MONDAY OF HOLY WEEK                           John 12:1-U

"The poor you always have with you, but me you will not always have." 

There is something disturbing about the scene. Mary's profound gratitude to Jesus for what he had done in her life led her to be extravagant. Deep and true love does not count the cost. As the odor of the precious ointment filled the house, so did a sense of awe at this bold act of love. But a voice pierced this atmosphere and declared this a shocking waste, (The value of the ointment, made in India, amounted to an ordinary worker's yearly wage, commentators say) that the money could have been used for the poor. Perhaps do_. we ourselves silently agree. But Jesus did not agree. He reveals what is really happening. This anoint­ing prepares his body for the death and burial he is facing. The poor will always be with us, and when he is gone, they will be a privileged place for ministering to Jesus himself. There is also a place for devotion, love, reverence, and worship. Our challenge is to discern what, here and now, is the most appropriate response to those myriad ways in which Jesus remains present to us. 

At La Salette Mary wore peasant garb. She spoke to two children from very poor families. The words she spoke were jolting and disturbing. Yet she was vested with dazzling radiance and glory. The light surrounding her served to identify the Beautiful Lady. Its rare brilliance awakened in Maximin an impulse to reach out and grasp some of this beauty. 

Has my faith ever found inspiration in a magnificent church building or religious work of art? Am I able to see and help others see the faith reality behind the extravagance?

TUESDAY OF HOLY WEEK                  John 13:21-33, 36-38
"Satan entered his heart. ... It was night." 

The scene is the Last Supper. Judas leaves to tell the officials where they can find and arrest Jesus. Step by step, Judas has been walking the cold, calcu­lated path of betrayal. He deliberately leaves the glow of the light and plunges into the night. Jesus tells the disciples that he must leave them now but that they cannot follow him. Blustering, impetuous Peter immediately leaps into the con­versation: "Lord, why can I not follow you now? I will lay down my life for you." One can almost see Jesus sadly shaking his head and telling Peter - or is he chid­ing him? - that before the cock crows he will have betrayed him three times. And so it happened. But Peter's heart, overflowing with love for the Lord, was not a place where Satan might find a welcome. Jesus could see the depths of Peter's heart and the love within it. It is this love that enabled Peter to emerge from that night and confidently claim the love of Jesus' forgiveness. 

Mary's recitation of her people's sins and neglect of God can at times seem to be a path into darkness. As she breaks open the political reality France was then experiencing and its consequences, we may be tempted to block our ears and run away. That is why the light radiating from her and the crucifix on her breast is what pushes aside the darkness. From the heart of darkness, the suffering and death of Jesus shines as the light that will transform the night forever. 

Do I make an about-face when my choices make me dim the guiding lights of my corridor of life? What helps me convert what often is a "long day's journey into the night" into a "long day's journey into the light"?

WEDNESDAY OF HOLY WEEK    Matthew 26:14-25           John 13:1-15

"Better for him if he had never been born."

It is not uncommon to be bewildered by Judas. (The film Jesus Christ Super star includes a scene of Judas running in the desert, huge tanks pursuing him - powerful images of his fate, his destiny, about to destroy him.) In the divine plan, someone was to betray Jesus. It could have been someone who did not know Jesus personally, a Roman soldier, a member of the Sanhedrin. It ended up being a trusted friend. And yet Jesus had chosen Judas. He had given him a posi­tion of confidence in the group. Jesus did not shut Judas out. Even on the night of the betrayal, he let Judas know that he was aware of what was going on. Jesus exerted no power to stop Judas. The only power he used was the heartfelt appeal that Judas remain a faithful disciple, a faithful friend. To no avail. Did Judas die in despair, believing he could never be forgiven? Was his vision so desperately closed in on himself that he neither saw nor understood the extent of Christ's mercy and compassion? Ours is a God of second and seemingly infinite chances! Simply by asking, Judas could have been reborn in Christ's unconditional love. We have no idea what happened during those seconds between the hanging and actual death (Matthew 27:5). Judas may have whispered, "I'm sorry. Please for-give me."

At La Salette Mary's message gives us the promise that can break the chain of sin and the consequent sufferings and dyings. "If my people are converted ..." If is the hinge word. If smashes "fated" or "destined" punishment. If is a precious reminder of our continued second chances. If takes us beyond. 

