Catholic Exchange » Fr. John De Celles

Signs of Jesus

Fr. John De Celles — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 04:00:25 +0000

Ex 16:2-4, 12-15 / Eph 4:17, 20-24 / Jn 6:24-35

There are many kinds of signs in the world. Some signs tell us facts: like a “stop” sign. Still other signs symbolize something, like the pictures in your wallet. And then there are the signs we call “sacraments,” which Christ has given us not to communicate facts, and not as mere symbols, but as actual embodiments of His love and real presence.

This weekend’s Gospel passage, John 6:24-35, comes immediately after the story of Jesus’ miracle of the multiplication of loaves to feed the five thousand. Still, this fantastic sign, which communicated both a fact (Jesus’ power) and a symbol (reminding them of the manna in the desert), was not enough for the people following Jesus. So, in their desperate hunger to know whether God had sent Jesus, and so to know that God still loved them and that He had not abandoned them, as He had never abandoned Moses and their ancestors, they ask for an even greater sign: “What sign can you do, that we may see and believe in you? …Our ancestors ate manna in the desert.”

But Jesus knows that no mere sign would ever satisfy their hunger to believe. What they needed was a sign that was more than a sign, a sign beyond human wisdom and power. And that sign, Jesus says, is Himself. Jesus is, in His very person, a sign of the love and presence of God. And not just a merely symbolic sign: He is the actual physical love and presence of God.

Unfortunately, this is a sign that is not easily understood by human wisdom – it requires faith. The crowd asks for a sign that will force them to have faith, but Jesus tells them that they must have faith first: “This is the work of God, that you believe in the one he sent.”

Jesus also knows that He will not remain in the world as the real physical sign of God. So He plans to leave behind another sign which will also make God substantially present in the world. And so He says to them: “I am the bread of life…”

These words were very confusing, even to Jesus’ apostles. But His apostles had faith in Him. So a few months later, on the night He was betrayed, as they saw Him take bread, bless, break and give it to them, they remembered how He had done this same thing right before He fed the five thousand. And as Jesus handed them the bread saying, “this is my body,” they also remembered the words He had spoken after feeding the five thousand: “I am the bread of life.” And so, believing in Him, they believed in His new and mysterious sacrament.

At every Mass as the priest repeats Our Lord’s words, “this is my body,” Jesus becomes really present under the sacramental sign of bread. Nothing we can do can change this fact, but if we refuse to believe that this sign is what Jesus says It is, then we will continue to hunger and thirst for other signs to satisfy our desire to know that we are in God’s presence and love. If, however, we come to our Eucharistic Lord believing in Him and the sacramental sign He gives us, He will keep His promise to us: “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.”

Why did Jesus Choose not to Show His Power?

Fr. John De Celles — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 04:00:05 +0000

Ez 2:2-5 / 2 Cor 12:7-10 / Mk 6:1-6

Today’s Gospel tells us that when Jesus went to Nazareth “he was not able to perform any mighty deed there…He was amazed at their lack of faith” (Mk 6:5-6). This causes great confusion for some who think it means Jesus was powerless to perform miracles for people who didn’t believe in Him.

But the Gospels clearly teach that there were no limits to Jesus’ power (see Mt. 28:18; Jn. 17:2). So, while St. Mark does imply a connection between the “lack of faith” and the lack of “mighty deeds,” he in no way implies that faith controls Jesus’ power. In fact, the parallel text in St. Matthew’s Gospel says “he did not work many mighty deeds there because of their lack of faith” (Mt. 13:58), implying that Jesus reacted to their faithlessness by choosing not to perform miracles.

We should remember that Jesus’ miracles were usually prompted by one of two motives: 1) His infinite mercy, or 2) His desire to reveal His divine power. So when St. Mark writes that Jesus performed no miracles in Nazareth “apart from curing a few sick people” he’s pointing out that Jesus did choose to perform miracles of mercy in Nazareth, but chose not to use miracles to reveal His divine power.

