Until yesterday, I had never thought about the relationship between Ascension Day, when Jesus ascended into Heaven, and Memorial Day, when remember all those who died in war or military action (at which point, we pray, their souls ascended to Heaven). Here is my brother's homily which I enjoyed very much, especially as I thought of what must go through the mind of a soldier in his last moments:
Sometimes it can only be when a loved one is suddenly taken from us that we realize how little time we had—never enough, no matter how much it was. Whether an aging parent slowly fades away, or a sibling succumbs to a long bout with cancer, or a child is brought to a tragic end, our love is what makes time begin when they arrive, pass in a flash when they are present, and drag interminably when they are gone.
The Apostles were no different. It is easy to imagine the first Holy Saturday, with the eleven shut up tightly in the upper room, occasionally looking out the window, starting when footsteps fell on the stairs…but for the most part just running through their memories of the Master Who had just been so cruelly slain. Turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana, was that three whole years ago? It passed by so quickly. The miracle of loaves and fish, was that really a year ago? Was it just this week that He entered so triumphantly into Jerusalem? The public ministry that at the time seemed almost dreamlike as it passed day by day, now in memory was bitterly short. So much they could have learned—and didn’t; so much they wanted to do with Him, say to Him—and now they couldn’t.
Even the period from the Resurrection to the Ascension would have had this flavor to it. It’s not as if Jesus, having risen from the dead, remained day in and day out among His disciples. St. Paul says that Christ appeared to Peter, then all the Apostles together, then to five hundred all at once. In the Gospel of John, the four resurrection appearances all convey the impression that He showed up mysteriously, and just as mysteriously vanished again. So, most of those forty days, the disciples were overjoyed that Christ was alive again, but what appearances they did receive were too short, too few and far between. Never enough time. And then He was taken from them definitively.
And who were these Apostles that Jesus left in charge of His Church and the mission of spreading it to all the nations on the globe? Fishermen, for the most part, and not always very good ones. And although fishermen are notorious for their impressive vocabulary, it’s not a language skill that could have been used to evangelize the world. Simon the Zealot was a terrorist waiting to happen. Thomas could have been a university professor for all his professional skepticism. Not exactly the A-team for missionary activity. Their talents, if they had any, lay in completely different directions.
But this very fact brings to mind two seemingly contrary attitudes which must have overwhelmed the Apostles when Jesus promised to send them the Holy Spirit to empower them as they took over the world. On the one hand, there can only be humility when we look to our own deficiency and weakness. St. Benedict says in his monastic rule that some of the stages of humility are to confess one’s sin, to believe and acknowledge oneself viler than all, and to think oneself worthless and unprofitable for all purposes. Surely the Twelve must have had these in spades. All of them sinned by denying Christ and fleeing in the Garden of Gethsemane on Holy Thursday night. After each one of them professed undying love—even to the death of the body—earlier that same evening, they must later have all thought themselves worthless. And looking at their pooled talents, skills, and resources, they must have been tempted to doubt the wisdom of God’s providence, seeing how unprofitable they knew themselves to be.
Nevertheless, when they thought of Who it was Who was commissioning them, when they finally felt the presence of the Holy Spirit, and through Him called to mind all the things Jesus taught them, they would have been utterly confident that bringing the whole world unto subjection to Christ was the one thing they could do. Their hearts were on fire as never before, and that one asset was their greatest and most necessary. This noble expansion of the heart to do heroic deeds that changed the course of history is predicated only on the power of God working within; the virtuous fear of being unequal to the task is a sober judgment made in the light—or darkness, rather—of one’s own capabilities.
Each of us here has this same combination of weakness and greatness that plagued the Apostles and drove them on. Not one of us here will come to the end of our lives with confidence that we made a sufficient return on the talents God invested in us. Everyone sucks in the last breath wondering how well we used our time. Truly at our judgment we will realize just how our salvation was dependent upon the grace of Christ, and no one will have the temerity to try to boast of his accomplishments, which will in our own minds be riddled with mixed motives. But what a consolation it will be when we are forced to look into the eyes of Christ Jesus our judge, and as we have not a word to answer for ourselves, our guardian angel, whose judgment is true, opens the scroll and pleads our cause from the good we have done!
This is the second week that Fr. Jim and St. Kilian parish have decided to focus our attention on our duty as Catholics to be good stewards. Nothing is more valuable—and less reliable—than time, and this alone should inspire us to rededicate ourselves to the concrete acts of love for our church and the people in it. If we have greatness to be placed at the service of others, then not to do so would be hiding our talent in the ground…generally not a good idea. But if we desire to ascend with Jesus and join Him where He is, at the right hand of God the Father, then He has told us what we must do: “As often as you did this for the least of My brethren, you did it for Me.”
