Fr. Frank Majka, SJ – The Bridge

Easter Every Day

If you went to Mass on Easter Sunday, you might have heard the triumphant hymn, “Jesus Christ is risen today!” But would you think it odd if you went to Mass a week later or five Sundays later and they sang the same hymn? After all, Easter’s a one-day affair, isn’t it?

But, surprisingly, each day from Easter Sunday until the following Saturday, the daily Mass prayers say, “This is the day the Lord has made” and, “we praise you with greater joy than ever on this Easter day when Christ became our sacrifice.” The liturgy seems to be saying, “Don’t be so fast to move on from Easter. Appreciate and savor the great mystery of the Resurrection, and this will surely take more than a day.”

Furthermore, maybe the truth is that we are entitled to call every day “this Easter day” because each day the Resurrection is happening in the world and for us. Each day Christ rises as Lord (just as each day he is the Child of Bethlehem, and each day he is still the Galilean preacher teaching us, healing us, and reconciling us to God and each other).

So, from that perspective, it’s right and proper to regard each day as Easter, no matter what the calendar says. And each day it’s appropriate to sing with full hearts an Easter hymn to the Risen Christ.

Easter Amazement

According to the story told by Luke and John, when Jesus came to his friends after the Resurrection, he showed them the wounds in his hands and feet (Luke) or his hands and side (John). But he didn’t show these wounds to shame or accuse his followers. He didn’t say, “See what I had to go through. And you weren’t even there because you ran away.” Instead, Jesus expressed only love for them. I find that amazing.

I find it amazing, too, that some days after the Resurrection, when Jesus was alone with Peter (whom Jesus had called the rock of his church but who had denied even knowing Jesus), he didn’t say, “Peter, aren’t you sorry about how you acted?” No. He simply said, “Peter, do you love me?” Jesus let him know that it was not Peter’s weakness and unfaithfulness that were important but only where his heart was now.

In the Spiritual Exercises St. Ignatius wrote that the risen Christ acted as a consoler to his friends, mending their broken hearts and drying their tears, showing that he had not lost his love for them and that his one desire was for them to love him back.

That message of forgiveness, reconciliation and friendship with Christ is one that we, too, need to hear, for as individuals, churches or the human race, we have fallen short in the loyalty and love we owe Christ. But as the risen Jesus showed that he loved and forgave his friends two thousand years ago, he loves and forgives us today.

And this is a fundamental part of Easter’s amazing revelation — not only that Jesus has risen but that he loves us, no matter how we have acted towards him.

Passion Stories/Passion Story

The story of the passion and death of Jesus contains several other stories besides what happened to Jesus. For one, there is the story of the loyalty and compassion his women followers showed Jesus in staying close to him throughout his carrying of the cross and his death on Calvary. In contrast, there’s the story of the fear and disloyalty of the twelve apostles, one of whom had betrayed him to the authorities while the rest of them fled at his arrest or denied even knowing him.

There’s also the story of the cynical decision by the high priest and his council to sacrifice Jesus for “the good of the nation” and the cowardly choice of Pilate to condemn him even though he knew perfectly well he had done nothing deserving death. Lastly, there’s the story of the crowd, which was so fickle that it welcomed Jesus ecstatically on Sunday only to cry for his blood five days later.

All of these are folded into the story of the passion and death of Jesus. But standing above them all is the story of great love — the love of God the Father for us (John 3), the love of Christ for his Father (John 14) and the love of Jesus for his friends (John 15). It is this overarching story that makes the story of Jesus’ passion and death fundamentally a love story.

This Holy Week, read one of the passion narratives from Matthew, Mark, Luke or John. See if you can detect the love revealed there. Then ask yourself, “How might I respond to that love?”

What’s in a Name

When the new pope took the name Francis a few days ago, many people said that he was sending a signal about the kind of pope he wants to be, namely, one given to that simplicity and care for the poor associated with Francis of Assisi. And that got me thinking about names.

There are names we have been given, and if these refer to people like parents, grandparents or other relatives they connect us with our familial past. Similarly, if we’re named after a saint, that fact connects us with an important person in the history of our faith. Such names can provide models for our faith (as well as guideposts for a papacy!).

But since names carry associations with those who bear them, we can actually add to the meaning of our names. We may be called Elizabeth or John or Shirley or Patrick or any other name; but we change, if only slightly, the meaning of our names because they are now associated with us and the kind of people we are.

Finally, St. John tells us (Revelations 2:17) that when our lives here are done, God will give each of us a new name, written on stone and known only to God and to us — a name to describe and sum up all we have done and become with the help of God’s grace.

That’s quite a bit for a few sounds and letters.

I Do Know This

The confrontation in Saint John’s gospel between the man born blind and the Pharisees (John 9) is very dramatic. The Pharisees told him that the person who had just given him his sight was a sinner and could not have been from God because he broke the commandment forbidding work on the Sabbath — which they interpreted to mean any kind of work, even the “work” of making a blind man see.

They presented him a theological argument, but the man didn’t answer in terms of theology. Instead, he said, “I don’t know if he is a sinner . . . but I do know that I was blind and now I can see!” He may have been unsophisticated theologically, but he knew that Jesus gave him sight and for him that was enough. I think his is one of clearest stories in the New Testament about what faith means.

Lent is a time when we get back to the basics. So, what is the basis of your faith, what personal experience and personal conviction supports it? Ask yourself (and it may take some time to answer) how you would finish this sentence: I may not know everything about what I believe, but I do know this: ______________.