Preached Sat/Sun, June 1/2 at St. Kateri / St. Margaret Mary location

Readings: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/060213.cfm

Audio: https://sites.google.com/site/sktdeaconed/home/mp3/150602_001.mp3?attredirects=0&d=1

            I went out for a jog a few weeks ago, and not too far into the jog, it dawned on me how had not adequately hydrated for my run – I hadn’t drunk enough water, I was thirsty.  And I hadn’t brought any water with me.  I muddled through and when I got home immediately went to the sink and poured a big cup of fresh, cold water and downed the whole thing.  Ahhhh.  Then I poured another, and another.

            It was only a few days later I was discussing with my wife just how fortunate we are to have fresh, clean, cold water at our fingertips, with just a flick of the faucet.  How we take that for granted and only appreciate it when something happens that stops it. 

            It’s like that with a lot of things in life, huh?  We are so very blessed in so many ways, yet we tend to take our blessings for granted and seldom do we stop to express our thankfulness, our gratitude.  With me, I take for granted my wife and daughters, my home, car, job, you name it, Guilty as charged.

            And meditating on this Feast and on these readings, it occurs to me that many of us sometimes, perhaps often, often take for granted perhaps the most precious gift Christ has given us – that which sets us Catholics apart from nearly every other Christian faith expression – and that is the Eucharist – the most Holy Body and Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ. 

            Do we really give enough thought, enough attention, enough prayerful thanksgiving to Our Lord for this wondrous gift to us of His very Body and Blood.  Or do we often simply go through the motions, our mind maybe a thousand miles away, anxious to get on to the other things of the day?

            Now I’m not in a position to point a finger at anyone here, for I often find myself in the same boat.

            Now if it’s true that we sometimes, perhaps often, take for granted the Eucharist, why is that?  How come? 

            Well with some of us, perhaps we just don’t really believe, deep down inside, that this piece of bread and sip of wine can be Jesus.  The Body and Blood of Our Lord Himself.  The God of the whole universe. 

            I understand that.  To believe that takes a great amount of faith, faith in things not seen.  Faith in a mystery that we cannot fully grasp with our brains, cannot fully understand.  Faith that is a gift. 

            I have the same problem with coal and diamonds.  Both are of nearly an identical substance – “consubstantial” you might say - 100% pure carbon, but they don’t look anything like each other.  I trust that the chemists know what they’re talking about when they tell me that they’re really the same thing.

            With the Eucharist, I trust that Jesus Himself was honest and true, that He was not lying, when He foretold in the sixth chapter of John’s Gospel that He would give to us His Body and Blood - real food and real drink – as sacred food for our journey.   

            With the Eucharist, I trust in the miracle of the loaves and the fishes, today’s Gospel passage.  A precursor to the gift of the Eucharist at the last supper  Through the person of the priest, Jesus has continued to take our meager gifts at the altar (as Melchizadech did with Abram’s gifts).  And the Lord them multiplies the loaves and distribute them to His faithful, an act that through His bishops and priests He has carried on for over 2000 years now.

            If you find this teaching difficult, take heart, you’re not alone – even many of Our Lord’s disciples found it so – such that many left Him, no longer His disciples.  Pray for the gift of Faith.  Pray that He may open your heart to this most precious, most magnificent gift.

            But even if we do believe, perhaps we don’t have a very good understanding of what happens here at Mass.  A very good understanding of what it’s all supposed to mean.  I mean, what difference does the Eucharist make in my life?  Maybe the Eucharist doesn’t seem to make much difference in my life.

            And I can understand that as well.  We tend to be impatient, or at least I do.  I expect instant results.  Especially in myself.  After receiving the Body and Blood of Our Lord in the Eucharist over and over and over again, I may find myself wondering why I don’t seem to be a much different person, not a very changed person.   Making many of the same mistakes in my relationships with my family.  Committing many of the same sins.  So what difference does the Eucharist make?

            I think to answer that question requires taking a long view.  That participating in Mass and receiving the Eucharist has made me, over the course of my life, a very different person.  Perhaps imperceptibly from day to day, but over the course of years, I am a changed person.  Not a perfect person, not by a long shot, but a better person, more like Christ.   A bit more patient, more loving, more kind, and perhaps most importantly, more self-aware of where I lack patience, love, kindness.

