Acronyms are popular, and the word “bible” appropriately serves as an acronym that defines what this “good book” is!  The Bible provides us with “basic information before leaving earth.”  This week’s readings are good examples of how this is so.  We have some very important knowledge—relevant to each of us—conveyed in the Genesis reading and the Gospel.

Remember that for centuries it was thought by many that Moses wrote the first 5 books of the Bible.  Some might still hold this belief, but scholars say otherwise.  Genesis, for example, is a book of many stories that were no doubt part of a people’s oral tradition.  Over time, unknown editors compiled the text we know today.

As with all cultures, this Israelite literature contained “etiological tales” (stories that told of how things came to be).  Among other things, today’s story explains why we wear clothing (or rather, why the ancient ISRAELITES thought people wore clothing; or, perhaps this part of the narrative was a child’s story.  That is, maybe elders told their inquisitive children when asked “Why do we have clothing and not walk around naked?”  In this instance, the misbehavior of Adam and Eve accounts for why we wear clothing.  Recall that pain at childbirth, death, and having to toil to survive are also part of this origin story.

A misconception that has been around for 2000 years is that the serpent in the story was the devil.  If this has been your understanding (and I suspect it might very well be)—forget it.  Regarding the serpent as “the devil” has never been the teaching of this Israelite origin story.  Equating the devil with the serpent did not come about until the time of Jesus—centuries after the Genesis story was committed to paper (or rather, papyrus, or animal skins used for writing on scrolls).  It was a first-century writing, The Life of Adam and Eve, that the snake-as-devil slithered into our consciousness.  And ever since, generations of teachers misled their listeners.

An engaging topic is determining when the idea of “devil” even arose within the Bible.  Too broad a topic to address here, just keep this in mind.  What Christians tend to call the “Old Testament” (and what scholars and Jewish people call the “Hebrew scriptures”), did not have what we think of as “devils.”  In the Hebrew scriptures, God contends with, does battle with, or repeatedly gets frustrated by HUMANS (not legions of devils).  The Israelites might have become known as God’s “chosen people” through whom God’s identity would be known—but the Creator often thought of “throwing in the towel” on this human race!  It was WE who were a pain in God’s heart—not the persuasive serpent.

History has given us devil names such as Satan, Lucifer, and Pazuzu (the demon of the film The Exorcist), but today’s Gospel cites the name “Beelzabub.”  If you’re abreast of the music and cinema worlds, you know that name from a wildly popular rock hit sung by a band named “Queen.”  Its lead singer was Freddie Mercury—an AIDS victim whose life was portrayed in the film Bohemian Rhapsody (the name of a Queen’s song—a verse of which refers to today’s Gospel demon-figure “Beelzebub”). The song was in the popular film Wayne’s World (1992), but 2 of Queen’s other hits are We Will Rock You and We Are the Champions (both songs often associated with sporting events).

Listeners of Bohemian Rhapsody can identify with the lyric that says: “Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me.” THAT is the Adam and Eve-like experience one gets when confronted with temptation.  One feels powerless to resist because there is a force specially programmed to work on their weakness or vulnerability.  Listeners should, however, not just nod in agreement with what the rock song asserts.  Instead of feeling they are incapable of being victimized by their own “fallen human nature,” one should take heart in knowing that the Adam & Eve story is reminding us of vulnerability—yes—but that we have the power to resist temptation.  It’s our choice (just as it was for Adam).

If the word “Satan” is used in scripture or rock music or by people on the street, its meaning should be associated with a kind of prosecuting attorney.  Translated as “accuser,” satan is one who shows us where we’ve gone astray.  The Persian (Persia is Iran today) religion of Zoroastrianism is laden with good and bad angels, and it was this religion that eventually came to influence the thought of Israelites from the 3rd century B.C. onward (N.B.., Freddie Mercury, mentioned above, was a Zoroastrian).   Before this influence, Old Testament books were not filled with references to angels or devils.  Eventually, however, Christianity adopted the concept while Islam asserted that each person has 2 angels—one to record your good deeds and one to record your bad deeds—to be shown at the final judgment.  Belief in angels is, moreover, a dogma of Islam (whereas Christians commonly believe in angels but are not obliged to accept their reality).

The New Testament speaks of one being thrown into “fiery Gehenna,” but the reference here is not to the fires of hell but to a smoldering garbage dump near Jerusalem.  Nonetheless, images of “Satan” presiding over a fiery hell have been our inheritance in popular religion.

Scholars tend to think of Satan’s “kingdom” as not a place of torment but a place of bondage due to acts of unrighteousness.

French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre wrote the play No Exit which presents a similar notion of eternal condemnation.  Characters in the play are Garcin (a man interested in character #2, Inez).   However, Inez is a lesbian and is interested in character #3, Estelle (not interested in Inez but preoccupied with looking into a mirror).  A fourth character in the play is a valet who erratically responds to a bell that is rung to call him.  The setting of the three people is in a room with “no exit” and furnished with couches to sit on.  These people come to realize that they are dead—and the play consists of them in dialogue.  For the length of the script, these characters frustrate, depress, annoy, irritate, and upset one another.  The play concludes with the man, after a few moments of silence,  say to the others: “Well, well, let’s get on with it.”

Playgoers are left to ponder what “life” would be like if it consisted only of frustration, depression, annoyances, irritations, and being chronically off-balance or upset.  This is your state of being–for all eternity . . . .

Philosopher Sartre might leave us with this grim sense of the future, but getting back to our reading from Genesis—shows us where the “exit” CAN be found.

Notice that when God asked Eve about eating the fruit–that no specific fruit is mentioned in Genesis.  Folklore has us refer to an “apple” that they ate—not the Bible.  Notice, too, that Eve tries to escape responsibility by pointing to a snake as the real culprit.  Because of that nasty creature, she argue for compassion since that darn serpent was so persuasive.  It took advantage of her! Adam is no better in the excuse department.  He, too, pleads for clemency by pointing to his wife as being the one REALLY responsible for the act he committed.

Now recall what I regularly mention about our use of scripture—and how I started off this week’s reflections here about “basic information” we need to have before we step into eternity.  What we need to know is that you and I are Adam and Eve—and every other character in scripture at different moments in our life.  You and I have a tendency to “pass the buck,” “make an excuse,” “blame someone else,” “call elections corrupt,” and complain that “verdicts are fraudulent.”  Be it examples on the national stage or the stage of our lives, we are quite capable of making bad decisions and trying to escape the consequences of our behavior.

We tend to see the Genesis story as a downer account of losing the garden of Paradise and being pawns in the hands of powerful forces that we cannot resist.  Au contraire!  The story of Adam and Eve is telling us to BE AWARE of our tendency to make self-serving decision.  The story is asking us: “Do you want to make mistakes like this one?”  And of course, our answer is that we DON’T want to mess things up as Adam and Eve did.  The story tells us that we are NOT pawns who are helpless in resisting the various venoms that bring us some kind of death or gloom.

The story is as much a story of how to find success as it is a story of how to mess up your life.  Which leads into a reflection on the gospel.

There’s a folktale told in different cultures around the world that tells of how God made humans.  Without embellishment, here’s the basic plot: God decided to create the human race and so he formed them from dough and put them in the oven to bake.  Pulling them out too soon, he produced white people.  Leaving them in too long, he produced black people, leaving the next batch in not long enough, he created yellow people.  Finally, however, God timed it perfectly.  The humans were a beautiful tan color from head to toe—and that is how we Navaho came into being.

This version is from the southwest U.S..  However, this same plot is found in cultures that are white, black, and yellow—only the end result shows the Creator “getting it right” when making beautiful black, or yellow, red or white humans.  It appears to be normative globally for cultures to depict their origin as being “just what the doctor ordered.”  Black, white, red, or yellow—each group having their story report them being the “best” people.  Not surprising is that European scholars of the 19th century, thinking they were objective in their science of human origins—tended to rank human populations in order of “who are the smartest people?”  Ta da!  White Europeans was their conclusion (a conclusion now much debunked and no longer regarded as scientifically based).

Before the science of genetics in the 20th century, scholars and laity speculated on human origins and diversity.  Around 1775, the word “Caucasian” was introduced and became part of the English vernacular.  It referred to “white” people and was principally applied to Europeans (although it originally included many other geographical regions of people).  Today, the word is not used within scholarly communities.  In short, all humans belong to one “race,” and this reality makes use of “racial categories” obsolete.

This is important not just on some socio-political level, but it can even be said to have grounding in the New Testament, e.g., TODAY’s Gospel!!  Revisiting that reading, we hear Jesus say: Who are my mother, brothers, and sisters?  And he answers his question by saying they those who do the will of God!  2000 years ago Jesus asserted what science now tells us—that the human race is one family.  Just as persons in your family look different from one another, so do all the peoples in the world look different from one another.  Apart from this skin-deep appearance, we are all brothers and sisters.  And Jesus informs us that God is our loving parent—who brought each of us into the world for a reason—with a special vocation to accomplish what no one else can replicate.

If we acquire a certain kind of basic information before leaving earth, we will be best able to learn how to live the identity that makes each of us distinctive—as designed by our Creator.

