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The 4th Sunday of Easter
Today’s Readings: [Click here]

Today—this fourth Sunday of Easter—is traditionally known as “Good Shepherd Sunday.” In the gospel, Jesus says: My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me.

This is an interesting metaphor, this sheep-and-shepherd imagery.

I have a favorite holy card—in fact, it’s a card I used as a memento of my first mass—that pictures Jesus holding an adorable lamb in his arms. It makes me smile to think of myself as that sweet baby animal that Jesus is cuddling. And of course, Maggie is a pure shepherd dog: half Border Collie and the other half Australian Shepherd.

But there’s also another side to sheep.

Around these parts, of course, most farmers are raising beans and corn. Or, if they want to be different, they raise corn and beans. Not too many are involved with livestock—and if they are, it’s probably hogs or beef critters. So even though I’ve got more city boy than farmer in my genes, let me tell you a bit of what I’ve picked up about keeping sheep. Maybe it will give you a clue as to why these animals remind the Lord of you and me.

Shepherds and ranchers tell us that sheep are practically defenseless against predators. They’re not very resourceful. They’re inclined to follow one another into danger. And they are absolutely dependent on their human masters for safety. In other words: sheep are cute, but they’re pretty dumb.

So when David wrote in one of his psalms: “We all, like sheep, have gone astray”—he was referring to our tendency to move as an unthinking herd, and away from the watchful care of the Shepherd.

There was a documentary on TV a few years ago in which the cameras went inside a packinghouse where sheep were being slaughtered for the meat market. Outside, huddled in pens, were hundreds of nervous animals. They seemed to sense danger in their unfamiliar surroundings. Then a gate was opened that led up a ramp and through a door to the right. In order to get the sheep to walk up that ramp, the handlers used what is known as a “Judas goat.” This is a goat that has been trained to lead the sheep into the slaughterhouse.

The goat did his job very efficiently. He confidently walked to the bottom of the ramp and looked back. Then he took a few more steps and stopped again. The sheep looked at each other skittishly and then began moving toward the ramp. Eventually, they followed this confident goat to the top, where he went through a little gate to the left, but they were forced to turn to the right and went to their death. It was a dramatic illustration of unthinking, herd behavior and the deadly consequences it often brings.

Stop and ponder for a moment that to some extent—maybe even to a great extent—you and I are sheep freely choosing to walk up that slaughterhouse ramp. We have allowed ourselves to be seduced by the Judas goat.

The Judas goat may be dangling the promise of money before our eyes. Or independence. Or escape from some bad situation. Or the hope of a good time. Or success or power or popularity or just about anything else, real or imagined, that seems to beguile us and tempt us and reel us in.

And of course, we’re never asked to walk the ramp alone. Oh no. We see other people chasing the same dreams, so we get in step with confidence.

The Good Shepherd—who also says in the gospel today: I give them eternal life and they shall never perish—has a broader perspective than we do. He knows where the ramp we’re on leads to, and he definitely does not want us to blindly follow a dumb herd into the slaughterhouse.

Once in a while, the Good Shepherd knocks us for major loop to get our attention so we can refocus on him: like getting knocked off a horse like Saint Paul… or having a heart attack, or losing your job, or having a new baby, or running into some other life-shaking event. In that brief flash of a moment, the Good Shepherd is signaling madly: “Hey! Over here! Here’s the path you want.”

Regrettably, many people may just glance up for a moment… and then blithely continue up the slaughterhouse ramp. Why? Because that’s what we sheep are easily persuaded to do.

I think we’ve all heard the statistics about how we human beings only use a fraction of our brains. What do they say? 10% or something like that? Well, it’s time to kick in another percentage point or two!

It is obvious—obvious—that many of the treasures and pleasures of this life are a dead-end. Not too much fits in the casket with us… and we certainly can’t carry it with us across the threshold of eternity.

No, the only things that endure are the spiritual things: mainly faith, hope and love. But also the other virtues: kindness, generosity, patience, tolerance, encouragement, charity, tenderness, honesty, prayerfulness.

That’s why we have to come down off that death ramp. We’ve got to use another few brain cells and try to be strong enough and brave enough to look over to the Good Shepherd—our Lord and God—who in his unshakable love offers us a far better path. Besides his own watchful eye, he gives us the Holy Spirit, the angels, the saints, the church, our family and friends—and strangers, too—plus an abundance of graces and other helps along life’s way… if only we’re willing to listen to his voice, trust him and follow him.

