With summer fast approaching, I imagine some families are already dreaming about where to spend their vacations. Planning a trip usually means getting directions. With advice from AAA and the use of MapQuest, I consider what route serves me best. After all, getting lost can be so frustrating at times.

If and when we get lost, common sense tells us to pull over and ask for directions. Life itself is a journey. No wonder, Thomas asked Jesus, “How can we know the way?” Indeed, how do know which way to go when our hearts are troubled or a choice has to be made?

In the spring of 1927, Charles Lindbergh became the first person to fly non-stop across the Atlantic, arriving in Paris thirty hours later. When he became lost approaching Europe, Lindbergh had no one to turn to for help. He had to rely on his own intuition and a certain amount of luck to find his way to Paris. Some of us venture through life like that but we have guidance that we can rely on every moment of our life journey, especially when our hearts are troubled.

I am not talking about GPS systems or MapQuest. The guidance is none other than Jesus Christ himself. In response to Thomas who asked, “How can we know the way?” Jesus told him, “I am the way and the truth and the life.” Having made the journey of life to God, he comes to guide us every step of the way. “No one,” Jesus points out, “comes to the Father except through me.”

Not everyone would agree with him.  They opt instead to find their way through life and to God using their own directions, or directions given them by anyone other than Jesus.  Thumbing through the gospels, we can find countless people who chose not to follow Jesus. Some found his words impractical and told him in effect to go fly a kite. His sayings, such as “Turn the other cheek,” or “If someone asks you for your coat, give him your shirt as well,” are nice but very unreal, thank you.  Even now, many people think that what Jesus has to say could be summed up as a nice moral guide, but his words “don’t tell it like it is.”

But the words we hear in today’s gospel are not the words of a dreamer. Jesus didn’t come to tell his listeners how the world ought to be. He came to tell us, “This is the way it is, folks. If you want to get to God, the only way is through me.”

When Isaac Newton announced the law of gravity (what goes up must come down), he wasn’t pleading for an ideal situation. He was stating a fact of life that cannot be altered. And that is how Jesus felt about the truth he was proclaiming in this gospel. He came to give us the best way to truly find God in our lives.

Those who cannot or will not accept the truth which Jesus proclaims in the gospels and the teachings of the Church, reject whom Peter called the cornerstone. Consequently, they stumble and fall through life, convinced that is their destiny. If they find their hearts troubled, they need to ask themselves, “Which way have I been going? My own way or the way of Jesus Christ?”

Jesus’ advice, “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” is a holy directive on how to live with adversity. These words are not a magic eraser intended to wipe away our difficulties. But when we refuse to allow our hearts to be troubled, we free our minds to seek creative and constructive solutions to problems. When our hearts resist being troubled, we can love those who are the source of our trouble. And if we love them, they cannot become our enemies.

Today’s gospel may have sounded familiar since it is often read at funerals. When we hear the line, “I am going to prepare a place for you,” we think of a future residence that will be our home for all eternity but we don’t have to die to live there.

There is a “for rent” sign hanging in the window right now. The cost to live there is our willingness to follow Jesus directions for getting there. The dwelling place he has prepared for us is a place for us to rest from our labor, to pray, to work for the kingdom of God now, to find shelter from the stormy events that can occur any time.

Someday, we will live there permanently but until then, the Lord is here to guide us through whatever challenges we will be required to face in this lifetime.  He has revealed to us a way of living and loving that just won’t go away. For example, he tells us, “love your enemies, do good for those who hate you, pray for those who maltreat you.”

Imagine how different our world would have been had his advice been heeded. A century ago, the war to end all wars was fought in Europe.  Instead of ending all wars, the trail of bloodshed continues to this day, only now in the Middle East instead of Europe. Will we ever learn that violence simply begets more violence?

To get back on the right track, Jesus urges us to love. He would have us begin by practicing the lesson close to home. Love the person you think is most against you; try loving your enemy for enemies are defeated by making them your friends, not by conquering them or sabotaging their reputations.

