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Two weeks ago in the Sunday Gospel, Jesus instructs the Apostles that if they are not welcomed wherever they go, they should “shake the dust from their sandals” and leave that place. The Lord’s instruction that the disciples should leave the place where they are not welcomed makes perfectly good sense and follows Jesus’ teaching that we have dignity and should never surrender that God-given trait, even if it seems the only way to win peace or harmony.

As we recall the opening Gospel on Palm Sunday, the crowds placed Jesus on the back of a donkey and placed a purple robe around our Lord and waved palms at him as he entered Jerusalem. They, who did not fully understand Jesus, believed him to be the Messiah, long-promised by the Prophets. However, the King, who they anticipated, would be a “Warrior-King” who would usher in a new age in which all Israel’s enemies would submit to the truth, abandon their false gods and worship the One, True, God whose Ark of the Covenant linked the Jewish people to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in a bond of love because Israel was his Chosen People. As we know from salvation history, the Kingship which they believed Jesus would exercise could not be further from the images they conjured from the Scriptures. To the contrary, their King would be condemned, flogged, crowned with thorns, nailed to a Cross and hung in public view for having been found guilty of blasphemy by the Jewish religious authority, and as a threat to civil peace by the Romans. So much for the earthly kingship of Jesus Christ.

Last weekend, the Church observed Divine Mercy Sunday, which was our annual opportunity to ask God our Father, to apply the infinite merits of the Cross to the plight of our actual world, in atonement for our personal sins and in reparation for our sins as a Church.  St. John Paul II incorporated this feast into the liturgical calendar while he was pontiff. He also insisted that it coincide with the Second Sunday of Easter. The Chaplet of Divine Mercy begins: “Holy Father, we offer you the body and blood, soul and divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ, in atonement of our sins and those of the whole world.”

Many of us bear crosses which are hidden from the world.  They come in many shapes and sizes — but, like the Cross of Christ, they weigh us down; they bring us pain; they crush our spirit; they may even lead us to ask — as did Jesus:  “my God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

Well, the sentence is in: “We’ve all been found guilty of sin.” But the Judge is clement — in fact, he is merciful. While we deserve a much more harsh punishment for our transgressions against his Laws — God has given us another chance to make things right. We are on probation for six weeks — 40 some days in which we, through prayer, fasting and charity, are called to turn our lives around for the better. We are to refrain from sinning and seek holiness wherever we can. We are to turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel, which is to say, we are to be faithful to the Good News of God’s love made incarnate in Jesus.

We all have Christmas expectations.  We imagine that Christmas should be marked by snowflakes gently falling from the sky; not a lot of snow that would cause travel hazards, just a little coating of the white stuff so that it looks like a Currier & Ives postcard.  Instead, maybe we get a “nor’easter.”

In just a few days, we will once again gather around the dining room table and give thanks for our blessings by sharing a prayer, a bountiful feast and the company of loved ones.  Afterwards, maybe we’ll enjoy a nap, some football and, top off the meal with pumpkin pie, a kiss goodnight and a sigh of relief that a COVID vaccine is on the horizon.  Meanwhile, we must continue to wear our masks, keep social distance of six feet from each other, wash our hands frequently and avoid large groups.

I met a man in his 50s who openly acknowledged that he has never voted in a presidential election in his life. According to this individual, he has always done alright by the outcome. Personally, if I were he, I would not brag about my complacency. Is it that demanding to take a few minutes and select the candidates one wants to serve in federal, state or local positions of leadership? When the framers of the Constitution of the United States drafted their amendments and articles, one of the first things they did was emphasize each citizen’s right to vote. Unfortunately, at the time, this only applied to white males. With the 19th  Amendment, women were granted and guaranteed the right to vote. Now, all citizens of every gender, race or ethnic background has not only the right but a civic duty to cast votes on Election Day, which is always the first Tuesday of the month of November.

9/11 Memorial & Museum, which coordinates the ceremonies held at the site of the former World Trade Center, announced that this year there would be no “Roll Call of Names” or “Tribute in Light” that were an integral part of the yearly remembrance held on Patriot Day. Survivors of those who died at the Twin Towers, as well as first responders and elected officials were outraged. The reason the 9/11 Memorial & Museum wanted to delete these two customs was for fear that the large crowds drawn by both the Roll Call and the Tribute in Light would make it impossible to practice social distancing and thereby spread more cases of the coronavirus.

Several years ago, I went to Portugal for the First Communion of my buddy’s son.  While I was there, I had the good fortune of visiting Fatima — where, in 1918, the Blessed Mother appeared to three shepherd children: Lucia, her cousin Jacinta and her brother Francisco. Lucia would later become a Carmelite nun in Coimbra. Francisco died a year after the apparitions and his sister shortly thereafter. The latter two have since been canonized and Lucia’s cause for canonization is gaining momentum. I was awestruck as I watched pilgrims arrive at the shrine after walking there on foot — some, making the final approach on their knees for almost one thousand feet. Most of these pilgrims are desperate people who are either pleading with Mary to assist them in their need or, having experienced a miracle, are there to thank the Mother of God for favors received.