My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me.

We all know: life is short. Don’t waste a precious moment... choose the right path.

Pious Irrelevancies and Sanctimonious Trivialities

The 3rd Sunday of Easter
Today’s Readings (click here)

The Catholic Post, our diocesan newspaper, frequently carries columns by Peter Daly. In last week’s paper, Daly had a wonderful piece about Martin Luther King Jr. and the famous letter Rev. King wrote while he was in jail in Birmingham, Alabama, in 1963. The letter was a response to a statement by a group of white clergymen who felt that Dr. King’s call for civil rights demonstrations was “unwise and untimely.”

Daly described how moved he was by Dr. King’s eloquent and powerful words. I am, too. Let me quote a few of the lines from the letter:

“Perhaps it is easy for those who never felt the stinging dart of segregation to say, ‘wait.’ But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will, and drown your sisters and brothers at whim, when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; … then you will find it difficult to wait. … I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience. … In the midst of blatant injustices… I have watched white churchmen stand on the sidelines and mouth pious irrelevancies and sanctimonious trivialities.”

Powerful stuff!

In our world today, lots of people—including good Christian people—complain about “political correctness.” They say that you can barely open your mouth without some minority group taking offense and demanding a retraction and maybe even retribution.

I’m sure you all heard the recent news about Don Imus, the radio talk-show host, who got fired for his comments on the air. Maybe some of you think that the punishment was too extreme. Maybe you think this was another triumph for political correctness.

Well, I listened to Don Imus a few times when I lived in New York. Frankly, the man was a pig even back then. He was rude and insulting, and not even all that entertaining. But that’s beside the point.

It’s easy to cry “Political Correctness!” and try to put the blame on people like Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton for stirring the pot or playing the race card, but isn’t that just a red herring? Aren’t we doing exactly what Dr. King said? Listen again:

“In the midst of blatant injustices… I have watched white churchmen stand on the sidelines and mouth pious irrelevancies and sanctimonious trivialities.”

In our first reading today from chapter 5 of the Acts of the Apostles, we hear how the Jewish senate, the Sanhedrin, tried to silence Peter and the other apostles. Peter boldly proclaims that the followers of Christ will not be intimidated into silence. He said, “We must obey God rather than men.”

Through the centuries, Peter’s own brand of civil disobedience has been an inspiration and model for Christians to courageously and confidently stand up for Christ and their faith.

The members of the Jewish Sanhedrin were afraid that Peter and his friends would disrupt the status quo and their own positions of privilege and power… so to keep them quiet, you might say that these council members stood on the sidelines and mouthed pious irrelevancies and sanctimonious trivialities—whatever it took to get the job done.

Over the centuries, this same biblical text has been invoked by all sorts of folks to try to silence all sorts of other folks. The powers-that-be don’t want to have viewpoints broadcast that threaten them and that don’t dovetail with their own. Forty years ago, they tried to put a muzzle on people of color who were looking for legitimacy and equality. In ages past, targets included astronomers and scientists, bankers, dissenting theologians, schoolteachers, politicians, and many other groups. Today, those in the hot seat include sexual minorities and all kinds of scientists (particularly biologists, geneticists, psychologists and sociologists).

This past week, a U.S. District Court judge for the Northern District of Illinois issued a preliminary injunction against a 17-year-old high school student in Naperville who wanted to wear a t-shirt to school with an anti-gay message. The school wouldn’t allow her to wear it, so she filed a lawsuit based on the First Amendment. I read the complaint online. One paragraph says that the plaintiff’s “sincerely-held religious beliefs compel [her] to communicate, out of a sense of compassionate duty, the biblical condemnation of homosexual behavior to others...”

Never mind about God’s precious gay children who have been bashed and beaten up and brutally murdered in the name of religion—just like black people were 40 years ago. This Christian girl had a sincere belief and a compassionate duty.

