This weekend's scripture passages place the Church with the two apostles on the road to Emmaus. Like all the moments of encounter described in the gospel accounts, this is not just a story to be recounted, but a story to be lived. In fact, whether or not we realize it we are indeed living this moment of disbelief, reassurance and faith in the light of Easter.
Do not be afraid
Last Saturday evening, I stood with a crowd impossible to count in the Circus Maximus in Rome. People from all corners of the earth were there, and even as the crowds of people were still filing in, there were was a group of about twenty who began to sing. Accompanied by three guitars and a jimbay (a hand drum), this group sang joyful songs and the rhythm of the music was infectious. It wasn't long before their group of dancers, who encircled the musicians, began to grow, and then as if by magic, there were more musicians who also joined in. Not everyone involved understood the Spanish that was being uttered, but that wasn't important. Music has a way of transcending the boundaries of language to unite hearts. I couldn't help thinking that this was one of the gifts of John Paul II's papacy: finding means to transcend the barriers that separate us, so that we can grow closer, so that we can share one another's joys and trials.
All through Rome last weekend, people streamed in. From all corners of the world, they came. The organizers of the Beatification ceremony decided that they would not issue tickets for the liturgies, or for the events which had been planned. To do so would be just too complicated, and would risk closing a door to some who would want to be there. Not since the funeral of John Paul has Rome seen so many pilgrims arrive, but then again, during his twenty-seven year pontificate, he had so often surprised everyone with words and gestures that both challenged us and nourished our hearts and souls. Throughout the city, banners hung from the lampposts. In this case, they did not depict the nations flag, but pictures of John Paul, close to the people he served. Emblazoned on each banner were words he had uttered, phrases he had used to call us to action.
Do not be afraid. Open wide the doors of your hearts to Christ. These words, spoken to the world at the beginning of his pontificate, became the theme of his work among us. They also formed the theme of our reflections as we gave thanks to God throughout the weekend for all he had accomplished through this faithful servant. These words still echo in my ears and my heart as I stand here among you this weekend, in the midst of the Church's liturgy, having read the story of the road to Emmaus just a few moments ago.
Each of us gathered here, each of us who is a disciple of Jesus, each of us is on the road to Emmaus. Like Cleopas and the other disciple who accompanied him on that day, we too are coming to believe the full meaning of the Lord's resurrection. This is a life-long process that is guided and deepened each time that we hear the stories of our salvation recounted in the scriptures. It begins when we are baptised, and is nourished when we receive the other sacraments, but all of us are at some level timid about believing the true power of the gift of faith entrusted to us. In some way or other, we are all like those two disciples on the road, slow of heart to believe all that has been declared. We all need voices in today's world to encourage us to not be afraid and to open wide the doors of our hearts to Christ.
This weekend, we celebrate Mothers' Day, a time to give thanks for the gift of our mothers. Apart from our heavenly mother, each of us has only one mother in this world: the one who has hoped and dreamed for us from the time we were born. Mothers are often the ones who most consistently welcome us and support us. They are the ones who believe in us sometimes even when we find it difficult to believe in ourselves. Was this not what Jesus was doing with the disciples on the road to Emmaus? Was this not what John Paul II did throughout his earthly life with those entrusted to his care? Is this not what our faith continues to proclaim to us in the scriptures we read?
Confidence in faith, like in all other aspects of life, becomes stronger the more it is tested. Even the apostles needed to hear the words of Jesus: Peace be with you ... do not be afraid. More than once in the post-resurrection accounts, we see Jesus appearing to them, encouraging their hearts, gently prodding them to believe. Why should we be any different? Perhaps as we hear the story of Peter speaking on the day of Pentecost, we too are amazed at the conviction in his words. Maybe we have difficulty believing that Peter himself would also have written the words we heard proclaimed in the second reading of today's Mass: you were ransomed ... not with silver and gold ... but with the precious blood of Christ. These are words of conviction, words that come from the heart of one who himself was tested, words from one who also knew what it was like to be afraid, but who had come to believe and to trust. These words were spoken by the same Peter who had denied Jesus, by him who had been fortunate enough to know the gift of Jesus' forgiveness in the repeated question Do you love me? Perhaps we too have known the fear that tempts us to deny knowing Jesus. Maybe we have even known the intimate experience of hearing Jesus ask, Do you love me? For every time that we deny him, he always responds with this gentle invitation to renew our commitment to be his disciple.