Acronyms are popular, and the word “bible” appropriately serves as an acronym that defines what this “good book” is!  The Bible provides us with “basic information before leaving earth.”  This week’s readings are good examples of how this is so.  We have some very important knowledge—relevant to each of us—conveyed in the Genesis reading and the Gospel.

Remember that for centuries it was thought by many that Moses wrote the first 5 books of the Bible.  Some might still hold this belief, but scholars say otherwise.  Genesis, for example, is a book of many stories that were no doubt part of a people’s oral tradition.  Over time, unknown editors compiled the text we know today.

As with all cultures, this Israelite literature contained “etiological tales” (stories that told of how things came to be).  Among other things, today’s story explains why we wear clothing (or rather, why the ancient ISRAELITES thought people wore clothing; or, perhaps this part of the narrative was a child’s story.  That is, maybe elders told their inquisitive children when asked “Why do we have clothing and not walk around naked?”  In this instance, the misbehavior of Adam and Eve accounts for why we wear clothing.  Recall that pain at childbirth, death, and having to toil to survive are also part of this origin story.

A misconception that has been around for 2000 years is that the serpent in the story was the devil.  If this has been your understanding (and I suspect it might very well be)—forget it.  Regarding the serpent as “the devil” has never been the teaching of this Israelite origin story.  Equating the devil with the serpent did not come about until the time of Jesus—centuries after the Genesis story was committed to paper (or rather, papyrus, or animal skins used for writing on scrolls).  It was a first-century writing, The Life of Adam and Eve, that the snake-as-devil slithered into our consciousness.  And ever since, generations of teachers misled their listeners.

An engaging topic is determining when the idea of “devil” even arose within the Bible.  Too broad a topic to address here, just keep this in mind.  What Christians tend to call the “Old Testament” (and what scholars and Jewish people call the “Hebrew scriptures”), did not have what we think of as “devils.”  In the Hebrew scriptures, God contends with, does battle with, or repeatedly gets frustrated by HUMANS (not legions of devils).  The Israelites might have become known as God’s “chosen people” through whom God’s identity would be known—but the Creator often thought of “throwing in the towel” on this human race!  It was WE who were a pain in God’s heart—not the persuasive serpent.

History has given us devil names such as Satan, Lucifer, and Pazuzu (the demon of the film The Exorcist), but today’s Gospel cites the name “Beelzabub.”  If you’re abreast of the music and cinema worlds, you know that name from a wildly popular rock hit sung by a band named “Queen.”  Its lead singer was Freddie Mercury—an AIDS victim whose life was portrayed in the film Bohemian Rhapsody (the name of a Queen’s song—a verse of which refers to today’s Gospel demon-figure “Beelzebub”). The song was in the popular film Wayne’s World (1992), but 2 of Queen’s other hits are We Will Rock You and We Are the Champions (both songs often associated with sporting events).

Listeners of Bohemian Rhapsody can identify with the lyric that says: “Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me.” THAT is the Adam and Eve-like experience one gets when confronted with temptation.  One feels powerless to resist because there is a force specially programmed to work on their weakness or vulnerability.  Listeners should, however, not just nod in agreement with what the rock song asserts.  Instead of feeling they are incapable of being victimized by their own “fallen human nature,” one should take heart in knowing that the Adam & Eve story is reminding us of vulnerability—yes—but that we have the power to resist temptation.  It’s our choice (just as it was for Adam).

If the word “Satan” is used in scripture or rock music or by people on the street, its meaning should be associated with a kind of prosecuting attorney.  Translated as “accuser,” satan is one who shows us where we’ve gone astray.  The Persian (Persia is Iran today) religion of Zoroastrianism is laden with good and bad angels, and it was this religion that eventually came to influence the thought of Israelites from the 3rd century B.C. onward (N.B.., Freddie Mercury, mentioned above, was a Zoroastrian).   Before this influence, Old Testament books were not filled with references to angels or devils.  Eventually, however, Christianity adopted the concept while Islam asserted that each person has 2 angels—one to record your good deeds and one to record your bad deeds—to be shown at the final judgment.  Belief in angels is, moreover, a dogma of Islam (whereas Christians commonly believe in angels but are not obliged to accept their reality).

The New Testament speaks of one being thrown into “fiery Gehenna,” but the reference here is not to the fires of hell but to a smoldering garbage dump near Jerusalem.  Nonetheless, images of “Satan” presiding over a fiery hell have been our inheritance in popular religion.

Scholars tend to think of Satan’s “kingdom” as not a place of torment but a place of bondage due to acts of unrighteousness.

French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre wrote the play No Exit which presents a similar notion of eternal condemnation.  Characters in the play are Garcin (a man interested in character #2, Inez).   However, Inez is a lesbian and is interested in character #3, Estelle (not interested in Inez but preoccupied with looking into a mirror).  A fourth character in the play is a valet who erratically responds to a bell that is rung to call him.  The setting of the three people is in a room with “no exit” and furnished with couches to sit on.  These people come to realize that they are dead—and the play consists of them in dialogue.  For the length of the script, these characters frustrate, depress, annoy, irritate, and upset one another.  The play concludes with the man, after a few moments of silence,  say to the others: “Well, well, let’s get on with it.”

Playgoers are left to ponder what “life” would be like if it consisted only of frustration, depression, annoyances, irritations, and being chronically off-balance or upset.  This is your state of being–for all eternity . . . .

Philosopher Sartre might leave us with this grim sense of the future, but getting back to our reading from Genesis—shows us where the “exit” CAN be found.

Notice that when God asked Eve about eating the fruit–that no specific fruit is mentioned in Genesis.  Folklore has us refer to an “apple” that they ate—not the Bible.  Notice, too, that Eve tries to escape responsibility by pointing to a snake as the real culprit.  Because of that nasty creature, she argue for compassion since that darn serpent was so persuasive.  It took advantage of her! Adam is no better in the excuse department.  He, too, pleads for clemency by pointing to his wife as being the one REALLY responsible for the act he committed.

Now recall what I regularly mention about our use of scripture—and how I started off this week’s reflections here about “basic information” we need to have before we step into eternity.  What we need to know is that you and I are Adam and Eve—and every other character in scripture at different moments in our life.  You and I have a tendency to “pass the buck,” “make an excuse,” “blame someone else,” “call elections corrupt,” and complain that “verdicts are fraudulent.”  Be it examples on the national stage or the stage of our lives, we are quite capable of making bad decisions and trying to escape the consequences of our behavior.

We tend to see the Genesis story as a downer account of losing the garden of Paradise and being pawns in the hands of powerful forces that we cannot resist.  Au contraire!  The story of Adam and Eve is telling us to BE AWARE of our tendency to make self-serving decision.  The story is asking us: “Do you want to make mistakes like this one?”  And of course, our answer is that we DON’T want to mess things up as Adam and Eve did.  The story tells us that we are NOT pawns who are helpless in resisting the various venoms that bring us some kind of death or gloom.

The story is as much a story of how to find success as it is a story of how to mess up your life.  Which leads into a reflection on the gospel.

There’s a folktale told in different cultures around the world that tells of how God made humans.  Without embellishment, here’s the basic plot: God decided to create the human race and so he formed them from dough and put them in the oven to bake.  Pulling them out too soon, he produced white people.  Leaving them in too long, he produced black people, leaving the next batch in not long enough, he created yellow people.  Finally, however, God timed it perfectly.  The humans were a beautiful tan color from head to toe—and that is how we Navaho came into being.

This version is from the southwest U.S..  However, this same plot is found in cultures that are white, black, and yellow—only the end result shows the Creator “getting it right” when making beautiful black, or yellow, red or white humans.  It appears to be normative globally for cultures to depict their origin as being “just what the doctor ordered.”  Black, white, red, or yellow—each group having their story report them being the “best” people.  Not surprising is that European scholars of the 19th century, thinking they were objective in their science of human origins—tended to rank human populations in order of “who are the smartest people?”  Ta da!  White Europeans was their conclusion (a conclusion now much debunked and no longer regarded as scientifically based).

Before the science of genetics in the 20th century, scholars and laity speculated on human origins and diversity.  Around 1775, the word “Caucasian” was introduced and became part of the English vernacular.  It referred to “white” people and was principally applied to Europeans (although it originally included many other geographical regions of people).  Today, the word is not used within scholarly communities.  In short, all humans belong to one “race,” and this reality makes use of “racial categories” obsolete.

This is important not just on some socio-political level, but it can even be said to have grounding in the New Testament, e.g., TODAY’s Gospel!!  Revisiting that reading, we hear Jesus say: Who are my mother, brothers, and sisters?  And he answers his question by saying they those who do the will of God!  2000 years ago Jesus asserted what science now tells us—that the human race is one family.  Just as persons in your family look different from one another, so do all the peoples in the world look different from one another.  Apart from this skin-deep appearance, we are all brothers and sisters.  And Jesus informs us that God is our loving parent—who brought each of us into the world for a reason—with a special vocation to accomplish what no one else can replicate.

If we acquire a certain kind of basic information before leaving earth, we will be best able to learn how to live the identity that makes each of us distinctive—as designed by our Creator.

