Notre Dame and the Empty Tomb: dark, dusty, emptied of their precious contents

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Five days ago, the impossible happened.

The Cathedral of Notre Dame, located in the very heart of Paris, was engulfed in flames.

In less than an hour, 800 years worth of culture, history, and religious art was lost.

No one thought this architectural masterpiece, this fruit of Catholic devotion, would ever resemble a tomb – dark, dusty, emptied of its precious contents.

But there it was.

***

That crushing image of Notre Dame engulfed in flames represents, in many ways, the state of our Church today.

We’ve been set ablaze – ablaze in scandal and indifference.

We’ve lost more than artwork; we’ve lost trust, and worse, disciples.

But just as Paris has pledged to restore Notre Dame to its original splendor, so we are invited this night to begin rebuilding the universal Church.

Doing so demands getting in touch with our original mission – the salvation of souls.

That mission began at the empty tomb.

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That first Easter Sunday, our Lord’s tomb looked just like Notre Dame does tonight – dark, dusty, emptied of its precious contents.

Only this was good news.

To the utter surprise of Mary Magdalene, Peter, and the other disciples, Jesus was no longer there.

He had risen from the dead!

Discovering that truth changed the direction of their lives.

They were no longer afraid; they were consumed with zeal, eager to share this good news of salvation with the world.

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So must we.

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As a Church, we’re called to embrace a “resurrection faith,” a faith that’s joyful and Gospel-driven, a faith that never gives up.

A resurrection faith changes people; it inspires them to take risks, to preach to the ends of the earth, to work for something greater than themselves.

It’s the same type of faith that drove generations of architects, sculptors, artists, and artisans to create the masterpiece of Notre Dame.

If you think about it, most of the people who worked on constructing that church never saw its completion.

Yet they dedicated their whole lives to working on it.

And when they could no longer lift another stone or brush, they handed on their work to the next generation, trusting that they would work just as hard with an equal sense of devotion.

They believed, in some small way, their labor brought glory to God.

***

Can’t we see something of a bigger analogy here?

Our Christian faith began with Jesus, his twelve Apostles, and a small group of women who followed him faithfully.

After his resurrection, Jesus entrusted his mission to them. And he hoped that, when they could no longer travel or preach, the next generation would continue the good work they’d begun.

We are that next generation.

We are called to share the good news of Christ’s resurrection – and therefore the hope of our own – no less than the original Twelve, trusting that our efforts will contribute in some small way to God’s salvific plan.

Are we committed that mission?

Or does our own faith in Jesus and his Church need to be restored tonight?

Wherever we stand on our journey of faith, the message is clear: we must stand together.

***

The story of Notre Dame reminds us that the most valuable thing in our world – that which is truly irreplaceable – is not some work of art.

It’s the faith that built it.

It’s that same faith handed down generation after generation that can rebuild our Church.

On this Easter night, may the Risen Lord come to our aid and strengthen us – not only to restore physical buildings – but also to restore our very selves.

For we are living stones– we are the Church, the Body of Christ on earth.

Cuts and Bruises on the Journey of Life: A Meditation on Holy Thursday

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“He took a towel and tied it around his waist. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet” (John 13:5).

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A week ago, Pope Francis made the headlines again.

Dozens of cameras captured the aging pope as he knelt down to kiss the feet of two men dressed elegantly in dark suits.

It was a strange – but meaningful – gesture.

They weren’t ordinary men.

For the last five years, they’d fought against each other in a brutal civil war that killed thousands of people.

Tired of the violence, they put down their weapons, deciding to build a unified government instead.

Once sworn enemies, they were now the president and vice president-elect of South Sudan.

Eager to support their efforts for peace, Pope Francis invited them to the Vatican for a two-day retreat – a retreat, which started surprisingly by having their feet washed with a kiss.

***

Such a simple but humbling gesture was something the pope learned straight from Jesus.

In the Gospel, for example, Jesus kneels down to wash his disciples’ feet.

At that time, such a gesture was considered normal.

People didn’t drive on well-paved roads like we do today. They walked along dry and dusty paths, so it was common to catch a pebble or two in your sandal as you walked.

When guests arrived at person’s home, it was polite to wash their feet, because they were often covered with dust, cuts, and bruises because of the journey.

But is Jesus washing his disciples’ feet simply to be polite? Or is he sending them a stronger message?

It’s the last night of his life on earth. Surely Jesus isn’t wasting time on pleasantries.

Rather, this gesture of bathing bruised feet was intended to be deeply meaningful for them, as it should be for us gathered here tonight.

***

Like the disciples, we’ve all journeyed on various paths in life, paths that are too often strewn with pebbles.

Anyone who’s walked a mile on this earth knows that life has a way of wounding us, of scraping our feet as we go.

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What are the pebbles caught in my sandal tonight? What experiences have wounded me, or worn me down? Where do I need to be healed by God?

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These are precisely the wounds that Jesus wants to touch, to bathe.

It doesn’t matter where we’ve been – what roads we’ve walked – Jesus is here tonight, ready to lead us back to God, because that’s where we belong.

***

But remember his words that follow: “I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.”

That is, pour water over one another’s feet, because everyone’s had a pebble or two caught in their sandal; everyone has had their share of cuts and bruises from this journey called life.

Don’t judge them for it.

Bathe them with compassion and forgiveness, instead, just as Jesus does for us.

***

As strange as it seemed watching Pope Francis kneel down to kiss the feet of men recently engaged in civil war, it was a reminder to all of us of our need to be agents of healing – not judgment – in our world today.

How might we be that agent healing – of reconciliation – at home, at work, at school, in the world?

***

“As I have done for you,” Jesus says, “so you should also do.”

 

Monday of Holy Week: Giving Thanks (John 12:1-11)

“Six days before Passover Jesus came to Bethany…they gave a dinner for him there” (Jn. 12:1-2).

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In the Gospel, Jesus is six days away from his death.

How timely it is, then, that Mary, Martha, and Lazarus extended a dinner invitation to Jesus to thank him for all he’s done.

Notice how they show their gratitude for him in different ways.

Lazarus opens his home. Martha prepares and serves the meal. And Mary spends all she has on a costly bottle of perfume to anoint Jesus’ feet, then washing them with her tears.

Three different gestures with the same message: thank you.

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How do I show my gratitude for others?

Think in particular about our family, our friends, and Jesus. How do we thank them for their role in our lives?

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Holy Week can teach us many things. But the first lesson on Monday morning is this: it’s never too late to give thanks.