The American poet, John Greenleaf Whittier, once said, “Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: it might have been!” Yes, our lives might have been very different if we had dared to follow Jesus’ direction, his way, when we chose not to. Peter tells us that those who choose Christ are living stones. As living stones, we must let God shape us by his truth if the world is to experience joyful rather than troubled hearts.

The story of Emmaus is the longest and most elegant appearance story in the gospels. In the afternoon of the first Easter Sunday we encounter two discouraged disciples walking away from Jerusalem, away from the place where their hopes had been shattered. The gospel affirms what many of us know by our own personal experience. Like Cleopas and his unnamed companion, some venture away, convinced that they can find God elsewhere outside of what was their faith community.

One mother prayed for years that her two sons would return to the faith they had left behind as teenagers. One Mother’s Day, they surprised her, showing up for Mass. Filled with joy, she asked them afterwards what prompted their return to the faith.

Her sons had been vacationing in Colorado. One very rainy Sunday morning while driving down a mountain road, they came upon an old man without an umbrella. Thoroughly soaked, he was walking with a limp alongside the highway. The brothers stopped and offered him a ride.

The old man told them he was on his way to Mass at a church three miles down the road so the brothers took him there. Since it was raining so hard and they had nothing else to do, they decided to give him a ride home after Mass. Rather than wait in the car, the brothers decided to go inside the church as well. As they listened to the readings and sat through the Mass, they were deeply moved. As one son said, “You know, Mom, it felt so right. It was like getting home after a long trip.”

That, I believe, was how Cleopas and his companion felt when they finally recognized Jesus after their long walk home from Jerusalem. Failing to understand the meaning of the Last Supper and disillusioned by what happened on Good Friday, they had left the community of disciples behind in Jerusalem, perhaps intent on returning to their old ways.

Jesus was gone and their dream of a new Israel was shattered or so they thought. Then they met this mysterious stranger on the road who offered them new insights, “Beginning with Moses and the prophets, he interpreted what referred to him in all the Scriptures.” They listened but still did not recognize him.

Not until Jesus took bread they offered him and said the blessing did Cleopas and his friend see the light. He was no stranger; this man was Jesus, whom they thought was dead but now was very much alive! All that he had said in the past, especially at the Last Supper began to make sense to them! “Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us?”

The brothers on that Colorado highway had a similar experience. Growing up, they had followed Jesus, believing him to be the Son of God but in the stormy days of their adolescence, they left their faith community behind and ventured on their own way.

Years later they met this stranger on a wet Sunday morning. He spoke to them not with words but with his heroic example and they began to listen. With their hearts burning, they rediscovered the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist.

I think of Emmaus as the first celebration of the Eucharist after the Last Supper. (Maybe this was Cleopas’ first communion!) Every Sunday since then, that is what we as Catholics have done, recognizing Jesus in the breaking of the bread. Are our hearts burning within us when we come forth to receive the Eucharist? For some, the answer is no, so they forgo this most precious gift. I wonder if they have ever seen the parallel between our Mass of today and the first one in Emmaus. Cleopas and his friend listened to Jesus, and then they offered him bread which he then blessed and broke. We are encouraged to do the same. We must listen to what Jesus has to say to us through scripture and the homily. Secondly, we must give something of ourselves so that when the gifts of bread, wine and the collection are brought forth, they include our gift to God.

In one of his earliest talks, Pope Benedict said, “The Eucharist makes the risen Christ constantly present: Christ, who continues to give himself to us, calling us to participate in the banquet of his Body and Blood.”

Today’s gospel is a story of how Jesus’ followers moved from expectant wishing to being grounded in true hope.  Like Cleopas, his friend and the apostles, we thrive on a future full of hope. They had been wishing for someone who would rescue them from bondage and transform their situation for them. For that to happen, Christ would first inflame their hearts with hope.

Now more than ever, in these changing economic times, the Church of Western Washington needs your support. The Annual Catholic Appeal enables pastoral care ministers to visit the imprisoned and the sick offering them hope, sustain the 9th largest school system in our state, which serves over 23,000 students, and prepare men to serve us as priests of tomorrow, along with 60 other crucial ministries. Closer to home, the appeal allows us to offer counseling here at St. Hubert. The goal this year is $10 M.  Our parish goal this year is $42,724. Help us to build a future full of hope with your gift.

