My friends, we continue this week marveling at the Resurrection of Jesus, what it meant for him, what it meant for his first followers and what it means for us.  It is important for us to ponder this event in the life of our brother Jesus and somehow make sense of it, as his followers, so as to allow his message to live on in our lives.  Otherwise, the Resurrection just becomes a tenant of our faith, something we say “yes” to, but which has little or no effect in our lives.

We as Jesus’ followers really have it easy from the standpoint of having heard about the Resurrection all of our lives and so in some ways, believing in it as we do other tenets of our faith may be no problem because we have believed for so long and perhaps that may be a problem for us too in that it encourages complacency. We criticize Thomas for not believing, but we have to remember that he and the others had no reference point for this marvelous happening—they had never heard of anyone being resurrected, nor did they fully know what that meant.  We have to remember from last week, that resurrection wasn’t like being resuscitated—resurrection was something totally different that Jesus had come through!  The other 10 apostles believed because they had seen—Thomas hadn’t the gift of sight as of yet, in more ways than one. Jesus’ comforting words have come down through the years to us, his followers—“Blessed are those who have not seen, but yet believed!” We basque in those words, but what do they really mean to us?

So to us the question we asked last week of those first witnesses to the Resurrection; just what did they believe must be addressed. What do we who have not seen, actually believe? We say we believe that Jesus rose from the dead—somehow moved on to the next life that we all believe we will experience one day. So what does that then signal?

First, it’s important to remember and realize that Jesus didn’t just come as someone who performed great wonders for us to marvel at as in a good story. Jesus came to demonstrate a way of life that each of us, as his followers is called to.  Jesus’ miracles and wonders were not meant to be a show to astound us—no; they were meant to be first a sign that indeed he is the Messiah, come to save us from ourselves and second that he came to show us how to live lives of service, of care, of responsibility—for ourselves and for all others.

Each year, in the parts of the country and world that move from the cold and barrenness of winter to the new life of spring; we have a wonderful sign and symbol of what the Resurrection should mean and bring forth in our lives—the gifts of the Spirit that allow us to reach out to our world, sharing the good news of a life lived totally out of love, not for himself, but as a servant for others—Jesus, our brother and friend.

Perhaps because of the promise of new life that spring brings, our Church often times confirms young people in their faith at this time of year—asking them to say their mature “yes” to the promises that their parents and godparents have made for them all their lives.  Our mature “yeses” made at our confirmations, yeses that must be renewed throughout our lives, cause us hopefully to take the wonders of Jesus’ life and create the same in our lives as his followers.  The wonders, the signs were meant mainly to get our attention, not to stop there.  Jesus performed signs and wonders not as a show, but out of love for those in his world that he knew were suffering, were being treated unjustly, and were being abused.  He said, no, not as long as I am here!” We must do the same! Each of us is important—we can’t leave it to others.

My friend, Fr. Paul Nelson, said it this way:  “Our world needs the presence and spirit of each person who has been given life.  Confirmation calls us to give again our spirit, our thoughts, our convictions, our dialogue, to study willingly, so that we can help direct the course of good creative, redemptive and saving energy, for the earth, for humanity, for all of creation.”

Our first reading today comes from the Acts of the Apostles and relates how Peter and the others went among the people, no doubt empowered by the Spirit of Jesus to cure people of their afflictions.  I think we sometimes feel that we cannot follow in their footsteps because we do not have such powers.  And if we think that, then we would be wrong, because we haven’t allowed ourselves to see the larger picture.  Healing others comes in many ways—a simple smile, the willingness to truly listen to another when we think we are too busy—taking the time and effort to greet others we pass on the street, helping out with the ways that our church community tries to assist those needing our help in our community and world.  We underestimate what our gentle engaging with others can mean to an individual down on their luck or simply lonely.

I visit several people in our area through the Community Care Network sponsored by Winona Health.  Sometimes I feel like I don’t do much for them, but this week when visiting one of them, the realization came upon me that this person really enjoys having me here to talk to, to listen to his concerns, to be another human presence.

I know many of you are engaged in like endeavors.  Don’t underestimate the goodness of what you do.  For those of you at home caring for little ones, listening to them, teaching them to be people who are a credit to our world—don’t ever underestimate the wonders you are performing in what may seem, mundane.

Friends, the Easter Season calls each of us to wonder, to the task of pondering what our lives are all about in the context of our belief in our brother Jesus who gave all so that we each would have life, to the full.  And having life, to the full, will mean, sharing it with others.  May we each be blessed as we strive to be Easter people!

