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Today's Readings

Reading the story of Emmaus reminds me of a song from the hit Broadway musical “Wicked,”  a refreshingly new take on “The Wizard of Oz.”  The song is called “For Good” and is sung by—of all people—two witches!   In the musical, Glinda and Elphaba (better known as the “Good Witch” and the “Wicked Witch of the West,” respectively) are the best of friends who have to part ways.  Together they sing this song of goodbye and talk about how their friendship has made a difference in their lives. 

The refrain—which probably has the best lines in the song—goes this way:

“Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood
Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?
Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”

This Sunday’s gospel is about two ex-disciples having what young people would call an “emo” moment as they make their way to Emmaus.  Their leader has just been executed in the most brutal way, and as a result, all their hopes for a better world have been dashed.  “We had hoped…,” they say to each other sadly and wistfully.  And so, while their companions in Jerusalem go into hiding, they have decided to pack up and go back home.  “It was good while it lasted,” they must have told each other.  But now it’s going to be “back to business as usual.”  Or so, they thought.

As we know, a stranger joins them in their journey home, and of course, it is the Lord incognito.  The Lord keeps them company.  He listens to them.  Using Scripture, he helps them make sense of the trauma they have just been through.  And it is only at the end of the day, when he breaks bread with them, that they recognize who the stranger is.  As soon as they do, he disappears, and they rush back to Galilee to share the news with the other disciples, only to find out that like them, they have also already encountered the Risen Lord.

Easter is about God pulling surprises.  Just when the disciples begin to think it’s going to be “back to business as usual,” the Lord pulls the rug from under their feet to tell them that it isn’t exactly quite over yet.  Even after the crucifixion and in fact, especially after it, there’s still work to do:  still so many lives to heal and a whole world to change.  And although the Lord is no longer going to be among them in the usual way, he will continue to be present in a way even more real and more powerful. 

But the disciples learn something more:  Whether they know it or not, and whether they like it or not, because they have known the Lord, they have been permanently changed.  Never again will they hear the words of Scripture without their hearts burning, as the two disciples have experienced on their way to Emmaus.  Never again will they look at anyone breaking bread without remembering the One who has offered Himself as Bread to be broken for all.  In fact, never again will they see the world or anyone--especially any stranger--in the same way.  As the song puts it, they have been “changed for good.”

For a growing number of people, Holy Week is the time of the year reserved for spiritual renewal.  While many others take advantage of the long weekend to head for the beach, more and more people are attending the spiritual activities organized by schools and especially by parishes.  Last Holy Week, I gave a three-day recollection to alumni, students, and faculty of Xavier University in Cagayan de Oro.  I was impressed by the people’s great thirst for God’s Word and their sincere desire to find Him in their lives.

But what happens after Holy Week?  Most of us are tempted to do what the Emmaus disciples did:  To pack up and to return to "business as usual.”   Someone once compared attending Sunday Mass to the airport security procedure of going through the metal detector and the X-ray machine:  Before checking in, we remove our shoes, our belt, coins, and everything else that we usually carry around with us in order to go through the metal detector.  But once we’ve successfully stepped through it, what do we do?  We immediately put everything back on. 

Going through Sunday Mass—and going through Holy Week, for that matter—can be like that, too:  Once we step out of the church, and once we end our Holy Week retreats, complete our Visita Iglesias and Stations of the Cross, and attend the liturgical services, we put everything back on, and if we’re not careful, we may actually end up "going back to business as usual.”

Today’s gospel message is that whether we know it or not, and whether we like it or not, it can’t be “back to business as usual.”  As the song puts it, because we’ve known the Lord, we have been "changed for good."

But remember, while the Lord has changed us for good, it is up to us to make sure we change for the better.

(image:  "Wicked" logo)

Note:  If you wish to watch a video clip of Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth rehearsing the song "For Good," click here.