I know that not every family will be able to support the appeal financially, but if you can, please consider doing what I do, that is, pledge a $1 a day ($365). That is less than the cost of a latte. Know that every gift, whatever the amount, is valued.  You have enabled the parish to exceed its goal every year that I have been here and until recently, our rebate has equaled our annual goal. In the past, the rebate has gone toward a pet project, such as the generator, but as you heard me say last weekend, our rebates are now being used to pay our bills.

Five years ago, before we built our new addition, our Sunday collection surpassed our expenses. That is no longer the case. The collection now averages $6K less per month than it did five years ago yet it cost more to run the parish, now that we have a larger facility. Consequently a month ago, we were in the red by nearly $33K. Last year’s rebate has helped to narrow the gap down to $10,556.

Last year, 214 parishioners contributed to the Annual Appeal with an average gift of $249.  Join me now in completing a pledge envelope, if you haven’t already done so. Keep in mind as you fill out the envelope that your pledge can be paid over a period of ten months or with a one time gift. You can use plastic or electronic fund transfer. You can even donate on line or donate stock.  You might even be able to multiply your gift! Some companies have gift matching programs that would double your gift. Check with your employer to see if that is the case for you.

If you are unable to give, please fill out an envelope and write, “I am offering a prayer.” This will let us know that you are participating so that we will not send you any follow up letters.

Join me now by taking the next few moments to complete an envelope and committing yourself to this year’s annual Catholic appeal.  No parish or individual can accomplish the mission of the church, but together as the body of Christ, we can build a future of hope.

The choice to make a difference in the lives of others is ours.

On behalf of Archbishop Sartain, the chancery staff and the many who benefit from the Annual Catholic Appeal, thank you for your generous response. Thank you for your pledge; your gift, whatever its size, helps us to build a future full of hope.

Easter is the high point of the church year. No Sunday, no feast compares, not even Christmas. Without the resurrection, no one would have celebrated the birth of Jesus. Instead, both his birth and his death would have faded from the world’s memory.

Pope Benedict observes, “Whether Jesus was or whether he also is…this depends on the Resurrection.”

What literally happened is anyone’s guess for there were no witnesses to the actual event. But something did happen. The shroud of Turin, long believed to be the burial cloth of Jesus, has been carefully scrutinized by scientists. Trying to account for the negative image scorched on the linen and the nature of the blood stains, one non Christian examiner said, “The only way I can account for these phenomena is that, to leave the blood stains intact and to produce this kind of image, the body must have somehow passed through the cloth.”

Last night at the vigil, we heard dramatic, detailed filled stories…the beginning of creation, the waters of the Red Sea drowning the Egyptians and the waters of prophets quenching our thirst for life. Today, Matthew provides us with a dramatic detailed resurrection story. A great earthquake happens; perhaps an aftershock of the one that occurred when Jesus died days before, an angel appears like lightning. The guards were stunned, becoming like dead men. This same angel rolls back the stone, not to let Jesus out, but to let the women look in. They could see that the tomb was already empty.

The empty tomb which they and later the apostles found doesn’t prove anything, although an empty tomb is a necessary condition for resurrection faith. An ordinary morning soon turned into an earth shattering event. Jesus’ resurrection is a seismic shift in the way we see the world. Like moving from thinking about the world is flat to understanding that it is round, Jesus’ resurrection opens dimensions of life that one day we will see face to face.

What makes his resurrection so earth shattering is that no one expected it. Yes, Jesus said that he would rise again, but what he said was incomprehensible, like black ink on black paper. The gospels relate many instances when the disciples did not grasp what Jesus meant. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t believe in the resurrection. In those days, some Jewish believers looked and hoped for the resurrection, but they expected it to happen at the end of time when all peoples would be raised up together, all at once, to share in the new heaven and the new earth. No one expected it to happen to just one person so soon.

When the women went to the tomb, they were going for the same reason we visit cemeteries…to get a sense of closeness to someone who has died. They didn’t expect to encounter the risen Lord. Maybe they were looking for some peace and quiet after that godforsaken Friday, but peace and quiet was the last thing they got. Their world was shaken to the core by the angel’s message, “He is not here, for he has been raised.”