 

 

My friends, I decided for this Easter message, “to cut to the chase,” so to speak and just jump into the story of Easter as it is such a good story! I usually give you some exegesis but decided too to dispense with that and “spend” my words on the story as it is laid out for us today, because again, it is such a good story. It includes all the elements of a really good story: suspense, action, intrigue, and of course, love.

Let’s look at what we are told—Mary of Magdala goes to the tomb, early in the morning—she is looking for her friend who suffered a grievous death, not even two days ago, before her very eyes.  It was all so confusing that day—no one had been able to anoint his body, as was their custom, a task she intended to do now. A secret friend at the Sanhedrin, Joseph of Arimathea had given Jesus a tomb and Mary made sure she knew where it was.  Because of the Sabbath and the prohibition of any, but necessary work; she couldn’t go to the tomb until after the holyday had passed.

She was the first to arrive at the tomb—she couldn’t stay away.  Upon arriving, much to her wonder and shock, she finds that the stone barring the entrance has been rolled away. Her immediate reaction is that Jesus’ body has been taken and this is what she reports to Peter and John.

These two disciples then run to the tomb to confirm that which they can’t yet believe. At this point all three are grieving Jesus’ death and they are looking for a body.  Upon inspecting the tomb and seeing the wrappings on the ground and the material covering his face rolled up in a different place, they suspect that something more than a grave robbing has occurred as was Mary’s first impression—if someone wanted to steal his body, they wouldn’t bother to unwrap it first is what exegetes tell us and no doubt the apostles were thinking as well.  When they saw the evidence, they believed, the Scriptures say.

And we might ask, “What is it that they believed?  It is important for us to remember that these first followers had no experience of a resurrection or of what that truly meant, even though Jesus had told them that he would rise after three days.

Now at this point, we have to fault those who chose the gospel reading for this Easter Sunday morn as they stop short of the ten verses of the story that flesh it out and make it truly the alleluia story that it is! For those of you who follow the lectionary closely, you will notice that today’s selection ends with verse 9 of the 20^th chapter of John, “Then the disciples went back to their homes.” Really! Come on guys, you’re going to end the story there?! (In fact, the selection was made by guys!)

So, I took some “literary license” and included the next 10 verses which includes Mary of Magdala’s poignant and wonderful encounter with her risen rabbi.  As a point of information regarding the word “rabbi” you will recall that earlier I mentioned that Mary had gone to the tomb looking for her “friend.” I said this because when she finally recognizes Jesus she calls him “Rabboni” which is a diminutive of the word Rabbi or teacher. It would be like calling him “teach” instead of “teacher.” Clearly their relationship was one of friendship!

Moving along then, from Mary’s position beside the tomb, where Scripture tells us, “She is weeping,” she discovers two angels when she looks inside the tomb to confirm that Jesus has truly gone—been taken—something! Everyone in this story seems to be on a different page because these creatures in “dazzling robes” ask her why she is weeping.  Now given what happened to Jesus not even two days ago, weeping seems a good reaction to me.  But these “dazzling” creatures had moved to the next page indeed, and Mary will be there soon as she then notices someone behind her who too is concerned about her weeping, but he goes further—“for whom are you looking?”  Now Mary assumes that he is the gardener and asks him if he knows where Jesus’ body has been taken. So our imaginations are piqued—why does she not recognize her rabbi, her friend, the one for which she weeps?

John Aurelio, in his book, Returnings tells us that what happened to Jesus was not a resuscitation where one would appear the same once oxygen was flowing again—Jesus was resurrected, something none of us understands any more than Jesus’ first followers did, but we can clearly surmise that something wonderful and life-changing had occurred because Mary can no longer recognize, at least physically, her friend.

Scripture does tell us though that at one point she does recognize him and it is when Jesus says her name, “Mary.”  No matter what resurrection has done to Jesus physically, she would always know the way he said her name. It is a bit like when we watch an old movie and recognize a character not by their looks, but by their voice. We can also think of our own loved ones and the special ways they name us, the special tone of voice, the special look reserved only for us and we know that what is at the heart of it is love.

Love is something that binds people over time and place and will always be, true.  Stories abound of people who have lost a loved one who later were most sure that they felt their presence in a certain situation, a physical manifestation in another human or animal form not of their loved one, or even in a manifestation of nature—a rainbow, a sunset.