FOR GOOD
(From "Wicked")

(Elphaba):
I'm limited
Just look at me - I'm limited
And just look at you
You can do all I couldn't do, Glinda
So now it's up to you
For both of us - now it's up to you...

(Glinda):
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

(Elphaba):
It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
[For Good lyrics on http://www.metrolyrics.com]

But because I knew you

(Glinda):
Because I knew you

(Both):
I have been changed for good

(Elphaba):
And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I've done you blame me for

(Glinda):
But then, I guess we know
There's blame to share

(Both):
And none of it seems to matter anymore

(Glinda):
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood

(Elphaba):
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a bird in the wood

(Both):
Who can say if I've been
Changed for the better?
I do believe I have been
Changed for the better

(Glinda):
And because I knew you...

(Elphaba):
Because I knew you...

(Both):
Because I knew you...
I have been changed for good...

Today's Readings

Bernini has a beautiful and somewhat controversial marble sculpture in the Cornaro Chapel of Santa Maria della Vittoria in Rome.  The sculpture is called "St. Teresa in Ecstasy" and portrays a religious experience of St. Teresa of Avila as she describes it in her autobiography:  She sees a vision of a young angel who pierces her heart and her entrails with a spear, causing her to moan out of pain and ecstasy.

Some people have been scandalized by such an unconventional account of a mystical experience.  Religious experience described like that sounds much too sexual for comfort.  Bernini's Teresa has been criticized as someone not so much in the throes of mysticism, but--believe it or not--"in veiled orgasm!" 

In truth, however, many mystics have compared spiritual intimacy to the physical and even the sexual.  So St. Teresa's somewhat controversial religious experience as depicted by Bernini's equally controversial scultpture only expresses the depth and the intensity of the intimacy that the saint enjoyed with the Lord.  It is small wonder that she has been known not only as "Teresa of Avila," but also as "Teresa of Jesus"--naming not only who she was, but also whose she was.

When you think about it, there are two important questions that we need to answer in our lives.  The first question confronts us almost the moment we are born:  "Who am I?"   As we grow, we grapple to discover our identity and our gifts--what makes each of us unique--or as someone put it, "what makes me me." But as we do so, we also at the same time shape our selves and our character, making decisions and taking actions that define who we are.

There is another, equally important question that every person also needs to answer--a question that is usually forgotten.  We need to answer this second question as much as the first if we want to find the meaning of our lives. This second question is:  "Whose are you?"  In other words, to whom do we belong?  The answer to this question covers not only the self-defining friendships we keep, but also to the life-shaping commitments we make.  And just like the first, we go about answering this question not so much through our words but through our actions, not so much with our lips but with our lives.

If you're wondering what all the talk in today's gospel about sheep, shepherds, and sheep gates are, the Lord is really speaking of whose we are.  We are his.  Or, at least he wants us to be his.  First, he describes himself as a shepherd who calls his sheep by name and whose voice his sheep recognize.  He lays his claim on us as his.  But still not content with that, he mixes metaphors and describes himself as the very gate through which we his sheep enter the fold.

Much can be said about the Lord as a shepherd or even as a sheep gate, but what struck me in today's reading is that on these occasions when he calls us his, he also defines himself as ours.  We are his sheep, but he makes himself our shepherd.  He even makes himself our gate! 

And that, for me, is the greatest wonder of all:  Not only does our relationship define us as his, but the Lord loves us so much that he does the unthinkable:  He also allows our relationship to define him!  By claiming us as his, he makes himself ours.

St. Teresa of Avila tells another one of her religious experiences, this time involving not an angel but the Christ Child himself.  According to the story, one day at the convent she meets a mysterious child coming down the stairs. The child stops in his tracks and asks her who she is.

"Teresa of Jesus," she replies before asking, "And who are you?"

The child looks at her and says, "I am Jesus--of Teresa."

