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All three synoptic Gospels (Mathew, Mark and Luke) record a mission of the Twelve during Jesus’ earthly ministry. The mission of the Seventy (some texts have seventy-two) is peculiar to Luke. There can be little doubt that the number seventy is symbolic. The mission of the Twelve represents the Church’s mission to Israel (twelve tribes); and the mission of the Seventy, its mission to the nations of the world (which according to Jewish tradition, numbered seventy or seventy-two).

In the First Reading, Elisha is called by the Lord to be the helper and successor of the prophet Elijah. Elisha is a wealthy farmer with twelve yoked oxen. He is comparable to our mid-western farmer with a rototiller with immense power. He wants to go home and bid farewell to his family. Prophet Elijah reacts sternly. “Go back!” the prophet says to Elisha—and he seems to mean, “who wants you anyway?”

We live in a world that is obsessed with consumerism. Swimming in the current, we might even be unconscious of its impact. We invest time, energy, and money on our gadgets, fancy food, and drink, clothes, home decor, etc. We chase wealth, fame, and the admiration or notice of others. So why do so many people seem dissatisfied? This is indicative of the fact that we are made for a higher reality. Our deepest desire is to love. So why do we try to fill up with consumerism? Unfortunately, when we turn away from God, we tend to try to fill the emptiness with worldly things. And while most of these things are not bad in moderation, when we use them as substitutes for God’s love, we become addicted to them. They can truly become “idols”, substitutes for God. Of course, we still need to eat and drink and have clothes and tech gadgets. But we should not desire these more than union with God. St Ignatius of Loyola discovered that the things of the world give only temporary pleasure, but the things of God truly satisfy our desires. He introduced in his Spiritual Exercises the daily “Examen of Conscience”. This is a daily check on what material things we consume and how much we invest in spiritual practices.

Today we celebrate the feast of the Most Holy Trinity. Our ordinary devotion to the Holy Trinity is revealed in the Sign of the Cross, when we say: “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” The sign of the cross distinguishes us from other Christian groups. Making the sign of the cross in the Church or before we enter the church, before our prayers, shows that we are followers of the Holy Trinity, and we believe in the Trinitarian God. If we do it in public, it is an expression to the world that we believe in the Holy Trinity. It is a noble sight to see professional athletes make the sign of the cross before a game, because they profess their faith in the Blessed Trinity as if to say that without the Holy Trinity, they are nothing.

 Fifty days after the Passover, the People of Israel celebrated “Pentecost,” observing the giving of the law on Mount Sinai, when God wrote the law with his own finger on the tablets of stone. The feast was originally rooted in the celebration of the harvest. It was on that Pentecost Day that the apostles reaped the harvest of the Lord’s Passover of suffering, crucifixion, and resurrection, and received the Holy Spirit, who writes the law on our hearts. This same Holy Spirit who came mightily on Pentecost comes to us. The same Spirit is in us, by our baptism and confirmation – the same Spirit who transformed the apostles, who raises the dead, and who changes bread and wine into Christ’s Body and Blood. That same Spirit is in us, and this should give us tremendous confidence in following Christ.       

In the First Reading (Acts 7:55-60), we read the story of the death of Stephen; the first Christian martyr. The Jewish authorities at the time accused him of blasphemy for preaching about the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ and hatched a plan to stone him to death. In the narrative, we also meet Saul, a young man who is overseeing the lynching as he is the keeper of the cloaks so that he can eventually ‘reward’ the team that carried out the sentence of execution. The power to execute was reserved solely to the Roman Governor. The witness of Stephen might have sown seeds of conversion in Saul who will encounter Christ later, on the way to Damascus. We learn that Stephen was filled with the Holy Spirit and looking up to heaven; he saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God.    

This weekend, we rejoice with our teenagers who received the Sacrament of Confirmation. May the experience of being sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit help them to live holy lives. His Eminence Bishop Gerald T. Walsh stressed that our lives must be guided by wisdom and understanding that come from the Spirit. This weekend’s readings reflect this aspect of our Christian faith. I hope that families can sit with their teenagers and enter into the process of discernment as many life changing decisions will be made in the next five or six years of their lives.

On February 25, 2004, Mel Gibson’s film, The Passion of the Christ, was released to hostile reviews but strong audiences. It was soon the highest grossing ‘Christian film’ of all time. One of the most moving moments in the film is when Mary (played by Maia Morgenstern) runs to meet her Son (played by Jim Caviezel) on his way to the cross and the two strengthen each other. Gibson uses poetic license to put on the Suffering Christ’s lips the words He speaks from His heavenly throne in today’s second reading (Rev 21:1-5): “See Mother how I make all things new!”

