theROCK

The Cross and the Light

 It was an honor and privilege to carry our Lord’s cross into the church this past Good Friday. The week before ordination my spiritual director asked me if I had thought of a gift to ask God for at ordination. This very idea had been on my mind for a while. I responded too him that I desired the grace of clearly recognizing someone who was suffering and the ability to accompany and assist them in carrying a portion of their cross.

After venerating the cross Good Friday afternoon, I sat in the sanctuary, a witness to our parish family bringing forward their personal sorrows. It was difficult for me to hold back my tears.  My heart was heavy with those burdens which many of you have shared with me these past seven months. The mysteries of ordination have been astonishing. All I could do in those moments was to pray for each of you, asking Jesus to carry some of the weight of your cross as you united your suffering to His.

In our second reading today, Peter addresses a working class of Christian slaves. Peter asks those slaves to respond to unjust treatment without resorting to violence. His request for patient suffering is compared to that of Jesus who won righteousness for all humanity. God’s grace and strength is available for us when we endure our suffering with that same patience. 

Someone asked me this past week if the Easter Candle which I brought into the sanctuary at Easter Vigil was heavy. In contrast to the heaviness of the many sufferings in our world today, the Easter Candle was lightweight, almost buoyant. The Roman Missal summarizes the light symbolism of the Easter Candle perfectly, “May the light of Christ rising in glory dispel the darkness of our hearts and minds.” This connects the Easter candle to Jesus as the “light of the world,” as Jesus describes himself in the Gospel of John.

From the Easter candle all the other candles in the church are lit showing how Jesus is the source of our light. May you carry the light of Christ with you this Easter Season and continue to share the weight of your cross with Jesus. God’s Easter blessings to you all.

Proof of His Love

Recently, I was blessed to help direct lines during the 12 Hours of Reconciliation day. As I was in the church, my eyes were drawn over and over again to the large crucifix in the back of church. It seemed as if the outstretched arms of the Lord were reaching out to embrace the whole church full of people seeking forgiveness.

Today in the Gospel, we hear Jesus’ encounter with Thomas who needs proof of the Resurrection in order to believe. So often, we ask God for proof. Maybe not of the Resurrection, but of his love for us, of his providence, that he is good, that He cares for us. But we already have the proof. Look to the Cross. The pierced hands, feet, and side, the crown of thorns. They’re all proof of his love for us. And if that’s not enough, look at an image of the resurrection. He rose from the dead! For you! He gave us the Church and sent us the Holy Spirit. He promised that He would not leave us orphans.

As you continue to reflect on God's love for you, here are some of my favorite lines of poetry from St. Thomas Aquinas’ meditations on the Gospel of John 20:19-31:

I am not like Thomas, wounds I cannot see, but I plainly call thee Lord and God as he.
This faith each day deeper be my holding of, daily make me harder hope and dearer love.

Greener Grass

One of the greatest and unexpected reasons I am a priest today came about when I was sitting in my formator’s office telling him I was thinking of leaving the seminary. My first year of college seminary was not as easy as I had hoped and I found myself struggling quite early on in my discernment. By the time the semester was well under way, I already was considering leaving the seminary. I felt spiritually dry. I remember telling the priest all of the things I had left behind for seminary and my desire to go back to them.

The priest listened intently and patiently as I went down the list of reasons why I should leave. When I finished he leaned forward in his chair and said, “You know Tim, the grass is always greener on the other side, and at times we want to leave our ugly looking grass and move. But sometimes, we just need to water our own grass.”

Sometimes we just need to water our own grass. It’s a simple lesson, yet it was a lesson that kept me in seminary and eventually a priest. I began to focus on what was causing my spiritual grass to die and what care it needed. It took some time, but eventually, I became quite happy and content with how green my own grass had become. 

Sometimes we get so caught up in looking around us that we neglect to water and care for ourselves. As we become focused on what we do not have, what we actually have begins to suffer. We then want to give up and move on to newer and better things. It becomes a vicious cycle. The more we look outward the more our grass dies until we eventually move on to greener grass. 

We all have times when we wish we could be elsewhere or further along than we are, especially in our faith. The temptation can be to move on to others things and give up. Let’s try a different approach. For as much as the grass looks greener on the other side, sometimes we just need to water our own grass.