New to the Red Cloud Indian School, I told the high school boys that it was time for dinner.  One of them said: “We already had dinner.  We’re going to supper.”  That’s when I learned that some people only know the word “dinner” as applicable to the noon meal.  They’d refer to the evening meal as ”supper.”  My use of the word “dinner” for the evening meal was foreign to their experience.  Raised in Detroit, I knew the word “supper” was used by some people, but my family simply used the well-worn terms of breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  However, the Lakota holy-man, Black Elk, said that his people traditionally did not eat in the middle of the day.  They ate only in the morning and evening when he grew up on the plains in the 1800s.

Dining habits come to mind because this weekend is “Corpus Christi Sunday.”  “Body of Christ” Sunday calls us once again to reflect on the gift we have in the sacrament of the Eucharist.  Readings for Mass address this special sacrament that we honor on Holy Thursday each year.  So let’s first get a handle on dining customs within Israelite culture at the time of Jesus.

Because Matthew, Mark, and Luke share perspectives on many of the same incidents in the life of Jesus, their gospels are called the “synoptic gospels”—a way of noting that they share much in common with one another.  Each, for example, speak of “the Last Supper” as a “Passover” meal (which Jewish people still practice when Christians are celebrating “Holy Week” services.  Interestingly, John does NOT refer to the Last Supper as a Passover meal but as one that took place the day before Passover.

Debate has not settled when, exactly, the “First Supper” of the Eucharist took place.  Some scholars say that our gospel account is simply asserting that the sacrament came into being at SOME unknown date that was GROUNDED in the theology of the Passover and Eucharist.  The Synoptics are at odds with John—but their theological POINT is more important than on what actual date something occurred.  That point is the Eucharist flowing out of Israelites tradition reported in the Hebrew scriptures.  Jesus is the new Passover lamb.

In this week’s gospel, Mark rightly notes that 2 of the disciples went and prepared the Passover meal.  Contemporary readers of this passage assume that nothing of note is being reported in what Mark says about meal preparation.  However, there IS a technical point being made.  Namely, when feast days were being celebrated, it was men who prepared the meal.  In everyday life, it was an older woman/widow who would prepare the evening meal for men and boys (12 and over).  They would eat first—followed later by women and girls.  Mark’s report thus corresponds with the customs of the day.  What appears to be a minor observation (that men prepared the meal) actually affirms the accuracy of Mark’s account.

A term sometimes used by anthropologists to refer to households is “commensal unit.”  It refers to the group of people who eat meals together each day.  Such a group shares common values and is bonded by ties of blood, labor, religion, friendship, etc.  The departure of Judas is his self-imposed excommunication from the group.

The first reading reported how Moses came down from the mountain and brought with him the Torah—the teaching that God revealed to him.  The people were told that God’s word in the Torah should be how they, as a people, should live their lives.  And as done throughout the Bible (and in other cultural traditions) an animal (i.e., a lamb) was slain as an offering.  Keep in mind that the ritual shedding of blood was the people’s way of symbolizing their own self-sacrifice—as death is the most solemn testimony to one’s commitment.  The people said they would commit themselves to these teachings, and when Moses sprinkled blood on the people, this represented their union with the slain lamb—which they then consumed. Slaughter of animals in the Temple or elsewhere was a re-enactment of their pledge of faith.  Each year at Passover, the historical event of being liberated from Egypt was commemorated, and this MADE PRESENT that saving action once again.

Cultures have what are known as “remembrance ceremonies” in which events of the past are “made present” through the ritual re-enactment of what took place.  Christians sprinkle with holy water in remembrance of the Israelites committing themselves to observing what the Torah taught, and when Jesus gave bread and wine as his body and blood at a meal with his disciples—becoming the new “lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.”  The ritual slaughter has been replaced by bread which likewise replaces the “manna” in the Israelite desert  And the sprinkled blood can at any time be replaced by the sprinkling of water that reminds Christians of their baptism and THEIR willingness to observe the NEW Torah  that the gospels teach.

And what DOES the gospel Torah teach?  Summarized, we can think of the corporal and spiritual works of mercy. When we come to communion expressing our need for the nourishment of the new lamb and new manna—we ask God to inspire us to incarnate these works of mercy: To feed the hungry, To give water to the thirsty, To clothe the naked, To shelter the homeless., To visit the sick, To visit the imprisoned, To bury the dead, To instruct the ignorant, To counsel the doubtful, To admonish the sinners, To be patient with those who wrong us, To forgive offenses, To comfort the afflicted, To afflict the comfortable, To pray for the living and the dead.

All of these works of mercy are either explicitly or implicitly stated in the gospels, e.g., Matthew 25.  They don’t exhaust biblical teachings, but they are a good starting point for prayerful reflection.  Moreover, avoid the temptation to think simply that these “works” call us to “be a nice person.”  They extend into our socio-political life and so, often enough, make Christians unwelcome.  For example, to give someone a drink of water is a kind act.  However, what do you do when a corporation dumps poisonous chemicals into lakes, streams, rivers, and oceans?  Eventually, you’ll have no clean water to offer anyone.

The works of mercy, if practiced, can bring one into conflict with forces that are profiting in some way from the plight of people.  One’s Christian identity calls us to resist those forces.  For example, diabetics in other countries were able to acquire insulin while the richest country in the world made insulin hard to get for those who couldn’t afford it.  Pharmaceutical companies influence politicians, so there’s little political will to bring down the prices of medication.  Thankfully, the price of insulin is now manageable due to pressure from the White House.  Meanwhile, a medication that people can get in England for 35 dollars is available to me for 1000 dollars.  Arguments are made to explain why American prices are “legitimately” high—but those arguments boil down to massive amounts of wealth controlling the issues—at the expense of YOU and millions of others.

“The United States experiences the worst health outcomes overall of any high-income nation. Americans are more likely to die younger, and from avoidable causes, than residents of peer countries.”  In light of this World Health Organization FACT, you can see why the works of mercy are sure needed right here in our home country.  They will be resisted by forces that seek to continue acquiring vast wealth at your expense.  One’s religious practice has “real-world” consequences.

Last week, our presence at Mass was compared to seeking shelter from the shrapnel of life that comes flying at us from all directions.  Our presence in this sacred foxhole allows us time to reflect and see how our life role can bring peace to the battlefield to which we’ll return.  Our presence back into the fray is needed. As St. Ignatius said, we are called to serve the Lord, to fight and not heed the wounds, to labor and not seek for rest, to toil and not ask for any reward except we know we’re doing God’s will.

Just as the beginning of Matthew’s gospel tells us that the baby Jesus represents, and is, “God with us” (i.e., “Emmanuel”), so the concluding scene in his gospel shows Jesus telling his disciples that he will be with them until the end of time.  What a powerful theme to bracket the life of Jesus!  We who face many challenges in being Christ-like—have the assurance that we are not alone in confronting those challenges.  We are never alone.

In this farewell scene, we know something profound will take place just as it unfolds.  How do we know this?  Because it begins locating the scene on a mountaintop.  Remember?  In both the Hebrew and Christian scriptures we know that something grand is going to take place whenever a mountain scene occurs.  Sure enough.  Jesus has called them to the mountain because he’s telling them that with his departure, they will take the baton he passes to them—and carry on his mission.

He tells them to evangelize the world, and not restrict themselves to being clannish, and ethnocentric.  He reminds them that their role now is to go to the ends of the earth and preach the Good News (gospel) to all people—and in doing so they should use words if they have to!  This simply means that the way they treat people should be their best form of evangelization.  And so this passage reminds us that the message of Jesus is a “catholic” one—a word that means “universal.”

You can see how important this scene is for humanity.  It addresses our NOT seeing one another as brothers and sisters in Christ!  Jesus tells us to baptize ALL nations as brothers and sisters.  But what have we done?  We fight others in war.  We call people names if they look different from us.  We harbor prejudices and often DON’T obey these verses which many Christians call the “Great Commission.”

This being Trinity Sunday, the Church calls us to reflect upon this mystery of our faith—a mystery we can’t fully understand.  One reason the Mormon faith is not considered a Christian denomination is that it does not accept this basic tenet.  Christians assert that there are three persons in one God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Muslims reverence Jesus but do not accept his being one with the Father, and Christians, in turn, say they are not believing in 2 or 3 Gods—but One!  They’ll say a triangle has 3 angles in it, but it is one figure—much like a shamrock has 3 leaves—but is one shamrock.  Even Christians can’t fully understand how there are 3 persons in one God.  So they have a hard time explaining the Trinity to a non-Christian.  They can only use analogies like a triangle or shamrock.  Such is why we call the Trinity a mystery that we can’t fully understand.

Theologians say that even though the bible doesn’t have the word “trinity” in it, the presence of 3 persons in 1 God can be drawn from both Old and New testaments.  Similarly, we experience the Trinity in our natural way of praying to “God.”  How so?  Here’s a typical way people naturally pray (without consciously thinking of theology, per se).

