On this Feast of Mary, the Mother of God, we are given a model and example of unshakable faith. She who faced every “river of difficulty,” by placing her life in the hands of God’s promise, is with us always as our mother, blessed of all women, blessed of God, blessed of the whole Church. Let our confidence not be shaken; let our resolve never waiver, and let our hopes not be dashed by the “rivers of difficulties” we may need to cross in this year ahead. Let us continue to remain close to Mary, as our inspiration and our hope— she who is the humble servant of the Lord, elevated by the grace of God, who brought into the world the one who is Jesus, our Savior and our Lord.
Today’s Gospel brings to mind a Letter of His Holiness, Pope Francis to Priests, delivered this past August on the 160th anniversary of the death of St. John Vianney. He focused on three main points: gratitude for their service to Christ and to the People of God; encouragement to continue to work toward the mission of the Church; and a reminder to praise God even through the most difficult times. It is this third emphasis that reminds me of the profound words exchanged by St. Dismas and Jesus.
In one sense, our own country has been going through something similar—some say it really all began thirty years ago on April 20, 1989 in the town of Littleton, CO, at Columbine High School. It was on that spring morning, when two teenagers killed 12 fellow students, one teacher and injured 21 others with a rifle, a shot gun, and a semi-automatic pistol. Someone can do the math on how many other students and teachers have been murdered in cold blood over the last three decades. I couldn’t do it.
Maybe we need our own sycamore tree—a new way of seeing. A different perspective. We need to do what Zacchaeus did—find ways to embrace a different perspective of seeing, embrace a different view. Maybe we simply need to ask Jesus to help us see the world as he sees it, as he sees you, me, and every person. In the person of Zacchaeus, we are given this timeless lesson: Do not be afraid to start over. This time you’re not starting from scratch. You’re starting from experience.
Every once in a while, (or sometimes, quite often) we hear about one of our favorite people behaving badly. Maybe it’s a co-worker who we find out has been seriously abusing her corporate expense account. Maybe it’s a friend who suddenly is spending all sorts of alone time with someone who is not his wife. Maybe it’s a family member who begins verbally abusing his or her spouse and children in public.
"Here is our rule," Francis said— as simple and as impossible as it may have seemed: “Live by the Gospel. Francis took the Gospel so literally that he made one of the brothers run after a thief who stole Francis’ hood. “Here, take his too! In one famous story, Francis preached to hundreds of birds about being thankful to God for their wonderful clothes, for their independence, and for God's care. The story tells us the birds stood still as he walked among them, only flying off when he said they could leave.
An old man gets an urgent phone call from his wife while driving home. "Herman, I just heard on the news that there's a car going the wrong way on the freeway. Please be careful!" Herman replied, "Dear, it's not just one car. There's hundreds of them!" If you are like me, you probably can’t stand it when people don’t have a sense of urgency, can’t stand it when people seem to be completely complacent about things that might demand a more aggressive or “hurry-up” approach. In a certain sense, all three of our readings today address the problem of complacency—at least when it comes to our spiritual lives, our moral lives, our lives of faith.
The great Yogi Berra liked to say: “When you come to the fork in the road, take it.” For St. Luke today, this is Jesus’ “fork in the road” moment. Thus far, Jesus has been tempted and rejected; gathered and sent disciples; healed and taught; performed miracles, was transfigured and predicted his own death. He had spent nearly all of his thirty-three years in the backwater outskirts of Galilee, and today, he comes face to face with a decision— where there will be no looking back. And “when the days for Jesus’ being taken up were fulfilled, he resolutely determined to journey to Jerusalem.” 9:51
Think for a moment about all the things we know something about through reason, observation, and experience. For example, we know all sorts of things about the human body: how it works, and what it’s made of, and even what goes on inside our cells. We know about our planet: its age, its composition, even about the furnace that’s raging far below our feet. We know about our universe; technology; science, business—the list is long.
And so, there is just one question that I would like all of us to ponder. It is a question that was first asked by three women, a very, very long time ago: Who will roll away the stone? For us, here tonight, we speak not of the stone that stood guard over the entrance to the tomb, whose sole purpose was to hold back the lifeless body of the Lord Jesus. No, for us, the stone, we speak of is that stone which holds us back; the stone which prevents those from coming forth from darkness, despair, and discouragement— into the light of a new day.
In the name of Love, we know, Jesus embraced the Cross. And yet, the Cross is not the point – it is His love. The Cross only makes it even more evident how much Jesus loves us. And it is the Cross that frees us to love.
Oh, yes, how could we forget? In the listing of the apostles whose feet Jesus washed, we left off one name. Oh, yes, how could we forget that Jesus also washed the feet of Judas? He could have skipped over him to prove a point. He could have embarrassed him by passing him over. He could have unveiled before the eyes of the Eleven that this was the one who would betray him.
Today we celebrate Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem. The beginning of his journey to the hill of the three crosses, where, obedient unto death, he would accept death, even death on a cross, for the salvation of the world-- for you and for me. For Christians, Holy Week is not just another seven days. There is no "business as usual." The celebrations of this week form the heart of our Christian life, and their timing should cause us to pause, and perhaps, even rearrange our normal schedules to make time to celebrate with one another the liturgies of the Easter Triduum.
Our Gospel on this 5th Sunday of Lent, turns to the 11th chapter of John. For John, this is the moment, the miracle, the final sign that Jesus would work— because those whose very existence he threatened would be tolerant no more.