Search

Results

Prayers

06 Apr 2014 - Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A

Penitential Act Invitation Brothers and sisters, let us acknowledge our sins, and so prepare ourselves to celebrate the sacred mysteries. Invocations Lord God, you keep your promises to us. Lord, have mercy. Lord God, your Spirit dwells in us. Christ, have mercy. Lord God, you are the resurrection and the life. Lord, have mercy. Prayer of the Faithful The universal prayer With faith in God with whom there is mercy, we make our prayers: Give to the church your guiding Spirit, we pray, Lord, hear our prayer. Sustain us in your Spirit, which gives life to the world, we pray, Lord, hear our prayer. Bring to those who are sick your restoring Spirit, we pray, Lord, hear our prayer. Lead this community to trust in your word, we pray, Lord, hear our prayer.

Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A

Restricted
Glory begins here

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Readings: Ezekiel 37:12-14; Romans 8:8-11; John 11:1-45 THE SKY AWASH with color at sunset. A field covered in spring flowers. These exquisite elements of nature's design are instinctive places we might go to catch a glimpse of glory. But there are others: a moment of public honor, receiving an award for services rendered or bravery enacted. The spotlight on artistic ability, intellectual achievement, or scientific invention. Or how about the common miracles of life: being chosen in love. Holding a baby in your arms. Encountering a dream come true at last. These things, too, are glorious. What we mean by glory has many interpretations. But however we use the word, we rarely mean what Jesus meant when he talked about glory. We don't go looking for it in the shame of a woman who's had five failed marriages and has grown used to being thirsty for something she cannot find. We don't peer into the face of a man born blind who has spent his life as an object of pity. We certainly don't seek glory at the deathbed of a friend, or go to the tombs where the stench of decay is already pungent. Glory, whatever it is, is an experience that exalts and uplifts us. Though we may have trouble defining it precisely, we think we know where to find it, and where not to bother looking. We often speak of "giving God the glory" as if it's something we possess that God is in need of. Technically, glory is an attribute of God. It is a trait essential to divinity and, if anything, a thing bestowed on creation from the opposite direction. Though we talk of giving glory to God, our intention is to acknowledge the glory that is already an aspect of God's nature. We often speak of "giving God the glory" as if it's something we possess that God is in need of. Technically, glory is an attribute of God. It is a trait essential to divinity and, if anything, a thing bestowed on creation from the opposite direction. Though we talk of giving glory to God, our intention is to acknowledge the glory that is already an aspect of God's nature. Glory is often equated with radiance, and that is not simply a romantic idea. Glory is something God emanates; therefore envisioning glory as a radiant quality, like the brightness Jesus displayed in his Transfiguration, makes sense. The artistic invention of the halo became a way of signifying the hallow-ness of a life that participated in making the greater glory of God known on earth. This emanation of light was often drawn as a circlet but also took other shapes. A triangular halo was used to indicate God the Father and sometimes the infant Jesus—a reminder that he remained part of the Trinity even through the journey of Incarnation. A square halo over a person's head implied sainthood in the making. A full body halo, as we see in portrayals of Our Lady of Guadalupe, was reserved only for Jesus or the Mother of God. Not every human life could reveal that much glory! John's gospel shows an acute interest in the demonstration of glory and manages to do it without any haloes. Instead, the first half of the book concentrates on seven signs that reveal the power God is capable of manifesting—and chooses to entrust to Jesus. These signs show divine authority breaking into human history, as water is turned into wine, the sick are made whole, loaves and fish are multiplied, and Jesus walks on the surface of the lake. Jesus turns poverty into abundance and impossibility into reality. But nothing comes close to what he does at the tomb of Lazarus. There death and life meet like actors and exchange roles. There the thick immutable line between the dead and the living becomes strangely permeable. When Lazarus, four days dead, comes shuffling out of his grave, something that was always true has been turned into a lie. And something that was never true becomes possible. The glory of God had not been revealed in all of human history as it was in this hour. Suddenly we learned something for sure that had until now been consigned to the realm of our hopes. In the reign of God, death and life are fluid matters, wholly under God's power to control. Though death appears final and incontrovertible to us, from God's perspective it is a twinkle in the eye of eternity. And even then, at the graveside of Lazarus, the real hour of glory had yet to arrive. The restoration of Lazarus was a sideshow compared to the Resurrection to come. In the hour of glory for which Jesus had been born, life would not simply be resuscitated but revealed as part of a new creation that would never suffer or die again. The glory of the Risen One would make him unrecognizable to those who loved him best. We still have sunsets and lilies in the field. But these quick peeks into the mystery remind us that glory awaits us just below the surface of those forbidding places we avoid: human limitation, want, suffering, and death. Poverty and impossibility are the deepest repositories for the revelation of God, which awaits only our recognition of it.