We all recall the story of the disciples on the way to Emmaus who found they were walking with “a stranger” who was really Jesus, only they didn’t recognize him. When they arrived at their home, they invited the stranger in for the evening meal, still not recognizing him, but also not wanting to let him go, because, “their hearts burned within them” at his words.  They finally knew him in an action they had experienced with him so many times before—the breaking of the bread.

So friends, Easter calls us each year to recall the wonderful story of how much our God loves us and wants to share our wonderful lives with us, helping us to be all that we can be, loving us no matter what we do with our lives. And love is really the key—it’s what makes this story so good! When we know we are loved; we can do anything, accomplish any feat.  That’s all God really wanted us to know in sending Jesus—that each one of us is loved.

And because that is such an awesome task, our brother and friend, Jesus, asked us to continue what he could only begin. That is what being his follower calls us to—to see him in our world in all the ways that he showed himself while with us.  Because he advocated for the least among us; we must see him in the poor, the downtrodden, the forgotten, the lonely young and the lonely old, the women around our world not afforded their full rights as human beings simply because of having been born female. We must see our brother Jesus in anyone or group of individuals not treated justly in our world due to race, creed or sexual expression and what we must see is the link that connects us all as Easter people—the connection between us and all others is the love given so freely by Jesus in his life and death, so that we could, “all be one” finally, finally!

His resurrection, what we celebrate today and during the next 50 days in a special way is the realization that we are called to the same, to resurrected life where one day all will be fully accepted and loved as God’s own.  May the journey include us all as we strive to be our best! Amen? Amen! Alleluia!

 

Here is my homily for Good Friday–a bit late, but perhaps a good reflection as we move  toward Easter joy.  Mass tomorrow at 10 A.M. All are welcome!

Friends, we can hardly miss the starkness of this day—our liturgical space cries out with the bareness—no candles, no altar coverings, no liturgical drapes.  We are a bereft people on this day that marks the earthly, physical death of our brother, Jesus.  This is the way that any of us feels when a loved one dies—bereft, sad—somewhat lost, even though we have come to call the Memorial Services we do for deceased loved ones, “Celebrations of Life.”  The Church asks us to hold off on the celebration for a day or two and steep ourselves for a bit on what it is like to be without Jesus in our lives.

John’s gospel is always used on Good Friday because it gives us a different focus than the other accounts from Matthew, Mark and Luke.  We remember from Palm Sunday and Luke’s passion account that his focus was placed not so much on the detail of the suffering, but more on its meaning for each of us as depicted in Paul’s reading to the Philippians—“his state was divine, yet he did not cling to it, but became as each one of us.

In John’s account today, we simply heard Jesus say, in regard to his own personal needs, “I am thirsty.” His concern isn’t for himself but for his apostles—that they would be set free. When he does die, he simply gives up his spirit. We very much get the impression that John is trying to give; of Jesus being in control of all that is happening to him. He had the power to avail himself to what would be asked of him and he accepted his fate with no complaint.  As Isaiah said in the first reading; he did not cry out, even though he was badly abused.

Even with all the suffering Jesus was asked to bear, we see only the silence with which he carried himself, so the silence built into today’s service is very appropriate.  Isaiah gives the truth to this notion as well—“you were like a lamb led to slaughter and didn’t open your mouth.”  John’s account does not include the purely human moments of the Last Supper or the agony in the garden.   John shows us Jesus as one who suffers, yes, but one who is truly the high priest spoken of today in the letter to the Hebrews—one who stands with us and loves us in all our weaknesses, continually calling us to more.

John’s purpose it would seem is to let us know that Jesus freely accepted his death and did not struggle against it—he lived his human existence constantly showing us how we must live and accepted the consequences in his time for living a life demanding justice for all.

The evangelist further tells us that because Jesus freely chooses death, he can just as freely choose life—the new life of the resurrection. This is our hope in Jesus— to one day do the same. In this spring-time of year, even though the snow insists on being with us!—the idea of resurrection is one we can get our hearts around—out of the cold and damp ground comes so much life.

Last evening we talked about gratitude being our response to our God for loving us so much in Jesus and that really continues to be our response today.  It calls to mind Paul’s letter to the Philippians—he was God, but did not hold onto that, but became human and took upon his shoulders our existence and as we said last evening, for no other reason, but love.

One can hardly walk through Holy Week and not come out on the other side believing anything but that we are loved by God.  We can all stand before our loving God unafraid because of Jesus—one who came among us and was so morally perfect, coming to be one with us, living by example what each of us is called to.  He only asked that we would follow in his footsteps. Sometimes that can feel daunting, but we must always remember that we will not have to do it alone—Jesus will be with us and knowing that takes my fear away—I hope it does yours as well.  After today—we begin walking toward Easter joy—this is our hope—because of Jesus, we all will have new and everlasting life.