            But the difference the Eucharist makes is not only in our private, individual Faith lives.  The difference is also here in the gathered assembly, the Church.  For Our Lord’s Body and Blood, called the “source of our faith, the summit of our Faith” by the Fathers of Vatican II, brings us together in unity and communion and makes us what we are – the living Body of Christ.  Nourished and strengthened to go forth from here to be His presence in our hurting and broken world.  To go forth to serve one another, to “give them something to eat” as Our Lord commands His disciples.

            In a moment we will come forward to receive His Sacred Body and Blood, reverently and hopefully with a smile (for what greater joy is there than to be united to Our Lord?), and Father or I or one of the Eucharistic Ministers will say “The Body of Christ.”  Our firm “Amen” means not only do “I believe” that this is Jesus, but also “Yes! I am part of the Body of Christ, His mystical Body, the Church.  That I am ready and willing to go forth, to pour out myself as His disciple, to be His presence in all I say and do.

            Let us pray:  Heavenly Father, we thank you that you loved us so much that you sent Your Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ, and that your Son continues to come to us in the most Blessed Sacrament, His Most Sacred Body and Blood.  May this heavenly food make us grow in holiness, bring us unity and peace, and strengthen us to always do your will.  This we ask through Christ, Our Lord.  Amen.

               

               

Running for the Thirsty - Food for the Poor

Hi - thanks for visiting.

Here is the link to sponsor my October 13 marathon run by donating to Food for the Poor, to help build water wells to deliver fresh, clean water for the poor in Haiti:

http://support.foodforthepoor.org/site/TR/Events/Champions?pxfid=8530&fr_id=2091&pg=fund

Thank you!
Ed

Preached Saturday, May 18 - Feast of Pentecost SKT at St. Cecilia

Readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/051913-pentecost-mass-during-day.cfm

Audio:   https://sites.google.com/site/sktdeaconed/home/mp3/150518_001.mp3?attredirects=0&d=1

          One of the ushers asked me a few months ago, “Deacon Ed why don’t we ever hear about your family in your homilies?” and I told him to wait awhile, that “I’d get around to it” eventually.  So I guess I’ll start today with a little anecdote about my family that perhaps you parents and kids can relate to.
             It was just about the time our oldest daughter Lauren was born, my wife and I went out and spent money we didn’t have because we had to have a VHS video camera.  And boy did we get our money’s worth – from the Hospital delivery room where I got some shots my wife has probably erased, and at every significant moment in Lauren’s first few years plus more than a few insignificant moments as well, we have tens of hours of video tape of Lauren doing anything and everything.  And hours of her doing nothing at all.  Same thing with still pictures – we took hundreds of pictures of her, and that was when you had to buy film and pay to have it developed!

            Then along came Colleen, our second daughter, and now busy with two little ones, we didn’t haul out either the video camera or still camera nearly as often.  So as a rough guess I’d say that if we have 50 hours of video of our oldest, we might have five hours of video of Colleen, our middle daughter.

            Then along came Erin, our youngest, and boy did she get short-changed.  Because busy as we were with three little ones, and with the novelty of parenthood having worn off a bit, we probably have at most have 20 minutes of video of her, and almost no still pictures.  We found this out a couple years ago putting together a collage of pictures for her High School graduation  party – we could barely find any!  Poor Erin!

            This all came to mind as I was preparing for this weekend’s Feast of Pentecost, because that’s just about how much attention we seem to give to the Holy Spirit, the third person of the Holy Trinity, whose descent upon the disciples we celebrate today.  Now I admit it’s a bit of an awkward metaphor, but think about it - look at the bible, the entire Old Testament speaks of God the Father and His relationship with His people.  And we have the Gospels and much of the rest of the New Testament, that tell of the life of Jesus Christ.  But there’s almost nothing in scripture that speaks of the Holy Spirit.  A handful of scripture references, many of which comprise our readings tonight and tomorrow (last evening and today).

            So it seems that the Holy Spirit gets short-changed, big-time.   Which is odd, don’t you think, since if you stop to think about it, it’s the Holy Spirit who’s actually the closest to us.  Who since our baptism has lived within us.  And Who was poured out anew upon us in the Sacrament of Confirmation, poured out upon our young people at the Cathedral ten (eleven) days ago. 

            It is the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who pours into us the Spirit’s seven-fold gifts:  which you’ll recall are Wisdom, Understanding, Fear of the Lord, Right counsel, Knowledge, Fortitude, and Reverence. 

            And if we are living in the Spirit, we will exhibit all the many fruits of the Spirit – Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, generosity, gentleness, faithfulness, modesty, self-control, and chastity.