One might look at a beautiful sunrise over a lake and thank God the Father (or Creator figure) for giving us such a paradise.  Later in the day, the same person might say to Jesus in prayer “Help me carry this cross in my life, Lord.  You were able to carry yours.  Help me carry mine.”  Lastly, we might go to bed and lay there asking the Holy Spirit to empower us the next day to find words to speak at a business meeting, or to a family member or friend.  And so we’ve prayed to a Father/Mother/Creator/Great Mystery figure (words can’t fully define God).  We’ve prayed to Jesus, and we’ve prayed to the Holy Spirit—all in one day.  We’ve addressed the one God as Father, Son, and Spirit.

Interestingly, in the first century, people were baptized in the name of Jesus (reported in Acts and Paul).  Toward the end of the first century, baptisms invoked the three persons—as we do now.  By the 11th century, Pope John the 22nd made it a universal practice to honor the Holy Trinity.  The Church spent many years arguing exactly what Jesus taught on the matter.

A sampling of questions they addressed are: is the Son equal to the Father?  Who came first?  Did Jesus exist at the beginning of time—and then was packaged as a baby boy and sent to earth?  Did Jesus know all things when he lived?  If so, does this mean he pretended to suffer on Good Friday?

Over the centuries, theologians drew conclusions that made them preach against “false teachings,” and the word used when referring to a false teaching is “heresy.”  One such popular heresy that reverberates within Islam and elsewhere is “Arianism.”  This position was taught by Bishop Arius and it claimed that Jesus was a good man, but not equal to the Father.  It is known as the “Arian Heresy.”

This weekend is also Memorial Day weekend.  Not a Church feast but a secular one, the topic reminds me of the aphorism “There are no atheists in foxholes.”  One might claim to be an atheist–but in battle, with lethal shrapnel flying everywhere, soldiers will take cover in a foxhole and PRAY to God that they be spared.  Once out of the foxhole, they might revert to their claim of being an atheist—but for that period on the battlefield, they were talking to the God they said did not exist.

An atheistic mom or dad has a similar experience.  When their little boy or girl is newly born and given to their atheistst parent, the miracle of life speaks to the parent’s heart and reminds them—if only for a short while—that God exists.

The founder of the Jesuits, St. Ignatius Loyola, was a soldier.  Like me, he could think of Mass as the foxhole wherein we ask God to help us in the battles we face.  In this foxhole of the Mass, we lay bare our hearts to God and ask for insight into why we were made the person we are.  We picture the battles we’ll have to face when we leave this foxhole—and ask God to protect us, and to help us slay the dragons that create wars that produce Memorial Days around the world—in every culture.

We’re in this foxhole with others who share our vision of preserving the paradise given to us by God.  In this foxhole of the Mass, we are reminded at communion time that God will nourish us where we most hunger.  We get new battle plans while in the foxhole—plans that will help us overcome the enemies of faith, hope,  and love.

So this secular observance we call Memorial Day reminds us that God our Creator-parent brought us into the world to live as Jesus instructed.  If we follow Him, there will be no need for Memorial Days anywhere on earth. Why?  Because if we are guided by the Holy Spirit, we will have no stomach for war or prejudices that breed hatred.  This foxhole sacrament reminds us of the Trinity—of God the Father and Jesus, through the Holy Spirit, being with us until the end of time.

We call today’s feast “Pentecost.”  The word means “50^th” and occurs 50 days after Easter—paralleling a calendrical celebration at the time of Jesus that celebrated the giving of “the Law” (Torah) to Moses.  Among Christians, this Israelite feast has moved from being a celebration of “the Law” to a celebration of “the Spirit”—of God’s presence among us written on our hearts and in our actions instead of on the stone of Mt. Sinai.

Scripture selections for this feast are telling.  We are told that the disciples heard a sound of wind as they huddled in a room and hid from authorities.  We also read that Jesus appeared and “breathed on them” when imparting the Spirit to them.  If not familiar with Genesis, we might simply think about wind outside and Jesus breathing.  However, the reference to wind hearkens back to Genesis when we read that a wind blew over the water at the time of creation and that God breathed life into Adam and Eve.  When the New Testament speaks of “wind” and “breath,” it reminds us of that first creation—and tells us that a NEW creation has taken place—creation of the Christian faith community empowered by the Spirit to evangelize the world.

Not only are these Old Testament references (Hebrew scripture) echoed but so is another well-known story.  Acts of the Apostles refers to people from diverse geographical places and reports that they all understood the word of God as preached by the disciples.  This is NOT the report of some bizarre miracle related to multi-lingual populations but is an allusion to the Tower of Babel story.  It told of God punishing the hubris or pride of people by creating different languages so that they no longer could build a tower to heaven.  Workers could not understand one another.  However, the message of the Gospel was now accessible to all people of the world—in all their diversity of language and lifestyle.

In a reading from Paul, we see him speak of each Christian having a ministry of their own.  Just as a body has different parts with different functions, so does the “Body of Christ”—the people of God.  I might, at times, sound like a cheerleader for you, but it’s Paul who is the one I’m quoting when with this “cheer.”

Pentecost doesn’t roll around each year that I don’t recall the concluding scene in the film (based on the Hemingway novel) “For Whom the Bell Tolls.”  The book and film so struck me that I cite it here again for you—as an illustration of the Jesus story.  That is, this scene dramatizes the Gospel message (not intentionally) in depicting a powerful human encounter.  I like this because it dramatizes the life, death, resurrection, and spirit of Pentecost in a non-theological way.  It drives home the Gospel just the same (as Jordan is a “Christ figure” and Maria, his love, as us receiving the Spirit)..

Here’s the setting.

Robert Jordan is the main character—an American journalist covering the civil war of the 1930s in Spain.  He’s accompanying the oppressed revolutionaries who are trying to overthrow the dictator.  Think of Jesus associating with the non-elites and standing up against an authoritarian dictator’s military (Roman soldiers?).  Jordan falls in love with Maria—a young girl sexually abused by the elites (the common person oppressed by the powerful).  As the revolutionaries escape through a mountain pass, a cannonball explodes near Jordan and he can’t continue (condemned to death?).  He tells the commando leader to take Maria with the escapees after he speaks with her.   This is what he says.

Maria, don’t, don’t say anything.  We won’t be going to America this time.  But always I go with you, wherever you go, understand?  You go now, Maria. 

No, no, I stay with you Roberto.

No, Maria, what I do now, I do alone.  I couldn’t do it if you were here.  If you go, then I go too.  Don’t you see how it is?  Whichever one there is, is both of us.

No, there’d be only . . .

No, each of us must do his thing alone, and though we be alone, we do it for each other.  But if you go, then I go with you, that way I go too.  I know you’ll go now Maria, for both of us, because we love each other always. 

It’s easier for me to stay with you, Roberto.

I know it’s harder for you, but now I am you also.  If you go, I go too.  That’s the only way I can go.  You’re me now.  Surely you must feel that, Maria. 

Remember last night?  Our time is now, and it will never end.  You’re me now, and I’m you.  Now you understand.  Now you’re going, and you’re going well, and fast, and far, and we’ll go to America another time, Maria. 

Stand up now and go, and we both go.  Stand up Maria, remember you’re me too.  You’re all there will ever be of me now.  Stand up.  No, stand up.   There’s no good-bye, Maria, because we’re not apart.   [Jordan calls the commando leader to take Maria away] Pilar!  No, don’t turn around.  Go now.  Be strong.  Take care of our life.

[Maria tries to resist Pilar but can’t]  No, no, no Roberto, let me stay . . . . please, please don’t make me go  . . . Roberto, Roberto, please Roberto . . . .

[Jordan is left behind with a machine gun so as to hold off the pursuing soldiers as long as he can to help Maria and the others escape.  He’s thinking these thoughts]

God, that was lucky I could make her go.  I don’t mind this at all now.  They’re away.  Think of how it would be if they got Maria instead of you.  Don’t pass out, Jordan!  Think about America!  I can’t.  Think about Madrid!  I can’t.  Think about, Maria!  I can do that alright! 

No, you fool, you weren’t kidding Maria about that.  Now they can’t stop us ever!  She’s going on with me, yes . . .

[Final scene is of the machine gun shooting straight into the camera as bells toll.]

Literature raises themes that parallel issues the novel, story, or poem never mention.  By way of symbols, plots, names, words, and other literary devices a reader is reminded of other experiences, moods, and plots that parallel what is being read.  Such is at play in the scene above.  One is reminded of human communities that see one group as well off financially and one group not.  A dictator who rapes and pushes people around versus ordinary folk who just want to make a living.  The name “Jordan” reminds one of the Jordan River where Jesus began his ministry (like the journalist beginning his “ministry” among the region’s poorer classes.  If “Maria” (Mary) was intentionally chosen as a name to remind the reader of Magdalene, we’ll never know.

With Pentecost conferring the Spirit upon the apostles, they were reminded that wherever they would go—the risen Lord would be with them.  As scripture suggests, that’s the only way the risen Lord CAN go after the death of Jesus (Jordan).  His Gospel message (like that of a journalist’s messages in newspaper columns) are spread far and wide.  And nothing will stop that Gospel message.