If ever we felt like the world was going to end, it would be here and now. COVID-19 has incapacitated all walks of life and paralyzed the workplace, schools, hospitals and even our Church. Who would have thought a year ago that we would all have to don masks when not able to keep six feet from others? Who would have thought that our children’s schools would be closed for six months and Zoom would become the new classroom? Who would have believed that ordinations to the diaconate and priesthood in our own diocese would be postponed to late summer?

Nicodemus appears only in the Gospel of John. In fact, the evangelist dedicates the first half of chapter 3 to this man. [John 3:1-21]

Over the past months, Catholics of our diocese have been tuning in to the virtual liturgy of their choice every Sunday.  While the benefits of the virtual Mass cannot be denied, it does have its limitations.  First and foremost is the fact that watching Mass and being there are two different things. The participation of those watching the liturgy on YouTube, Facebook or TV is done in isolation, not in community.  From apostolic times, what distinguished Christians from their neighbors of other religions was the emphasis on community. Religion was never perceived as an individual affair, albeit does contain an individual component which we call “personal prayer.” From the earliest records, we have learned that Christians gathered in groups for worship, whence arose the concept of “Assembly of the faithful” or “Ecclesia” in Greek. From this term, the German  “Kirche” translates into the English word “Church.” 

The man born blind displays no arrogance whatsoever. He refuses to pass judgment on Jesus. He’s still not ready for a full confession of faith but there is one thing he does know: “I have received my sight,” an unquestionable fact. The Pharisees, though, leave the man with one choice: if you follow Jesus, then you are no longer a disciple of Moses. This counteraction of Moses to Jesus is seen by the Pharisees as the worst possible sin: to no longer be a disciple of Moses made the man born blind guilty of apostasy.

Last night, I watched a movie entitled “Captain Correlli’s Mandolin.” There I was amazed to find a minor theme which dovetails a major lesson projected through the Gospel account of the woman at the well. In the movie, situated on a Greek island during World War II, we find the Italian army, led by Nicholas Cage as Capt. Antonio Correlli. At this time in history, Mussolini and Hitler were allies. As such, after taking Albania, the Italians descended into Greece so, naturally, we find bitterness between the Italian soldiers and the villagers. This is underscored by the bitter attitude of a Greek physician’s daughter, portrayed by Penelope Cruz. In the film, she initially spurns the romantic advances of the musically-gifted Capt. Correlli because he is too light-hearted about the seriousness of war. It seemed his soldiers were more interested in having a good time than in fighting.

In the 1944, Harold Arken and Johnny Mercer wrote the music and lyrics to a song entitled: “Ac-cent-Tchu-Ate The Positive.” Bing Crosby recorded the tune and it was a big hit. The key to happiness sings the crooner is contained in the lyrics: “you’ve got to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative and watch out for Mr. In-Between.” Initially written to console a war-tired nation, the song was embraced with enthusiasm by the Forgotten Generation. Still, it has perennial value for us today.

Curiously, the Jews have no feast for any of the patriarchs: Abraham, Isaac or Jacob. They have no special festival in honor of Moses. There is nothing prescribed on the Jewish religious calendar to pay tribute to the three great kings: Saul, David or Solomon. They do however, have a yearly observance of the life of a great queen.

Early in my priesthood, the late Bishop Edward T. Hughes asked me to head the Commission for Ecumenism and Interfaith Affairs. This made sense to me since I had written my Master’s thesis on “Dialogue between Lutherans and Catholics on the Eucharist.” My enthusiasm about the subject matter, perhaps due to the proximity of the Lutheran seminary in Gettysburg, Pa. to my seminary in Emmitsburg, Md. enabled me to delve into some productive and contemporary research. It was not long after I received the position that antisemitism reared its ugly head in New York, in Crown Heights in particular. So, WWOR in Seacaucus asked if I would tape a public service announcement about the relationship between these bias crimes and what I perceived to be the best way to squelch this problem, I agreed to cooperate with enthusiasm.

Did you ever wonder: “Why did Jesus ask to be baptized?” After all, the Church teaches that Christ shared in our humanity in all ways but sin. So, if Jesus was without sin, why would he ask for something that he really did not need?

Each year, we celebrate the birth of Jesus. The baby in the manger is an image we hold dear to our hearts — but, the image only has meaning for us because we have been told what the world was like before the incarnation. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we have seen his glory: The glory of an only Son coming from the Father, filled with enduring love.” (Jn1:14) Until this moment, ours was a world that could never conceptualize the divine. Now, we can actually put a face on the infinitely transcendent God, who mediates our matter to himself and embraces fully our humanity in the person of the Holy Infant. Still, we have to remember that we can only begin to grasp the impact that the incarnation had on our world because our faith has been tweaked by what followed the infancy of the Christ-child, Jesus’ ministry, his Passion, Death and Resurrection. It is in light of what follows the incarnation that we can look back and say “this birth is different from all others.” Then and only then, can we pause and give thanks to God for the gift of his Son, for the glory of his incarnation and subsequent birth of Jesus.