Here's a Quick Question for you: "Do you recall a moment in your life when for some reason, you felt--more than usual--that you belonged to the Lord, that you were his?"  Think about it, and feel free to share a thought, a feeling, or a question.

(image:  detail from Bernini's St. Teresa in Ecstasy)

Today's Readings

In yet another hilarious and politically incorrect episode of "The Simpsons," Bart and Homer decide to convert to Catholicism. Marge confides in their pastor, Rev. Lovejoy, and worries about ending up alone in Protestant Heaven, while the rest of her family will be in Catholic Heaven.

In her fantasy she sees the souls in Protestant Heaven playing boringly proper games of badminton and cricket, while those in Catholic Heaven enjoy a virtual fiesta, dancing, drinking, and even fighting. To her horror, Homer and Bart are among the predominantly Irish and Hispanic souls playing piñata and even joining them in a Riverdance production number. And just when she thinks she's seen the worst, Marge asks about Jesus, only to be told that the Lord has gone over to Catholic Heaven, having a blast.

The rest of the episode--which, by the way, is called "The Father, the Son, and the Holy Guest Star"--shows how Marge and Rev. Lovejoy scheme to bring Homer and Bart back to "the one true faith." Bart eventually tells the adults how stupid it is that the different groups of Christians are fighting over religion. Coming to their senses, the adults agree with Bart and stop fighting among themselves, but instead they decide to fight gays and stem cells instead!

This episode from "The Simpsons" may as well be a commentary on today's readings. One line from our Lord strikes me as quite significant: "In my Father's house, there are many dwelling places." He's obviously not referring to separate heavens for different kinds of people like the Protestant or Catholic Heavens depicted in Marge Simpson's fantasy. In fact, he's referring to the exact opposite: In God's idea of heaven, there is room for everyone, and more importantly, there's no separation among people. God's heart is much too large to exclude anyone. And God's embrace is much too wide for anyone to be out of his reach. So, in heaven, there is room enough for everyone--regardless of religion, race, or resources. Every single person will have a place at the table.

But how do we get to God's heaven? In the gospel, Thomas asks the Lord this same question: "How can we know the way?" The Lord responds by saying, "I am the Way and the Truth and the Life." In other words, if we want to know the way, let's look at the life and person of our Lord. One way of describing his Public Ministry is his preferential option for the marginalized: the poor, the sick, and the sinners. He reaches out to the very people that everyone else excluded and rejected. Wherever he goes, he breaks down the fences that separate people. The kingdom of God that he proclaims includes precisely everyone.

I think the gospel's message for us today is: "Why wait for heaven?" The only way to heaven is to break down fences as our Lord did during his earthly life. To include all and exclude no one. If God's heart is big enough for everyone and his embrace wide enough for everyone, then we can do no less. We too should stretch our hearts and open our arms wide enough to include everyone too.

Easier said than done, of course, but nobody said that it's easy to get to heaven. Otherwise our Lord would not have compared it to a narrow door.

Here's a Quick Question for you: Are there particular people in your life that you have, for one reason or another, excluded? Could God be inviting you to begin breaking down these fences?

(video: from "The Father, the Son, and the Holy Guest Star," final episode of "The Simpsons" Season 16)

Today's Readings

There are many things you don't expect to find in Tim Burton's "Sweeney Todd." After all, it's a dark and strange musical that tells the story of an embittered barber (Johnny Depp) who cuts his clients' throats, and with the help of his partner, Mrs. Lovett (Helena Bonham Carter), bakes the victims into meat pies!  In such a movie, the last thing you expect to hear is a love song as tender as Stephen Sondheim's "Not While I'm Around." 

I first heard the song many years ago, and was immediately captivated by its words and music.  The song is both a warning and a promise:  In a world full of dangers and demons, the song goes, "nothing will harm you, not while I'm around."  I had forgotten that the song was from this musical, so imagine my surprise when I heard it sung in the movie.  I was even more surprised that the song is sung not by some gallant hero to his beloved or by some father or mother to a child, but by a poor little boy to his surrogate mother!  In one surprisingly quiet scene, Edward Sanders' character sings the song to Nellie Lovett, Sweeney Todd's adoring and unsuspecting partner. 