            Now that’s your catechism lesson for today (there’s a quiz later), but what does it mean for you and me?  Put another way, “why should I give a darn about the Holy Spirit?  So What?” You might ask.  And who is this Holy Spirit, anyway?  After all, it’s not some white bird that we worship today.

            So in answer to these questions , there are three things I want to focus on.  Three reasons we should give a darn about the Holy Spirit - Power, Courage and Love. 

            The Holy Spirit is the source of the power in our faith, that energy, the fire within us.  It’s not unlike an appliance that, if not plugged into the electric outlet, just sits there.  But once plugged in to the source of its power, only if plugged in to the source of its power, can it do what it is supposed to do, what it was created to do.   If the electric outlet is Jesus Christ, then the Holy Spirit is the electricity flowing through that cord and making it work.

            And there’s courage, or fortitude.  Think about the disciples and apostles after Our Lord had left them, and ascended into heaven.  They just sat there, locked in a room.  No energy.  No direction.  No power.  Filled with fear.  But when the Holy Spirit descended upon them, was breathed into them, overcame them, they became completely changed.  Completely energized.  Brimming with fortitude, filled with courage.  No longer afraid of anything, they went forth and boldly proclaimed the good news of Jesus Christ – that Christ’s kingdom is at hand, that by faith in Christ their sins are forgiven and eternal life is set before them.  They were unafraid to proclaim that they had encountered a person, Jesus, who had saved them and set them free. 

            Filled with the same power of the Holy Spirit, you and I have that same courage to proclaim our faith.  To tell those around us what our Lord has done for us, how He has set us free, forgiven our sins, raised us to new life.     

            And the Holy Spirit is love.  In the Nicene Creed we profess faith that the Holy Spirit “proceeds from the Father and the Son.”  We believe that the Holy Spirit is the very self-giving, life-giving love that flows forth from that intimate love relationship of the Father and the Son.  And is the very same self-giving, life-giving love that flows forth from Christian men, women and children. From you.  From me.  Into our marriages.  Into our families.  Love that shines forth and enlivens our communities and workplaces.  Our nation and our world.  Self-giving love for each other, especially the neediest, the poorest, the most forgotten among us.  That is the love the Holy Spirit breathes into us.

            The power and love of the Holy Spirit can be summed up in a simple, two-letter word, a word that I as deacon proclaim at every Mass I serve.  And that word is “go.”  The Holy Spirit prompts us to go and shows us where to go.  The last line of the liturgy is “Go.  In peace.  To love and serve.  To glorify the Lord by your life.”  Go.  It is the Holy Spirit that makes you and me “go.”  To go forth from the friendly, comfortable confines of this Church and to bring the Word and Love of Jesus Christ out into our world.  We “go” only with the power, the courage and the love of the Holy Spirit.

            May the Holy Spirit that flood us with the Spirit’s gifts, that our lives may shine forth the Spirit’s fruits, that by our Words and our lives, many may come to know our Savior, Jesus Christ.

            Let us pray:  Come Holy Spirit.  Fill the hearts of Your faithful and kindle in us the fire of Your love.  Send forth Your Spirit and we shall be created and You shall renew the face of the earth.  Amen.

Preached yesterday and today - Sixth Sunday of Easter - at St. Kateri at Christ the King

Readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/050513.cfm

 

Audio:  https://sites.google.com/site/sktdeaconed/home/mp3/150505_001.mp3?attredirects=0&d=1

          I can remember it clearly, because it happened before every single Christmas when I was a kid.  And before every one of his birthdays, too.  My dad, when asked what he wants for Christmas or his birthday, could be counted on to tell us “All I want is peace and quiet.”  Like clockwork.  “Peace and quiet.” 

            A father of seven unruly kids who went to work six days a week as a lawyer and politician, he probably didn’t get very much “peace and quiet,” and I admit now that I’m a dad and go off to work each day, I have days when I yearn for a little “peace and quiet,” too.

            We gave my dad Old Spice.  He never did get peace and quiet.

            Peace.  We hear it in the first reading from Acts - how some of the disciples have come down from Judea and are disturbing the peace with teachings that are apart from the teaching of the Apostle.  And Jesus speaks of peace in this Gospel.  Peace is His gift to His disciples.  “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.”

            Reflecting quite a bit over the past couple weeks about “peace” I realize that I am often not all that peaceful a person.  Oh, I’m not a violent guy.  I don’t own a gun, nor am I on a waiting list to buy one.   And I keep my road rage under control.  Well, usually.  I guess in my book, violence isn’t a very good way to solve problems. 