Authors Alice Camille

Special occasion Lent Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens Ezekiel 37:12-14 Romans 8:8-11 John 11:1-45

Restricted
Prayers

10 Apr 2011 - Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A

Penitential Act Invitation Our Lord Jesus is the resurrection and the life. Let us ask for pardon for the times we have turned from that life. Invocations Lord Jesus, you give us hope when we despair. Lord, have mercy. Lord Jesus, you have promised us salvation and granted us forgiveness. Christ, have mercy. Lord Jesus, whoever believes in you has eternal life. Lord, have mercy. Prayer of the Faithful The universal prayer Our Lord rescued his friend Lazarus from the tomb. Pray that Christ will raise us up from the darkness of sin and death to the glory of Easter. For all who are sick and struggle with physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual illness, that God may restore them to wholeness and health, we pray to the Lord. For all who have died and who await resurrection on the last day, that they rest in peace until they are called forth from the tomb by the voice of Jesus, we pray to the Lord. For all who mourn the death of family and loved ones, that they may hold fast to faith and trust in the promise of eternal life, we pray to the Lord. That the love of God, shown to us in Jesus Christ, may give us confidence and courage in the face of death, we pray to the Lord. Loving God, your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, is the resurrection and the life. May we always believe in his power to save us, for he is Lord for ever and ever. Amen.

Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A

Restricted
Our Lenten witnesses

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Readings: Ezekiel 37:12-14; Romans 8:8-11; John 11:1-45 OUR SEASON OF LENT takes us to some mighty interesting places. We start off in the desert, and then we make the rounds to the mountaintop, the well, the courthouse, and the cemetery respectively. Is this progress? Are we getting somewhere? Should we turn back while there’s still time? Where does this road end? The short answer is: It doesn’t. That’s the good news, and we don’t need to save it like a secret for Easter. Life everlasting is the reason for every celebration the church holds daily. Though we find ourselves in the company of the devil in a wasteland, or with Jesus and the saints in a mountaintop hour, the outcome will be the same for those who believe. The well may revive us or the authorities denounce us, but our destiny doesn’t change either way. If we’re saved, we’re safe. Even death has no sting. Which brings us to the grave site of Lazarus, friend of Jesus. In the Lenten trilogy from John’s gospel, we spend quality time with the Samaritan woman, the man born blind, and now Martha, sister of Lazarus. Mary is there, too, but this is Martha’s hour to take center stage. Like our other Lenten witnesses, Martha is going to get a chance to tell what she knows. We think of that as the story of Lazarus, but in fact he’s pretty passive to the action: He’s dead, in fact. Dead and in the tomb and not available for comment. But his sisters are alive, and they are grieving his loss. And Martha, as we soon discover, is not only mourning, but she’s angry. Angry with Jesus. Because she sent word to him as soon as Lazarus became seriously ill, and she’s convinced that if Jesus had come, her brother would not have died at all. Mary presents herself as the picture of grief, falling down in tears before Jesus. But Martha arrives first, and with what amounts to a challenge: “Even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” As far as Martha is concerned, it isn’t over till it’s over. Jesus has work to do, if he so wills. And as we know from other stories, when people are in trouble, Jesus wants to help, wills to bring healing, wholeness, and hope. Martha believes and is convinced that Jesus can do anything he wants. What she’s asking right here in the road is, frankly, what he does want. If we think the dead stay dead, well then, how can Jesus raise us up to new life? No one will be dragged kicking and screaming from the tomb. Jesus finds such faith irresistible, in Martha and in us. What can Jesus do with someone who believes in him utterly? Well, we know what he can’t do when people display a lack of faith. Because God has chosen to give people free will, Jesus won’t trespass on the human heart and force faith where there is none. If we don’t believe in healing, there won’t be any, as there was none in the climate of doubt in Nazareth. If we think the dead stay dead, well then, how can Jesus raise us up to new life? No one will be dragged kicking and screaming from the tomb. Jesus asks Martha if she believes in the resurrection of the dead. She says she does. Although some of her religious leaders, the Sadducees, have pooh-poohed the idea, the Pharisees have been teaching it for some time. The dead will rise on the last day. Martha has put her trust in this hope. Then Jesus places the matter in utmost immediacy: Does Martha believe that Jesus is the resurrection, the source of life not only on the last day but right now in the present moment? Yes, Lord, she says. Then she makes an act of faith so bold it would rattle the bones in the cemetery: “I have come to believe that you are Christ, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.” There, in one sentence, is the profession of faith we make at every Mass. There is the power of the forgiveness of sin; the healing of body, mind, and spirit; the authority to raise the dead from their graves. Martha called upon it. And Jesus responded to such faith by turning and calling upon Lazarus. Applying the Word I will open your graves Is there sin in our lives? It can be forgiven! Our lives can be washed clean and made whiter than snow; we have God’s Word on this. Are there wounds that need to be healed? Jesus mends bones, hearts, minds, and relationships with the same healing touch. Do we linger in the shadow of death, or have we resided in the valley of death in the midst of life? Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life, and he will lead us forward from death into life if we believe it. Our elect are preparing in two short weeks to make their public profession of belief and to be received into the community of faith. The rest of us will also be asked to reaffirm that faith and to say, with Martha, that we truly believe Jesus has the authority over death and life. The Lenten road does take us into the cemetery but not to leave us there. Like Martha, and Lazarus, we discover there’s more life and more road beyond what we have so far imagined.