This next week on Monday, our sister Cathy Bartleson will have been gone one year already. Warren Galbus and Giles Schmid have also gone home to God since we last gathered for this service—others not from this community, but of our hearts have completed their life journeys.  May they all rest in peace now as we all look forward one day to that eternal life that Jesus opened up for each of us due to his life, death and resurrection.  And we continue our prayers for all those who are completing their life journeys at this time and for their families. May they and each of us know peace and many blessings today and always.

 

My homily from last evening–

Friends, this evening we begin the holy time of Triduum—a period of three days that more than any other time in our Church year, tells us in no uncertain terms, how much we are loved by our God, in Jesus.  As always, our God does this by working through our human experiences, our rituals, and our understandings, to bring us further along on our journey to God.  As this is true for us, it has been true through time.  Because the readings for this feast speak of rituals that aren’t part of our practice, much of this homily is exegesis on these past rituals of our Hebrew sisters and brothers, which I’ve shared with you before, but for our awareness, it is good to look at again.

In that light, we recall that the Exodus account relating how God repeated a practice that the Israelite people would have understood—that of a ritual killing of one of the flock to offer protection for the others, raised up that experience as a sign and symbol of God’s desire to protect and save them—giving them new life.  The placing of blood on the doorposts to signal those who should be protected from “the angel of death passing over” sounds strange to us, but the Israelite people did the same thing when they yearly moved their flocks, being a nomadic people.  One animal was sacrificed (a scapegoat, as it were) and its blood was sprinkled around the edges of the camp to protect the rest of the flock.  To this people, the practice made sense; but they were amazed by the realization that their God would do this for them as well—would in fact bring them out of slavery with such power and graciousness. Their only response could be—thankfulness.

The readings tonight bring us full circle showing all the connections, past to present to future.  God intervened in time—in the past, to make the Israelites a people and once again, in time, giving us Jesus, the perfect, unblemished one, who would show us the way, save us, as it were, from our humanity and raise us up with him, in time, to perfection with God.

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is a simple recitation of what was given to him about Jesus’ saving action for each of us.  Jesus would always be with us in the bread and the wine—as often as we remember his action among us.  Holy Thursday is traditionally the night we remember this great gift of love Jesus gave us.  During the Triduum each year, people are received into the Church through baptism, the Eucharist and confirmation. This actually takes place at the Easter Vigil and it is good for us to think about the joy these new ones feel upon being received into the Church—a partaking of these initial sacraments—a reminder to each of us, I think, to never take lightly what we do here. For most of us, these initiating sacraments took place at a tender age and only at our confirmations, were we mature enough so as to make a strong commitment to live as a Christian. The Church is wise, I believe, to challenge us during the Triduum each year to renew our baptismal promises and our commitment to our brother Jesus in our lives.

Our gospel reading tonight is profound in many ways as it opens up all that will happen in the next days.  The washing of the feet comes at a strange place in the gospel account—ordinarily the washing of feet happens when people first arrive at another’s home, as a point of hospitality, walking the dusty streets of Galilee in sandals, not after they were already at dinner.  But, as is always the case with Jesus— he was about a teachable moment.

Jesus was demonstrating in a lovely way the humility with which we should meet and greet all who we encounter in our lives as Christians.  At first, Peter didn’t get it—he saw this action as Jesus’ self-abasement and he wouldn’t be part of it.  Of course the importance of Jesus’ action wasn’t in its physical, but its spiritual nature.  Peter needed to get beyond himself—this is what Jesus was saying—it is about service to others and if,  like Peter, we want to be one with Jesus, we must do just that, serve others.

Peter finally realizes the true significance of Jesus washing his feet, just as we did a bit ago—it is not about personal self-abasement, either for Jesus or for Peter—this is something much bigger. Jesus wanted him and us to know in no uncertain terms that following him is about service, so he was making the point in choosing to serve them!

It is good for us tonight to reflect on the Last Supper of Jesus from a purely human standpoint, pondering just what this had to have meant to him emotionally. Sometimes, we “stay up” in the spiritual-theological realm and forget Jesus’ humanity, laden with emotions, at a time like this.

