“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” So begins the Gospel of John. The Gospel writer intentionally begins with the very same words as the Book of Genesis at the beginning of the Old Testament. “In the beginning… God created…” The point is that Jesus Christ, the Eternal Word, was there at the beginning of Creation. Even more, the point is that the Risen Christ is here now in the Gospel, re-creating all things. It is the beginning of a new age, and Christ the Word is making everything new.
Today’s Gospel reading from John also has tantalizing references to the Book of Genesis.
For example, consider the number of disciples. There are the seven who go fishing – Simon Peter, Thomas, Nathanael, Zebedee’s two sons, and two other disciples. Seven: the number of completion, of a completed cycle of time. Think of the seven days of the week, the seven days of creation.
These seven disciples fish all through the night and catch nothing: Night, it has to be night when they catch nothing: failed fishing in deep darkness. Think of the second verse of Genesis, when “the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered the abyss.” In the Gospel, it is in this darkness that Jesus appears on the shore. Note that “the disciples did not realize it was Jesus.” It is still too dark. The disciples’ vision is too darkened.
Jesus stands on the shore, in the early morning darkness, as the rising Son who will illumine them and recreate them. He is the “light shining in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
As soon as the disciples catch a large catch of fish, one of the disciples exclaims: “It is the Lord.” Now they recognize him. And then Simon Peter does something very odd. When he heard it was the Lord, “he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea.” Many people have scratched their heads over that verse. Why on earth did Simon Peter put on clothes before hopping into the water? Or even more odd, why was he previously naked, while sitting in the boat fishing? Did first century Galilean men usually go fishing in the nude? Or was it only Simon Peter who fished naked? You have to wonder.
But think of who else was naked, and then put on some clothes? Think of Genesis – Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. After they ate the forbidden fruit, after they sinned, they realized they were naked, and they sewed loincloths for themselves to cover their nakedness. Simon Peter is another Adam. As soon as he knows it’s the Lord, when he recognizes Jesus on the shore, he knows he is a sinner. He wants to cover himself.
No doubt Simon Peter is recalling that he sinned in denying the Lord three times. As Our Lord underwent his Passion, Simon Peter said to the maid, “No, I’m not one of his disciples.” You’re one of his disciples, aren’t you? “No, I am not.” You were in the garden with him, weren’t you? “No, not I,” he lied.
But now, Jesus recreates Simon Peter and makes him a new man. Three times Simon Peter had denied the Lord; three times he says now that he loves the Lord. His sin is undone when he encounters Jesus, the Re-creator.
The question Jesus asks Simon Peter is striking. “Simon, Son of John, do you love me?” Again, “Do you love me?” And a third time, “Do you love me?” Note that Jesus does not ask him, “Do you believe right doctrine about me?” Nor does Jesus ask him, “Do you worship God rightly, and follow the liturgical rubrics?” Nor does Jesus ask him, “Do you obey me as your lawful superior?”
To be sure, doctrinal truth and liturgy and obedience are all good things, and of course they have their place. But when Simon Peter meets Jesus to be made new, it’s about something much more important: Do you love me? Jesus offers friendship, a relationship, a sharing in his own risen life. Jesus offers love.
This is the message of Easter. This is the message of today’s liturgy. The Risen Lord, the Creator of all things, is among us this morning. He is asking us: Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me? With his love, he is recreating us and making us new. It is the dawn of a new creation.
That sounds wonderful, and it is wonderful. However, I acknowledge that the Catholic Church is making it hard to see the Risen Lord these days. Rather than being a sign of new creation on a bright Easter day, the Church is, in many ways, a dark abyss of sin, dishonesty, and cover-up. As Fr. Wilfred said at Mass this past Thursday, “There is something systemically wrong in the church. There is a fundamental flaw in the structure of the church. Disciplining a few errant members will not get rid of this flaw.” Structural problems in the hierarchy, from the Pope on down, obscure the Easter message and make it more difficult to see the Risen Christ.
I received two powerful emails this past week. A laywoman wrote to me, “My husband (an adult convert to Catholicism) can’t go to church anymore. He just feels utterly betrayed. I continue to go, but it hasn’t been the same.” A layman wrote to me, “What’s going on in the church with the new Mass translation, and the continued mistreatment of homosexuals, along with the recent scandals, saddens me deeply. The only way for the church to regain its credibility is to have every cardinal submit his resignation and allow the People of God to choose the members of the College of Cardinals.”