As Jesus said, there is no greater love than for one to lay down their life for another.  In the Gospel and the film, this occurred.  But all Christians can “lay down their life” in some way via commitment, or dedicating their lives, to upbuilding others in some way.  The Pentecost story tells us that we can face any oppressor since we’ve been given the Spirit—assured by Jesus that we are loved and that he is with us—as his Christmas name promised “Emmanuel” (“God with us”).

We used to call this Holy Day of Obligation “Ascension Thursday.”  However, the American Church followed in the footsteps of the Canadian bishops and now celebrates this Holy Day on Sunday.  It coincides with the American secular feast of “Mother’s Day.”  Both have an interesting history.

As for the feast of the Ascension, theologians tell us that Jesus did not go to sit at the right hand of the Father 40 days after Easter.  Rather, they say that the Resurrection and Ascension should be looked upon as connected.  In the first few centuries of the Church, there was no Ascension feast day.  It evolved later on.  When “40 days” are associated with its occurrence, that’s a theological statement—40 being a symbolic number in both the Old (Hebrew) and New (Christian) scriptures.  In short, Christians honored the return of Jesus to the Father by acknowledging it separately—and associated it with other great events of scripture that were associated with “40” (e.g., the great flood that produced a new creation).

Furthermore, we read about an “ascension” or departure of Jesus in three of the gospels, but John is silent on the matter.  Wouldn’t you think that such an occasion would be mentioned by John?

Today’s reading from Mark is especially eye-catching since those concluding lines of the gospel were the inspiration for an American preacher to found a denomination.  Today called the “Holiness Church” of Tennessee, Kentucky, and West Virginia, these good folk found the preacher’s message somehow captivating.  He and his followers took the concluding verses literally—and picked up rattlesnakes and drank poison at their services.  They are thought to be the only Christian group that embraced this understanding of the text.

Mark intended to report that Christians would be able to speak different languages, cast out demons, and heal people.  These behaviors were not extraordinary supernatural powers but rather graced efforts that the Holy Spirit moved missionaries to perform.  Picking up snakes, drinking poison, speaking diverse languages, etc. were to be understood metaphorically.  That is, with the Spirit’s help, Christians will take the message given to them by Jesus, accomplish many great works, and overcome diverse challenges.

What would Holiness Church people think if they learned that bible scholars say that these concluding lines of the gospel were not written by Mark?  Broad consensus exists that what was read this Sunday possibly came about in the following way.

Early scholars like Eusepius and Jerome knew of almost no version of Mark that went beyond verse 8.  This week’s reading follows that verse, and scholars say that this ending to the Gospel has a vocabulary, syntax, and style that are “decidedly non-Markan.”  A basic position on this strange scriptural history is this: over time, scribes added the longer ending, either for the richness of its material or because of the abruptness of the ending at verse 8.  The strange variety of endings suggests that early scribes had a copy of Mark that ended at verse 8.  They filled out the text with what seemed to be an appropriate conclusion. Voila!  Our concluding verses of Mark.  Not to worry.  The verses are canonical (accepted as the word of God).

This topic will be revisited after a few words about Mother’s Day—a secular “holy day.”  Keep in mind that not all secular holidays need be recognized within our services.  Mother’s Day, however, has gospel roots—and so merits our reflection on its connection to Scripture. We need to go back some 150 years when Anna Reves Jarvis tried to rally mothers in West Virginia to agitate for clean water.  Her efforts combined with those of Julia Ward Howe (who wrote the “Battle Hymn of the Republic”) to put an end to war.  They pleaded for all mothers of the world—from all cultures—to agitate for an end to war.  After all, they had witnessed the greatest loss of life in U.S. history because of the Civil War.

Mothers saw their husbands, sons, brothers, and fathers killed in this war over an issue that should never have existed in the first place—slavery.  Confederate Vice President Alexander Stephens justified this reason for the war—and like all evil ideas—it led to death and destruction.  These women did their best to awaken the world (not just the U.S.) to embrace negotiation and not bullets to settle disputes (“to promote the alliance of all nationalities & amicable settlement of international questions”).  And their efforts were laudable—especially since women could not vote during the period that Jarvis and Howe were active.  Despite having no voice at the ballot box, they staged rallies—which caught the attention of Wall Street and Madison Avenue.

Corporations cared little for the goals of Jarvis and Howe, but they did see a business opportunity aimed at mothers. Whereas war brings wealth to manufacturers, women might provide the same economic impetus by virtue of their role as mothers. This thought spawned candy companies, florists, and the cosmetics industry to target husbands, sons, and daughters to BUY their products as a special gift “for mom.”  Either that or take mother to dinner at some restaurant.

When “Mother’s Day” was made a national holiday in 1914, big business had stripped a movement whose noble origin was to legislate clean water, end racism, and no longer wage war. As one business journal boasted, big profits were now being made because they had successfully “squelched” the work begun by Jarvis and Howe.

There’s a saying “Money is the root of all evil,” but Mother’s Day has managed to salvage something good.  Namely, those who put so much time, energy, and unselfishness in being our mom—certainly deserve our honoring them THROUGHOUT the year. But they have at least one day on which we formally give them some show of gratitude.

Spiritually, in thinking of a mom, we can’t help but think of qualities we associate with God!  In the time of Jesus, one’s father played a key role in the kinship system and in economic affairs. To speak of us as children of “Our Father in heaven” was an appropriate connection to make.  However, God transcends gender and physical appearance such that we can only struggle to express who this incomprehensible Creator is.  So we can refer to God as father—and mother.  After all, our mother bore us and gave us life (like God did).  The Old Testament said that just as a mother would not forget the baby at her breast, so God would not forget us.  God is father, mother, creator—and more (e.g., God is “Love”—as revealed by Jesus).  And if one has no memory of a good home life with a good mom or dad, they can still imagine what such a person would be.  In short, God is the best father one could have.  And God is the best MOTHER one could have.  Mother’s day can remind us of this theological reality.

When my mother died, I realized that I no longer had a home where I could go and just be me—with access to the refrigerator or TV, or napping on the couch, or sunning myself in the back yard, or doing any of the hundreds of behaviors I could do in mom’s presence since childhood.  Most people have spouses or children with whom they gather at some family home.  With my mom’s passing, I no longer had such a port in the storm.  It helped me spiritually to have a high school student remind me that “the only permanent relationship we ever have is our relationship with God.”  That was a good reminder for me to hear.

I chuckle when thinking of this experience and then recalling when my dad died.  It, too, was a felt loss.  I was standing next to a Lakota student of mine (a serious young man whose face was expressionless).  He spit tobacco on the ground.  Then, in a monotone voice that seemed older than his years—said: “You’ll get over it.”  He walked away, still expressionless.  That ended his “condolence.”

As stated earlier, three of the gospels have a departure scene for when Jesus no longer appeared to people (which we call the “Ascension”).  Two themes common to those departure scenes are important for us to internalize.  They are at the heart of our faith.  One theme common to the three was summed up by St. Francis of Assisi when he said: “Preach the Gospel at all times, and if necessary use words.”  That’s an Ascension message.

The second theme was well stated by author Ernest Hemingway in his novel For Whom The Bell Tolls.  His Christ-like main character basically says what Jesus said when He ascended to the Father: “There’s no need to say goodbye because we’ll never be apart.”  That, too, is an Ascension message.

Next week’s scripture reminds us that Pentecost brought the Holy Spirit that assures us of God’s presence to us always.  With the Spirit, we are able to overcome snakes and poisons that present themselves to us “in sheep’s clothing” throughout life.  [Once again, we ask you to email or call the office and say if you read the bulletin]

When teaching religious studies, I heard some students say that their parents didn’t teach them any religious beliefs or practices because they thought their children should decide later in life if they want a religious practice.  Rather than criticize the parenting they received, I wondered if these students were also allowed to decide when they went to bed at night, whether or not they would go to school, or wash, or not cuss, or many, many other behaviors.  I could not understand how a parent could teach their child many behaviors and values—except those related to religious practice.  For me, nothing is more important than trying to understand why I am here and who put me here on earth.

This classroom memory came to mind as I prepared for this weekend’s first communion ceremony.  This is the weekend we welcome young parishioners as they make their first communion.  They will experience what occurs with the sacraments we receive.  Namely, as said by Father of the Church Saint Augustine, a sacrament is “a visible sign of an invisible reality.”

Within our parish family, our tradition is to teach our young ones the importance of attending Mass and “going to communion.”  For young people (and even older ones), it can be confusing to hear that we are consuming “the body and blood of Christ.”  When I made my first communion, all I could think of was my eating body parts.  Years later when attending graduate school at Indiana University, a fellow grad student asked me to explain the “ritual cannibalism” that Catholics do at their Masses.  Both my thoughts on this topic when I was a child, and the thinking of my fellow grad student were misguided, but they are still owned by some who are not familiar with our tradition.

One way to think of communion at Mass is to think of our Thanksgiving dinner.   This is appropriate because an alternative word for Communion is “Eucharist”—a Greek word meaning “to give thanks.”  Each time we receive Communion we are giving thanks to God for all that we have, and for being a God who invites us to this “candlelight dinner.”  The low lights dilate our pupils and visually we absorb all that is visible on this special occasion.  Rooted in the religious history of Israel (Old Testament) and Christianity (New Testament), this sacred gathering is composed of people invited by God to draw upon the Trinity for what will sustain us in our everyday lives.

