Divine Mercy

2^nd Sunday of Easter/Divine Mercy Sunday

Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 118:2-4, 13-15, 22-24
1 Peter 1:3-9
John 20:19-31

Can you imagine what it was like in that upper room that night? Can you imagine how the apostles felt? What had they just done? All had run away. All had betrayed and denied Jesus. They were probably feeling very ashamed of themselves. They probably were embarrassed to see one another. These same men were the ones who had argued about who amongst them was the greatest. I can imagine how they were bickering amongst themselves again about who was the biggest coward.

Maybe Thomas wasn’t there because he couldn’t face them. He was the one who boldly declared that he was going to Jerusalem with Jesus to die with him, and we don’t even hear about him in the stories of Jesus’ passion. He simply disappeared.

In that first liturgy that night, Jesus appeared to them and got straight to the point. He knew how they were feeling, how ashamed they were. He knew they were in danger of tearing apart their fragile fellowship, destroying the church before it even began, and so he offered them two things: his peace and forgiveness. We often look at this scene as the institution of the sacrament of reconciliation, where Jesus gave the apostles the power to forgive sins, and it is. However, the first sins they needed to forgive were those of one another.

Another way of looking at this scene is that Jesus is stating a fact of life to them. “Who’s sins you forgive are forgiven, and who’s sins you hold bound are held bound.” If you forgive each other’s sins then healing can occur and relationships can occur. If you hold them bound; if you keep them tied up inside of you and let them fester into bitterness, healing can never occur and relationships will be permanently destroyed. “If I can forgive you”, Jesus was telling them, “then you must forgive one another and move on”.

How different those two gatherings were, first in John and then later in Acts. If the apostles had not forgiven each other in the upper room do you think there could have been that idyllic communal lifestyle later on? If they had not forgiven each other would they have been open to the pouring out of the Holy Spirit that occurred at Pentecost? Would they have been able to leave their hiding place and go out into the world to spread the Gospel?

On this Divine Mercy Sunday we see the extent of Jesus’ mercy. Everyone in that room, except for his mother and John, had abandoned him. Every one of them had turned coward and denied him. But instead of berating them or shaming them further he forgave them and taught them to forgive one another, and themselves.

He breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit”. Out of the chaos of their broken relationships he gave order and unity. Just as the Father had created order out of chaos by breathing on the waters when he created the universe, Jesus created order in his young church when He offered them his peace, then gave them his body. He breathed his spirit upon them and then told them to do the same throughout the entire world.

I think the thing we crave most of all in life is mercy. Not love, but mercy, because we all have done things we’re ashamed of, and usually it is because we did something to hurt someone else. We break our relationships, usually with those closest to us, and we want to heal them. The only way is for us to show mercy to one another.

When someone wrongs us we have power over them. We are in the driver’s seat because we can choose to heal the relationship or not. Mercy is when the more powerful gives something to the weaker that is not deserved. Mercy is a gift. Mercy says, “I know you don’t really deserve to be forgiven by me, because what you did really hurt me, but I’m willing to look beyond that and accept you back into my life, with no conditions, because I love you. My love for you is greater than my natural desire to give you what you truly deserve.” When we are merciful we rise above ourselves and become like God. Mercy is not fairness. If we were fair we would never forgive. We would stew in our revenge. Rather, we go beyond fairness to the awesomeness of love.

If God were not merciful what hope do we have? Talk about the powerful giving to the weak. We never deserve God’s mercy; he chooses to give it with no questions asked, no recriminations, and no strings attached. We never deserved such a savior. In a just world God would give us what we truly have earned, and it’s not the chance to be with him in heaven. Instead, God has chosen to give us the gift of his very self. He has wiped the slate clean and told us we’re ok with him.

It is that wonderful, all encompassing mercy that Pope John Paul II wanted us to be aware of when he instituted Divine Mercy Sunday. What better day to celebrate God’s merciful love for us than the Sunday with these readings? And what better day to celebrate the beatification of John Paul II than on Divine Mercy Sunday?