I respect these sentiments, and I share the painful feelings of betrayal, sadness, and anger.
However, if I may be so honest with you, I confess that the Church’s failings prod me to believe in the Risen Christ more than ever. He has shined forth for me these past weeks as a bright light, brighter than ever. Like in a Rembrandt painting where almost the entire canvas is dark and murky, but the image of Christ on one side of the picture is painted in radiant colors, – so also the darkness of the Church authority scandal puts the face of the Risen Christ in sharper relief.
He seems more present to me at Mass in this Easter season: more truthful than ever, as he knows all our failings; more triumphant than ever in his humble acceptance of the Cross; more loving than ever, the Sinless One who forgives and loves us.
The liturgies of Easter, in their persistent message of new life, a new world, a new day, exert more pull than ever upon a soul longing for the new creation. Even the holy water, blessed at the Easter Vigil, seems to me to be purer and clearer and more refreshing than ever. I bless myself with it and feel the power of the Risen Lord making all things new.
In Easter season the priest’s vestments are white, a color of joyful brightness. I suppose having special clothing for the ordained priest carries with it the danger that the priest’s role is overly exalted, above and apart from the rest of the Church. I hope, rather, that the white vestments of Easter help us see the Risen Lord more clearly. The ordained minister is covered over, showing that it is really Christ, and not any unworthy human, who celebrates Mass. It is Christ who is the priest offering his Body to us. Our faith is in Christ, Christ alone.
In this Mass, may we see Christ, the bright light shining in the darkness, the Risen Lord who loves us and makes us new.
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Fr. Anthony Ruff, OSB
Saint John’s Abbey
April 18, 2010, The Third Sunday of Easter, John 21:1-19
#1 by Adam Bartlett on April 18, 2010 - 4:02 pm
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“…The only way for the church to regain its credibility is to have every cardinal submit his resignation and allow the People of God to choose the members of the College of Cardinals.”
Who will the people of God choose from? A proper perspective could be helpful:
http://www.catholicleague.org/research/abuse_in_social_context.htm
From the conclusion:
“The issue of child sexual molestation is deserving of serious scholarship. Too often, assumptions have been made that this problem is worse in the Catholic clergy than in other sectors of society. This report does not support this conclusion. Indeed, it shows that family members are the most likely to sexually molest a child. It also shows that the incidence of the sexual abuse of a minor is slightly higher among the Protestant clergy than among the Catholic clergy, and that it is significantly higher among public school teachers than among ministers and priests.”
#2 by Adam Bartlett on April 18, 2010 - 4:21 pm
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“There is something systemically wrong in the church. There is a fundamental flaw in the structure of the church.”
Here’s another interesting study that seems to suggest a fundamental flaw in the priests ordained between 1950 and 1979. Very interesting data indeed.
http://www.bringyou.to/apologetics/PriestAbuseScandal.htm
From the results:
“The majority of priests with allegations of abuse were ordained between 1950 and 1979 (68%). Priests ordained prior to 1950 accounted for 21.3% of the allegations, and priests ordained after 1979 accounted for 10.7% of allegations.”
Some data in graph form:
http://www.bringyou.to/apologetics/ACCUSED.jpg
#3 by Ioannes Andreades on April 19, 2010 - 8:51 am
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A big question will be whether there will be more catholics who come forward after they turn 40 or 50 to allege abuse by priests ordained after 1979.
The most likely ordination class against whom allegations have been made was the ordination class of 1970.
Unfortunately, the John Jay study did not answer the question in what years were bishops consecrated who later went on to shuffle abusive priests time and time again and let them work with children. A huge percentage of these priests had pyschological issues that rendered them less responsible for their actions. Bishops in all cases should have known better.
#4 by Anthony Ruff, OSB on April 18, 2010 - 4:52 pm
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Hi Adam, fellow chant devotee, — I know that feelings run high on all this stuff (they do for me), so I’ll try to respond in good spirit to your helpful data. Three things. First, the issue for me is not the proportion of abusing RC priests compared to other sectors, but rather, how our system of authority dealt with it. I call it a hierarchy oversight scandal more than a clergy abuse scandal. Second, I think clergy abuse goes back for many centuries, well before 1950. I’m not sure how accurate any data can be – abuse by priests ordained in the 1930s and 1940s would have been of older people probably much less likely to criticize authority, and thus it was never reported. Even if the data on generational cohorts is somewhat accurate, I don’t think it avoids the “fundamental flaw” issue. Finally, I note that the two offending passages are both where I quoted other people! I quoted them approvingly in the minimal sense that I think we need to hear such.