How have I experienced the Lord's powerful forgiveness? How do I convey to others this core truth of our faith in Jesus?

HOLY THURSDAY 

"If I washed your feet, then you must wash each other 's feet.
... As I have done so you must do." 

On this day celebrating the institution of the Eucharist, it is surprising that the familiar words transforming bread and wine into the body and blood of Jesus, as recorded in the Gospels of Mark, Matthew and Luke, are not found in the gospel for the Mass of the Lord's Supper. In John's account, Jesus provides instead a different way of remembering him and making him present to one an-other. It is the remembrance and presence of loving service. In washing the feet, Jesus turns our understanding of authority and power upside down. The Lord who holds all power and authority manifests himself as servant. His act is an example that we are challenged to imitate and repeat in our own culture and society, so taken with control, force, might and power. Jesus invites us to believe in the countercultural power of humble, loving service. 

At La Salette Mary shows the power of a weeping mother. Her apparition mani­fests a kenosis (Philippians 2:7), or self-emptying, all its own. She has bent over her children just as Jesus bent over the feet of his disciples. She does not stand aloof, but comes near. She wants our hearts to be washed with her tears of love. And as she came to call us to conversion, she confers that same task on us. As she has done, so should we do.

How do I make Jesus present to others? How frequently do I engage in "bending down" service to others?

GOOD FRIDAY    JOHN 18:1 – 19:42

"For this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."

The truth of Good Friday shone in the glory of Jesus' suffering and death. No, we have not yet reached the Easter moment. We are at the foot of the cross. In the words, "It is finished,^" Jesus declares the astounding truth that all that has happened is part of the Father's plan. "It," the plan, has been brought to its fulfill­ment, although not in the manner messianic hopes had imagined. In God's plan, Jesus had to undergo such pain, such vulnerability, such darkness, such near de­spair. This is the truth this day challenges us to walk in and remain in for a while. Jesus has made all of our sufferings, and even our death, his own. All suffering and dying itself have, therefore, been infused with meaning beyond what we can comprehend. This is the truth that Easter has guaranteed us forever. But let us not move too quickly to Easter. Let us stay with this day's pain and overwhelming truth. All this suffering, and dying, "for love of me ... for love of us." There is always the strong temptation to avoid "Good Friday moments" at all cost. It is all part and parcel of "deny yourself, take up your cross and follow after me" (Mark 8:34). It is an intricate part of what we sometimes glibly call the Paschal Mystery. Good Friday's "truth" is that the "no" of death is not the last word; its "truth" is that life ultimately conquers death; its "truth," by now almost a cliche, that there can be no Easter unless there is a Good Friday. 

At La Salette Mary helped us to see the "truth" underlying the events of those crucial days. Like the prophets, she sliced open the reality and allowed us to see an even deeper reality beneath it. Prophets help us see the layers of truth in the world. Mary's tears and the brilliant light surrounding this Queen of Prophets invited us to look and see with the eyes of our hearts. The truth of love comes to hearts alert and open.

How well do I recognize my Good Friday experiences and my Easter exper^iences? Can I name some of them?

HOLY SATURDAY    Luke 24:1-12   A Matthew 28:1-10; B Mark 16:1-8; C

"Why do you search for the Living One among the dead?
He is not here, he has been raised up.... Remember what he said to you..."

It is surprising that those who knew Jesus and followed him closely, still didn't have a clue. The events of Good Friday traumatized them into a numbing for­getfulness. Some of the women go to the tomb to do what they could not do on the Sabbath - the ritual anointing and preparation of the body. These gospel pas-sages all begin with a sense of the finality of it all. Everything has ended in tragedy. No great expectations. But this is quickly changed into a whirlwind of strong emotions - fear, joy, confusion, belief, disbelief. The women have found the tomb empty and have been told by an angel that Jesus has been raised. Some actually see Jesus, very much alive. And thus began the overwhelming realiza­tion that Jesus is not to be just a memory, but a living presence with us, as he promised, to the end of time. Do we continue to search for Jesus among the dead? We can fill our heads with all the stories, doctrines, dogmas, and teachings of and about Jesus and yet not have a personal encounter with him, who is very much alive.