Still, why did Jesus choose not to show His power? The first thing that the Gospels tell us about this visit is that Jesus “began to teach in the synagogue.” It’s in response to His teaching that His neighbors “were astonished” and “took offense at him.” Perhaps they expected the Messiah to be a great warrior king, and they knew very well that Jesus was not that. Perhaps their pride kept them from submitting to a mere carpenter, or from admitting that for all these years they had failed to recognize this man for who He truly was. Or perhaps they simply didn’t want to believe His message and repent from their sins, and so they rationalized by saying, “what does he know, he’s just a carpenter.”

They knew Him so well — even if He’d kept His wisdom to Himself as He was growing up, surely He hadn’t kept His goodness and holiness to Himself. So if they couldn’t believe what He preached even though they knew Him and loved Him so well, what good would a show of His “mighty deeds” do? Others had attributed His power to Satan (Mk 3:22) — wouldn’t their pride lead the Nazareans to a similar response? Jesus knew that nothing would change their hardened hearts.

This may seem unreasonable to some, and yet it is a common reaction from those who know Jesus. St. Mark was speaking of the Nazareans when he wrote that Jesus “marveled because of their unbelief,” but don’t these words echo in Jesus’ words to His apostles at the Last Supper: “Have I been with you so long, and still you do not know me?” (Jn 14:9).

The reality is that most of us have known Jesus longer than the apostles did, and even longer than His neighbors in Nazareth. He’s come to us in Scripture and the Church, and we’ve seen not only His goodness and love, but also His power. How many miracles has He done for us, how many prayers has He answered? And yet has all that made us any better than the Nazareans: truly faithful and repentant?

Lack of faith does not render God powerless. It merely renders the faithless unworthy of His power.

Priests as Mediators

Fr. John De Celles — Sat, 03 Dec 2005 00:00:00 +0000

But while Jesus is the only way to the Father and the only Mediator, Scripture makes it very clear that God calls other human beings to participate in this mediation. From the very beginning of God's revelation to Israel 3,700 years ago, God has chosen individual human beings — people like Abraham, Moses and the prophets — to communicate, or mediate, His will to the world. And in today's Gospel text, St. Mark reminds us that God sent St. John the Baptist to act as a mediator between Jesus and the Jews.

Why does God send mediators, both before and after Jesus? Advent is a season of preparation for celebrating Jesus’ coming into the world at Christmas. At the heart of this mystery is the fact that God became man to communicate clearly and completely through His human body and with human words. But Jesus took His body with Him when He ascended into heaven, while our bodies — the bodies of Christians — are still here. And Jesus continues to send us to mediate through the body, through speaking and hearing His word, and through the holy symbols we see and touch, especially the sacraments.

The Gospel tells us that 2,000 years ago, St. John the Baptist proclaimed “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” And in response Scripture says: “People…were going out to [John]…as they acknowledged their sins.” Today, we do exactly the same thing as we go to the sacrament of penance and acknowledge, or confess, our sins before God’s chosen mediators — the priests of the Church. And when we hear those mediators say “I absolve you from your sins” we can hear in their human voices, not the voice of St. John, but the voice Jesus Himself, who St. John tells us “takes away the sin of the world!” (Jn 1:29).

The mediation of priests is a great gift to the whole Church. But by their baptism “in water and the Holy Spirit,” lay Christians are also called to be mediators of Christ in some way. For most serious Christians, Advent is a time when the words of St. John can elicit a very strong response from us: We hear, “prepare the way of the Lord,” and part of us shouts, “Yes, Lord.”

But most of us don’t go much further than that initial “yes.” Sometimes this is because we're afraid of failure, and sometimes it’s because we really don't know how to prepare the way.

If you’re afraid of failure, remember you are only a mediating instrument — you prepare the way only by allowing Jesus to act through you; let Him worry about the final results. Remember that the great mediator of the Messiah, St. John the Baptist, recognized that even his work was incomplete and only an opening for the Lord: “One Who is more powerful is to come after me.”

If you just don't know how to prepare Jesus’ way, remember you start by preparing yourself, by accepting the word of God proclaimed by the Baptizer and by the Church: Confess and repent your sins.