The fourth Sunday of Easter is always given over to the imagery of the Good Shepherd and is being christened ‘Good Shepherd Sunday’. It carries an invitation to pray for the Holy Father, Bishops and Pastors and all who play the role of a shepherd in the Church. The image of the shepherd appears to have been precious to the people of God for a very long time, perhaps it was a familiar motif even when David penned those familiar words of Psalm 23 over three thousand years ago.

On the beach, there is a charcoal fire burning and two men are huddled near it. One turns to the other and asks, “Simon, do you love me”? The question is loaded with many contours of meaning. This is not just an inquiry or casual playful quip. Some time back, Jesus of Nazareth had changed Simon’s name to Peter when he made him the ‘rock’ on which he was building his Church. A few days back, around another charcoal fire, Simon swore to the bystanders that he did not know the man from Nazareth. So, this question cuts deep into the marrow of fidelity.  If you were in Peter’s shoes at this very moment of your life, how would you feel? Troubled because you were unfaithful or joyous because your life overflows with deeds of love for the Master. When Peter affirms his love in definitive terms, the Master binds him to service. The love must be lived out in service, even to the point of going where we normally would not go.        

Fear is a part of everyone's life, although sometimes we call it worries or concerns or anxieties instead. All through life, there is fear, fear, fear. And the resurrected Christ in today's gospel comes to the apostles who are living in fear. And in this frst visit, he says, "Peace be with you." And he aims to dispel their fears, as they are behind locked doors, worried whether they will be located, handed over, and crucifed as Jesus had been. Then, in this same visit, a second time, Jesus says, "Peace be with you. " What is this second imparting of the peace for? Peace, peace, peace be with you. Why is he repeating this? The peace he is offering is the gift of the Holy Spirit. That is for inner peace and keeps the outside from disturbing what is within. And the second imparting of peace is meant, primarily, to empower them with the gift of the spirit so that they can offer peace to others. Because the second time, he says this. "Peace be with you, as the father has sent me, so I send you to bring peace to others." So, the frst gift of peace is to conquer the fears inside. And then the second gift of the spirit is to help the apostles to conquer the world's fears.

Throughout the world from the very beginnings of the Church this has been the cry that gives us our identity. This is the truth that changes everything and everyone. “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad.” Easter is the great celebration of victory of life over death. Ours is an Easter religion. We do not deny or turn away from the evils that surround us. We are witnessing the horrors of war in Ukraine daily on our TV screens. Some 100 million people died due to conflicts in the last century. Poverty grips more than half of the human race and hunger kills millions every year. Discrimination divides the human family into contending parties. We do not deny these miseries, but we refuse to surrender to their power because of our faith in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. The postmodern world has problems with resurrection. It has problems with anything transcendent. “This life is all there is” they proclaim. You live only once - Grab all you can – By all means you have! It doesn’t get any better than this. Bound by immediate distraction, enthralled by skills of indulgence, we are jarred by talk of heaven. For the secular media the subject is even inappropriate.

 Today’s liturgy combines two contrasting moments, one of glory, the other of suffering - the welcome of Jesus into Jerusalem and the drama of His trial which ends in His crucifixion and death. Let us rejoice and sing as Jesus comes into our life today. Let us also weep and mourn as His death confronts us with our sin. The African-American song asks the question, "Were you there when they crucified my Lord? Were you there when they nailed Him to a tree?" The answer is yes, a definite yes. Yes, we were there in the crowd on both days, shouting, “Hosanna!” and later “Crucify Him!” We live out this fickleness of the crowd in our vacillating fervor between fervent prayer and missing our practices of piety due to laziness. Normally, the celebration of Mass on Palm Sunday takes the usual form, but with two key exceptions or marks.

In today’s gospel, the Pharisees and the scribes brought to Jesus an adulterous woman for Him to judge. Adultery, in the Jewish law, was a serious crime punishable with death by stoning. Anyway, the main purpose of the Pharisees and scribes is to trap Jesus and use this against Him. It is not because they wanted to uphold the law. If Jesus would say: “Yes, stone her and kill her’” He would lose His untarnished name with the crowd that He is compassionate and loving with the sinners. He would no longer be seen as the merciful miracle worker. He would lose His popularity and He would lose His appeal to the crowd. There is a tradition, that about the year thirty, the Romans took away from the Sanhedrin the right of capital punishment. Therefore, they could not put Jesus to death. While it is impossible to tell whether this arrangement was in effect when this woman was caught, the most credible reason for involving Jesus in this matter is to assume that the arrangement already existed. So, Jesus would be in trouble with the Romans as well  if he condoned capital punishment. And if He would say: “No, do not kill her,” then He would be accused too because they would be able to condemn Him of being against the law and of being against their traditions.      

