Second Sunday of Easter - Divine Mercy A
For the honor of the Blessed
Trinity,
the exaltation of the
Catholic faith
and the increase of the
Christian life,
by the authority of our Lord
Jesus Christ,
and of the Holy Apostles
Peter and Paul, and our own,
after due deliberation and
frequent prayer for divine assistance,
and having sought the
counsel of many of our brother Bishops,
we declare and define
Blessed John XXIII and John Paul II
to be Saints and we enroll
them among the Saints,
decreeing that they are to
be venerated as such by the whole Church.
In the name of the Father,
and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
just a few hours ago in Rome,
Pope
Francis, gathered with
about a half-million Catholic pilgrims,
about a half-million Catholic pilgrims,
gave
the Church and the world two new saints.
These
are not saints who are unfamiliar to us,
but
men who are remembered
by many here this morning.
I’m too young to personally recall
I’m too young to personally recall
Pope John XXIII,
but
I vividly remember Pope John Paul II.
In
fact, as the ways of Divine Providence
would have it,
I
had the privilege of meeting
Pope John Paul on a few occasions,
and
he did me the great honor
of being the first to use my chalice—
the
chalice with which I offer Mass this morning.
These
two popes, these two saints,
have
left notable marks on the Church.
Pope
John called the Second Vatican Council;
although
he didn’t live long enough to see it through,
he
did initiate this visionary project of renewal.
And
Pope John Paul—who had been a bishop at Vatican II—
was
the great interpreter of that Council,
leaving
us more than 70,000 published pages
that
will be studied for quite some time to come.
Now-Saint
John Paul II left his mark on me, too,
but
it wasn’t so much through any of those many volumes
of
his wise and learned teaching.
On
March 19—St. Joseph’s Day—1998,
I
was asked to serve Mass for the Holy Father in St. Peter’s Basilica.
I
would be the Pope’s official hand-washer during the ceremony.
(If
he needed water and a towel, I was his man!)
This
was a special day:
the
Pope was about to ordain
three
of his closest collaborators as Bishops.
Eventually,
the Pope shuffled along with his cane
into the small, hidden room which served as a sacristy.
into the small, hidden room which served as a sacristy.
Even though it had already begun to droop
and
lose some its expression, his face positively lit up
when
he saw his three coworkers awaiting him there.
There
were smiles, hugs, laughter.
And
then it was time to prepare for Mass.
I
was brought forward to wash the Pope’s shaking hands.
(His weren't the only hands that shook!)
(His weren't the only hands that shook!)
Next, the Holy Father was to put on his priestly vestments.
He was unable
to do so by himself anymore.
I was so struck by how the
Pope
simply held out his arms in the figure of a Cross
simply held out his arms in the figure of a Cross
and
allowed others to dress him.
Before
me stood a man
who
was the spiritual leader of about a billion Catholics,
also
admired by men and women of other faiths or no faith at all,
arguably
one of the most recognized and powerful people on the planet,
who in the
weakness of illness and old age
had
to allow others to change his clothes.
The
combination of both moral greatness and utter humility
in
that very simple but profound gesture —
something of the divine shining through the utterly human—
something of the divine shining through the utterly human—
taught
me more about real and living holiness
than
any book he ever wrote or talk he ever gave.
As
the Apostle Thomas makes clear in this Sunday’s gospel,
sometimes
words just aren’t enough to satisfy the human spirit.
we
are more than our minds—
and
so it’s only natural that we seek after more
than
just stimulating our intellect:
we
desire action and personal experience;
we
want to see and feel things for ourselves.
I
often think that Thomas’ nickname—Didymus, “Twin”—
points
to just how much we all have in common with him.
Maybe
it was Thomas’ initial pangs of doubt
that
inspired the first Christians to live in the way
which
we hear described in the Acts of the Apostles.
Yes,
we hear that they devoted themselves
to the Apostles’ teaching.
But
in addition, we hear that
the
devout way in which the prayed,
the
joyous way in which they shared their common life,
and
the loving way in which they took care of one another’s needs
caused
everybody around them to look on with awe.
They
weren’t just well-studied and well-spoken
in what they believed,
in what they believed,
but
they lived out that faith,
which
made them stand out from other people.
They
lived in a manner that wouldn’t make any sense
if
Jesus Christ hadn’t been raised from the dead.
Their
actions spoke even louder than their words ever could.
What
spoke so loudly then still speaks so loudly now.
Pope
Paul VI—who reigned between our two new saints—
once
wrote:
For the Church, the first means of
evangelization
is
the witness of an authentically Christian life….
Modern
man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers,
and
if he does listen to teachers,
it
is because they are witnesses.…
It
is therefore primarily by her conduct and by her life
that
the Church will evangelize the world,
in other words, by her living witness of fidelity to the Lord Jesus—
in other words, by her living witness of fidelity to the Lord Jesus—
the
witness of poverty and detachment,
of
freedom in the face of the powers of this world,
in
short, the witness of holiness. (Evangelii nuntiandi, 41)
Saints
are followers of Jesus
who
make it to heaven to live with God forever.
Some
saints have a capital “S”:
those
who—like Pope John and Pope John Paul—
are
formally recognized as such.
But
it’s vital that we remember
there
are countless more saints down through the ages
who
won’t be given their own feast days
or
have churches named after them.
Saints—as
today’s canonization reminds us—are what it’s all about.
The
Church exists for one purpose only:
to
produce saints;
to
make us holy now, and to get us to heaven forever.
Yes,
we are all called to be saints—
not
just a few of us, but all of us!
To
give flesh and blood, to give a living face, to the risen Jesus—
both
great and humble, wounded yet glorious!
With
two new models of holiness for us to imitate,
let’s
be the witnesses that our times so desperately want and need—
not
just talking about Divine Mercy but showing it,
that
the world might see and touch it’s Lord and God today.
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