            But that kind of peace, the absence of conflict or violence, isn’t what Our Lord is talking about here.  He’s talking about inner peace, peace in the mind and heart.  And it occurs to me that there are many times when I’m not very peaceful deep down inside.  Perhaps there are times when you aren’t either.

            Now, that’s an understandable thing – I mean there are a lot of things to be unpeaceful about these days.  To be stressed out about.  Anxious.  Worried.  Bombings in Boston, shootings  in Connecticut.  Natural disasters.  Rapid changes in society, often seeming out of control.  A secular culture that each day seems to stray farther from the teachings of Jesus and His Church. 

            And each of us has crosses in our daily lives to bear.  Some small.  Some large.  Some perhaps seemingly unbearable.  Sickness.  Perhaps chronic illness.  Perhaps life threatening.  Family, or marital problems perhaps.  The loss of dear loved ones.  And I could go on.

            And don’t forget the crosses that we bring on ourselves through sin.  Especially the sin of pride – a lack of humility – in my case my being a know-it-all, or wanting to change the world – change everybody else (rather than the one person I actually can change!).   Or maybe our attachments to the things of this world disrupt our peace.   Not as the world gives do I give to you, says the Lord.  The things of this world won’t give us peace, He tells us.

            All of these things tend to shake our inner peace, our inmost calm.  All can bring us down, discourage us, maybe even depress us.  Each one of us, I’ll bet, comes here today with his or her share of burdens, of distractions, that keep us from experiencing the peace that Jesus promises us.

            What is it about these things that keeps us from experiencing that peace?  Two things come to mind – living in the past, and living in the future.  Rather than living in the present, the here and now.  Many of us are stuck in the past.  Holding on to hurts, to grudges, refusing forgiveness.  Replaying scenes of our lives, over and over and over again.  Always with the same outcome.  Reliving the same frustrations.

            And many of us live perpetually in the future, planning for tomorrow, more likely worried about everything that might happen, or might not happen. 

            What Jesus is saying to you and to me today is this.  Do not let your hearts be troubled or anxious.  I am with you today.  Right now.  Not in the past.  Not in the future.  Right now. 

            Now in this Gospel He is preparing the disciples for His departure, for His passion and death.  But He promises them that they will not be alone.  That the Father will send the Spirit Advocate to them, to come and dwell with them.   Each day, in the present. God with us, and in us.  To teach them and remind them of Jesus’ words.

            Jesus says to us – “don’t obsess about the past.  Or be anxious or worry about the future.  Live in the present, for that is where I Am.  Give to me and let go of all that is troubling you, all that burdens you, all that weighs you down.  All that keeps you far from me, all your sins, all your attachments – give them to me and trust me.  Trust me.  Cling to me,” He is telling us.  That is where you will find my peace

            The celebrant begins Mass by saying “Grace to you and peace from God our Father.”  Father Paul prays that the “peaceful grace” of God be ours.  After the “Our Father” Father Paul?Joe will pray these words:

            “Deliver us, O Lord, we pray from every evil, graciously grant peace in our days, that, by the help of your mercy, we may be always free from sin and safe from all distress.  As we await the blessed hope, the coming of Our Savior, Jesus Christ.”

            And just before we come to the altar to receive the Eucharist, the Sacrament of Christ’s presence, the Sacrament of his being with us here and now, we will hear the words of the Gospel again – “peace I leave you, my peace I give you.” 

            Let those words sink in. As we wait for Christ to come again, we pray for the grace to live free from sin and safe from all distress.  To Live in peace.

            And once we experience His peace in our hearts, God living within us, we can’t help but bring that peacefulness into the world, to our families, friends, co-workers, everyone we meet.  I think of Father Joe as the example of a truly peaceful person, one who brings peace everywhere he goes.  In the Peanuts cartoon, the character Pigpen has a cloud of dust and dirt that follows him everywhere he goes.  Father Joe has a cloud, but it’s a cloud of peacefulness that follows him wherever he goes.

            You and I are called to have that same cloud of peace, and through prayer, Sacrament and love of neighbor, Christ gives it to us.  Imagine the kind of community, the kind of country, the kind of world we would have if everyone lived in Christ’s peace. 

            Obviously, not everyone is peaceful.  But if we, those who profess Faith in Christ Jesus aren’t the peaceful ones, if we aren’t the peacemakers, who will be?