The death and resurrection of Jesus is earth shaking in the truest sense of the word. Like two plates colliding, Jesus’ resurrection is the meeting of God’s world and our world. The God who was silent on Good Friday is now having the last word, and it is a word of victory. That cruel death on the cross did not end Jesus’ life or what his life means. Now raised from the dead, Jesus lives for us all. The resurrection means that sin, death, and evil have been defeated like the Egyptians drowned in the Red Sea. The resurrection means that streams of living water are flowing to us.  Victorious over death; Jesus lives in our midst. The kingdom of God is now on earth as it is in heaven.

That reality escapes us for we live today in a culture of fear, nurtured by media that conduct an up to the minute feeding frenzy on every horror in our world. Watching the news, we are left feeling that death seems far more victorious than life: another day of bloodshed in the Middle East, gruesome details of a gang shooting in a shopping mall, headlines about a murder-suicide. This kind of fear can blind us to the light of God’s truth.

“Do not be afraid,” the angel told the women when they arrived at the tomb. Fearful yet overjoyed, they left to tell the apostles what they had seen but before going far, they encountered Jesus. He greets the two Marys with the same words the angel used, “Do not be afraid.”

These words did not entirely dispel their confusion. The risen Jesus did not lay down a clear path for their immediate future. They had no clue how the story of Easter was going to unfold, still the words, “Do not be afraid,” gave them hope and comfort, inspiring them to remain faithful to their beliefs and hopes about Jesus and his mission of building the kingdom of God on earth.

On this Easter, as he did on the first Easter, the risen Jesus offers us the same message of comfort and hope. “Do not be afraid.” The problems in our personal lives, our church, our country, the economy, and our world will not be solved overnight and disappear. Because of them, some of us may still remain confused and discouraged amid what seems like chaos to us. But the promise of Easter is that in the end, life will triumph over death, good conquers evil, and hope overcomes despair.

Easter is more than an event; it is also an attitude, a perspective, an outlook on life, the turning point of God’s world. By his resurrection, our sorrow is exchanged for Jesus’ joy. Our broken lives are transformed by his forgiveness and new life. Our lives are made new. No wonder, Jesus says to us what he said to the women when they met, “Do not be afraid.”

“Ecco homo! Behold the man!” Pilate exclaimed, “Look at your king!” There stood Jesus, scourged, draped in a cloak of royal purple with a crown of thorns. Jesus’ royal stature dominated this astounding trial. At first, Pilate appealed to the crowds in sympathy, then later in ridicule, he jested, “Behold your king!”

Behold him, they did, demanding not pardon but death. “Take him away, take him away! Crucify him!” What an about face from the triumphant entry Jesus had experienced when he rode into Jerusalem, mounted on a donkey a few days before. The crowds had waved palms and thrown their cloaks on the ground, proclaiming, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord.” He whom they had greeted wildly was now being scorned.

Pilate asked, “Shall I crucify your king?” The chief priests responded, “We have no king but Caesar!” Their answer must have startled Pilate, perhaps even taken his breath away. Intent on killing Jesus, they had just denied a fundamental precept of their faith that no one was their king but God alone. Had we been standing in the crowd that day, would we have made the same response? “We have no king but Caesar!” By definition, a king is seen as a ruler, so to rephrase the question, who rules our lives, Caesar or Christ? Who is our king?

What matters most to you? Many values long considered sacrosanct have fallen by the wayside in recent years. Values that were once deemed immoral have become legally allowed and socially acceptable such as euthanasia, abortion, and fornication. Because we have become tolerant of values that run contrary to the teachings of our faith, life is not so sacred, much less safe.

If Jesus were our king, he would say to us what he said to Pilate, “Every one who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” He would challenge us for holding values that are not true to God’s commandments. Caesar may be long gone but the decadent spirit of ancient Rome lives on in a society where many have abandoned the gospel of Jesus Christ in pursuit of selfish pleasures or worldly goals that they think will provide a better life. Is it the values of a pagan world that shapes your life or the gospel of Christ the King?