Authors Alice Camille

Special occasion Lent Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens Ezekiel 37:12-14 Romans 8:8-11 John 11:1-45

Restricted
Come and see

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Readings: Ezekiel 37:12-14; Romans 8:8-11; John 11:1-45 WHO NEEDS HEALING? Those whose bodies are broken or failing are quick to raise their hands. But we also have more hidden sorrows that may embarrass us: depression, addiction, grief from loss, or loneliness that haunts every hour. And how about the worriers who are insecure about tomorrow? And do we count the ones who hate their jobs, feel trapped in their situations, and hunger for a reason to get up in the morning? Do they qualify for healing? How about those who live with unendurable guilt for what they’ve done or failed to do? How about the hopeless, who don’t believe things will ever get better? Can there be healing for all the burdens humanity bears, inside and out? After we consider our need for healing, we have to ask what it’s worth to be healed. Some of us will pay money to doctors and specialists, herbalists and therapists, buying pills and creams and surgeries. And in some cases that might do the trick, but sometimes money can’t buy a solution. Dedicating time may be necessary, as in the pursuit of education, learning a new trade, clearing space for a retreat, or committing to a recovery program. But time may not be enough either. What would we give to end the suffering in our lives? Are we willing to do something radical, expensive, and unthinkable? Are we willing, in fact, to change? Some of us would rather die than change. Spiritually speaking, death is precisely what we’re talking about. We are creatures of habit. Most of us could cheerfully (or balefully) curl up in the familiar and stay there all our lives. Doing things differently means we have to grow. Growth entails pushing beyond the limits of who we are and what we think we’re sure of. Think of the many forms growth takes in nature: Snakes shed their skin. Caterpillars go dormant in cocoons and emerge in a whole new form. Babies leave the safety of the womb and emerge in a blinding, buzzing world of utter vulnerability. Growth, under just about any circumstances, is a dangerous proposition. Growth and change require sacrificing the familiar for what is unknown. We have to admit our ignorance and embrace humility. Growth and change require sacrificing the familiar for what is unknown. We have to admit our ignorance and embrace humility. Growth can mean physical change, but just as often it implies changing the way we think, the wellworn grooves of our attitudes, and even the emotions we make room for. If we want to be more grateful, we have to stop entertaining feelings of slight or jealousy. If we want to be more patient, we have to curb the tendency toward foot tapping and anger. If we want to be less lonely, we have to be willing to go to where the love is. As Mother Teresa said, “Even God cannot fill what is full.” If we want something new to come into our lives, we have to relinquish something old. We fear change because we don’t know what’s on the other side of the chrysalis. The devil we know is preferable to the devil we don’t. Never mind that any devil is a foretaste of hell. The antidote to fear is faith. Faith doesn’t change our ignorance of the future; it is not a crystal ball. Nor does it promise a life free from obstacles. But faith gives us the ultimate assurance that God is with us all the way to death and, once there, God will open our graves and have us rise. What, then, could we possibly be afraid of? Jesus did not fear the news that his friend Lazarus was ill. Nor did he tremble when he learned that Lazarus had died and was buried four days. The grief of those he loved troubled him greatly, but he stood calmly at the mouth of the tomb and ordered the removal of the stone. With confidence in the will of God to bring life out of death, Jesus cries, “Lazarus, come out!” Do we believe that Jesus will make that same cry for every person we’ve loved and lost? Do we believe, at the hour of our death, that Jesus will cry out for us by name and beckon us into new life? This faith is what it means to be a Christian. If the death of the body is no obstacle to the love of God, then how can we fear any change to which we are summoned? The deadening habits of sin are sloping avenues that draw us further into lifelessness and lovelessness. God calls us out of these graves by name and for the purpose of embracing the wonderful new life of grace. Change—the religious word for that is conversion—is not an option! We have to continually split the skin of our narrow hearts to grow larger, softer hearts. We have to give up hearts of stone to procure hearts of flesh. If we are not willing to die, we cannot embrace the life that is promised us. Even God cannot fill what is full.

