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Galilee
This coming Sunday is the Solemnity of the Ascension. In the Gospel according to Matthew, this is the first scene in which disciples have appeared since they fled during the arrest of Jesus (26:56). Since that point in the narrative, Jesus has been crucified, died and laid to rest in the tomb. In the verses just before our text (Mt 28:7 and 10), the tomb has been just found empty by the faithful women who reported that an angel of the Lord and Jesus himself has appeared with a message for the “eleven disciples:” “Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me.” (v.10)
Presumably the disciples are following the message of Jesus, delivered by the women, to meet Jesus in Galilee. Thus, the disciples are not acting based on their own witness to the risen Christ, but upon the testimony of others. It is by that witness that the disciples take their next step on the journey of faith. Thus, there is already a nascent belief in the Resurrection, even if they do not yet fully comprehend the implications and consequences of that salvific act.
That sets the immediate context of our passage. But there is a larger context in play. R.T. France [1987, 417] writes that these final verses of Matthew 28 serve to complete the framework of the entire Gospel.
First, v. 18 presents Jesus as the universal sovereign. In 1:1–17 he was presented as the successor to royal dignity, and 2:1–12 portrayed him as the true ‘king of the Jews’. So in due course he entered Jerusalem as her king (21:1–11), but it is this very claim which has brought him to the cross, where it was mockingly displayed (27:37). But now the promise of chs. 1–2 is proved true after all, and on a far wider scale than a merely Jewish kingship, in ‘the enthronement of the Son of Man,’ whose rule is over ‘all nations’ (v. 19), indeed over both heaven and earth (v. 18). Secondly, and still more wonderfully, 1:23 presented Jesus the baby under the name ‘God with us’; now in the final verse Jesus the risen Lord confirms the promise, ‘I am with you always.’
Each of their essential points combine for an overarching consequence for the believer: universal kingship and accompaniment until the end of the age, means that there is a universal and timeless element to mission. We are a people sent into the world to proclaim the Good News.
Image credit: Jesus’ ascension to Heaven depicted by John Singleton Copley in Ascension (1775) Public Domain
Living for Christ
“None of us lives for oneself, and no one dies for oneself. For if we live, we live for the Lord, and if we die, we die for the Lord; so then, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s. For this is why Christ died and came to life, that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living.” (Romans 14:7-9)
The context for this passage is found in Romans 14:1-12 in which Paul is criticizing and correcting the Roman Christians for their judgmental attitudes towards other Christians, those perhaps less mature in their faith. Romans 14:7-9 are the heart of Paul’s rebuke of the Roman Christians for their judgmental attitudes.
Previously Paul compared the Christian to the slave who is dedicated to his or her own master: “Who are you to pass judgment on someone else’s servant? Before his own master he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand.” (Rom 14:4) He is making a direct comparison to the strong and weak Christians previously mentioned and then goes on to point out that all Christians have the same “Master” or better said, “Lord.” Paul asserts that Christ’s death and resurrection have established him as Lord over all the faithful who must recognize that all that they are and do are for the benefit of that Lord and the Lord alone. These things are not for the benefit of any other Christian – not even those who take it upon themselves to judge us or any of our actions. Not even for our own benefit: “None of us lives for oneself, and no one dies for oneself. For if we live, we live for the Lord, and if we die, we die for the Lord”
Every aspect of our lives – thoughts, actions, ambitions, decisions, all of it – are to be carried out with a view to what pleases and glorifies the Lord. Every aspect of our death is wholly in the hands of the Lord who sets the time for death in accordance with his own interests and purposes. In both life and death he or she also belongs to the Lord. The union with the Lord Christ, with all its benefits, that the believer enjoys in this life will continue after death with, indeed, an even fuller measure of blessing as Paul notes later: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us.” (Romans 8:18)
Paul connects all these thoughts to the very reason that Christ died and “came to life,” namely, to “become lord” of both the dead and the living – a point he made in the other writing, e.g.: “He indeed died for all, so that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised.” (2 Cor 5:15)
But somewhat differently, Paul does not use the familiar “Christ died and was raised” as he more frequently does. Here Paul writes: “Christ died and came to life.” Just a bit of literary change? Perhaps, but given that Romans is written at the end of Paul’s life, he is possibly trying to emphasize the link between Christ’s redemptive acts of death and resurrection and the two most basic parts of Christian experience: life and death. The same purpose explains the unusual word order “the dead and the living” at the end of the verse: Paul simply maintains the order that he used in depicting Christ’s work on behalf of Christians.
Paul reminds us that “whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s.” These words are not only about great moments of sacrifice or dramatic acts of holiness. They are about the ordinary rhythm of everyday life. To live for the Lord means that even the small and unnoticed parts of the day can become acts of love and faithfulness.