As the Father has sent me, so I send you. The Father sent his son to the world to demonstrate his all encompassing mercy. And now we are sent to do the same. We are called to not just bring the message of God’s mercy to the world, but to show the same level of mercy to one another. And we don’t do it because it’s a duty, because mercy can be tough to show. It goes against our natural selfish tendencies. But we do it because we love. What greater love can we show for one another than to lay down our lives for one another? To lay aside our own needs and desires and act for one another. That’s what Jesus means when he says, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”

And it’s not just the big things we need to be merciful for. It’s those dozens of little mercies we are called to give throughout the day. We’re all into tolerance these days, but we really should be all about mercy. Tolerance is a passive concept, mercy is active. Tolerance is also a bit arrogant. I tolerate you and your behavior, as if I’m just putting up with you because I’m better than you. Mercy can also be overlooking someone else’s annoying faults, or character quirks, or idiosyncrasies.

Cut me some slack. Have mercy on me because I am different from you. I am a different color. My belief in God is different than yours. I have no belief at all. I don’t come to Mass every Sunday. I have a heavy accent. I’m gay. Or, God forbid, I’m a Republican. Have mercy on me because God has mercy on me. If we are merciful in the small things that drive us crazy we will find it easier to show mercy when it really counts. And who knows, maybe after a while we won’t hurt each other so much.

So, who do you need to show mercy to? Who do you need to ask forgiveness of? Who do you need to go home and call today?

Following the Crowd

Palm Sunday

Cycle A

Someone once said that people alone are smart; crowds are stupid. It’s one of those paradoxes of life that we all want to be thought of as unique, but we also want to fit into the crowd. Popular music, the fashion industry, politics, even our Christian faith, all hinge on what the crowd thinks is right and cool and acceptable. And when someone breaks out of the crowd and dresses, or acts, or believes differently they are held up as mavericks or denigrated as freaks. We look at them with a secret envy and a bit of fear. We’d like to be different, too, but are afraid of what the crowd would say if we were. Crowds are a safe way for us to break out of our comfort zones anonymously.

I often wonder about those two crowds in today’s gospels. How many of them were true disciples of Jesus, or true haters of Jesus, and how many were just going along with the crowd? I can imagine that many of them were just passing by and saw a commotion, and they joined in without knowing what they were doing. It’s easy to start a crowd. Just stand on a street corner and look up into the sky for a minute. You’ll form a crowd all looking up into the sky, for no reason except that other people are doing it.

In our celebrity-celebrating society today we all love to build the beautiful people up with unrealistic expectations only to relish tearing them down later on. The higher they are the harder they fall. We like to stand on the sidelines as judge and jury, without ever getting too close to the subject and without thinking of how it hurts people.

I think the people of Jerusalem were the same way. They had heard rumors of Jesus the prophet, saw a crowd forming, and joined in the celebration. Then, when another crowd formed at the Roman praetorium calling for his death, they just jumped right in again, without a thought to who they were condemning or what it would mean. After he was condemned, they simply went back to their lives, until the next flash mob formed.

Group think doesn’t have to happen in a crowd. Oftentimes we act as a crowd when we’re by ourselves. One example is the ever popular saying “I’m spiritual but not religious”. People pop off with these ideas without really thinking about what they are saying or considering the consequences. And ideas can go viral. Someone speaks it, then another and another, until suddenly it becomes conventional wisdom, even if it’s wrong.

Do we follow the crowd when it comes to Jesus? When we come to Mass are we just following the crowd, praising Jesus as our king without truly knowing who he is? Do we join the crowd because everyone else is? Is it easy to join in when Jesus is popular with our friends? And what happens when he isn’t popular anymore? When it’s not cool to be his disciple anymore? Do we jump on the bandwagon that his Church is just not relevant in today’s world anymore? Do we stick with the easy teachings and ignore the hard ones that go against the conventional wisdom? Do we go so far as to call for his death, or the death of his ideas, or of his Church?

Or even worse, are we the silent ones on the edge of the crowd who find it amusing when the crowd is for him but say nothing when the crowd turns on him? Do we even want to get involved?

Keep this in mind as we enter now into the church in triumphant procession. Remember that just as we’re part of the adoring crowd now we’ll soon be part of the one who condemns him.