 

Preached Friday of the Fourth Week of Easter, yesterday 6:30a and 8a, CTK

Gospel:  John 14: 1-6

                Perhaps the most memorable line from Billy Joel’s song of about thirty years ago, “Say Goodbye to Hollywood” went something like this:

            “Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes. I’m afraid it’s time for goodbye again.”

            This is especially true for parents who have children and grandchildren who live far away, or parents with kids away at college, like my wife and I have – life is full of hellos and goodbyes.  And I said as much in a facebook post not too long ago – I wrote that “I like hello days a lot better than goodbye days.”  Indeed, we go from the joy and jubilation, the “up” of hello days to the sadness and pain – the “let back down” of saying goodbye.

            Well in this morning’s Gospel we definitely have a goodbye day.  It’s the night of the last supper, the night of the Lord’s arrest, the night before His passion and death.  And Jesus is preparing his disciples for the inevitable, giving them final instructions, so to speak,  And I have to think the disciples must have clued in to this inevitable parting as well.  Their hearts were troubled.  Probably scared.  Confused.  Probably without a clue how they would carry on without this man they’d followed and loved and learned from these past three years.

            And Jesus speaks to them words that to me, at least, are some of the most comforting words in all of scripture –

            “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” 

            “I will go and prepare a place for you.”

            “I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be.”

            For any of us who are facing separation from loved ones, or any of us who are experiencing the pain, the heartache of separation, these words can be very comforting.  These give us great hope.  Hope in the midst of heartbreak, of confusion, and fear.  For in this passage, Jesus promises His disciples that He is going away, but He is coming back!  Going to prepare a place for them, in His Father’s House!  For eternal life!  And He is coming back so that they will be together again.  Together with Him, together with each other.

            These words are a promise to us, too.  A promise all of us who follow Jesus, the way. To all who believe in Jesus, the truth.  And to all who strive to conform our lives to His, for He is the life.   A promise that He will come back to take us to Himself to live eternally in His Father’s house, never again to have to say goodbye.

Preached today, Friday of the Third Week of Easter, 6:30a and 8a, St. Kateri at Christ the King site

Readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/041913.cfm

“Go easy on me.  God’s not done with me yet”

I’ve been known to throw that line in my wife’s face at times, times when she might have criticized something I’ve done or said or pointed out where I’ve fallen short of how I should be behaving.  While the line is true, more often than not it’s just a rationalization that covers over my own feelings of guilt.

Despite that, it is true that God is not done with any of us.  Which was certainly the case for Saul in today’s reading from Acts of the Apostles.  Now, if you had asked him, I’m willing to bet that Saul would have said that God was done with him – after all, he was a righteous, God-fearing Jew, doing all he could to uphold and defend his faith as a pious Pharisee.  Which included persecuting the followers of Jesus.  Jesus Himself, as the Lord phrased it – “Saul, why are you persecuting me?”  Yes, God had different plans for him.   Knocked him off his high horse.  Blinded him only to open his eyes to the truth after three days.  And sent him out on a lifelong journey of evangelization – taking the faith to the ends of the earth.

We love this story, and we relish in other stories of instant or nearly instantaneous life changes.  St. Augustine’s conversion after year of earnest prayer by his mother, St. Monica.  Thomas Merton’s journey from atheism to the Trappist Monastery.  Dr. Bernard Nathanson’s life change – formerly director of the largest abortion clinic in the nation and co-founder of NARAL, he became an outspoken pro-life advocate and Catholic convert.  More recently, Abby Johnson – a Planned Parenthood clinic director in Texas who, shortly after becoming a mother herself, and after watching an abortion on the ultrasound, walked out of her clinic, never to return.  Abby is now a prolife speaker and was received into the Church two years ago.

But as much as we love these stories of sudden and dramatic life change, with most of us, our life stories of change are slow and steady.  But make no mistake, you and I are called to change as well.  If we ever think “I’ve arrived” or “I’ve made it” like Saul probably thought, God has news for us.  For God isn’t done with any of us.  You and I are called to always be on a journey of change, a journey of ever-increasing holiness, of configuring our lives ever more to the life of Christ!

For like the Lord said to Ananias about Saul, Jesus is saying the same thing to you and to me:  “You are a chosen instrument of mine.”  Like Saul and like Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch in yesterday’s reading, you and I are called to witness by our words and by our lives to the Risen Christ, the only Son of God.

Preached yesterday and today - Third Sunday of Easter, St. Kateri at St. Margaret Mary

Readings:   http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/041413.cfm

Audio: https://sites.google.com/site/sktdeaconed/home/mp3/150414_001.mp3?attredirects=0&d=1

            Easter time is supposed to be a time of great joy.  Of celebration.  Exultation.

