Passion Sunday, April 14 (Year C) Isaiah 50:4-7; Psalm 22; Philippians 2:6-11; Luke 22:14-23:56

What is the difference between an ordinary person and one who is a prophet, teacher or saint?

What are you doing to leave a mark on this Earth?

Fourth Sunday of Lent, March 26 (Year A) 1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13; Psalm 23; Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9:1-41

Samuel must have been perplexed and exasperated.

VATICAN CITY - Jealousy and envy are ugly sins that grow like weeds in one's heart, Pope Francis said at his morning Mass.
A heart that is envious is not only tormented, but can even "lead one to kill," the Pope said Jan. 21 during the Mass in the chapel of Domus Sanctae Marthae.

All of us live with some wounds, bad habits, addictions and temperamental flaws that are so deeply engrained and long-standing that it seems like they are part of our genetic make-up. And so we tend to give into a certain quiet despair in terms of ever being healed of them.

Ascension of the Lord (Year B) May 17 (Acts 1:1-11; Psalm 47; Ephesians 1:17-23; Mark 16:15-20)

Acts I of Luke’s magnificent account of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus ended with the commission to the apostles in the upper room, the joyful reaction of His followers and the ascension of Jesus. When the curtain went up in Act II, Luke revisited the time between the Resurrection and the ascension. This time we are treated to a detailed account of what turns out to be a leisurely 40 days of instruction on the kingdom of God.

VATICAN CITY - God is knocking to come into people's lives, so be attentive, humble and courageous to let him in, Pope Francis said.

First Sunday of Advent (Year C) Dec. (Jeremiah 33:14-16; Psalm 25; 1 Thessalonians 3:12-4:2; Luke 21:25-28, 34-36)

There are often seeds of hope in the midst of ruin and devastation. The prophetic ministry of Jeremiah was discouraging, doleful and doomed to failure and he knew it. Many times in his ministry he was tempted to walk away from it but something always pulled him back — the words of God burned within him.

In the preceding chapter, Jeremiah bought a field even as the Babylonians began their final siege of Jerusalem in the early sixth century BC. It was Jeremiah’s way of witnessing to his faith in God’s promises and his hope for the future of the nation and its people. The chaos, turmoil and destruction around him comprised only one act of the drama that was being played out — the subsequent acts and the grand finale were on the distant horizon.

The oracle in today’s reading (it may be a later addition to the book) is similar in nature. It envisioned a messianic age in the future ruled by a descendant of the beloved King David. Justice would be the norm and Judah would live in security. The name given to the city of the future — the Lord is our righteousness — carried a double significance. First of all, the glorious life of the future was certainly going to be the work of God. For an oppressed and conquered people only God is able to deliver saving justice. In addition to the work of God the response of humans was important: the justice of God would have to be the standard by which the nation guided its collective life. This vision and many similar ones provided the people of Israel with courage and hope during the destruction of Jerusalem and the long years of exile in Babylon. Prophecy is often thought to be just endless forecasts of doom, but warning is only one aspect of prophecy. Giving hope and courage is an even more important part of the mission, as well as assuring the people that God was still with them. In this latter sense we all have a call to prophecy in these difficult times, for hope and courage are all too often in short supply. Even today people of faith and spirit everywhere can begin living the world of God’s future in their hearts and minds.

Love is at the very heart of all genuine human community and is the necessary ingredient for a just society. No other gimmicks or shortcuts will do. Paul or one of his followers prayed fervently that the mutual love of the community would increase and abound for holiness absolutely depended on it. When our lives are characterized by love for others and our principal desire is to live in a way pleasing to God then we are truly blameless before the Lord.

For the people of the first century, life was so brutal and corrupt that only a cataclysmic end at the hand of God and new creation would set the world straight. The apocalyptic language and cosmic symbolism of the Gospel passage was standard fare for both Christians and Jews of that time. The first Christians expected that these events would take place within their own lifetimes, and yet the world marched on and continues to do so. Nations and empires have risen and fallen, wars and revolutions have ravaged millions and the Earth has been torn by countless natural disasters. Throughout all of this many have “fainted with fear” and yet the prophecy insists that this is the time to hold one’s head up high, for redemption is near.