At La Salette Mary comes to us, her children. From the cross Jesus gave his mother to us, and us to his mother. Her loving motherhood is accentuated at La Salette by her tears flowing for us, her children. La Salette is a very powerful reminder of Mary's continuing, real, maternal presence to us. 

Have I deeply experienced in my life the move from "knowing about" Jesus to actually "knowing" Jesus? In what ways might I now be looking for the Living One among the dead?

EASTER MONDAY     Matthew 28:8-15

"Peace! Do not be afraid! Go and carry the news to my brothers...^"

What an extraordinary gift it is to have the Lord's peace that can take away our fears. The Lord often prefaces his appearances to the disciples with the greeting that grants this peace. Ultimately, this peace is a fruit of the Holy Spirit and it is very much needed because fear prevents us in many ways from being fully present_,and attentive. Fear can have us cringe, squint and look away, thus severely limiting our capacity to see and take in the whole picture. Fear can set our heart and mind racing, searching for a defense, looking for an escape. Fear can cause the fight or flight mechanism to kick in. Fear can cause us to run and not stop, look and listen to what is truly happening. This is especially true when we are dealing with a powerful spiritual experience. And fear can be so totally absorbing that it can make us forget. Good Friday had been so overwhelming that the women and the disciples forgot what Jesus had said about his dying and ris­ing. The encounter at the empty tomb left them "half-overjoyed and half-fearful.^" Did they dare hope and believe that Jesus was risen? And into this excitement the risen Lord appears. Jesus takes their dramatically renewed energy and sends them off to bring the good news to the others.

At La Salette Our Lady follows the same pattern. She invites the children to come near and not to be afraid. Her message, however, certainly could raise fear in their hearts and leave them filled with anxiety. Along with her command to "make this known" it would seem that Our Lady gave her confidants a special strength allowing them to hold steadfast to their story, even when threatened by authorities.

EASTER TUESDAY    John 20:11-18

"Why are you weeping? " 

A heavy cloak of sadness is Mary's attire this morning. Her grieving heart has tunneled her vision into a single thought, "He is gone. He is dead. All my hopes, all that had helped me make sense out of life, all were dashed on that horrid day. There is nothing I can do now but give final anointing to his dead body. There is nothing else."

It is into this brokenheartedness that Jesus appears. Just as it is in the confusion and disappointment of the disciples going to Emmaus that Jesus appears. Just as it is into the fear of the disciples barricaded behind locked doors that Jesus ap­pears. Yes, we find and experience Jesus in moments of joy, of love, of celebra­tion. But often Jesus breaks into the weeping moments of our lives - times of painful failure, unfulfilled hopes, broken plans, unattained goals and disappointed hopes. At times Jesus breaks into the hurting fragments of our broken commit­ments, commitments that can appear irreparable, irretrievable. Times and places such as these seem to be favorite entries for Jesus. 

At La Salette no one asked Mary why she was weeping. The children thought at first that she was a mother from the area and that her children had beaten her. But her message soon put the reason for her tears beyond speculation - her children were suffering. Hers were tears of love. Love so strong that it breaks into her "beatific state of being" and causes anguish and pain. What makes no sense to the theologian's mind makes eminent sense to the loving heart. 

Have I allowed myself to touch the roots of some of the sadness in my life? If the Lord were to ask me "why are you weeping," how would I answer?

EASTER WEDNESDAY                               Luke 24:13-35

`How our chief priests and leaders delivered him up
to be condemned to death, and crucified him."

Our text is found in the account given by the Emmaus disciples of what had recently happened in Jerusalem. Is it farfetched to imagine that part of their pain came from a deep sense that they had been betrayed by their religious lead­ers? These disciples do not refer to "the chief priests and leaders" but to "our chief priests and leaders.^" How could it all have gone so wrong? How could the One who seemed to fulfill their messianic hopes and dreams be destroyed by the very guardians and teachers of their faith, including faith in the expected Christ? The two disciples welcomed a stranger into their fear, doubts and disillusion­ment. Jesus the Stranger reviews the Scripture passages relating to the Messiah and helps them to see how the events of recent days fulfilled the predictions of the prophets. What is more, he set their hearts on fire. They understood the deeper meaning of those events. Their hope reborn, they rushed back to Jerusalem to share their experience with the other disciples. Easter's living light had now pierced the darkness of their despondent feelings of betrayal. 