At this time, we speak to God (prayer) and sing (“singing is praying twice”) with others who have likewise been invited by God to this unique meal.  On the night before he died, having exhausted what he could do with words, Jesus took bread and wine and told his family and friends to do what he was doing.  Every time they would gather this way, he promised to be with them.  As a famous theologian said, Jesus gave this gift of Communion or Eucharist as a kind of “kiss” to those who were there in his name.  The consecrated bread and wine (visible signs along with the table, priest, people, candles, prayer books, scripture, etc.) become the invisible reality of God’s presence.

Here’s another way of expressing the invisible reality of God’s Eucharistic presence.  Poetically stated, one could tell their loved one:

“You’re my London.  You’re my Paris.  You’re my Athens.  You’re my Rome.  You’re my Boston.  You’re my Denver.  You’re my old Kentucky home.”

One is saying to his beloved that she embodies the best of the Old World and the best of the New.  In the end, however, she’s the hearth at which his heart rests and where he finds warm comfort.  He’s NOT saying she is the old buildings, busses, sewers, and dirty streets of big European and American cities.  Rather, she embodies the greatness, glory, grandeur, and wonders of those places.  In her, he need not go to any of those places because he has their equal in her.

And so it is with the presence of the risen Lord in the Eucharist.  One is in communion with the one who feeds him where he most hungers and assures him of God accompanying him down every road he walks.  The risen Lord is the real presence of God in whatever he faces.  The consecrated bread reminds communicants that we have new manna in the deserts of our depression, discouragement, lost paths, and tearful trials.  The Risen Lord is the new lamb at our sacred meal—the lamb of God which is our Eucharist.

But this understanding is a partial one—one that can be expanded in many directions.  However, one key element of this topic is what we call the “Mass” itself.  The word is related to a Latin word meaning “sent.”  When the community of Catholics finishes their sacrament, and when they have witnessed the many visible signs that refer to an invisible reality, they are IDEALLY ready to leave the special gathering—and be “sent” into the world as apostles.

This idea reminds me of a little boy I baptized and to whom I gave his first communion.  When his mom knelt with him at prayer one night (he was 7 years old), she heard him ask God in prayer: “Help me when I go on patrol tomorrow.”  Not knowing what he was referring to, she asked him what he meant when referring to the “patrol.”

He replied that at lunchtime on the playground, he goes on patrol to see if anyone is alone and without any friends.  He said he goes to that person and says he’ll be that person’s friend.

When I heard this true-life story, I was touched in learning that the little boy to whom I gave the consecrated host at his first Communion—had grasped the message of the Gospel, and the purpose of sacraments at his young age.  All Catholics and all Christians are called by God to be “on patrol” in search of the lost or the lonely—to bring them into a supportive community gathered at the table of the Eucharist.

Doctor of the Church, St. John Chrysostom, spoke of Communion in the following terms:

Do you wish to honor the Body of Christ?  Do not ignore him when he is naked. Do not pay him homage in the temple clad in silk, only then to neglect him outside where he is cold and ill-clad. He who said: “This is my Body” is the same who said: “You saw me hungry and you gave me no food,” and “Whatever you did to the least of my brothers you did also for me.” What good is it if the Eucharistic table is overloaded with gold chalices when your brother is dying of hunger? Start satisfying his hunger and then with what is left you may adorn the altar as well.

If you read the bulletin, let the office know or email yes or no at: mfs@wheeling.edu

If we were a first-century group of Christians—who called themselves “the Way”—and if we were gathering to “break bread” for our sacramental experience, imagine what our response would be if we saw Saul, the Pharisee, open the door and join us.  After all, we know this man because he’s been hunting us down and turning us over to our Roman oppressors.

In today’s gospel passage, John’s Jesus is quoted as saying his followers will be  persecuted just as he was persecuted.  He also says that they will not become the best version of themselves apart from him.  Scholars tell us that John reminded the early Christians of what Jesus said because they were being hounded by the Romans, and that they needed to know that their following of Jesus was not misguided.  He told them that this would happen—but if they stayed true to the message, they were living as they should.

Wouldn’t we be surprised when we hear visitor Saul speak of a powerful conversion experience he had when going to Damascus (still today a city in Syria).  He reported being knocked to the ground and hearing a voice ask “Why are you persecuting me?”  He was blinded but regained his sight after learning that the voice was that of Jesus.  He had new eyes, so to speak, with which he saw that he had been following the wrong path in life.  He now wanted to be a member of “the Way.”

As you know, Saul became the Paul of the New Testament who was largely responsible for spreading the message of Jesus throughout the Mediterranean—and ending in Rome (where he was beheaded).  He was also the one who spoke of “sin” as a behavior that “misses the mark” of good and virtuous living.  Sometimes we miss the mark of good behavior (as when shooting at bullseye) by just a little, and sometimes we are far from being a good marksman.  We can perform destructive behavior (mega-sin, often called “mortal”—as in “deadly”).

Thoughts like these brought to mind a theme I often mention.  Namely, we’re supposed to identify with each person we read about in scripture.  At different times, we are each of them.  For example, each of us is ALWAYS on the road to Damascus.  Each of us needs conversion—because we are not perfect and do not have all the answers.  We don’t know what decisions to make, how to relate to certain people, or how to conduct ourselves as we should.  Like Saul, we are often blind.  And it just might be that we need to be knocked down, so to speak, and made to confront where we need to change.

I’ve often expressed concern about young people who have no religious practice.  You who are parents and grandparents no doubt have loved ones who seldom, if ever, “go to church.”  You can address this with them by not berating them, but by simply and calmly stating your and my experience of practicing the faith.

Just tell them how we see the goal of having our religious practice.  Is it that we’ll please God by going to Mass (so God will like us and not send us to hell when we die)?  Or that God will like us if we receive communion?  Say the rosary?  Baptize our young? Or receive the other sacraments?  NO!!

Remember this: God doesn’t get any godlier because you or I go to Mass, or pray, or receive the sacraments, or hear homilies, or read scripture.  God has nothing to gain because God is fully complete.  HOWEVER, you and I can sure benefit from behaviors we lump into the category of “religion.”  And yes, you and I have relatives and friends who have no religious practice or who are even atheists—and we know them to be good people.  But here’s the point: just as you and I become better versions of ourselves through our religious practice, so too do our non-church-going relatives benefit and become more the person God intended them to be.

I was thinking about my lack of knowledge in many areas.  I seemed to be always walking toward Damascus—living my life okay but not accomplishing much.  I got by, but I felt my limitations.  For example, I had a nice garden in West Virginia—within which were many different vegetables (and box turtles who lived in the garden). A married couple came by one day and gave me a tomato plant to add to my 90 other tomato plants.

I said that I was happy to accept their offer.  Come harvest time, I saw this vine produce a purplish-black cherry tomato.  They looked like the food of aliens.  After all, who ever heard of purplish-black tomatoes?  Thinking they were infected with some weird tomato disease, I uprooted the plant and disposed of its bounty.

Now you see how I learned once again that I lacked knowledge.  As with so many areas of life, I did not have all the answers.  I THOUGHT I knew quite a bit about tomatoes.

The people who gave me the plant later stopped by and asked how I liked the tomatoes.  Turns out that these were special tomatoes that came from some special greenhouse and that their color was SUPPOSED TO BE purplish-black.  In short, my lack of knowledge prevented me from having a treat of special tomatoes.  I was not as smart as I thought I was.

I was like a person who didn’t need to go to church because they knew the score.  They knew how to flourish.  They had all the answers.  My point here is that I and my black tomatoes were just like the person who didn’t have a religious practice.

I recalled arguments we had during the Vietnam War.  People would lose the debate when presented with cold, hard facts about why the U.S. should end the war.  Unable to defend their position, people would still patriotically assert: “My country, right or wrong.”  My “conversion” experience on this topic came when I realized that the gospel calls us to base our decisions on what is right—and not on what is patriotic.  How could so many Germans (Catholics, Lutherans, and other Christian groups) pledge allegiance to Hitler—and not the gospel of Jesus?  Millions of lives lost because people voted for “my country, Germany, right or wrong.”

Most of our youth no longer attend church and hear about ANYTHING related to the gospel or the values it teaches.  Today’s gospel speaks of us being like the branches of a vine—with the Vine being Jesus.  Connected to him, we’ll bear much “fruit” in our life (the “best version of ourselves”).

But what are our young people attached to, drawing life from, inspired by, motivated, or influenced by?  The everyday life of our secular society does not teach Gospel values but instead makes minds focus on “Numero Uno” (“number one”)—me, myself, I.  A “what’s in it for me” approach to all things.

I’m reminded of a recently published book that reports a study of cell phone usage since its popularity around 2012.  A group of researchers were trying to understand why test scores of elementary and middle school kids dropped nationally and did not recover.  Long story short of the study was that “smartphones” were “dumbing down” young people.  These hypnotic instruments misinformed or minimally informed or distracted young people to such an extent that their intellectual/emotional growth was being stunted.