Most days are made up of simple things: getting up in the morning, going to work, preparing meals, answering emails, caring for family, speaking with neighbors, driving in traffic, or carrying burdens that no one else sees. Paul reminds us that none of these moments are spiritually empty. Christ is present in them all. Living for the Lord means asking, quietly and consistently: “How can I belong to Christ in this moment?”
It may mean beginning the day with gratitude instead of complaint. It may mean doing our work honestly and patiently even when no one notices. It may mean speaking kindly when we are tired, listening carefully to another person, forgiving quickly, or resisting the temptation to live only for ourselves. Often holiness is hidden inside ordinary faithfulness.
Romans 14 also reminds us that our lives are not self-contained. “None of us lives for oneself.” The way we live affects others. A peaceful spirit, a generous word, or a patient response can become a witness to Christ without preaching a sermon. Living for the Lord is less about extraordinary accomplishments and more about allowing Christ to shape the ordinary moments of the day.
At the end of the day, we can ask not whether the day was impressive, but whether we tried to belong to the Lord in it. Even imperfect efforts, offered with sincerity, become part of a life lived in Christ.
The Ascension History and Celebration
The observance of this solemnity is of great antiquity. Eusebius seems to hint at the already established celebration of it in the 4th century. At the beginning of the 5th century, Augustine of Hippo says that it is of Apostolic origin, and he speaks of it in a way that indicates it was the universal observance of the Catholic Church long before his time. In any case, representations of the Ascension are found in diptychs and frescoes dating to the 5th century. Hymns for this feast are found in the Georgian Chantbook of Jerusalem which also dates to the 5th century.
The celebrations of the solemnity have historically been on a Thursday, 40 days after the Resurrection – although there are ancient documents that indicate in some places it was celebrated in conjunction with Easter or with Pentecost.
This coming Sunday is either the 7th Sunday of Easter with the Ascension of the Lord having been celebrated on Thursday – or the Ascension has been transferred to Sunday, replacing the 7th Sunday of Easter. The older “Thursday” celebration is celebrated in the archdioceses and dioceses within the Ecclesiastical Provinces of Boston, Hartford, New York, Newark, Omaha, and Philadelphia. The other diocese transferred the celebration to Sunday in 1998 and 1999.
Why the change? This is a subject of great debate. Some say that, in recent history, attendance at Ascension Thursday Masses had been steadily declining. Others note that it is more the difference between metropolitan areas with large population centers (in the Northeast US) and the far less densely populated areas of the nation in the Middle Atlantic, South, Midwest, mountain states, and west coast where people live greater distances from their parishes. In any case the Code of Canon Law (p.1246 §2) permits bishops to transfer a holy day of obligation to a Sunday.
What is an ecclesiastical province? In general, an ecclesiastical province consists of several dioceses, one of them being the archdiocese, headed by a metropolitan bishop or archbishop who has ecclesiastical jurisdiction over all other bishops of the province. For example, Philadelphia includes Philadelphia, Harrisburg, Allentown, Erie, Altoona, Pittsburg, Scranton, and Greenburg. What one should notice, except for Omaha, all are northeastern areas of the United States. The majority of United States dioceses celebrate on Sunday, as does the Diocese of Arlington – and so the readings for this coming Sunday can be found here.
Image credit: Jesus’ ascension to Heaven depicted by John Singleton Copley in Ascension (1775) Public Domain
On that day
This coming Sunday is the 6th Sunday of Easter in Lectionary Cycle A. “On that day you will realize that I am in my Father and you are in me and I in you.” (14:20) The expression “on that day” is a standard Johannine expression pointing to the “hour” when Jesus is glorified in the events surrounding the passion, death and resurrection [Brown, 640]. Jesus promises that the events of Easter will be the catalyst for them to realize two things. First, they would understand what they had not previously been able to comprehend (7–11), that Jesus and the Father are one and to see Jesus is to see the Father. Second, they would understand something new: with the coming of the Spirit they would be ‘in’ Jesus, and Jesus ‘in’ them. Continue reading
Burdens and Necessities
In the first reading today, the apostles and elders, after prayer and discernment, send a message to the Gentile believers. And at the heart of that message is this line: “It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us not to place on you any burden beyond these necessities.” The early Christians were wrestling with a serious question: what is really required to follow Christ? And, guided by the Holy Spirit, they come to a conclusion that shapes the Church forever: do not place unnecessary burdens on people. But notice this does not mean no demands at all. It means distinguishing between what is essential and what is not. And that leads us directly to the Gospel. Because if Acts shows us what the Church removes, the Gospel shows us what the Church keeps.
The apostles could have said: “Let’s require everything—the whole Mosaic law, every custom, every practice.” But they don’t because they recognize something fundamental: God is not trying to make salvation complicated or inaccessible. Faith is not meant to be weighed down with layers of requirements that obscure the heart of the Gospel.
