Born Again

Nicodemus said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above. …What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’”

To be “born again,” or “begotten from above,” means to enter into a whole new life. It is the completion of what began with repentance, or a “turning around.” When one repents, one makes a 180-degree reorientation, turning from the world to the kingdom, leaving behind worldly goals and taking on kingdom values. When one is oriented to the passing world, one takes on the spirit of the passing world. It is a mortal spirit, which must by necessity lead to death. Turning to the kingdom, one receives the kingdom spirit, the Spirit of God, which is immortal and leads to life. But you can’t have both.

To be born again means leaving behind every security and allowing ourselves to be carried away by the Spirit of God wherever it chooses.

In baptism we are born again. Baptism is about washing of our sins, it is a re-birth. But this event needs to be appropriated and re-appropriated again and again. We need to be converted again and again. We aren’t merely born again. We are born again and again and again. Accepting and acting upon that principle takes a lot of letting go. If we aren’t willing to move out of our comfort zones, it won’t happen. All great spirituality is about letting go: letting go of our comforts, of our egos, of our securities. Perhaps that is the only way we can mature spiritually.

Jesus’ Last Breakfast

Easter Friday (26 April 2019)

John 21:1-14.

“...there was some bread there and a charcoal fire with fish cooking on it.”

Every Christian is able to tell what the last supper was about. It is an unforgettable meal, one that is commemorated in most Christian communities in one way or another. We very rarely hear, however, about another meal that Jesus had with his disciples after his resurrection, his last breakfast with them.

Evening meals are generally nice. The day is over, the work done. Breakfast is a different issue. It is at the beginning of the day; the work has to be started, organized, and divided. When people come together for breakfast, it is often for a working breakfast.

That is what happened that day. Peter and some others had gone out fishing. They hadn’t caught anything. When they approached the lake shore they saw a man who asked them for some fish. When they told him that they hadn’t caught anything, he suggested they throw the net out once more. They did, and caught 153 big fish. By that time they had recognized Jesus, and they were surprised to be invited to a breakfast for which he had already baked the bread and some fish. It was after that breakfast that he asked Peter, “Do you love me?”

After that breakfast they got to hear with Peter what loving Jesus would mean--going out to the whole wide world taking care of his sheep and his lambs.

On the shore was that strange number of fish: 153. Experts have puzzled over that number. (I was not able to get a google image of the painting of Sr Genevieve SMMI, who arranges the 153 fish in a sum of first seventeen numerals: 1 + 2 + 3 +…..+17 = 153.) It probably represented the different varieties of fish observed in that region at the time. If so, Peter and company must have understood that the number symbolized their mission to the world. Plenty for them, and us, to do!

Newness of Life

Easter is paradox brought to the highest power. All along Jesus has been teaching the kingdom of God in parables: The last shall be first and the first shall be last; the blind see, the lame walk, and the deaf hear; the hungry are fed, sinners are forgiven, and the virgin becomes the mother. Now, in the resurrection, death gives birth to eternal life. 

The new community of faith, born at Pentecost, will take on this parabolic identity. In today's episode, a classic gospel "appearance story," humble women are given the first commission to preach the gospel of Jesus rising from the dead, while the religious and civic leaders are busy cooking up cover stories to protect their positions of authority.

Easter is all about newness of life in Christ. The risen life of Christ is ours for the taking. The power of loving with the very love of God is within us and we can fearlessly stake our lives on it. Everyone of us is entrusted with the message of the Good News of God’s love. Easter provides us with a fresh opportunity of facing ourselves with the issue of our own resurrection. It presents us with the challenge of spreading the light and the life of the Risen Christ. Are we alive in Christ with the Risen Lord firmly rooted in our hearts and actions, or are we still living in a selfish manner? Easter has no spiritual significance for us if Christ has emptied his tomb and we still lie in death in our own. If we are truly the people of God then those who are searching for meaning in life will discover from us that Christ is the way home, the resting place for restless hearts.

“Lord, we are your people. Open our hearts this Easter season and increase the gift of your life within us.”

Maundy Thursday

As Pope Francis says, a closed church is a contradiction in terms. Love is what makes a church an open entity. Without love a church or a family is a contradiction in terms. In the same way, without service and humility, our church or community could become a closed one. True meaning of love is service and humility. This is proved by Jesus’ self-giving in the Last Supper, and by his sacrifice at the wood of the cross. What we commemorate in Maundy Thursday is nothing but love: love as self-giving and life-giving. Jesus gives himself as food to nourish us to give us life and newness. He is ready to suffer for us out of sheer love as he becomes the Passover Lamb in food and drink, and in his life-giving act on the Cross.

First Reading: Ex 12:1-8, 11-14

“It is the Passover of the Lord.”