I can’t recall each of the recommendations, but here are a couple of points the study made.  1) Do NOT give a smartphone to children under age 12.  Give them so-called “throw-away” phones to call home if needed, but do not allow them access to this addictive technology.  2) If you get your teen a “smart” (i.e., dumb) phone, don’t allow them unlimited access to it 24 hours a day.  And don’t allow adding “apps” of all kinds on it.

Does any family in the parish still say the prayer that was very common to Catholic households for many years?  It was this prayer: “Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord, Amen.”  Do any of our families say any prayer before a family meal?

With parish communities having so few young people, it seems more parishes will close as time passes.  That’s why a “new evangelization” is needed, or is a ministry we now must adopt.  All of us are being called to evangelize our families and friends—inviting them to be part of our community of good people.

If you have no plan of action to evangelize anyone, let the quote below identify people from John the 23^rd Parish:

“Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear, and the blind can see.”

“Good Shepherd” Sunday conveniently falls next to “Earth Day” this year.  These events remind us that we have been called to be “good shepherds” of the environment. It was our current pope, Francis, who called world attention to our Christian/Catholic identity as caretakers of the land, sea, and sky.

Pope Francis wrote an encyclical on this topic, Laudato Si, and confronted us with what geologists (and others) know.  Namely, time on earth is divided into “epochs,” and the last 10,000 years are known as the “Holocene epoch.”  Each epoch is identified by some life form that became dominant or emerged at a certain time.  For example, dinosaurs preceded mammals, and then primates arose, humans, etc.  Epochs last a long time—the Holocene being in its infant stage.

HOWEVER, because humans have made such a gigantic mark on creation over the recent past, some are saying we are already in another epoch—the “Anthropocene” epoch.  This refers to the recent past wherein humans (“Anthropos”) have been the cause of massive changes—affecting 80% of the earth.  Changes include such things as the Amazon Jungle being chopped down by corporations that are taking its natural resources and making enormous profits for corporate owners.  Called “the lungs of the earth,” the Amazon is headed toward extinction—along with its vast vegetation and animal life.  All in the name of getting expensive cars, expensive homes, and short-term gratifications of all kinds.

Or the vast area in the Pacific which is an enormous garbage dump floating in the ocean.  The size of Texas, it is a massive waste area that not only destroys ocean life but also human life with its poisons fermenting in that body of water.

These sorts of things are the epoch we are creating.  We are not being “good shepherds” of the earth.

As you read this, you might be overwhelmed at the immensity of environmental care, and assume you have no role to play at all within this global threat to human life.  I used to have a “throw in the towel” attitude in trying to address this subject.  I had no expertise in any biological area, or environmental studies realm.  But then I was on St. Paul’s “road to Damascus” and was struck by God’s calling me out of my blindness.  Here’s my story—which is also your story (in the sense of how God operates in our lives).

A turtle was crossing the road and I stopped to save him from being hit.  I learned he was a “box turtle” and that his kind used to be seen everywhere in West Virginia.  Now they were seldom seen.  I put him in my garden on campus, and word spread that a turtle was there.  A few people brought me their box turtle since they thought these wonderful creatures would like to be among their own.  A light went on in my head (a “grace” from heaven?) and I set up a “box turtle sanctuary” wherein I would breed and release these creatures into the wild.

My challenge was that I knew absolutely nothing about breeding turtles.  This required studying material about them.  And so it came to pass that I was able to breed box turtles and care for them as best I could.  When I had to leave West Virginia, I saw to it that the box turtles could continue their colony at West Liberty University—which had started a zoo program.  Its director said they could use the turtles for their student programs.

While developing this turtle project, I noticed other areas of campus life that needed special care of its plant and animal residents.  I conceived a project that would enlist students and campus employees to be caretakers of the environment.  While trying to get this going, the University of Notre Dame sent out a “call for papers” on the topic of “The Catholic University and the environment.”  2 papers would be selected and presented by their authors at a national conference on the environment.

I—with no training in biology—put together a paper, submitted it, and was one of the two people invited to present our material.

My point is NOT that I am a great man with great ideas and great knowledge and vision.  Not at all.  My point is the exact opposite.  That is, by the happenstance of saving a box turtle, my interest in saving him and his people—moved me to expand my concern for campus life as a whole.  In short, God graced me with a stirring of interest, a sense of concern for creatures, and, bit by bit, many related environmental issues stirred me into action.

In having this experience, I was reminded of someone known as “The Star Thrower.”

There was a man who used to go to the ocean and walk on the beach.  One day along the shore, he saw a human figure moving like a dancer.

As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, and that what he was doing was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean.

He came closer still and called out “Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?”  The young man looked up, and replied “Throwing starfish into the ocean.”  The older man asked “Why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?”

The young man replied, “The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them in, they’ll die.”  The older man said: “But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can’t possibly make a difference!”  At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, the young man said, “It made a difference for that one.”

This “star thrower” was like me—doing what he could as one person—facing a massive issue that could see us become Adam and Eve all over again.  Unless we become star throwers and unless we befriend turtles, we will force ourselves out of Paradise once again.

Without any education in the field, I presented ideas to a national audience.  I was NOT an authority on the environment.  I was just a guy whose conscience was touched by God—and an interest was stirred within me to do SOMETHING.  So I saved a turtle—and the rest is history.

This is how grace works in your life, too.  God awakens you to some element of creation or some human drama or some concern—and SOMETHING stirs (if only a little).  You’re on the road to Damascus—like St. Paul—and God is reaching out to awaken within you a response.  You might be 10 years old, or 90 years old.  God reaches out to each of us.

God is trying to bring out the best in you by tapping you on the heart.

Communion reflection

A little girl walked to and from school daily.

Though the weather that morning was questionable and clouds were forming, she made her daily trek to the elementary school.

As the afternoon progressed, the winds whipped up, along with thunder

and lightning.

The mother of the little girl felt concerned that her daughter would

be frightened as she walked home from school and she feared that

the electrical storm might harm her child.

Full of concern, the mother quickly got into her car and drove along

the route to her child’s school.

As she did so, she saw her little girl walking along, but at each

flash of lightning, the child would stop, look up, and smile.

Another and another were to follow quickly, and with each flash, the little girl would look up at the streak of light and smile.

When the mother’s car drew up beside the child she lowered the window

and called to her, “What are you doing? Why do you keep stopping?”

The child answered, “I am trying to look pretty. God keeps taking my picture.”

May each of us see God’s presence in whatever storms come out way.

When speaking to you about scripture, I’ve often referred to consulting bible commentaries and articles written by biblical scholars.  I thought you might find it educational to read an example of this type of material I sort through when preparing a homily.  This week’s bulletin sets forth the thought of a contemporary bible scholar.  It shows what these researchers do when studying our faith tradition.  This work generates debate which other scholars join—all in the common enterprise of understanding what the Bible says.

Throughout the world of Catholicism, a “Eucharistic renewal” is taking place.  The content of this article takes a new look at what “Mass” might have looked like in its formation.  Recall, while some Christians say we base all things on the Bible, Catholicism also adds “tradition”—since living communities have had to adapt the written word over the centuries.  This scholar addresses “What did Jesus do during Holy Week?”  What did scripture report “theologically” (as opposed to historical fact) when it was written 25-50 years after the events described.

On Wednesday Jesus began to make plans for Passover. He sent two of his disciples into the city to prepare a large second-­story guest room where he could gather secretly and safely with his inner group. He knew someone with such a room available and he had prearranged for its use.

Jesus tells his two disciples to “follow a man carrying a jug of water,” who will enter the city, and then enter a certain house.  Later Christian tradition put Jesus’ last meal with his disciples on Thursday evening and his crucifixion on Friday. We now know that is one day off. Jesus’ last meal was Wednesday night, and he was crucified on Thursday. Jesus never ate that Passover meal. He had died at 3 p.m. on Thursday.

Confusion exists because the gospels say that they wanted to get his body before sundown. After all, the “Sabbath” was near. Everyone assumed the reference to the Sabbath had to be Saturday—so the crucifixion must have been on a Friday. However, the day of Passover itself is also a “Sabbath”—no matter what weekday it falls on. In the year a.d. 30, Friday was also a Sabbath—so two Sabbaths occurred back to back—Friday and Saturday. Matthew seems to know this as he says that the women who visited Jesus’ tomb came early Sunday morning “after the SabbathsS—the original Greek is plural.

John’s gospel preserves a more accurate chronology. He specifies that the Wednesday night “last supper” was “before the festival of Passover.” He also notes that when Jesus’ accusers delivered him to be crucified on Thursday morning they would not enter ­Pilate’s courtyard because they would be defiled and would not be able to eat the Passover that evening.   John knows that the Jews would be eating their traditional Passover, or Seder meal, Thursday evening.

Reading Mark, Matthew, and Luke one can get the impression that the “last supper” was the Passover meal. Some have even argued that Jesus might have eaten the Passover meal a day early—knowing ahead of time that he would be dead. But the fact is, Jesus ate no Passover meal in 30 CE. When the Passover meal began at sundown on Thursday, Jesus was dead. He had been put in a tomb until after the festival when a proper funeral could be arranged.