The La Salette event, like other officially recognized apparitions, knew stormy beginnings. But even before canonical approval had been given, thousands flocked to the favored mountain and felt their hearts catch fire as the words Mary had spoken there helped them understand the "meaning^" of contemporary events and their link to the providence of God. Many hurried down from the mountain and shared their experience with others. 

What or who has contributed most to my own search for meaning? Has my heart ever been "set on fire"?

EASTER THURSDAY    Luke 24:35-48

"Why are you disturbed? Look at my hands and my feet; it is really I.
Touch me and see that a ghost does not have flesh and bones." 

The Incarnation has a unique continuance after the Lord has been raised from the dead. In speaking of the post-Resurrection Christ, we stress that we are dealing with his glorified body. That is true. But we must avoid the danger of spiritualizing too much. At the heart of our faith is Jesus' bodily resurrection. In his Easter and post-Easter appearances to the disciples Jesus went out of his way to have them recognize that he was no phantom or hallucination. He invites them to look at his hands and feet. They are signed with the wounds he suffered for love of us and in obedience to the Father. In these appearances Jesus shows that his glory and the cross must always remain together. We are incarnational people. Our faith, our religion, is incarnational. Our sacraments offer visible, tangible signs of God's grace and presence. It's not wrong to expect or seek moments of encounter with the Lord that will touch and move us. 

At La Salette the brilliant light surrounding Our Lady, and then embracing the children, was truly a sign of glory. As the two herders observed, this light seemed to emanate from the crucified Christ that Mary wore on her breast. That dark, dark moment of Good Friday is here revealed in its ultimate reality: Glory. 

How do I respond to Christ's invitation to relate to him in the humanity he shares in with me? How do I find and relate to him in the wounds his people bear?

EASTER FRIDAY     John 21:144                 

"I'm going fishing^'. ^`We will join you.' "

This gospel passage recounts Jesus' third appearance to the disciples. As they had been instructed, they were waiting for the Lord in Galilee. Peter decides to go fishing. The others join him. Fishermen by trade, they returned to what they knew best, giving us a life-goes-on feeling. After an unsuccessful night of fish­ing, a man walking along the shore tells them they should cast their nets once again. They do so and a tremendous catch of fish results, bringing vividly to mind their very first encounter with Jesus: "Come, follow me. I will make you fishers of men and women.^" John is the first to recognize him. "It is the Lord," he says. There is something evocative about the scene. The disciples labor in vain. When the as yet unrecognized Lord offered direction they might have been tempted to tell him they were seasoned at their trade, had been fishing all night, and that if there were fish to be caught they would have caught them. As members of our "instant everything^" culture, we are quick to toss off one single failed attempt and move on to a new try. "Been there... done that" is a mantra of our age. Yet we often row to shore, nets empty and spirits drooping. Perhaps our attempts need only one more try. The grace moment may be the very next one. And when suc­cess does come, do we exclaim: "It is the Lord!"? 

At the time of the apparition at La Salette, it took a grandmother to realize that the Beautiful Lady was in fact the Blessed Mother. There is much "waiting" in the hearts of our elderly. And it is in that patient waiting that an understanding and recognition of spiritual realities become clearer. The timeless "light on the moun­tain" reveals the divine presence in the events of our time. 

Can I identify times when the Lord has transformed my seemingly fruitless ef­forts into blessings? Is "waiting" something I am comfortable with in my faith life and Christian ministry?

EASTER SATURDAY         Mark 16:9-15

"He was revealed to them completely changed in appearance."

The Easter Week gospels have dealt with the post-Resurrection appearances of Jesus. Jesus shows his wounds, invites the disciples to touch him, breaks bread, cooks fish and eats with them. He is not a ghost; he is really present. But he is also able to walk through closed doors, appear and disappear at will, and presents a changed appearance. Sightings and encounters with him were first reported to the apostles by some of the women and two of the disciples. Most of the apostles did not believe them. When Jesus did appear to them by the lake, he reprimanded them for their disbelief and the stubbornness they showed in not putting faith in these witnesses. We are people called to believe in Jesus as a living presence, but he is very much the Jesus of a changed appearance. Mark, Matthew and Luke identify his presence in the bread and wine consecrated in his memory. For John, it is a presence hidden in humble, loving service to others and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. The invitation to believe and experience Jesus' presence turns the popular saying upside down. "I'll believe it when I see it" becomes "I'll see it when I believe it." 