The story of the ‘prodigal son’ or ‘prodigal father’ is a story with many names. It is a favorite of many people and one of the most loved stories of Jesus. This story unlike other parables has several facets, almost like a gem that reflects different colors as you turn it in the light. So let us look at it from the cultural perspective colored by Biblical insights. The fathers, guardians of the ancestral property were discouraged from distributing inheritance during their lifetime (Sir 33:20-24). But if he did, a father still was entitled to live off the proceeds while he lived. This son acts shamefully, effectively wishing his father were dead. That the father did not explode and discipline him on the spot testifies to the depth of his love.

On this third Sunday of Lent, we turn our attention to the God who reveals himself. A single thread runs through today's readings. It is indicated by the name of God as revealed to Moses: “I am who I am.” Our God is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, not the God of the philosophers —that is to say, not an abstract, impersonal reality, but the transcendent One who intervenes powerfully in human history. God calls Moses and sends him to lead his people out of Egypt through the wilderness. Here is a tender, loving God, grieving over the troubles of his people. “I have witnessed the affliction of my people in Egypt …” God speaks these words miraculously to Moses from the midst of a burning bush that is not consumed by its own flames! Great compassion from the depths of the transcendent God.

As we begin the journey of Lent, the Church, invites us to reflect on Christ’s humanity by presenting the temptations of Christ on the first Sunday of Lent.  But, on the second Sunday, by presenting the Transfiguration scene, the Church invites us to reflect on Christ’s Divinity. Transfiguration was probably on Mount Hermon in North Galilee, near Caesarea Philippi, where Jesus had camped a week before this wondrous event.  Mt. Hermon was a desolate mountain, 9200 feet high, a veritable wilderness.  The traditional oriental belief that Transfiguration took place on Mount Tabor is based on Psalm 89:12. But Mount Tabor is a small mountain or a big hill in the south of Galilee, less than 1000 feet high, with a Roman fort built on it.  Hence, it would have been an unlikely place for solitude and prayer.   Moses and Elijah received God’s revelations on mountains. Moses received the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai (Exodus 20:1-17). Elijah fled to Mount Horeb, and there, God spoke to him in “a sound of sheer silence”/ “a still small voice.”  (1 Kings 19:12). It is those two men who appear on the mountain with Jesus and his companions.

Every year on the first Sunday of Lent, the liturgy of the word invites us to meditate on the temptations of Jesus.  The synoptic gospels (Mk, Mt, Lk) capture at the beginning of the public ministry of Jesus what John narrates as a lifetime of discernment of the will of the Father (read Jn 6:15, 30-31; 7:3).   The narrative of the temptations of Jesus in the synoptic gospels resembles those of the people of Israel in the wilderness. On another level, in Jesus “we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin” (Heb 4:15). Therefore, the temptations of Jesus are also our own.  The gospel of today reminds us that the journey of our life is often marked by trials and temptations, even as the Spirit leads us forward. Jesus’ response is also for us a way of life to overcome the temptation we will face in life.

One of the modern-day phenomena of having access to social media is the fact many people assume the role of self-proclaimed gurus. Imagine the scenario of would-be teachers or leaders who are expert at putting on a mask and offering advice to others regarding moral improvement. But this reality of incompetent teachers existed in the ancient world too. In fact, audiences constantly wonder about the teacher. And the teacher always strives to put on the best front!

The readings today are linked together by one main theme: the power of Christian love, when exercised in unconditional forgiveness. The readings also instruct us about our right and wrong choices. The right choices lead us to God, and the wrong ones break our relationship with Him and with one another.  By most reasonable judgment, David should have finished off his enemy and predator who was hunting him down. Saul wanted nothing more than David's defeat and death. Yet, at the very moment when God had delivered Saul into David's grasp, the chance to drive a final stab to the heart and end the threat, David turned away from revenge and violence. “Do not harm him, for who can lay hands on the Lord's anointed?” So, David made the right choice, respecting God’s anointed king by forgiving his offenses, while Saul continued to make the wrong choices, perpetuating his own misery seeking his revenge.