Few of us are called to be public mediators like St. John the Baptist or priests. But this Advent the Lord Jesus Christ calls every single Christian to be His mediator to a sinful world by proclaiming, in everything we say and do: “Prepare the way of the Lord…make straight His paths.”

Fr. De Celles is Parochial Vicar of St. Michael Parish in Annandale, Virginia.

(This article courtesy of the Arlington Catholic Herald.)

Ready for the Feast?

Fr. John De Celles — Sat, 08 Oct 2005 00:00:00 +0000

God is called the Bridegroom of His Bride Israel (see especially Song of Songs and Hosea). Isaiah applies this specifically to Messiah: “For your Maker is your husband, the LORD…the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer.”

With this as a background, pious Jews would have clearly recognized that by casting Himself — the “Son” of “the King” — as the Bridegroom of the heavenly wedding feast, Jesus was claiming to be both Messiah and God. The Pharisees seem to have recognized this, as the very next line after the parable (not included in our text) says: “Then the Pharisees went off and plotted how they might entrap Him in speech.”

But Jesus also refers to a wedding feast — a great supper. This allusion should not be lost on Catholics: He is referring to the great and bounteous feast of heaven, of course, but also to the earthly foretaste of that feast in the Eucharist.

Marriage is a union resulting from a total mutual self-gift of husband and wife. For Christ and His Church this self-gift begins on the Cross as Christ gives Himself for and to His Bride (“Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the Church and gave Himself up for her” (Eph 5:24)). This communion is perfected for each of us only in heaven — the participation in all good things with the Divine Bridegroom, which Scripture calls the heavenly wedding feast. But we begin to share in that communion here on earth, most especially in the Eucharist, where we feast on the Bread of heaven, which is the Bridegroom Himself.

In today’s text we read how at the wedding feast of heaven the Father sends his servants out saying: “'The feast is ready…. Invite…whomever you find.' The servants…gathered all they found, bad and good alike.” This passage reminds us how generous the Lord is to invite both the righteous and sinners to come to His kingdom. Unfortunately sometimes we can delude ourselves with this passage, thinking that since God invites everyone to heaven and to Mass, that everyone should actually enter heaven and receive Holy Communion. But according to the parable, just because everyone is invited to the wedding that doesn’t mean that everyone gets to stay for supper. Jesus goes on to explain that when the king discovered a guest “not dressed in a wedding garment” he had him bound and “cast him into the darkness outside.” And He concludes: “Many are invited, but few are chosen.”

God invites all of us to His Son’s wedding banquet — the perfection of the banquet in heaven, and the foretaste of this banquet in the Eucharist. But He also tells us to prepare ourselves for the banquet — and if we’re not prepared, we will not eat at the feast.

How do you prepare yourself for heaven and for Mass? Is your garment clean — unstained by serious sin? Are you wearing the right kind of garment — do you “clothe yourself in Christ” (Gal 3:27) by keeping His commandments? The king bound and cast out the improperly dressed guest at his son’s wedding feast — what will He do to us if we come to either our judgment at death or to Communion at Mass covered only with our sins?

Let us rededicate ourselves to prepare for the wedding feast of God’s only Son, for “many are invited, but few are chosen.”

Fr. De Celles is Parochial Vicar of St. Michael Parish in Annandale, Virginia.

(This article courtesy of the Arlington Catholic Herald.)

Struggling to Forgive

Fr. John De Celles — Sat, 10 Sep 2005 00:00:00 +0000

Jesus’s instruction here, along with parable of the unforgiving servant, is one of the hardest for us to read, much less live out. To forgive every transgression against us, by anyone, seems impossible. But that is what Christ demands, so much so that He makes it a condition of God forgiving us: “his master handed him over to the torturers…. So will my heavenly Father do to you, unless each of you forgives your brother.”

Many people feel great sorrow and confusion over their inability to forgive someone in their lives. Some offenses seem just too much to forgive: for example of child abuse or rape or terrorism. But some of the offenses hardest to forgive are the smallest — we cling to the pain of a father missing our “big game” when we were children. And sometimes it’s not just one offense but a whole lifetime of offenses we have to forgive — think of man who has verbally abused his wife for 30 years.