The story of Passover is a dark passage from slavery to freedom, leaving a trail of blood and weeping in its wake. The angel of death, unlike other celestial visitors, is no gentle spirit. The streets of Egypt, like the shores of the Red Sea, would be strewn with the dead before Israel walked free.

Other kinds of oppression require other kinds of deaths. When truth is suppressed, many lies must die for truth to be set free. Our cultural lies about who is beautiful, who is valuable, who must be put to death. Our moral fictions about who is categorically good and who is bad must be exposed. If we do not murder the lies about what will satisfy the human heart, then those lies will smother the search for real love and real hope. 

Tonight we keep in holy memory the night of Israel’s great liberation. At the same time, we acknowledge the sober reality that the cost of freedom is often very high.

Second Reading: 1 Cor 11:23-26

“This cup is the new covenant in my blood.”

When it comes to redeeming a world from the grip of sin, God did not get off easy. If there was a way to wave a wand and make salvation available, Jesus did not choose it: he did not look for the quick fix for a broken world. Jesus wanted to show us the way to freedom by walking the road himself.

The deliberateness of the choice is what stuns us. Jesus sat calmly at supper that night with his friends, celebrating a feast day. Master of his own table, he performed the role of head of household in the breaking and sharing of the bread. In the familiar ritual action, he saw a foreshadowing of his self-offering, and told his disciples--as he had so often before--what was to come. And he asked them to remember, when the events of this hour were past, what he had said and done that night.

We still do. Sometimes with as little understanding as those who first shared the meal, we come to the table and eat the bread, drink the wine. We do it because Jesus told us to, and we know this is the way we will come to understand what he did and why he did it. We may celebrate this supper a hundred times, or thousands of times, in our lifetime. If just one of those times leads us to understanding what we do, it will be enough.

Gospel: Jn 13:1-15

“Jesus realized that the hour had come.”

The Transfiguration on Mount Tabor was an amazing event, but just as startling to the disciples was this transformation of Jesus at the last supper. He went from Lord to servant in a matter of moments. Rather than a glorification in light and mystery, he humbled himself with a towel and some water. He washed their feet. 

So striking was this gesture that nobody could say anything for awhile. And then of course it was Peter, always blurting out something, who manages a response. First Peter questions Jesus; and then Peter refuses him. The poor fisherman would never learn that less is sometimes more.

And now it is our turn to respond to the idea that the Lord of the Universe is prepared to wash our feet. Suddenly we feel Peter’s dilemma, the sweaty palms, the confusion, even the denial. O Lord, don’t do this. Don’t humble yourself for the likes of me. But Jesus washes our feet anyway, because it is the only way we will know who we are called to be: precious children of a loving God. And once we see ourselves this way, we will recognize each other as well. And we will take up the towel and the basin, and start washing.

The Prophecy of Caiaphas

5th Week of Lent – Saturday

Ezekiel 37:21–28. John 11:45–57.

Today’s gospel reading offers us a study of human nature in a case of high drama. The Jewish authorities are gravely concerned over the numbers of followers Jesus is attracting because of the signs and wonders he performs. They fear that, if this phenomenon continues, “the Romans will come and destroy both our holy place and our nation.” The high priest Caiaphas, however, is a practical man. He tells his compatriots: “You know nothing at all; you do not understand that it is better for you that one man die for the people, than that the whole nation perish” (Jn 11:50). Caiaphas embraced an expedient solution to the problem of Jesus. Rather than face Jesus, and examine the validity of his “signs,” he prescribes taking the easy way out: kill Jesus and all problems will be solved.

But God can use even impossible situations for our good and for our salvation. God can write straight with crooked lines. We need a new set of eyes to grasp that crookedness and evil (whether in me or in the other) can be used by God to make it an integral part of His merciful design. When Caiaphas, who was corrupt and who made it to the top, prophesies, “It is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish” (Jn 11:50), John the Evangelist comments, “Caiaphas did not say this on his own, but as high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus would die for the Jewish nation, and not only for that nation but also for the scattered children of God, to bring them together and make them one” (Jn 11:51-52). Even Caiaphas becomes part of God’s design.

Whenever we have problems with our authorities, we must remember that God can even use corrupt people for His own glory. Even problematic superiors, elders, authorities and politicians can be used by God. The universe is not ruled by selfish men and women, though they can cause great harm to us individually and collectively. But if we allow God into the picture of our lives, then the scenario can change. A little mustard seed of faith in this regard can move great mountains of problems that we may be facing. Our God is a God of history, deeply involved in our lives—yours and mine.

Perhaps from today can we allow a little more space and time for Jesus? He can transform impossible situations for my good. Instead of worrying and fretting about situations, can we do something about them by allowing God and His Spirit to take charge of those moments? We need faith, a lot of faith… Our Lord is ready to grant even that for us!

The Lord will guard us as a shepherd guards his flock.