Today, Jesus calls to each of us with the invitation Do not be afraid. Open wide the doors of your hearts. Let us respond with hearts that also burn within us with the excitement of faith, with the enthusiasm to share the Good News, with the conviction to call others to believe.
Last Saturday evening, I stood with a crowd impossible to count in the Circus Maximus in Rome. People from all corners of the earth were there, and even as the crowds of people were still filing in, there were was a group of about twenty who began to sing. Accompanied by three guitars and a jimbay (a hand drum), this group sang joyful songs and the rhythm of the music was infectious. It wasn't long before their group of dancers, who encircled the musicians, began to grow, and then as if by magic, there were more musicians who also joined in. Not everyone involved understood the Spanish that was being uttered, but that wasn't important. Music has a way of transcending the boundaries of language to unite hearts. I couldn't help thinking that this was one of the gifts of John Paul II's papacy: finding means to transcend the barriers that separate us, so that we can grow closer, so that we can share one another's joys and trials.
All through Rome last weekend, people streamed in. From all corners of the world, they came. The organizers of the Beatification ceremony decided that they would not issue tickets for the liturgies, or for the events which had been planned. To do so would be just too complicated, and would risk closing a door to some who would want to be there. Not since the funeral of John Paul has Rome seen so many pilgrims arrive, but then again, during his twenty-seven year pontificate, he had so often surprised everyone with words and gestures that both challenged us and nourished our hearts and souls. Throughout the city, banners hung from the lampposts. In this case, they did not depict the nations flag, but pictures of John Paul, close to the people he served. Emblazoned on each banner were words he had uttered, phrases he had used to call us to action.
Do not be afraid. Open wide the doors of your hearts to Christ. These words, spoken to the world at the beginning of his pontificate, became the theme of his work among us. They also formed the theme of our reflections as we gave thanks to God throughout the weekend for all he had accomplished through this faithful servant. These words still echo in my ears and my heart as I stand here among you this weekend, in the midst of the Church's liturgy, having read the story of the road to Emmaus just a few moments ago.
Each of us gathered here, each of us who is a disciple of Jesus, each of us is on the road to Emmaus. Like Cleopas and the other disciple who accompanied him on that day, we too are coming to believe the full meaning of the Lord's resurrection. This is a life-long process that is guided and deepened each time that we hear the stories of our salvation recounted in the scriptures. It begins when we are baptised, and is nourished when we receive the other sacraments, but all of us are at some level timid about believing the true power of the gift of faith entrusted to us. In some way or other, we are all like those two disciples on the road, slow of heart to believe all that has been declared. We all need voices in today's world to encourage us to not be afraid and to open wide the doors of our hearts to Christ.
This weekend, we celebrate Mothers' Day, a time to give thanks for the gift of our mothers. Apart from our heavenly mother, each of us has only one mother in this world: the one who has hoped and dreamed for us from the time we were born. Mothers are often the ones who most consistently welcome us and support us. They are the ones who believe in us sometimes even when we find it difficult to believe in ourselves. Was this not what Jesus was doing with the disciples on the road to Emmaus? Was this not what John Paul II did throughout his earthly life with those entrusted to his care? Is this not what our faith continues to proclaim to us in the scriptures we read?
Confidence in faith, like in all other aspects of life, becomes stronger the more it is tested. Even the apostles needed to hear the words of Jesus: Peace be with you ... do not be afraid. More than once in the post-resurrection accounts, we see Jesus appearing to them, encouraging their hearts, gently prodding them to believe. Why should we be any different? Perhaps as we hear the story of Peter speaking on the day of Pentecost, we too are amazed at the conviction in his words. Maybe we have difficulty believing that Peter himself would also have written the words we heard proclaimed in the second reading of today's Mass: you were ransomed ... not with silver and gold ... but with the precious blood of Christ. These are words of conviction, words that come from the heart of one who himself was tested, words from one who also knew what it was like to be afraid, but who had come to believe and to trust. These words were spoken by the same Peter who had denied Jesus, by him who had been fortunate enough to know the gift of Jesus' forgiveness in the repeated question Do you love me? Perhaps we too have known the fear that tempts us to deny knowing Jesus. Maybe we have even known the intimate experience of hearing Jesus ask, Do you love me? For every time that we deny him, he always responds with this gentle invitation to renew our commitment to be his disciple.
Today, Jesus calls to each of us with the invitation Do not be afraid. Open wide the doors of your hearts. Let us respond with hearts that also burn within us with the excitement of faith, with the enthusiasm to share the Good News, with the conviction to call others to believe.
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