Peace,
Fr. Anthony, OSB
#5 by Adam Bartlett on April 18, 2010 - 5:38 pm
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Thank you, Father, for your kind response, especially in light of the controversial nature of this topic. I do disagree with your notion of a “fundamental flaw” in the hierarchical structure of the Catholic Church. This hierarchy, although made up of imperfect men, I believe, was established by Christ, and is very integral to my commitment to the Catholic Faith. Because of this I do get upset when I feel that this hierarchy is unjustly criticized or unnecessarily diminished. Above and beyond this, I have to say that I would hardly expect to see the tag category “hierarchy oversight scandal” in a blog that is supposed to be about liturgy. It seems that I’ve either missed the connection or I’ve misunderstood the purpose of this blog.
Nonetheless–Blessings of the Easter Season, and I remain, your fellow chant devotee,
Adam
#6 by Anthony Ruff, OSB on April 18, 2010 - 5:57 pm
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Hi Adam – you raise good points. We’ve talked much on the editorial committee about what to include (or not) on a liturgy blog. We’ve not posted some things because they’re only about the crisis and not about liturgy. But we have posted things which seem to treat the crisis with liturgical values in mind. In the case of this homily, the judgment is that it’s primarily about the Scripture of the liturgy, and in a homiletic way it treats (as a homily should) current issues in the life of the Church.
Concerining what Our Lord instituted: the Petrine office and the college of bishops (according to V2), but surely not the historical accretions such as monarchical structure and monarchical mindsets. The college of cardinals could be eliminated tomorrow (I’m not advocating this!) without touching anything of divine institution.
Peace,
awr
#7 by Fr John Mack on April 18, 2010 - 6:06 pm
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A beautiful homiletic exposition on today’s gospel. My homily proceeded in a similar direction, although I did not articulate the Johannine exegesis as artfully as you did. I do believe that this last month has been a time of incredible contrasts even as we moved towards the liturgical mountaintop of the Triduum. As chaos swirled around us, we jammed cathedrals for the blessing of oils, crowded around baptismal fonts to witness Christian initiation, and filled churches to overflowing Easter Sunday. In many ways, in the midst of divisiveness, uncertainty, fear and rage, these days seem to mirror closely those 1st century times of Paschal Mystery power unfolding in the face of adversity, opposition and upheaval, religiously, politically, and culturally, as believers were being added in great numbers. Thank you for sharing ‘good news’ found even within the challenges we face as a consequence of sin’s effects as they echo from our tragic past.
#8 by Jack Rakosky on April 18, 2010 - 6:35 pm
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Our homilist, a scripture scholar, pointed out the English translation conceals that the Greek uses two different words for love. In the first two interchanges Jesus asks Peter if he loves him, using agape, i.e. divine love and Peter responds using the word from which we get philanthropy, meaning a human love. In that last exchange Jesus asks the question in terms of human love, signifying that he still loves Peter despite the fact that Peter cannot love him in the way that Jesus desires. The homilist concluded that people, including church leaders and politicians as well as family, and friends often fail to love us as we (and God) would wish, but we still need to love them for the inadequate love that they bring. However, he said this does mean that we cannot hold others accountable.
#9 by F C Bauerschmidt on April 19, 2010 - 6:31 am
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Jack,
You didn’t happen to be in Baltimore yesterday, did you? Because I heard much the same homily.
#10 by Jack Rakosky on April 19, 2010 - 2:42 pm
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No this was in Cleveland. It is interesting that the homily could not be done on the Latin text which like English does not recognize the difference in the Greek verbs.
#11 by Jack Rakosky on April 18, 2010 - 6:37 pm
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In my opinion the Papacy (and bishops) need to recover the notion of being the Vicar of Peter and the Apostles, and avoid the language of Vicar(s) of Christ. As Vicars of Christ their behavior is a massive failure to exhibit anything approaching divine love. We have a right to be outraged in this matter and others, e.g. Pius XII and the Jews. Jesus accepted a very human papacy. Peter well understood his limitations. We need a human Papacy that admits its many human errors. A good beginning toward a human Papacy would be to stop the canonizations of Popes.