But God looks at us and sees the very same offenses. He sees the heinous crimes, the petty slights and the lifetimes of sins in every one of us. But He forgives us because He loves. And He calls us to love in the same way.

Why can’t we do this? Unfortunately, a lot of people think it is impossible for them to forgive because they equate “forgiving” with “forgetting.” But as the Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us: “It is not in our power not to feel or to forget an offense” (No. 2843). Not even God forgets the sins He forgives — if He did, how could He give us the grace to avoid them in the future? Like the master in the story, He forgives the debt, but remembers it was once owed. So it’s not necessary to pretend that a person hasn’t offended us in order to allow ourselves to forgive him.

What is necessary for forgiveness, though, is love. Sadly, too many people keep themselves from forgiving because they confuse “loving” with “liking.” Loving someone involves genuinely wanting the best for him, but “liking” someone is merely enjoying his companionship. Jesus did not enjoy being with the soldiers who nailed Him to the Cross. But He loved them, and He forgave them.

Still, some think that they are incapable of loving those who have hurt them: the offense was too deep, too long ago, or too longstanding, to let go of. This may sometimes be true — sometimes it may be impossible for us, “but…all things are possible with God” (Mk 10:27).

Like the parable of the debtors, every sin is like a failure to pay God the love He was rightfully due. But God has so much love He doesn’t need to worry about what we owe Him from the past. And His love is so generous that He not only forgives our debt to him, but gives us enough of His love so we have more than enough to give to others — enough so we won’t need to worry about what they owed us from the past. And so acceptance of His loving forgiveness makes possible passing that loving forgiveness on to others.

Sometimes we feel it is impossible to forgive as Jesus commands. But with the love of Christ, nothing is impossible, even forgiving our brother “not seven times but seventy-seven times.”

Fr. De Celles is Parochial Vicar of St. Michael Parish in Annandale, Virginia.

(This article courtesy of the Arlington Catholic Herald.)

Fighting Society’s Evils

Fr. John De Celles — Tue, 16 Aug 2005 00:00:00 +0000

Our country’s incredible commercial development has led to great prosperity. Unfortunately, this affluence has led to a culture which tends toward materialism and decadence. In the first century, the cities of Tyre and Sidon were very much like we are today. Both were commercially prosperous port cities, but also plagued by materialism and moral corruption.

In one way, however, Tyre and Sidon differed distinctly from our culture: they were Canaanite cities and were not founded, as we were, on faith in the fundamental truths revealed by God to Israel and fulfilled in Jesus Christ. They had no true faith to guide their lives, to elevate their desires from the material to the eternal.

This is the background of the woman in last Sunday’s gospel text — the “Canaanite woman of that district” of Tyre and Sidon — and for Jesus’s interaction with her. But it also forms the background for the woman’s problem: she comes to Jesus because her daughter is “tormented by a demon.”

Since “the beginning” in the Garden of Eden, when Satan confused Adam and Eve about the many good things God had given them — we might say the “original prosperity” — demons have continuously worked to confuse man about the good things of the world. Prosperous societies have been an especially fertile ground for their work, as demons prey on man’s fallen nature to corrupt our natural desire for good things into a lust for decadence.

And so the Canaanite’s daughter, living in a world of both prosperity and decadence, was tormented by demons. Is she so different from our children today? Raised in a culture so open to corruption and temptation, are we so naive as to think that they are not also the targets of the demons? Not only those who willfully expose themselves to demons (e.g., through fascination with the occult and witchcraft) but also those who are simply constantly exposed to the culture and the demons who prey on their innocence.

How can we live in this age of prosperity without succumbing to decadence? How can we fight the temptations and confusion of demons? The answer: faith in Jesus Christ.

When the Canaanite woman went to Jesus He seemed to dismiss her, telling her: “I was sent only to…the house of Israel” — to those who have faith in the true God. But the woman neither left, nor disputed what He said. Instead, she proclaimed her faith in Israel’s God — displaying the purest form of faith, a faith rooted in humility: “Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters.”