The English poet, TS Eliot observed, “The dripping blood our only drink, the bloody flesh our only food, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.” Yes, we call this day good, because to spare the world any more suffering, Jesus died on the cross. His death is intended to be our exodus from the slavery of sin. Before he was put on trial, he shared the good news of salvation, teaching a gospel of love, compassion, mercy, and forgiveness. He gave his listeners the blocks for building his kingdom in their hearts. If all the peoples of the world had accepted him as their king, and thus obeyed him, sin would not have prevailed. But that did not happen for “Caesar” has ruled the lives of many.

With every sin, we crucify our other worldly king, driving yet another nail into him. When we reject Christ as our king, we put aside all that he stands for and all that he calls us to be. The consequence is sin. Sooner or later, the result is suffering.

One cannot think of Good Friday without thinking of the suffering that is going on in our midst. But we should also consider how much of that suffering is a consequence of our personal choice to choose Caesar as our king instead of Jesus of Nazareth.

We are urged this day to behold Jesus as our king for no other king can promise us the lasting peace we so desperately want. Behold the man! Ecco Homo! Behold your king! He alone provides the truth we ultimately seek. How can we not choose him to be our king? He alone is the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him. He is the master of all time.

Martha speaks for us in the midst of this awesome gospel passage when she tells Jesus, “I know my brother will rise on the last day.” We too are convinced that life does not end with death, for Jesus tells us, “whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”

Thomas Aquinas observed, “Nobody is excluded from the kingdom of heaven except through human fault.” To cross the threshold of heaven, we must be forgiven. For this reason, we frequently implore God to forgive us.  Most every celebration of the Mass begins on that note, asking the Lord to have mercy on us. When we pray the Lord’s Prayer, we plead, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

An important lesson is rendered at the end of today’s gospel. I am drawn to the command Jesus gives, “Untie him and let him go.” How many people have we figuratively tied up and left for dead, because we refuse to forgive them in spite of the promise we make in the Lord’s Prayer?

If we believe in Jesus, then we must practice the art of forgiveness. In the act of forgiving others or ourselves, of untying and letting go of past hurts, we will rise to new life.

Broken relationships, even simple misunderstandings, can result in much hurt, despair, grief and anger, that can be as painful, if not more so, than mourning a physical death. In the wake of any break up, feelings of anger and hatred sometimes leave enough of a stench that the memories remain buried rather than revisited. Many times I hear people say in such instances, “I assume,” but how often do our assumptions prove to be right?  False assumptions lead to misunderstandings, which can result in broken relationships. They curtail us from looking anew at what caused the relationship to break up in the first place.

When we have estranged ourselves from someone, we are left with two options. We can let the relationship die, becoming a grave full of painful memories, or we can forgive, which is the first step toward reconciliation and new life.

Sometimes, when I’ve become upset with someone, I would fume for days in private. I would keep my distance, reluctant to take my blinders off to look anew at the issue. I would chain myself to the incident and remain chained until I was willing to forgive that person. I have learned that holding on to grudges was not life giving, certainly not for any relationship that is bogged down with painful memories, or unresolved issues.

Whatever life there was in such a relationship is bound to ebb away unless we are willing to let go and remove the chains whose links are made up of negative memories. Any reluctance to forgive burdens us with hurt and resentment, victimizing us more than the person who has offended us. Once we untie these resentments, forgive the offender, and let the past go, we will live again. We will rise out of the graves of bitterness and anger we dig for ourselves, blessed with new life.

Admittedly, forgiveness does not come easy, nor does it mean the same as forgetting or excusing. Thomas Szasz, a renowned psychiatrist, offers this bit of counsel: “The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naïve forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget.” That doesn’t mean, however, one can resurrect past grievances either, for doing that sends the message. “I have yet to forgive you.” I think Martin Luther King, Jr. notes the distinction well when he said, “Forgiveness doesn’t mean ignoring what has been done or putting a false label on an evil act. It means rather, that the evil act no longer remains a barrier to the relationship. Forgiveness is a catalyst creating the atmosphere necessary for a fresh start and a new beginning.”