Hints of this exist outside John’s gospel. In Luke, Jesus tells his followers at that last meal: “I wanted to eat this Passover with you before I suffer but I ­won’t eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.” A later copyist of the manuscript inserted the word “again” to make it say “I won’t eat it again,” since the tradition had developed that Jesus did observe Passover that night and changed its observance to the Christian Eucharist or Mass. Another indication that this is not a Passover meal is that all our records report that Jesus shared “a loaf of bread” with his disciples, using the Greek word (artos) that refers to an ordinary loaf—not to the unleavened flatbread or matzos that Jews eat with their Passover meals. Also, when Paul refers to the “last supper” he significantly does not say “on the night of Passover,” but rather “on the night Jesus was betrayed,” and he also mentions the “loaf of bread” (1 Corinthians 11:23). If this meal had been the Passover, Paul would have surely wanted to say that, but he does not.  N.B., historically, Christian communities have used both leavened and unleavened bread in different periods—Western Catholics using unleavened today while Easter use leavened.

Wednesday morning, Jesus still intended to eat Passover on Thursday. His two disciples had begun to make preparations. His enemies had determined not to try to arrest him during the feast “lest there be a riot of the people” (Mark 14:2). That meant he was likely “safe” for the next week, since the “feast” included the seven days of Unleavened Bread that followed the Passover meal. Passover is the most family-­oriented festival in Jewish tradition. As head of his household Jesus would have gathered with his mother, his sisters, the women who had come with him from Galilee, perhaps some of his close supporters in Jerusalem, and his Council of Twelve. It is inconceivable that a Jewish head of a household would eat the Passover segregated from his family with twelve male disciples. This was no Passover meal. Something had gone terribly wrong so that all his Passover plans were changed.

Jesus had planned a special meal Wednesday evening alone with his Council of Twelve in the upper room of the guesthouse. The events of the past few days had brought things to a crisis and he knew the confrontation with the authorities was unavoidable. In the coming days he expected to be arrested, delivered to the Romans, and possibly crucified. He had intentionally chosen the time and the place—Passover in Jerusalem—to confront the powers that be. There was much of a private nature to discuss with those upon whom he most depended in the critical days ahead. He firmly believed that if he and his followers offered themselves up, placing their fate in ­God’s hands, that the Kingdom of God would manifest itself. He had intentionally fulfilled two of Zechariah’s prophecies—riding into the city as King on the foal, and symbolically removing the “traders” from the “house of God.”

At some point that day Jesus had learned that Judas Iscariot, one of his trusted Council of Twelve, had struck a deal with his enemies to have Jesus arrested whenever there was an opportunity to get him alone, away from the crowds. How Jesus knew of the plot we are not told but during the meal he said openly, “One of you who is eating with me will betray me” (Mark 14:18). His life seemed to be unfolding according to some scriptural plan. Had not David written in the Psalms, “Even my bosom friend, in whom I trusted, who ate of my bread, has lifted the heel against me” (Psalm 41:9).

Our earliest account of that last meal on Wednesday night comes from Paul, not from any of our gospels. Writing to Corinth around a.d. 54, Paul said he “received” from Jesus: “Jesus on the night he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, ‘This is my body that is broken for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me’.” These words are repeated with only slight variations in Mark, Matthew, and Luke. What is the historical likelihood that this tradition, based on what Paul said he “received” from Jesus, represents what Jesus said at that last meal?

At every Jewish meal, bread is broken, wine is shared, and blessings are said over each—but the idea of eating human flesh and drinking blood, even symbolically, is completely alien to Judaism. Noah and his descendants were first given the prohibition against “eating blood. ” Moses likewise forbade it. James, the brother of Jesus, later mentions this as one of the “necessary requirements” for non-­Jews to join the Nazarene community—they are not to eat blood (Acts 15:20). These restrictions concern the blood of animals. Consuming human flesh and blood was not forbidden, it was simply inconceivable. This general sensitivity to the very idea of “drinking blood” precludes the likelihood that Jesus would have used such symbols.

So where does this body/blood language originate? If it first surfaces in Paul, and he did not in fact get it from Jesus, then what was its source? The closest parallels are certain Greco-­Roman magical rites. The symbolic eating of “flesh” and drinking of “blood” was a magical rite of union in Greco-­Roman culture.  And we have to consider that Paul grew up in the Greco-­Roman culture of the city of Tarsus outside of Israel. He never met or talked to Jesus, but was a “visionary” connection (not Jesus as a flesh-and-blood being). When the Twelve met to replace Judas, after Jesus had been killed, they insisted that to be part of their group one had to have been with Jesus from the time of John the Baptizer through his crucifixion.  Seeing visions and hearing voices were not accepted as qualifications for an apostle.

Even more telling, John recounts the events of that last Wednesday night meal but there is absolutely no reference to these words of Jesus instituting this new ceremony of the Eucharist. If Jesus in fact had inaugurated the practice of eating bread as his body, and drinking wine as his blood at this “last supper” how could John possibly have left it out? What John writes is that Jesus sat down to the supper, by all indications an ordinary Jewish meal. After supper he got up, took a basin of water and a cloth, and began to wash his disciples’ feet as an example of how a Teacher and Master should act as a servant—even to his disciples. Jesus then began to talk about how he was to be betrayed and John tells us that Judas abruptly left the meal.

Mark’s gospel is very close in its theological ideas to those of Paul. It seems likely that Mark, writing a decade after ­Paul’s account of the last supper, inserts this “eat my body” and “drink my blood” tradition into his gospel, influenced by what Paul has claimed to have received. Matthew and Luke both base their narratives wholly upon Mark, and Luke is an unabashed advocate of Paul as well. Everything seems to trace back to Paul. As we will see, there is no evidence that the original Jewish followers of Jesus, led by Jesus’ brother James ever practiced any rite of this type. Like all Jews they did sanctify wine and bread as part of a sacred meal, and they likely looked back to the “night he was betrayed,” remembering that last meal with Jesus.

Is there anything that might shed light on the original practice of Jesus’ followers. Yes.  The Didache was found–dates to the early 2nd century, and its full title meaning: “The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles”–an early Christian “instruction manual.” It has a section on the Eucharist—the sacred meal of bread and wine. It offers the following blessings over wine and bread:

“With respect to the Eucharist you shall give thanks as follows. First with respect to the cup: “We give you thanks our Father for the holy vine of David, your child which you made known to us through Jesus your child. To you be the glory forever.” And with respect to the bread: “We give you thanks our Father for the life and knowledge that you made known to us through Jesus your child. To you be the glory forever.”

Notice there is no mention of the wine representing blood or the bread representing flesh. And yet this is a record of the early Christian Eucharist meal! Evidently this community of Jesus’ followers knew nothing about the ceremony that Paul advocates. If ­Paul’s practice had truly come from Jesus surely this text would have included it.  N.B., unless assumed to be known.

In Jewish tradition it is the cup of wine that is blessed first, then the bread. That is the order we find here in the Didache. But in ­Paul’s account of the ­“Lord’s Supper” he has Jesus bless the bread first, then the cup of wine—just the reverse. It might seem an unimportant detail until one examines ­Luke’s account of the words of Jesus at the meal. Although he basically follows the tradition from Paul, unlike Paul Luke reports first a cup of wine, then the bread, and then another cup of wine! The bread and the second cup of wine he interprets as the “body” and “blood” of Jesus. But with respect to the first cup—in the order one would expect from Jewish tradition—there is nothing said about it representing “blood.” Rather Jesus says, “I tell you that from now on I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom comes.” This tradition of the first cup, found now only in Luke, is a leftover clue of what must have been the original tradition before the Pauline version was inserted, now confirmed by the Didache.

Understood in this light, this last meal makes historical sense. Jesus told his closest followers, gathered in secret in the Upper Room, that he will not share another meal with them until the Kingdom of God comes. He knows that Judas will initiate events that very night, leading to his arrest. His hope and prayer is that the next time they sit down together to eat, giving the traditional Jewish blessing over wine and bread—the Kingdom of God will have come.

In the gospel of John, a “beloved” disciple is mentioned half a dozen times, and was seated next to Jesus, leaned back and put his head on Jesus’ breast during the meal. Even though tradition holds that this is John the fisherman, it makes much better sense that such intimacy was shared between Jesus and his younger brother James. No matter how ingrained the image might be in Christian imagination, it makes no sense to imagine John son of Zebedee seated next to Jesus, and leaning on his breast.

Before Jesus’ death, the gospel of John tells us that Jesus put the care of his mother into the hands of this “disciple whom he loved.” How could this possibly be anyone other than James his brother, who was now to take charge of the family as head of the household?

Jesus led his band to Gethsemane. Judas got the authorities who could now grab him when no crowds were near. Jesus’ disciples were tired. Sleep was the last thing on Jesus’ mind, and he was never to sleep again. His all-­night ordeal was about to begin. He began to feel very distressed, fearful, and deeply grieved. He wanted to pray for strength for the trials that he knew would soon begin. Mark tells us that he prayed that if possible the “cup would be removed from him.” Jesus urged his disciples to pray with him but the meal, the wine, and the late hour took their toll. They all fell asleep.