Jesus was not being cruel to this poor woman. He simply moved her to accept and proclaim her faith. He did this also to Martha at Lazarus’s tomb: “Do you believe?” and to Peter as He called him to walk on the water: “Oh you of little faith.” Jesus loved Martha and Peter, and He loved the Canaanite women. And in His love He asked them to accept the only solution to all sin and suffering: faith in Him. And so “Jesus said… ‘O woman, great is your faith!…’ And the woman's daughter was healed from that hour.”

Ours is a great and prosperous nation, but its culture is all too corrupted by sin, especially as it increasingly rejects its foundational faith in Christ. So as we raise our children to both love our country and participate in her prosperity, we must also be aware of the temptations and the demons that thrive in this prosperity. And we must have faith in Jesus Christ and share that faith with our children, as the only protection against the confusion that corrupts prosperity into decadence.

Fr. De Celles is Parochial Vicar of St. Michael Parish in Annandale, Virginia.

(This article courtesy of the Arlington Catholic Herald.)

“Let Them Grow Together”

Fr. John De Celles — Sat, 16 Jul 2005 00:00:00 +0000

Sometimes Catholics wonder why Church authorities delay in correcting or disciplining Catholics who publicly oppose Church teaching.

Sometimes this delay is based on misplaced caution. Sometimes it is based on cowardice. And in the case of some Church officials, unfortunately, it may even be based on irresponsible cooperation with dissenters. But sometimes this type of delay is necessary, and part of God’s will.

In this week’s Gospel text Jesus tells us, “The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a man who sowed good seed….[H]is enemy came and sowed weeds all through the wheat…. When the crop grew…the weeds appeared as well.” And when the man’s servants wanted to pull up the weeds he replied simply, “No…. Let them grow together until harvest.”

How can it ever be acceptable to patiently let weeds grow with the wheat? St. Matthew’s text gives two good reasons. First, Jesus says, “If you pull up the weeds you might uproot the wheat along with them.” How many times do we try to accomplish something good only to have the unintended negative consequences overwhelmingly offset the good we sought to achieve?

Think back to the reaction to then-Cardinal Ratzinger’s letter in June of 2003, condemning the legalization of so-called “gay marriage,” and reminding Catholic politicians that voting for this legalization would be “gravely immoral.” The letter was intended to protect people from being misled about the Church’s teaching, and ultimately to lead these politicians to repentance. But many people reacted as if Ratzinger wanted to burn people at the stake, and then take over the US government. Now, as Pope Benedict XVI, he has to overcome the effects of being slanderously labeled as a “hateful bigot.” So, while this intervention by Cardinal Ratzinger was absolutely necessary — a weed that needed to be pulled immediately — we can see the importance of “prudence” in carefully discerning when, where and how to pull each particular weed.

But there is also a second reason for not immediately pulling every weed: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast…mixed with three measures of wheat flour until the whole batch was leavened.” In many problem cases Church officials refrain from intervention because they are waiting for us to act: While we may have to live like wheat surrounded by weeds, we also need to live as leaven in society. Think of all the papal encyclicals and homilies that have exhorted us to action, to work with our own families, friends and communities to root out the weeds around us. Is it Rome and the bishops, or is it we, who fail to act?

Some would say, “But what can I do, what difference can tiny little me make?” Again, Jesus addresses this. “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed…. It is the smallest of all the seeds, yet when full-grown it is the largest of plants.” The analogies of leaven and the mustard seed are complementary: Only a tiny bit of leaven is needed to raise a large loaf of bread. And every single faithful Christian, no matter how prominent or seemingly insignificant he is, can work to build up the kingdom where he is.

Finally, whenever we consider forbearance versus action, we must remember that the Lord also warns us that “[at] the end of the age…[the] weeds are collected and…throw[n] into the fiery furnace.” We should never confuse cowardice and timidity with prudence and charity. And in charity, guided by prudence, we must do whatever we can to be like leaven to raise up those who have fallen.

Fr. De Celles is Parochial Vicar of St. Michael Parish in Annandale, Virginia.

(This article courtesy of the Arlington Catholic Herald.)