Mary's message at La Salette invites us to recognize the presence of God in our everyday lives. The passage about the wheat field at Coin reveals God's ear close to earth hearing Mr. Giraud's expression of care and concern for his son Maximin if the wheat crop continues to fail. The connectedness between the here and the hereafter can be seen, if we believe. 

How credible is my witness to the presence of the living Lord? How much faith and confidence do I put in the faith experience of others? How often have I recog­nized Jesus in the unexpected?

MONDAY OF THE SECOND WEEK OF EASTER          John 6:1-15
"Can I return to my mother^'s womb and be born all over again?^"

Embracing Jesus as the Christ means becoming an entirely new person. Such a prospect alarms Nicodemus, the captivated yet cautious night caller. He stammers this question, "Do you mean I must re-enter my mother's womb?" Slow-witted? Literal-minded? Not likely. This is rather an instance of radical resistance to the drastic change Jesus' words imply. New birth always follows upon a death of sorts. Birth pangs in one form or another. Under these circum­stances who would not try to buy a little time? 

"If the harvest is ruined," Mary said at La Salette, "it is only on account of your-selves. I warned you last year. You paid no heed." Paying heed can be a tricky affair. Promptings toward conversion can be shrugged off, or they can be put on hold. Later on can come much sooner than we think, however. Just as the gentle, mysterious breeze unexpectedly parts our hair and strokes our face, may God's Spirit stir mightily in us and help us claim the stirring. 

In my life when is hesitation a grace? When is hesitation a timid shirking?

TUESDAY OF THE SECOND WEEK OF EASTER John 3:7-15
"How can these things be?" 

Ttrustee of the past, heir to a rich legacy, Nicodemus comes forward, willing and wanting at least to learn about the new. That he is sincere, we discover from the progression in his questions about the reality, the how, and the when of this birth from above. The questions he puts to Jesus, his surprise at the answers he gets, suggest that, although he is thoroughly schooled in the sacred writings and culture of his people, he has not yet discovered what it really means to be lost or saved, to be dead or alive. The questions we puzzle over can take us to the innermost boundaries of our yearning, to the outermost reaches of our desire. 

In living her graced life and in fulfilling her exalted calling, Mary asked few questions. She pondered in her heart the words and deeds of the Lord. How to love to the point of laying down one's life, she learned, is the answer to the most basic of life's questions. Knowing only Christ and Christ crucified, she appears on the mountain of La Salette wearing his cross upon her heart. "Loveliest of all," as Melanie and Maximin later delighted to repeat, "was the Lady's cross, the source of the light that enveloped her entirely." 

What questions do I raise in my intimate encounters with Jesus? What do these questions say about the boundaries of my yearning?

WEDNESDAY OF THE SECOND WEEK OF EASTER   John 3:16-21

"Those who act in truth come into the light.^"

A familiar, if not universally welcome, sight is that of the fellow brandishing the John 3:16 placard before the TV cameras in sports arenas and stadiums. If a few people pause a moment and think to themselves: "This is really what it all comes down to." If several more say to themselves: "This is truly good news." If yet others flirt with the idea of acting on this reassuring word, our man will have proved to be a clever publicist and an effective evangelist. 

Just as God had refused to surrender the first human couple to their fear and shame, but came looking for them, so too did the risen Jesus seek the very ones who had deserted him and fled into the dark night. Our Lady's appearance at La Salette in a globe of resplendent brightness, inviting the children to step into her very light, tells us that our salvation is nothing less than God's relentless effort to find us and lure us out of hiding - from God and from ourselves - in order to strip us of the evasions, pretenses and rationalizations with which we have clothed our shame.

Am I conscious of any locked, dark rooms in my spiritual house? "Fortunately, it is in the nature of cover-ups to be uncovered," William Safire once wrote. How wholeheartedly do I agree?

THURSDAY OF THE SECOND WEEK OF EASTER John 3:31-36
"The Father loves the Son and has given all things over to him."