#12 by Kathy Pluth on April 18, 2010 - 8:15 pm
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Fr. Ruff, you really had me fooled on this one. For a second I thought it was NOT going to be a negative post about the Pope. Silly of me, by this point, but I was really hoping…
Is there any possibility this will become a blog about the liturgy?
#13 by Anthony Ruff, OSB on April 18, 2010 - 8:21 pm
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Kathy – thanks for raising the question, and I’ll ask the editorial committee to consider this. My own thought is that good liturgy can’t very well ignore what’s going on in the church and world. I really don’t have the goal of being “negative on the Pope,” but I do think that responsible preaching has to name what many out there are already thinking, otherwise it isn’t really credible for many listeners. I really do love the church, and at this time I think that means exposing painful wounds to the sunlight for the sake of healing. But I welcome feedback from you, and also, as I said, from the ed committee which will be asked to react.
Peace,
awr
#14 by Kathy Pluth on April 18, 2010 - 8:25 pm
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It’s a beautifully composed homily, obviously, Fr. Ruff. But I just feel as though only one drum is being beaten here. And there is so very much potential for positive dialogue about so many things! Why not talk about the coming solemnities, the details of the texts and the rites? Why not discuss the prefaces or the antiphons of the Office? So much could be said!
#15 by Paul Schlachter on April 18, 2010 - 10:26 pm
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Father, More than beautiful, it is uplifting and engaging. You draw us into the mysterious encounter, and quickly. I feel that homilies should lead everyone present to communion with Christ, and you have done that. And you have done it in a very difficult time, based on the e-mails you have shared and the other comments posted here. Should liturgy be a time to sweep our sadness and disappointment under the rug and pretend they don’t exist? I think that it is a time, as you say, to see the risen Lord and place our fears and hopes and joys with him. Thank you for sharing every word with us. Thank you for your honesty in this.
#16 by Kathy Pluth on April 19, 2010 - 5:53 am
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Paul Schlachter raises the meta-problem, which I would hesitate to bring into the dialogue at this point. Is the liturgy primarily a discussion among ourselves? Is it a system of words and symbols that we use? Or is it rather a gift that includes us, here and now, with the praises of heaven? This is the overarching question but one which I believe is not profitably addressed at this time.
In other words, I believe that the question of whether the liturgy is a “closed circle” (Pope Benedict’s expression) or the privileged mystical encounter with and in the living triune God, is a much later question. Instead, I would suggest a dialogue about the details. What do we do and say according to the actual existing liturgical books? Can we mine the meaning of the texts? I think there is a process of discovery that could occur without rancor and with considerable joy in the Holy Spirit.
#17 by F C Bauerschmidt on April 19, 2010 - 6:42 am
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Is it a system of words and symbols that we use? Or is it rather a gift that includes us, here and now, with the praises of heaven?
I usually respond to people saying “we Catholics are ‘both. . . and,’ not ‘either. . . or’” by making fake retching noises, but in this case I am inclined to say that I see no problem with saying that it is a system of words and symbols and a divine gift. To borrow a Christological analogy, I’d say its a system of words and symbols that subsists in the divine gift, so “what it is” is divine gift, but “how it is” is a symbol system of our words, just as the humanity that subsists in the divine Word in our humanity.
I admit that we too often turn the liturgy into a forum about all sorts of things that distract us from the primary focus of the liturgy, but I don’t think that forthrightly addressing the “hierarchy oversight scandal” in the context of the liturgy is such a distraction.
#18 by Kathy Pluth on April 19, 2010 - 7:38 am
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Fritz,
I suppose you’re right. My frustration is the exclusive focus of this blog so far. I see incredible potential here.
#19 by Judy Schwager on April 20, 2010 - 6:07 pm
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When I heard this gospel reading on Sunday, the text was “When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he tucked in his garment, for he was lightly clad, and jumped into the sea.”
My casual exposure to historic athlectic practice tells me that swimmers typically wore no clothes. So when Simon Peter tucks in his garment to swim, he is so eager to reach Jesus that he can’t even spare the time to take off his clothes, much less wait for the boat to reach shore!
This is quite a different understanding of the passage, based on just a few different words…
It makes me think this translation stuff is pretty important