Once again, there is hope even in chaos and misery. Even though we might not expect the imminent demise of our world — although it is certainly possible at the hands of humans — the spiritual message still rings true. Pay attention to what is most important: love, compassion, justice and our relationship both with God and other people. We may not be able to predict the future and we do not know how long we will be on Earth, but if we are anchored in these divine principles and continually striving towards God, the time of the Lord’s return or the end of the world do not matter. Live a life pleasing to God, and treat the day as if it were your last — with joy, gratitude and a generous heart.

There is a special spot where I stand in front of Michelangelo’s Pieta every time I have the blessed fortune to enter the sublime majesty of St. Peter’s Basilica.

But there is an altogether sweeter spot in my heart that is deeply touched by attending churches whose glory is, shall we say, of a more radically humble nature.

We all know them. Things are always, well, just a little rag-tag on the liturgical front. Not in fidelity to the Mass, of course, but in the mechanics of the service. A glitch here. A stumble there. A perpetual air of excited uncertainty hangs over all.

The choir is always a titch off-key or late finding the opening words behind the organ’s roar. When there is no choir, the psalm and hymns are carried by one brave soul whose vocal range truly is a testament to soul-filled bravery. An unfamiliar word or name from the Old Testament invariably stymies the lay reader of the first lesson as if he or she is about to sneeze. The congregants scatter in the pews like dropped copies of last week’s unread parish bulletin, maintaining valiant indifference to forgetting when to stand, sit or kneel. The priest is inevitably a genuine model of Christian patience implacably enduring every blip and blemish.

I love such churches not merely as a reminder, but as a lived experience, of the fullness of the humanity at the heart of our faith. I find their foibles not a distraction but, on the contrary, an aid to focusing on why I am there.

For while Our Lord admonished us to “be perfect as your Father in Heaven is perfect,” we are all there to try and try again to live up to His standard, aren’t we? Indeed, even He, born perfect and without sin, did not always find it easy to bear His humanity lightly, did He?

“What stuck out for me was the humanness of Jesus,” Paul Henderson told me recently in speaking about his first trip to the Holy Land. “The fact that He had to walk around that dusty road; He got dirty; He got tired. You wonder where He spent the night. We stayed in beautiful places. Jesus didn’t have those.

“I understood His humanness a lot better by being there. I was standing where He lived. I could picture Him on the shore asking ‘did you catch any fish? Maybe you should throw the net out on the other side.’ Almost playing with them.”

Henderson, of course, is the hockey immortal who gave Canada the winning goal and the saving grace of eking out victory against the Soviet Union in the 1972 Summit Series. His autobiography, The Goal of My Life, was released earlier this fall to mark the 40th anniversary of the greatest single moment in Canadian sports history.

Yet from the book’s opening pages, and from the opening moment of the interview I did with him for the forthcoming issue of Convivium magazine, no doubt exists that the man famous for his electrifying goal has made the true goal of his life the stumble toward the Cross. His greatness as a hockey player, he makes plain, is as nothing to the smallness of his humanity before Christ.

Henderson states frankly (Convivium magazine memberships are available at www.cardus. ca/convivium) that it took him more than a few slips to find his way home to God following the Summit Series. He defiantly kept his back turned to the Christian Church of his youth until he had to face himself.

“I finally realized that it’s God’s work, not my work. He uses us and that’s the dumbest plan He ever had in His life as far as I’m concerned — using dipsticks like me,” Henderson says with typical bluntness in the interview. “But God does say that we are to be His ambassadors. That’s the only plan there is. When I look at the 12 disciples that He chose, if I had been in His place, I don’t think I would have chosen any of them. But God looks at the heart. God knows what’s in the heart.”

The human heart naturally responds to the staggering creative genius of a Michelangelo. It reverberates with moments of victory that bring an entire nation to its feet. But I am certain God knows the heart as a radically humble place, too, the not-quite-right place that has a glory all its own.