And that matters for us. Because even today, we can quietly add burdens: expectations about how others should pray, assumptions about what “real” faith looks like, personal preferences that we elevate into requirements or so emphasize that Christians, still maturing in the faith, begin to think it is essential.
The Church, guided by the Spirit, resists that instinct. She seeks clarity not confusion; freedom, not unnecessary burden. And that should lead us to an important question: If God removes what is unnecessary… what remains? In the Gospel, Jesus answers that question very clearly: “This is my commandment: love one another as I love you.” Not a suggestion. Not one option among many. And so there is no confusion, He tells us what that love looks like: “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”
So the Christian life is not burdened but it is not easy. God removes what is unnecessary, but He does not remove what is essential. And love – real love – is demanding. It means:
- Choosing patience when it would be easier to react
- Forgiving when we would rather hold on
- Giving time, attention, and care when we feel tired
- Letting go of pride, control, or resentment
In other words, the burden is not multiplied—it is focused. Not many competing demands—but one central call: to love as Christ loves. And Jesus goes one step further. “It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit.” We are not only called to receive this love, we are sent to live it.
The decision in Acts did not remain an idea. It was sent out to communities. It shaped how people lived together. In the same way, the command to love is not abstract. It becomes concrete in families, workplaces, parishes and in daily encounters. And often, the place we are most called to love is the place that is least convenient. That is where love becomes real. That is where it bears fruit.
Today’s readings give us a clear pattern: God removes what is unnecessary. God commands what is essential. And then God sends us to live it.
And that brings us to a simple but challenging questions:
- Do I carry burdens God never asked me to carry?
- And do I sometimes avoid the one thing He asks of us?
Because it is possible to be weighed down by the wrong things and yet resist the one thing that matters most.
Faith is not about doing everything. It is about doing what matters.
Image credit: Cristian Blázquez Martínez | iStock photo ID:1478111360 | downloaded May 2, 2026 | iStock standard license.
Orphans
This coming Sunday is the 6th Sunday of Easter in Lectionary Cycle A. “I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you.” The second promise of continuing presence is Jesus’ promise of his own return (vv. 18-20). “Orphan” (orphanos) was a common metaphor to describe disciples left without their master but the use of the metaphor here has a special poignancy in the light of the familial and domestic imagery that runs throughout Jesus’ words to his own (e.g., 13:33; 14:2-3, 10-14; 15:9-11; 16:21-24, 27). Jesus’ promise that he will not leave the disciples orphaned recalls his use of the address “little children” in 13:33 and is an assurance that the intimacy of that familial relationship is not undercut by Jesus’ departure. His promise to return thus immediately counters any possible perception of Jesus’ death as his abandonment of his own. Continue reading
The Advocate
This coming Sunday is the 6th Sunday of Easter in Lectionary Cycle A. 16 And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you always, 17 the Spirit of truth” This is the first occurrence of the noun parakletos in the Fourth Gospel. This word occurs five times in the NT. It is used in 1 John 2:1 to refer to Jesus; and four times in John’s Farewell Discourse (14:16, 26; 15:26; 16:7). Continue reading
The Essentials
The first reading today begins with a very strong claim: “Unless you are circumcised according to the Mosaic practice, you cannot be saved.” That is not a small disagreement; it is a statement about who counts—about what is necessary to belong to God. And the early Church takes it seriously. The apostles gathered, listened and discerned because at stake is something fundamental: What is essential to being saved—and what is not?
Now, we might be tempted to think: “That was a first-century problem. That doesn’t apply to us.” But it does—just in a quieter, more subtle way. Because even today, we can fall into similar patterns of thinking. We may not say, “Unless you are circumcised…” But sometimes we imply you are not really a serious Catholic unless you pray the Rosary every day, the Divine Mercy Chaplet or some other devotion. You have to fast and abstain from meat every Friday even outside of Lent. You have to… and the list goes on. Unless you do these things you are not really committed. You’re not quite “there.”
Now, all of those practices are good. Some are very powerful. Many are strongly encouraged by the Church. But they are not the same as what the apostles are discerning in Acts 15. They are not the foundation.So what is essential? At the heart of the Church’s life are two inseparable realities: Orthodoxy (right belief) and Orthopraxis (right practice).
To be Catholic is to believe what the Church hands on: faith in the Trinity; faith in Jesus Christ, true God and true man; Jesus’ death and resurrection for our salvation; and the gift of grace (to name a few). To live that faith concretely, the essential elements include: participation in the sacraments—especially the Eucharist, a life of repentance and conversion, living according to the commandments, and loving God and neighbor. These are not optional or “extra credit.” These are the core of Christian life.