Wise beyond his age, the boy is beginning to suspect that Mrs. Lovett, whom he loves dearly, is in danger and may soon be harmed by the very man she loves.  But how ironic that a helpless little boy like him is making such a promise--and is doing so with such spunk.  Mrs. Lovett is visibly moved (are those tears in her eyes?), but she tries her best to conceal them, as well as her growing confusion and anxiety. "Nonsense," she tells him, but the kid goes on:

In today's reading, our Lord makes a similarly ironic and spunky promise.   The scene is the Last Supper, and he promises his disciples many good things.  But when you think about it, in an hour or two, the Lord will be arrested and put to trial, and in less than 24 hours, he will be hanging dead on a cross.  How can a marked man like him, who will soon be crucified and killed, dare to make such promises?  Shouldn't the disciples be reassuring him of their presence, if not protection, since he's the one whose life is in danger?

Yet that evening, as he prepares to face his ordeal, he thinks not of himself, but of his disciples.  He knows that they will be confused and frightened as a result of the coming events, so he forgets about himself and reassures them.  The Lord promises them his continued presence through the Spirit.  In one unforgettable line, he tells them, "I will not leave you orphans."  He's basically saying that no harm will come upon them--and us--for as long as he is around.  So when you think about it, the Lord may as well be singing Sondheim's love song to us!

You'll have to watch the film to find out if the helpless-looking little orphan manages to keep his promise to his surrogate mother.  But in a sense, it doesn't really matter, does it?  What matters is that no matter how ironic, no matter how foolish, the kid wants to protect the mother he has learned to love--at all costs!

We know the feeling, don't we?  There must be someone in our life--or some people in this world--for whom we would do anything in order to protect them from harm.  We want to wrap them in our arms--never mind if doing so may put ourselves in danger.  To them whom we love heroically, even naively, we are ready to make bold and foolish promises.

What else can we call this but love?  And if we have experienced feeling this heroic, even often foolish and naive love, then we have an idea of the kind of love that the Lord has for us.  Only, his is so much greater.  For the love we feel is but a faint reflection of the heroic/naive love that our Lord feels for us.  While many of us make such bold/foolish promises and end up with our foot in our mouth, the Lord has made his promises and basically put more than his money where his mouth is. 

Every moment of our lives, the Lord watches over us in his quiet and subtle ways, making sure that we are safe because no matter how bold or foolish, he intends to keep his promise.

Here's a Quick Question for you: "Can you think of one or two persons once in your life for whom you have reserved this kind of love--a heroic/naive love that promises boldly/foolishly to protect them at all costs?"  Think about it, and if you wish, share a thought, a feeling, or a question.




Note: If you can't play the video, click here.  Here are the lyrics of the song.

NOT WHILE I'M AROUND
(Music and Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim)

Nothing's gonna harm you,
not while I'm around.
Nothing's gonna harm you,
no sir, not while I'm around.

Demons are prowling everywhere,
nowadays,
I'll send 'em howling,
I don't care, I got ways.

No one's gonna hurt you,
No one's gonna dare.
Others can desert you,
Not to worry, whistle, I'll be there.

Demons'll charm you with a smile,
for a while,
But in time...
Nothing can harm you
Not while I'm around...

Not to worry, not to worry
I may not be smart but I ain't dumb
I can do it, put me to it
Show me something I can overcome
Not to worry, Mum

Being close and being clever
Ain't like being true
I don't need to,
I would never hide a thing from you,
Like some...

No one's gonna hurt you, no one's gonna dare
Others can desert you,
Not to worry, whistle, I'll be there!
Demons'll charm you with a smile, for a while
But in time...
Nothing can harm you
Not while I'm around...