But now back to Peter and the apostles. I find it interesting that the message that Peter was spreading was not a condemnation of other people’s beliefs or behaviors or even their blatant sins. Read through the first five chapters of Acts and you’ll see. No, Peter preached that Jesus was Lord and the Christ, yet his listeners—probably out of ignorance—were hoodwinked into crucifying him. But, he continued, Jesus was resurrected from death, because not even death could contain him! Therefore, he urged his listeners to repent of their grievous sin of killing Christ… to believe… and to be baptized so as to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit and the forgiveness and blessing of God. In fact, St. John, one of Peter’s companions and another apostle, expanded this kernel of truth into an entire gospel that preaches acceptance and love.

Was the 17-year-old girl with her t-shirt and her sincere belief and her sense of compassionate duty following Peter and John and Christ… or was she mouthing pious and dangerous irrelevancies and sanctimonious trivialities?

I think it’s easy to cry: “Foul!” “Political Correctness!” “I’m offended—and so is my buddy, God—by what you believe and how you live!”

Thank God that Martin Luther King Jr. didn’t fall for that claptrap. And neither should you.

Breaking Out for Easter

Easter Sunday
Readings for Easter Vigil
Readings for Easter Sunday

Every morning after mass, my dog, Maggie, is waiting for me to do our routine: we take a walk over to the post office to pick up the mail, and then we’ll go for a walk—either through the village or the I & I grounds, or when the earth dries out, to Middle Fork. It didn’t take long for Maggie to learn our daily drill and look forward to it.

We human beings also learn a lot of things. When we were small, we learned to cry for Mom when we were hungry or needed changing. We learned by trial-and-error whether whining and foot-stomping would get us what we wanted—or whether it earned us a swift crack on the bottom. And as we grew and went through life, we learned many other ways to act and react based on our experiences and how things turned out.

I hate to say it, but that kind of learning really isn’t all that different from Maggie’s!

Of course, humans are capable of a higher, loftier kind of learning, too. That’s in part what it means when we say that we’re made in the image and likeness of God. Unlike dogs, we can appreciate beauty: a magnificent sunset… a dramatic painting… a clever joke… the lyrics of a great song…

And unlike dogs, we can make good choices because we can understand deeper, subtler meanings and see beyond the immediate: we agree to undergo root canals… we hopefully don’t eat an entire chocolate cake in one sitting… we go to work instead of just deciding to go fishing when we wake up to a warm spring day…

But despite how clever we are as a human race, many, many times, our higher intellectual abilities give way to our baser instincts. It’s almost as if we slip into a primitive kind of autopilot.

One of the reasons that TV sitcoms are so popular is because we get to watch other people promise themselves that they’re going to do the right and well-thought-out thing… and then at the moment of truth, they mess up completely—just like we do so often! Maybe our lives aren’t quite so funny because we don’t have professional gag-writers to come up with our lines. But clearly, our day-to-day mistakes and mishaps could fill volumes.

How come? Why do we keep slipping back into the same terrible patterns? Well, it’s actually a form of self-protection. Our experiences mold us and reinforce so many attitudes and behaviors that they become second nature. That’s why some people are shy, or afraid to try new foods, or convinced they’re going to fail, or have simply given up.

Like a powerful addiction, these beliefs and attitudes and feelings have a stranglehold on our lives. In the silence of our own hearts, we may wish things could be otherwise, but it’s almost impossible to break out of the chains that have bound us for a lifetime.

Enter Jesus Christ.

Today is Easter. On Friday, Jesus was nailed to a cross, died on it, and was buried in a real grave. End of the story.

Well, not quite. Today, he’s really and truly alive again. Just as he said repeatedly during his ministry. Resurrected. Once he was dead, and now he’s alive again.

But wait! There’s more!

Jesus said that he did this for us—you and me and all other human beings, past, present and future—to make things right between us and God. He said that we share in his resurrection. We will live forever. He said that whatever it is that makes our hearts pound and soar, all we need to do is ask… seek… knock… and God will take care of us. He said that we’re family! If we have faith and seek to do God’s will, we’re his mother, brother, sister. He said that his love for us is everlasting and that nothing can separate us from that love. And he said tons of other things just like that.

How many times have we heard this message? And how do we respond? We may say, “Wow!” But within a very short time, when our autopilot takes back over, we sadly shake our heads and say, “Nah….”

To me, the only sad part of Easter is that we’re too afraid, or too conditioned, to believe it and embrace it.