Today's gospel reading calls for probing and penetrating reflection as it puts before us such profound realities as discipleship, the community of life and the communion of love. Jesus discloses to us here the decisive underlying pattern of our whole life in him. The love of the Father for the Son, a love that the Son returns in obedience, establishes a community of life between the Father and the Son and this shared life manifests itself when the Son speaks the Father's words and does the Father's works. The love of Jesus for the disciples, a love the dis­ciples return in obedience, establishes a community of love between Jesus and them, and this shared life manifests itself whenever the disciples proclaim his words and carry out his works. The key word here - some would call it the prob­lem word - is obedience. 

The opening words spoken at La Salette by the Mother of the Lord, who herself accepted with loving submission her place and part in God's plan, keynote the entire discourse she delivered there: "If my people refuse to submit, I will be forced to let go the arm of my Son." This stark statement of fact contrasts sharply with her own wholehearted commitment as the first among the disciples. The large chain embracing her shoulders tells us we are all interlocking links in a chain of divine life. "All things are yours," she seems to say, "and you are Christ's, and Christ, of course, is God's" (see 1 Corinthians 3:21, 23). 

Do I balk inside at the mere mention of obedience? In what specific ways will submission to my Lord set me free?

FRIDAY OF THE SECOND WEEK OF EASTER         John 6:1-15
"Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat? "

There can be no doubt that the early church was rather partial to the multipli­cation story. We find it in all four gospels: twice in Mark, twice in Matthew, once each in Luke and John. It focuses on a most basic and shared human reality: the need to eat. In his gift of bread Jesus gives himself entirely, feeding our bod­ies and satisfying the many hungers of the human heart. A bit of bread and a bit of fish wondrously became a lot of bread and a lot of fish. Every year through the good earth, the Creator makes a little barley and a little wheat into much barley and much wheat. Enough to feed a world. In the feeding of the multitude, God incarnate, does up close, on a smaller scale and at an accelerated pace, in hands just like ours, what he has always done. 

With touching sadness Mary cautions at La Salette that the wheat will become scarce and that hunger will surely follow: "If you have wheat you must not sow it. Anything you sow the insects will eat, and whatever does come up will fall into dust when you thresh it." To bring her poignant message home to us more vividly, she echoes the distress and powerlessness of a father before his child's hunger: "Child, eat some bread... I don't know who will eat any next year if the wheat continues this way." How are we to deal with humanity's growing needs? One lad's provision for a day out is where one should begin. The need will never be too great for our resources, if we share them as the Lord bids us do. 

What are some of the deepest hungers of the human spirit? How concerned am I about world hunger?

SATURDAY OF THE SECOND WEEK OF EASTER John 6:16-21
"The disciples saw Jesus walking on the sea."

From our vantage point in time we realize that as Jesus came walking toward them on the sea, the disciples were witnessing a miracle of the new creation. That brief glimpse was, so to speak, a crocus miracle. Crocuses, to our delight, break through the earth's winter crust and snow. They signal that a crucial corner has been turned. In the walking on the waves we see the relations between spirit and nature changed to the point where nature can be made to do whatever spirit pleases. This new obedience of nature cannot, of course, be separated from the obedience of the human spirit to the Creator. 

"If my people are converted," the Mother of the risen Christ promised at La Salette, "rocks and stones will be changed into mounds of wheat and potatoes will be self-sown in the fields." She well knew that hope must always describe a future that few think possible or even imaginable. Queen of Prophets, she reminds us that language about "what will be later" must necessarily contradict language about "what is now." 

Can I honestly say that hope is a favorite virtue of mine? How do optimism and hope differ?

MONDAY OF THE THIRD WEEK OF EASTER  John 6:22-19

"You should not be working for perishable food."

Food drive sponsors are careful to indicate whether perishable as well as nonperishable items are acceptable. If nature abhors a vacuum, human nature deplores waste. The ongoing project of this world's creation claims from each of
us major contributions of effort, energy and work. But our life's work must leave room for us to become more and more the person God is calling us to be. Six days a week we seek to master the world. ^'On the seventh day we try to master ourselves. The world has our hands but our hearts belong to the Creator of the world. 