Authors Alice Camille

Special occasion Lent Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens Ezekiel 37:12-14 Romans 8:8-11 John 11:1-45

Restricted
Come out of the tomb!

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Readings: Ezekiel 37:12-14; Romans 8:8-11; John 11:1-45 THE BEAUTIFUL CITY of Bethany, the home of Lazarus, Mary, and Martha, is still thriving. Today it is populated with Muslim families and minarets sound out the call to prayer five times a day. But it is Christians who come to Bethany, millions of them, to stand on an ancient street and look inside an ancient cave. In fact they are given candles and allowed to go down deep into the belly of the tomb that once bore Lazarus. Imagine yourself there. Imagine the cold, and the dark, and the death, and the four days of silence. And then Jesus comes. He has been weeping for you, and the warmth of his tears has penetrated the cave, softening it and preparing it for miracles. Roll the stone away. Then, from the depth of unconsciousness, you hear a voice, a beloved voice, a voice that commands the earth and sea. Lazarus, come out! And with the same power that called the deep oceans, the majestic mountains, the solar systems, and the billions of birds of the air into life, he calls you out of death into life. You come out of that tomb. Can you imagine it? The warm breeze, the soft grass, the smell of fig trees. You almost faint from the pleasure of it. The ones who love you unbind you, take off your death clothes, and put on you a robe of new life. It is a great miracle. And it’s happening every day. Haven’t you noticed? Crocuses are popping out of the cold earth. Birds’ nests are appearing on narrow windowsills and in giant oak trees. Buds, hidden in snow, are starting to burst. Yes, all creation has heard Jesus say come out of the tomb! They have come out, and Easter is only two weeks away. The people who will stand in front of us in just a moment have been hidden for many months, praying with the R.C.I.A. team and their sponsors for the grace to hear Jesus call their name and tell them to come into warm community with us. The people who will stand in front of us in just a moment have been hidden for many months, praying with the R.C.I.A. team and their sponsors for the grace to hear Jesus call their name and tell them to come into warm community with us. They have asked to be part of us, to be baptized into the faith that frees us from the grasp of death. To them we say: We are so grateful to you for finding us and asking to be with us. We promise to work to build the kind of community that is deserving of your trust. We’ve needed you all these years. Our parish will be stronger now. Back at Bethany, the pilgrims still come. The villagers watch them, wondering why they stand so silently at a cave that has been there for 2,000 years. Perhaps the travelers are remembering a time when they, too, heard Jesus call them out of darkness and into his own wonderful light.

Authors Kathy McGovern

Special occasion Lent Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens Ezekiel 37:12-14 Romans 8:8-11 John 11:1-45

Restricted