Let's look at the Scriptures to see how others reacted to finding the tomb empty. Witnesses to accidents or other major events often disagree on some details because they see things differently or have a different perspective. So it is with the Four Gospels. The writers all agree on the basic FACTS.
Showing posts from April, 2019
The incredible thing about the parable of the sower and the seed, which we find in Mark’s gospel - chapter 4 and Mathew’s gospel - chapter 13, is that we can find ourselves as the sower, as the seed and as the ground at different times in our lives. In this season of Easter – a time so closely associated with new life and growth we are going to explore this parable in a few different ways. This morning we will look at … Jesus as the sower….at ourselves as the ground/the receiver of the seed….and at ourselves as sowers of the seed. Jesus the sower: “Jesus is the sower. We note that, with this image, He presents Himself as one who does not impose Himself, but who proposes; He does not draw us by conquering us, but by giving Himself: He throws the seed. He strews His Word with patience and generosity, which is not a cage or a trap, but a seed that can bear fruit. And how can it bear fruit? If we receive it .” That was a translation of part of the address Pope Francis gave
Let’s begin praying with a reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew. Then Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” He took along Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to feel sorrow and distress. Then he said to them, “My soul is sorrowful even to death. Remain here and keep watch with me.” He advanced a little and fell prostrate in prayer, saying, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet, not as I will, but as you will.” When he returned to his disciples he found them asleep. He said to Peter, “So you could not keep watch with me for one hour? Watch and pray that you may not undergo the test. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Withdrawing a second time, he prayed again, “My Father, if it is not possible that this cup pass without my drinking it, your will be done!” Then he returned once more and found them asleep, for they could not keep their eyes open.
In my family, the rite of passage for a college age child was to receive a laundry bag from my Mom before one went off to college. My mom always was one for addressing needs and having a laundry bag was a priority. In my case, she talked constantly about needing a laundry bag prior to starting college. It was a “must have” item. Being me, I just listened to her. Mom bought a blue laundry bag for me. I really liked my laundry bag which was made of blue cloth with a drawstring. It was durable, easy to use and store. My trusty laundry bag held up for thirty years. As I matured, the bag became more than a holder of dirty and clean clothes, it became an all-purpose bag. It carried Christmas and birthday presents. It carted housewares, party supplies and various miscellaneous items. I always remembered who gave me my laundry bag along with love and care attached to it As each of the two grandchildren went off to college, the importance of a laundry bag arose, wel
Although it has been twenty years, I still remember the incident when ten women were walking on Captiva Island, Florida for about one hour. It was a short stop over until we left for the airport. We all dashed out of the rental car onto the beach and scattered in the same basic area in search of sea shells. I searched alone. Finding small scalloped shape shells with at least one horizontal maroon stripe on the shell, I collected as many as I could. Once reuniting with the others, I was amazed at all the different types of shells each one of us had gathered. No one collected the same shell. Each of us focused on one particular shape and size. I could not get over this. Although I made a comment about it, we were in a rush so I do not know the reaction of the others. I had never been on a beach with so many shells of so many varieties. Maybe I was, but never noticed it. The beauty of nature and God’s creation was right in front of me and I noticed it. I was so l
It was a crisp clear blue sky morning about fifteen years ago. As I approached the church stairs, images of going to basketball practice invaded me. A huge smile overcame me since my favorite memories of practice occurred here at this same parish. The gym was across the parking lot from the church. Attending daily Mass became my new practice court. A journal and prayer book replaced the basketball. With God as my coach and the community as my teammates, I prepared for the game of daily life. Greeting friends, entering into prayer, joining in the Mass, hearing the word of God, seeing the consecration of the host, hearing Eucharist prayers, receiving the Eucharist, receiving the priest’s blessing, alone prayer time and finally talking with various friends was the “practice” routine. Maybe, I would arrive early before Mass to recite the Rosary or stay later on Wednesdays to recite the Divine Mercy Chaplet. Participating in daily Mass prepared me for the upcoming da