From her mountaintop and with the deepest concern, Our Lady of La Salette observes her children trudging their way over life's pathways, toiling for their livelihood. "I gave you six days to work," she says, speaking as prophets do in God's very name, "I have kept the seventh for myself." Six days we are to work at the creation of the world, on the seventh we are to enjoy the world of creation. The Lord's day calls us to marvel, to praise, to wonder. "Gather together," it invites us, "eat and drink. Sit comfortably and relax. Rest and be restored. The feast is prepared and ready. It awaits you: body, spirit and soul." 

One year from now which of my current concerns will I even remember? How can what I do benefit me, if I neglect who I am?

TUESDAY OF THE THIRD WEEK OF EASTER         John 6:30-35

"I myself am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry."

Combative voices in the crowd put this snide question to Jesus: "What is the work you do?" The answer to this question, however, can only benefit those who follow Christ. He could well have replied: "The work I do? I do the will of the Father to whom I am totally dedicated. I make known the God no one has ever seen. I proclaim good news to the poor and the dispossessed. I allay every human fear. I bear witness to the truth, the truth that sets hearts free. I speak words of pardon and peace. I bring healing and wholeness to body, mind and spirit. I restore God's distorted image in his rebellious children. I seek out all who have strayed. I lay down my own life for love of my friends. I consecrate myself as a sacrifice of praise and reconciliation. In dying I destroy death, your death."

All this Jesus admirably summed up in the hopeful words of this day's gospel: "I myself am the bread of your life. If you come to me you will never be hungry."

As her apparition at La Salette teaches us, the Mother of Jesus and our Mother, places herself "in the middle," that is, she draws the attention of her Son to our needs and hungers, as she draws our attention to the deep need of our hearts for her Son: "If my people will not submit, I will be forced to let go the arm of my Son." She bids us ponder his actions, savor his words, commune with his silences and remain expectant before his loving gaze.

Is the overriding ambition of my life to be "someone," or to follow Christ faith-fully? Can I say that Christ is enough for me?

WEDNESDAY OF THE THIRD WEEK OF EASTER John 6:35-40

"No one who comes to me will I ever reject." 

Listing the striking qualities of the love Jesus gave to his own requires no effort at all. His love for those first disciples was affirming, compassionate, constant, forgiving, gentle, loyal, patient, trusting, and unfailing. That same love for his own in the world now goes on giving courage and strength; it continues to show endless patience and understanding. Despite our slowness to believe, our lack of spiritual understanding, our less than prompt response, this loving Savior assures us that we are not a burden, but rather a gift to him from the Father, whose will it is that "Jesus should lose none of those given to him." 

Seeing his Mother in tears on the mountain of La Salette, how could we not recall the stirring scene of Jesus weeping over Jerusalem? In each instance a hearty and timely response to the invitation of grace is at issue. "How long a time I have suffered for you!" Do we not too often keep the Lord waiting? Our impulsive pride, capricious love and inordinate self-absorption put all but ourselves and our preoccupations on hold. And the Lord does wait. "No one who comes to me will I ever reject." He bides his time and will patiently tell us tomorrow what we refuse to hear today.

Is Christ really my closest friend, sharing in all I do and experience? Have I thanked the Lord lately for the privilege of being "one of his own"?

THURSDAY OF THE THIRD WEEK OF EASTER John 6:44-51

"The bread I will give is my flesh for the life of the world."

This promise was fulfilled at the Last Supper, itself the anticipation of Cal-vary. Now and then the words "This is my body" take you by surprise, seep­ing quietly into that void you had forgotten was there. You live a timeless mo­ment as you receive that flesh given for you and feel inwardly linked with the divine, certain that you are looked upon with mercy and love. The person behind you steps up to your place to receive this bread. And it's not just that one person, there are two long lines of them. And over and over again "The Body of Christ. This is my body given for you," until the words mean more than you. Before you and behind you others reach out, having brought there their flushes of fervor, their pulses of doubt, their dearest dreams and their unspoken hopes. We are many and we are one. We are happy and we hurt. We are much in need of grace and we hunger to hear "This is my flesh for you, for the life of the world." 