            But let me be so bold as to say this – it was not a time of great joy for Peter.  I can say this with some confidence because more than any other disciple of Jesus, the Gospels provide a window into what was going on in Peter’s mind, and in his heart.

            No, it was not a time of great joy for Peter.

            More likely, I imagine it was a time in which he felt humiliation, and shame and despair, oh probably mixed with feelings of some joy and utter confusion over the resurrection of the Lord.  Mixed feelings.  Strong feelings.  Feelings of wonder and awe at these mysterious appearances of the Lord.  But feelings of shame at having betrayed Jesus three times.  Wanting desperately to be with the Lord again, but afraid about what the Lord might say to him.  Afraid to hear “how could you betray me at my hour of greatest need, Simon?  Get behind me, you Judas.” 

            Perhaps wanting to beat Jesus to the punch and simply tell Him “Master, depart from me, for I am a sinful man.”

            This is the condition of Peter’s mind and heart I imagine as I read and reflect on this Gospel.  Despairing of his sin.  Confused about all the Lord taught and did, about what he is to do with the rest of his life.  So Peter along with some of the disciples have returned to Galilee.  He announces I am going fishing.  I’m going back to what I know how to do.  Perhaps having a flashback to the words of the Lord – “I will make you fishers of men.”

            Fishing all night and catching nothing, this mysterious stranger calles them “children” and tells them to try the other side of the boat, and suddenly the net is full almost to breaking!  The beloved disciple whispers to him “It is the Lord!” Peter tucks in his garment and impulsively jumps in the water to swim to shore, perhaps with a flashback to the other time he was the only one to leave the boat to go to the Lord.

            But now on the shore, he approaches the Lord sheepishly and he looks down, seeing the charcoal fire the Lord has built.  His mind flashes back to the courtyard of the high priests’ house, the night of Jesus’ arrest, huddled in the dark and cold around a charcoal fire, and his heart drops as the words ring out in his memory:  “are you not also one of this man’s disciples?  I am not.”  He winces as he remembers his own words, how he cursed and swore and shouted “I do not even know the man.”

            And now here He is. The Man standing before him. 

            But not with eyes of disdain or hatred, but with eyes of love.  Welcoming eyes.  Forgiving eyes.  Without a word, Jesus’ mercy and forgiveness and peace wash over Peter, and in the blink of an eye, the joy of Jesus’ resurrection wells up inside Peter.

            Just as Peter has denied the Lord three times, Jesus asks him three times:  “Do you love me?”  To which Peter responds three times “Yes Lord, you know that I love you.  Yes Lord, you know that I love you.  Lord, you know everything.  You know that I love you.”  Peter is healed, redeemed, restored to friendship with the Lord.  He is given a second chance.

            And in redeeming Peter, Our Lord clears up any confusion about the mission of the rest of his life.  He is to demonstrate his love for the Lord.  “Show me,” the Lord tells him.  “Feed my lambs.  Tend my sheep.  Feed my sheep.  You, Peter, are the new shepherd of the sheepfold.  Follow me.”  In this brief moment, Peter is forgiven, restored to wholeness, and given a new lease on life.  A new mission for His life.  Which he takes up and follows unreservedly, all the way to his own suffering and death on another Roman cross. 

            My brothers and sisters, Our Lord is speaking to me, and to you, today, in this Gospel.  He is inviting you and me to move beyond whatever it is in our lives that we are ashamed of, that we are humiliated by, that is holding us back from following Him unreservedly.  He is inviting us to face the charcoal fires in our own lives, and like He did with Peter, Jesus is searching for us to find us and restore us to friendship with Him.  So that we may approach the Lord with trust in His love and mercy.  And be restored to wholeness, feel His peace and be filled with Easter joy.

            Jesus is asking you and He’s asking me “Do you love me?  Do you love me more than these?  Do you love me more than everything else in your life?  Will you let me, the Lord, be the center of your life?”

            And He’s asking us to answer in truth “Yes Lord, you know that I love you?”  For once we have experienced His love, and mercy, and tenderness, how can we answer any other way?

            But Jesus is also saying to you and to me, “now show me.  Show me with the rest of your life.  A life of repentance of sin, a life of change.  A life lived only for me, the Lord, in service of my lambs, my sheep.  A life lived so that all those who see you will know that you are different, that you are my disciple, and they will glorify my Father in Heaven.”