Given 5/24/09 at St. Kilian
The Apostles were no different. It is easy to imagine the first Holy Saturday, with the eleven shut up tightly in the upper room, occasionally looking out the window, starting when footsteps fell on the stairs…but for the most part just running through their memories of the Master Who had just been so cruelly slain. Turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana, was that three whole years ago? It passed by so quickly. The miracle of loaves and fish, was that really a year ago? Was it just this week that He entered so triumphantly into Jerusalem? The public ministry that at the time seemed almost dreamlike as it passed day by day, now in memory was bitterly short. So much they could have learned—and didn’t; so much they wanted to do with Him, say to Him—and now they couldn’t.
Even the period from the Resurrection to the Ascension would have had this flavor to it. It’s not as if Jesus, having risen from the dead, remained day in and day out among His disciples. St. Paul says that Christ appeared to Peter, then all the Apostles together, then to five hundred all at once. In the Gospel of John, the four resurrection appearances all convey the impression that He showed up mysteriously, and just as mysteriously vanished again. So, most of those forty days, the disciples were overjoyed that Christ was alive again, but what appearances they did receive were too short, too few and far between. Never enough time. And then He was taken from them definitively.
And who were these Apostles that Jesus left in charge of His Church and the mission of spreading it to all the nations on the globe? Fishermen, for the most part, and not always very good ones. And although fishermen are notorious for their impressive vocabulary, it’s not a language skill that could have been used to evangelize the world. Simon the Zealot was a terrorist waiting to happen. Thomas could have been a university professor for all his professional skepticism. Not exactly the A-team for missionary activity. Their talents, if they had any, lay in completely different directions.
But this very fact brings to mind two seemingly contrary attitudes which must have overwhelmed the Apostles when Jesus promised to send them the Holy Spirit to empower them as they took over the world. On the one hand, there can only be humility when we look to our own deficiency and weakness. St. Benedict says in his monastic rule that some of the stages of humility are to confess one’s sin, to believe and acknowledge oneself viler than all, and to think oneself worthless and unprofitable for all purposes. Surely the Twelve must have had these in spades. All of them sinned by denying Christ and fleeing in the Garden of Gethsemane on Holy Thursday night. After each one of them professed undying love—even to the death of the body—earlier that same evening, they must later have all thought themselves worthless. And looking at their pooled talents, skills, and resources, they must have been tempted to doubt the wisdom of God’s providence, seeing how unprofitable they knew themselves to be.
Nevertheless, when they thought of Who it was Who was commissioning them, when they finally felt the presence of the Holy Spirit, and through Him called to mind all the things Jesus taught them, they would have been utterly confident that bringing the whole world unto subjection to Christ was the one thing they could do. Their hearts were on fire as never before, and that one asset was their greatest and most necessary. This noble expansion of the heart to do heroic deeds that changed the course of history is predicated only on the power of God working within; the virtuous fear of being unequal to the task is a sober judgment made in the light—or darkness, rather—of one’s own capabilities.
Each of us here has this same combination of weakness and greatness that plagued the Apostles and drove them on. Not one of us here will come to the end of our lives with confidence that we made a sufficient return on the talents God invested in us. Everyone sucks in the last breath wondering how well we used our time. Truly at our judgment we will realize just how our salvation was dependent upon the grace of Christ, and no one will have the temerity to try to boast of his accomplishments, which will in our own minds be riddled with mixed motives. But what a consolation it will be when we are forced to look into the eyes of Christ Jesus our judge, and as we have not a word to answer for ourselves, our guardian angel, whose judgment is true, opens the scroll and pleads our cause from the good we have done!
This is the second week that Fr. Jim and St. Kilian parish have decided to focus our attention on our duty as Catholics to be good stewards. Nothing is more valuable—and less reliable—than time, and this alone should inspire us to rededicate ourselves to the concrete acts of love for our church and the people in it. If we have greatness to be placed at the service of others, then not to do so would be hiding our talent in the ground…generally not a good idea. But if we desire to ascend with Jesus and join Him where He is, at the right hand of God the Father, then He has told us what we must do: “As often as you did this for the least of My brethren, you did it for Me.”
Given 5/24/09 at St. Kilian
Image from the holy card of Fr. Vincent Capodanno
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