motivated by fear, or by the attraction of love? 

Click on the image below for a reflection that you might find encouraging.

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Monday, March 25, 2013

the angel of the Lord declared...

Today we celebrate the feast of the Annunciation.


Take a moment to appreciate this Millet masterpiece. Even if you have never seen the image before, you will guess that these peasants are praying. 

When the one who commissioned this painting in the mid- 1800’s changed his mind and wouldn't buy the completed work, Millet added a church bell tower and renamed his work “Angelus”.

Many of us remember the convent or church bell tolling at midday and early evening at 6. (the 6am bell was often not rung at the request of neighbours). Whatever the Catholic locals were doing when the the bell tolled, at the distinctive 3,3,3,9 ring, all would stop, mid sentence, mid activity. Catholics would stand or kneel to pray. 

Some creative geek has designed an Angelus app for a smartphone. I use it, and you can download it to your phone from this link https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/pocket-angelus-angelus-regina/id415217388?mt=8

The bell was the the call to prayer, and the only introduction necessary before the proclamation heralding the incarnation was: “The angel of the Lord declared unto Mary.” This is the moment of the Annunciation.

This prayer of incarnation interrupts our routines and busyness. While it may be difficult to find others to pray the Angelus with, there is nothing to stop us praying alone. 

Perhaps the near-midday ring of a nearby phone, or the moment of inserting the key in the car ignition could be for you an 'Angelus Bell'.

The message of the angel interrupted Mary’s daily routine and life’s dreams to such an extent that ‘she was greatly troubled’. “But how can this be...”. 

From the moment of Mary’s response “be it done unto me, according to thy Word”, Mary life was fulfilled. This does not mean that Mary lived in blissful earthly happiness every subsequent moment. Jump ahead 12 years to her search for a missing son, or 33 years later to the moment when she cradled her dead son in her arms. But always, in the depth of her heart, she was at peace in God.

This depth of peace, at a deeper level than all daily demands and regular routines, is also the deepest desire of every human person. This peace is our "default setting".

There is a challenge in allowing God to enter our lives. It is not a simple or easy birth. In the moment of deepest desire for the fulness of God’s life, we also feel the pain of having to let go of our old attachments. 

While we know that our personal dreams, projects and likes can never deliver the depth of joy and peace we desire, their is a deceptive and superficial comfort in these familiar traps. 

But deceptive and superficial is not enough for souls who seek Truth and the life of the depth of the heart. In the Annunciation we celebrate the fact that this life is not our own discovery or achievement. This life-giving reality has broken into our life, interrupting our plans and giving purpose to our pain. In the Incarnation, the word has become flesh, and dwells among us.

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