Fr. Bob’s Weekly Reflections

In Graham Greene’s novels, “The Power and the Glory” the unlikely hero is a priest. He is caught by the revolutionary Mexican government and condemned to be shot. On the night before his execution, he sits in his cell and thinks back over his life.

Most of us have a natural aversion to spiders. Rather than marvel at a delicately woven web in the corner of a room, we cannot wait to destroy it. The spider dangling from the ceiling does not evoke amazement in us at his feat, he disgusts us or even causes fear. But spiders have a lesson for us.

Carole King wrote some lyrics in a song that could be applied to our Gospel of the Good Shepherd: “Looking out on the morning rain, I used to feel so uninspired. And when I knew I had to face another day, Lord, it made me feel so tired. And when my soul was in the lost and found, you came along to claim it…”

Bette Midler in her song, “The Rose” sings, “It’s the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance. It’s the dream afraid of waking that never takes a chance. And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live.”

Many years ago there was a movie called the “Seventh Seal.” In one scene, death takes the form of a human person and appears to a man. A conversation followed: The man said to Death, “Why does God hide Himself? Why doesn’t He reveal Himself? Why doesn’t God stretch out His hand and touch us? Why doesn’t He at least say something to us?”

Every year at the Easter Vigil a new spark is struck from the flint to light a new candle. New holy water is blessed, and new hosts are consecrated. We are beginning all over again, making all things new.

Today we start the holiest week of the year, and the week moves from Sunday to Saturday. The mood of the gathered assembly will also move, from adulation and adoration to murder, mourning, and mayhem.

We hear in our Gospel today about some people who have come to Jerusalem for the Passover. They have heard about this miracle worker, Jesus, so they approach a friend of His, Philip, and they make a request: “Sir, we would like to see Jesus.”

Many years ago there was a song performed by a man named Meatloaf. The chorus of the song went like this: “I want you, I need you, but there ain’t no way I’m ever going to love you. But don’t be sad, don’t be sad, ‘cause two out of three ain’t bad.”

Our second reading today is, perhaps, the highpoint of Christian literature. Paul tells us that the crucified one is the stumbling block, the absurdity for the unbeliever.

This Gospel of the Transfiguration is so rich; there is so much for a homilist to talk about. For the first time, the apostles saw beyond and behind and within the man they had known for three years.

A young man by the name of Piri Thomas wrote a book called, “Down These Mean Streets.” It describes his conversion from being a convict, a drug addict, and an attempted killer.

Leviticus shows us today that leprosy rendered one unworthy to worship. Afflicted persons were totally ostracized, both socially and ritually.

Imagine a small tavern in the Polish countryside, run by a husband and wife, where life keeps the same pace, day in and day out. The couple is arguing, with the husband protesting about how much he loves his wife. The wife turns to her husband and says, “Tell me what hurts me.”

Today we read about Jesus speaking in the synagogue at Capernaum. Mark does not tell us a single word that He spoke. Instead, he deals with the reaction of the listeners, and it seems they were divided.