Years ago, we had another dog by the name of Charlie. He was a stray who wandered in one day and since we couldn’t find his owners, we let him move in permanently. Charlie was petrified of thunderstorms. As best as we can figure, he must have been caught out in one when he was on the lam. Well, whenever a storm came up, Charlie would run around, hyperventilate, get a crazed look in his eyes, making a raspy panting sound, and be totally inconsolable. One time, we tried to lock him in a bathroom where he couldn’t see or hear anything; in his panic, he clawed his way through the door. We never could get him over his phobia. All we could do was give him a tranquilizer.

That’s us, folks. Maybe we’re blessed with fleeting “God moments” here and there, but for the most part, we cling to our animal-level fears and impediments. Ask yourself: am I living the life I could if I really believed that the truth would set me free? Am I living the life of one blessed and beloved to the Lord?

So it’s Easter. It’s a wonderful reminder that we have another chance to conquer ourselves and live as children of God. There’s so very much that Christ wants to give us. And the beautiful thing is, we don’t have to do it on our own. Here and now, just lift your heart to our resurrected Lord who is waiting for your call. Leave it in his loving hands.

A blessed Easter to you all.

The Best of Intentions

Denial of St Peter
Caravaggio, 1603

Palm Sunday
Today’s Readings: Lk 19:28-40; Is 50:4-7; Ps 8; Phil 2:6-11; Lk 22:14-23:56

Near the beginning of the Passion narrative, which we just proclaimed, Jesus and his apostles are sitting around the Passover table. Maybe it’s the tension, but Peter is moved to blurt out his loyalty and love for Jesus. “Even if all the others desert you,” he says, “I never will. Lord, I am prepared to go to prison and die with you.”

Is that right? Jesus answers, “I tell you, Peter, before the cock crows this day, you will deny three times that you know me.”

You’ve probably heard a lot of sermons over the years criticizing Peter for his lack of adequate faith and courage. But let’s be honest for a moment. What would any of us have done if we were in Peter’s sandals? I’d like to think that I would never disown Jesus as Peter wound up doing around the fire in the courtyard of the high priest’s house. But I know we would be wise never to say never. Our words and promises can come back to haunt us. The best of intentions fail under pressure, fear, isolation, loneliness, and the threat of violence or personal harm.

I have no doubt that Peter had every intention of remaining loyal to Jesus when he spoke so zealously from the depth of his heart. And of course, the other disciples, bolstered by Peter’s words, also chimed in with their own pledges of support and loyalty. Yet all too soon, they all would run for their lives and abandon Christ to the mercy of his enemies.

Lest we feel too bad about ourselves, it’s important to remember that the followers of Jesus are only human. Along with Peter and the other apostles, we too might find ourselves experiencing the great temptation to play it safe and deny our spiritual loyalties in the face of ridicule or rejection. There are places in the world where those who identify with Christ might encounter physical danger, persecution and even death. And truthfully, when we’re afraid or at risk because of our personal beliefs, our survival instinct may kick in and be stronger than our earlier words of faithful allegiance.

Life is full of many good intentions. We boldly proclaim that we intend to stop smoking or drinking or overeating. We assure other people, and ourselves, that we’re going to exercise more and take better care of ourselves. We promise to remain absolutely faithful in our love and never experience a breakdown in our marriage. We pledge our help and loyalty to people and causes that are important to us—but when the going gets tough or inconvenient, maybe we fail to show up or don’t actually deliver on all the grandiose promises we made. Really, we mean to be helpful, but sometimes we just don’t think about what our promises will cost. Talk has always been cheap. Commitment, on the other hand, is costly and it requires endurance, resolve, and recurring rededication throughout our entire lives.

Despite how easy it was for Peter to blow it—and despite how easy it is for us, too, to fail in all kinds of commitments and promises—there is great hope in this corner of the gospel. I find it uplifting and joyful that Jesus thoroughly understands our human fallibility and the deepest motives of our hearts. No matter how often we fail, with God’s help, we can try and try again.

So the simple little message today is to never give up trying to live for Jesus. When we are faithless, he is always faithful. Learn from your past failures and confess them to the Lord. Peter offers us a great role model. Even though he denied Jesus, he was able to rededicate his life to the risen Christ and become a great leader in the early Church. Never underestimate God’s ability to transform our failures into divine success stories. May we just find the courage to recommit ourselves to him and start over again.