The Blessings of the Father

Fr. John De Celles — Sat, 18 Jun 2005 00:00:00 +0000

Today’s Gospel tells us: “Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin? Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father’s knowledge. So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”

When Jesus speaks of our Father in heaven, He describes Him as one who cares for us in such a way that takes care of even our smallest needs, and takes away all of our fears. That is probably the most fundamental aspect of being a father: he protects and takes care of his children.

But a father does this in a unique way: he does it as a man. Because while male and female are both created in God’s image, completely equal in dignity, there remain many differences between men and women. Equality does not mean sameness. For the last few decades our society has made great strides in understanding this male/female equality. Unfortunately, in the process we’ve lost sight of what the differences mean. So as we have of grown in our appreciation of the dignity and identity of women, the dignity and identity of men has become confused.

Psychologists tell us, as does common sense, that men tend to be more — for lack of a better word — aggressive, while women tend to be more nurturing. This isn’t to say that men aren’t loving or that women aren’t strong, but that the love and strength of men and women are predominately expressed in these different ways.

In a man, his “aggressiveness” needs to be lived out, or he’ll never be happy, always trying to become someone he isn’t. Sometimes people try to make men less aggressive and more nurturing, more like women. But while men can definitely learn a lot from women, instead of asking how a father should love as a man, some try to make fathers love like women, especially by suppressing the distinctly aggressive aspects of their masculinity.

And how do fathers react? Men denied the opportunity to express their aggressiveness in constructive ways, often tend to abuse it in destructive ways. Some react by fighting, so we see that spousal and child abuse is way up over the last few decades. Others make strategic retreats, looking for another place to exercise their masculinity. Some abandon their spouses and children, while others retreat without ever leaving home, perhaps by having a mistress or throwing themselves into their careers.

What should a man do? Does Christ offer us an answer? In Christ, fathers see what a true man should be like: they love by being aggressive for their families. A Christian father follows Jesus’s counsel in today’s Gospel to “fear no one.” He’s not afraid of outsiders who try to hurt or mislead his children, and he’s not afraid of his children, not afraid to love them by teaching them, correcting them and disciplining them.

He becomes a man by laying down his life for his family, not by running away. And just as his heavenly Father knows when even a sparrow falls to the ground, he aggressively seeks to know when his children are near trouble, and he protects them.

This weekend, as America celebrates Father’s Day, we turn to the Gospel and, by keeping our eyes fixed on Christ, who is the Son and image of the Father, we learn what a true father is and does — how a father loves. In Christ and His Father we see what fathers were created to be, and the promise of the grace necessary to become a true man, a true a father, in Christ.

Fr. De Celles is Parochial Vicar of St. Michael Parish in Annandale, Virginia.

(This article courtesy of the Arlington Catholic Herald.)

God so Loved the World

Fr. John De Celles — Thu, 26 May 2005 00:00:00 +0000

Here is the summary of the whole of salvation history: “God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him might not perish but might have eternal life.” As St. John tells us elsewhere “God is love.”

It is essential to Who God is, to everything He does, that He loves: for God, to live is to love. This is revealed first and foremost in the fact that God exists eternally as Trinity — a communion of three persons who are one God, only distinguishable from each other in their relationships to each other, relationships which are defined by the love of a Father and Son, and the Spirit that proceeds from and personifies that love.

It is in this love that God created man in His image — a creature created to receive God’s love and to love Him in return. And it was man’s rejection and refusal of love that was the original sin, man’s loss of life with God.

But just as sin cannot change the fact that God is Creator of the creature, it also cannot change the fact that the Creator creates in love: sin does not terminate God’s love for us. So it is completely contrary to His nature for God to allow man to perish from his lack of love without trying to save him through love.

And so He came to us in the world, in love, and revealed Himself as love: as a communion of love, Father and Son, and Holy Spirit. And that love does not seek condemnation, but salvation: to restore us to receiving and returning God’s love, a love that is as eternal and limitless as the life of God Himself, the love that is the essence of “eternal life.”