Devotions, spiritual practices, disciplines – everything else belongs to a different category. They are not unnecessary. Far from it. They are helps, aids, supports and good. They are like tools, or pathways, or languages of prayer that help different people grow closer to God. The Rosary, for example, is a beautiful way to meditate on the life of Christ. The Divine Mercy Chaplet opens us to trust in God’s mercy. Lectio Divina immerses us in Scripture. Fasting strengthens our freedom and deepens our dependence on God. But they are means, not the measure of whether someone is truly Catholic.
The danger comes when we confuse the two. When we take something good and quietly turn it into something required for belonging. That is exactly what was happening in Acts 15. Something deeply meaningful, i.e. circumcision, part of God’s covenant with Israel, was being elevated into a condition for salvation. The apostles, guided by the Holy Spirit, recognized that is not the Gospel. Because salvation does not come through adopting a specific set of cultural or devotional practices. It comes through Jesus Christ.
This is not just a theological point. It is a pastoral one. Because people come to the Church with very different spiritual paths. One person may pray the Rosary daily and find deep peace. Another may encounter God most powerfully in silent prayer. Another may be drawn to Scripture. Another to acts of service. The Holy Spirit does not form every soul in the same way. And that is not a weakness of the Church. It is a sign of her catholicity, her universality.
At the same time, we should be careful not to swing too far the other way. To say, “Nothing matters, everything is optional.” That is not the Gospel either. There are essentials. We are called to believe, to worship, to repent, to love. We are called to a real, concrete relationship with Christ in His Church.
So perhaps the right way to hold this tension is this: be firm about what is essential and be generous about what is helpful. Hold tightly to the faith of the Church. And hold lightly, though appreciatively, to the many ways people live that faith.
The apostles in Acts 15 refused to place extra burdens on people that Christ Himself had not imposed. And that remains a guiding principle for us. Because in the end we are not saved by adopting every good practice. We are saved by Jesus Christ and then given many good ways to grow in Him.
Let us ask for the wisdom to know the difference and the charity to live it well.
Image credit:
Hold Dear
This coming Sunday is the 6th Sunday of Easter in Lectionary Cycle A. In yesterday’ post we concluded that the Johannine meaning of “commandment” is far broader than the Mosaic laws, rather encompasses the whole of Jesus’ life: words, deeds and the ultimate measure – love. Now that we have an idea about what we mean by “commandments,” what does it mean to “keep” (tereo) them? Continue reading
What is lacking
In St. Paul’s letter to the Colossians, he makes a statement that should give one pause: “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the church” (Col 1:24) The phrase “what is lacking” is hysterēmata which is not a complex word. It means “deficiency.” Paul uses the word seven other times and it has the same basic meaning.
In Col 1:24 the phrase and use of hysterēmata is jarring and the plain sense of the verse is that something is deficient in Christ’s saving work. The early Church Fathers were very alert to that danger, and they are remarkably consistent on one central point: nothing is lacking in the saving power of Christ’s Passion. All then go on to say what is “lacking” concerns our participation, not His redemption. From that shared conviction, they developed several complementary ways of understanding the verse.
John Chrysostom and Augustine of Hippo stress a distinction noting Christ’s Passion is perfect, sufficient, and once-for-all yet Christ continues to suffer in His Body, the Church which is a key theme of Colossians. Chrysostom held that Paul is not adding to Christ’s redemptive suffering, but sharing in the sufferings that still belong to Christ’s Body. St Augustine was more specific: “Christ suffers what remains, not in His Head, but in His members.”
The Early Church Fathers consistently read this passage through the doctrine of the Mystical Body in which Christ is the Head and the Church is His Body. The idea is that what happens to the Body is truly connected to the Head. Augustine writes: “Paul can speak this way because he is in Christ. The sufferings of believers are, in a real sense, Christ’s own sufferings extended in time.” The key idea is that Christ chose not to suffer “alone,” but to include His members in His redemptive life. This is not because He needed help, but because He willed a communion of participation.
Another line of understanding found in Fathers like Cyril of Alexandria focuses on the subjective dimension. The understanding is that redemption is objectively complete in Christ but it must be applied, lived, and embodied in each believer. In other words, what is “lacking” is not Christ’s work, but our full conformity to it. In Paul’s case, his sufferings help build up the Church and bring others to accept the redemption that thus be saved.
Across the Fathers, there is a kind of theological instinct in that they resist any interpretation that suggests insufficiency in Christ, and instead reframe the verse as revealing something astonishing: Christ allows His members to share in His saving work. This is not out of necessity; it is grace.
A simple single sentence might be: Nothing is lacking in Christ’s sacrifice; something is lacking in our participation in it.
Image credit: Jesus Christ Pantocrator | detail from the deesis mosaic in Hagia Sophia, Istanbul | PD-US
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