He had spent three years with this group of disciples and friends, grooming them, showing them the way to go, to be in this world—in his footsteps. No doubt he grew to love them dearly. He knew all their strengths and weaknesses and loved them into all that they could be, for themselves, and the world that was waiting for the message that they had to share. This was his last time to be with them in a meaningful way—his last time to teach them all he wanted them to know. No doubt this was his last time with his mother—we can only imagine what a profound experience this was for him! We miss a big part of who Jesus was if we don’t allow him to be human so as to give us comfort in our humanity—to show us the way.

The Triduum friends, calls us to reflect on three themes:  First is God’s Passover which basically says to us that for no other reason than love, our God offers us salvation, nourishment and service.  In other words, our God is always with us—Creator, Savior, Spirit—One God, living and loving us forever and ever.

The second theme that should be ever before us during these days is our response to such a loving action on God’s part.  When we contemplate that we have been saved and uplifted in Jesus through his life, death and resurrection to then carry on the gift of his body and blood at the Last Supper and on Calvary by ourselves becoming his body and blood for our world, we should so totally be opened up to God graciousness that our only response can be that of thanksgiving too, just as the Israelites, so long ago.

The final theme that is offered to us during these days follows these first two very well—and that is, wonder at God’s love for us!  It has been said, “The wonder is not ….that God could do this, but that God would!”

Holy Thursday has traditionally been a day to give thanks for the gift of Holy Orders and it is with great thanks that I reflect on my own ordination almost 8 years ago, and the privilege of pastoring this fine community.

As the season of Lent comes to an end; I think it is good to reflect on the love each of us has for our families—spouses, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and all our extended family members.  We remember too those who have gone on to their eternal reward from this community over the past year: Cathy Bartleson, Warren Galbus and Giles Schmid. As we love all those dear to us and would do anything for them; we must realize that Our God loves us in this same way, only more so.  So when things go awry in our lives, let us remember that our God is close—crying with us in our sorrows, celebrating with us in our joys.  If it were any other way, we as humans, as God’s creation, could not love our families as we do—the love comes first from God, and it will show itself in the love we give to others.

So, if we ever wonder about God’s love, let us remember his final command to his first followers:  “As I have done, so you must do!”  This is a time, a night of great thankfulness, but also a time of challenge—our call is to now be Jesus’ body and blood for our world. We do that by reaching out in love to all that we meet each and every day. May we be blessed in that endeavor.

Media presentations often want to portray the passion of Jesus in much detail, yet as exegetes tell us, there are only three brief references to it in the passion account today:  First—his sweat became like drops of blood (Lk. 22:44), second—the men who held Jesus in custody were…beating him (Lk. 22:63), and third—they crucified him (Lk. 23: 33).  We are told further that the attention seems to be more on how the passion has and will affect our lives. Diane Bergant, scripture scholar, suggests that Paul’s beautiful hymn of praise to the Philippians seems the best way for us to understand Jesus’ passion, death and resurrection—while he does not minimize it; he also doesn’t spend undo time depicting it.  Rather, Paul really explains the suffering to us and tells us what it means. What happened to Jesus on Calvary and on the way there, happened because Jesus allowed it to happen, Bergant goes on to say.

Paul tells us that Jesus emptied himself, he took the condition of a slave—he humbled himself—he gave up all that was divine to be completely one with us.  That is something that can’t be minimized—he gave up everything to be one with us.  We need to remember this especially when suffering comes to us—we are not alone—our brother Jesus stands with us, as Paul says, he knows all that we have suffered.

In the society in which Jesus lived; he spoke out too powerfully—he questioned power that lorded it over the poor, the downtrodden, the women and the children—he lived and taught boldly that justice for all was a must—not just reserved for the high-born and privileged—or for the priestly class.  For those in Jesus’ time who didn’t like the message; death was the only way to silence such a voice. In our day, Pope Francis has boldly spoken out during his papacy with much the same message as our brother Jesus—we must pray that he continue to extend his reach for real change in our Church for women, for our LGBTQ sisters and brothers, ultimately, for us all—because when there is justice for all, then we all benefit—when there isn’t justice for all, we can’t nor should we enjoy justice ourselves—in other words, we should be convicted in our hearts and never cease striving for the good of all.

Bergant reminds us that the people who carried out Jesus’ execution attempted to humiliate him, but that he never lost his dignity.  We see that he experienced his humanity fully, asking that the cup he was about to bear be taken from him—yet in the end; he would be faithful to what was ahead of him. Those who wanted him silenced thought his death would do that once and for all—but little did they know or understand—that the truth cannot be silenced.  Out of pain and suffering come new life and glory.