But does all this mean that salvation, or eternal life, is automatic — that God loves us so much we cannot be condemned to live without it? Some would like to think so. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could do whatever we want, and still have heaven? Is this what John means when tells us: “Whoever believes in Him will not be condemned”? Some very devout and holy Christians argue that this exactly what it means: all we need to do is believe in Jesus, and we are saved.

However, to believe in Jesus (“the name of the only Son of God”) also includes believing in what He actually told us. And what He told us, as St. John also reports, is: “If you love Me, you will keep My commandments” (Jn 14:15; cf. 2 Jn 6: “this is love, that we follow His commandments”).

John does not mean to say that mere belief in Jesus saves us. Rather it is belief that opens us up to love. If we believe in God the Son, we will believe in what He revealed to us: that love is the source and essence of salvation from condemnation and eternal life with God, who is love. And that loving is defined not by us, but by God in His commandments. So that, “whoever does not believe has already been condemned” — who ever does not believe in the love that Christ reveals condemns himself by rejecting God’s love.

From Trinity Sunday just past, to Corpus Christi just ahead, is the perfect time for us to meditate on these most profound words of “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” Let us enter into the mystery of the love of the Trinity, a love we were created to share from the beginning, and a love we can share in now because “God gave His only Son” — Jesus Christ, the Incarnation of the love of the Trinitarian God.

Fr. De Celles is Parochial Vicar of St. Michael Parish in Annandale, Virginia.

(This article courtesy of the Arlington Catholic Herald.)

Living as a New Creation

Fr. John De Celles — Thu, 31 Mar 2005 00:00:00 +0000

How many of us have known someone who had all sorts of talent, and yet seemed to let it go to waste? There is something terribly sad about a human being failing to live up to his or her potential.

Unfortunately, measuring one's potential is often reduced to such mundane standards as “success,” or “fun.” But what makes a Michelangelo fresco what it is is not that millions of people go to see it, but that it's made by its artist in such a way that it is capable of drawing us into its beauty. And what makes human beings what we are is that we are created by the Divine Artist to live a life greater and more joyful than all the success and fun in the world.

The book of Genesis makes clear that God created man to share in His life — God’s life of perfect love and happiness. Genesis, however, also tells us that man — in Adam and Eve — rejected the life God had given him and instead chose to lead life according to his own desires.

But God’s will cannot be denied so easily. So in the fullness of time God sent His only Son into the world to restore man to the life he was created for. As St. Paul tells us, in Christ, there “is a new creation.”

And Jesus came to bring mankind not only life, but “life in abundance” — life that is all that it can be. He does this first through the words and actions of His earthly life, a life of perfect union with the Father, a life perfectly free from the disobedient sins of Adam and his descendants. And He brings this life of love to its culmination by obediently accepting death on a cross, saying “not My will Father, but Your will be done.”

But the Cross is not the end of the story, as He tells us, [I must] “lay down My life, that I may take it up again.” On Easter we rejoice because Christ has conquered death — He has risen and transformed, fulfilled and glorified human life, completely lifting up human life into the midst of the eternal and perfect life in the love of God.

This is the fullness of life in abundance that Christ came to bring to us. In this world, we can begin to share in this life by living as He lived, keeping His commandments, which show us how to love God and our neighbor. And in this we can begin to live up to the potential that is promised to us in our creation, given to us in our baptism, and fulfilled in our death and resurrection with Christ into eternal life.

Mary Magdalene is a person who understood all this in a profoundly personal way, a woman who lived a life dominated by sin, a life that had lost all hope and joy, wasting its potential to live in God’s love. But then Christ entered her life, and it was changed forever. In Him she was re-created into a new life full of potential in Christ. And it is this repentant Mary Magdalene who was the first to encounter the Risen Christ, the first to behold the perfection of human potential for a life of joy, happiness and peace.

On Easter the yearning in our hearts to fulfill our true potential was answered. Let us join the Magdalene in celebrating the invitation and grace to become all that we were created to be. To live the life that is not only good, but perfect: the life of Christ crucified and resurrected.

Fr. De Celles is Parochial Vicar of St. Michael Parish in Annandale, Virginia.

(This article courtesy of the Arlington Catholic Herald.)