This truth is a message we must always remember during Holy Week—we can’t get stuck in the death but must always see it in the light of the resurrection.  So while there is sadness in Jesus’ death—we must remember that it is only through death that new life can come—this is really a message for not just the Easter Season, but for all time.

Each of us has a span of time upon the earth—there is birth and death and all the wonderful and perhaps not so wonderful life experiences that come in between.  Each of us knows this and has experienced it in our own lives, especially as we have lost loved ones.  We don’t always understand death—the why and when of it.  We are not always ready to lose a mate of many years, parents, or close friends. Most people in fact, are not ready for such a significant change.  There is clearly a disconnect for us in our heads and hearts—often it takes a while for the two to catch up with each other.

Jesus lived his seemingly short adult years no doubt with the knowledge that taking a certain course, living and speaking a certain way, would bring him to his physical end that we know as Good Friday.  He was a man of his times—he was well-versed in the Scriptures of the First Testament—he probably prayed Isaiah’s words many times before, knowing that they, as others, would be fulfilled in him—“God gave him a well-trained tongue to speak the truth in a way that would sustain the lowly,” and for those words, he would suffer because truth isn’t always well-received by those in power.  Power can corrupt and blind those who hold it; blind them to the truth that each creature no matter how small and powerless, is as wonderful in God’s eyes as the most powerful.  It would seem that Pope Francis has a sense of this and we have seen him act in this regard in his first three years as pope.

And in all of this there is hope—our loving God does not miss the way the servant, Jesus or the way we as his followers are at times called to suffer.  Isaiah tells us today—the Most High is always there to support us as Jesus was and therefore as he was not dishonored nor shamed, neither will we be when we speak the truth—true power comes from that—not that we would lord it over others, but raise them up to new life.

Even Psalm 22 which is always used during Holy Week and is basically a “crying out” to God about the suffering and the seeming absence of God in the midst of the horrible things being done, has a hope-filled ending—we will praise God because God is always there—God never leaves us.  In fact, as Elizabeth Johnson, in her book, Quest for the Living God, says so well, “Whenever persons are caught in the grip of unjust suffering, where the life of the multitudes is throttled, gagged, slain or starved, there the Holy One is to be found, in gracious solidarity with the poor, calling the oppressors to conversion, giving birth to courage for protest, struggling to bring life out of death.” I find her words very hopeful in that it speaks of a God who is compassionate—who sees the suffering, is there to comfort, but also to challenge those who abuse others to change and become their best selves—to likewise give strength to those who are called to speak a word of truth, of challenge.

The first two readings as well begin with suffering, but end in trust.  Exegetes looking at these scriptures tell us that this is how we should frame Holy Week—recognize the suffering, but hold it in the context of trust in our loving God.  Life is about making choices—the gift of free-will.  The choices have consequences though—Jesus’ crucifixion happened as a direct result of his following his calling to raise up the lowly—to bring balance back—to make justice flow throughout the land.  It would seem this is the job ahead for Pope Francis. We must all pray for him to have the courage and strength to follow our brother, Jesus. We must all pray for each other that we won’t be complacent in our lives as we face our world—that we won’t just see the suffering, but do what we can to bring change, to bring justice, to bring compassion as the Dalai Lama has been advocating in his recent visit to Minnesota.

On this weekend celebrating Palm Sunday and Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem which really speaks to his triumphal entry into human existence; we are praying today for those in our midst living with Down Syndrome—the actual national day of remembrance is Monday, March 21^st this year.  Julie and Fred Gruber and their family have come once again to share their son, grandson and brother Simon with us and to be witnesses—yet another manifestation of our God with us.  We are grateful Fred and Julie that you and your family can be with us to raise our awareness.

And at this point I would invite us to extend our hands in blessing to Simon and to his family asking for all the help they need to raise and be family to him.

May the blessings of our God be upon you, we bless you in the name of our God.  May the blessings of our God be upon you—we bless you in the name of our God.

My friends, if we truly wish to follow Jesus’ lead, life calls us to see the faces of our God around us, in those we may see as different—in the poor, the down-trodden, the abused, all those who suffer unjustly and not just see them, but act in ways that can make change for the better in their lives. And as we do this work, call for justice; we can expect that people won’t always understand, won’t always appreciate our actions.  But we can also live with the knowledge that we are in good company and as the readings proclaim today; we will not be alone in this endeavor—our loving God will stand with us.   May your Holy Week be blessed!