To preserve for the Lord a people he may continue to call his own is the purpose of Mary's ministry at La Salette: "In the summer only a few somewhat aged women go to Mass. The rest work on Sunday all summer long." Once and for all God's love has been given and received. The covenant has been sealed once and for all. The church is the community sealed by this definitive gift of God to us in Jesus Christ. When Christians gather in remembrance of their Lord and celebrate his death until he comes again, they actualize and express their God-given iden­tity and fulfill their God-given mission. If their Scriptures and consecrated signs bear fruit in humanizing love, then the world for whose sake they witness and worship will find them eloquent indeed. 

Is the Eucharist the center of my life? At Eucharist do I look to the Word and Body of Christ to transform me?

FRIDAY OF THE THIRD WEEK OF EASTER   John 6:52-59

"Quarreling among themselves, they said: `How can this man give us his flesh
to eat? " 

The devil offered Jesus all the kingdoms of the world. He rejected the offer. The tempter suggested that he change stones into bread and satisfy his hun­ger. Jesus refused to do so. Earlier in this chapter of John's Gospel the enthusias­tic crowd wanted to make Jesus king. He fled. Some Pharisees warned him at some point: "Herod wants to kill you. Leave here." That time he did not go away. "How can this one give us his flesh to eat?^" many ask here in angry disgust. Rather than dilute his statement, as we might advise him to do, Jesus enlarged upon it: "If you do not eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you." How little inclined the Lord was to conform to our standards of accommodation, moderation and reasonableness! The quarreling goes on. 

"In the winter when they don't know what to do," the Mother of Christ noted, her cheeks wet with tears, "they go to Mass just to make fun of religion." How easily we can forget that worship is the joyous acknowledgement that we did not make ourselves but are dependent on the One who must not be made into a guarantor of reality as we would like it to be. A truth tailored to our own measure would be a pitifully partial truth. A God entirely of our own making would be a God far too small.

How sincerely do I invite the Lord to open my understanding to his Word? Do I usually look to Scripture for confirmation of what I am already thinking or do­ing?

SATURDAY OF THE THIRD WEEK OF EASTER John 6:60-69

"Jesus then said to the Twelve, 'Do you want to leave me too?

Pollsters report the results of their surveys under three headings: agree, disagree, no opinion. In times of crisis, when trying to reach a decision, we usually consider three possibilities: for, against, undecided. God never put three choices before the people of Israel. The alternatives were always these: "I put before you a blessing and a curse. I set before you life and prosperity, death and doom" (Deut. 11:16; 30:15). The choice is yours. "Fully aware that his disciples were murmuring at what he said," Jesus at this critical point leaves them no middle ground either. He challenges them to decide: "Will you leave me as well?" This approach is rooted in our very freedom. Every moment of our life we move either toward or away from our true fulfillment; we must say "yes" or "no" to the reality that we are. There is no way to say ^"maybe" or ^"undecided" to existence. 

Recognizing in Gabriel's words the will of the Most High, the Virgin of Nazareth entrusted herself fully and freely to the person and work of her Child. The choice she made in freedom on that blessed day, she would freely ratify each day of her faith pilgrimage to the foot of the cross. It is no surprise then that her entire message at La Salette hinges on the classical "ifs" of free choice: "IF my people will not submit, ... IF my people are converted..." 

How deeply do I share in my Lord's risen life, a life death can no longer reach? Do I choose to yield or to cling? to hurt or to heal?

MONDAY OF THE FOURTH WEEK OF EASTER      John 10:1-10  

"He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out." 

In the Middle East it was the custom of shepherds to bring their flocks together into a secure fold for the night. Here, while their fellow shepherds slept, a chosen few could easily guard many flocks from predators. In the morning each shepherd would enter the fold and call his sheep. They would respond to the familiar voice and confidently follow it - to green pastures; to running water, even through the valley of darkness, on to the fullness of life. In Jesus' time sheep were raised primarily for their wool and milk, not as a source of meat. To the shepherds they were much like domestic animals, even pets. They had names. Shepherds didn't use sheep dogs to nip and snap at the heels of their sheep. Called by name, each of the sheep responded. 

One of the intriguing things about the apparition at La Salette was that the Beau­tiful Lady never referred to Maximin and Melanie by name. When speaking of prayer she asked: "Do you say your prayers well, my children?" When inquiring about spoiled wheat: "Have you never seen wheat gone bad, my children?" And when they gave a negative answer, she addressed Maximin: "But you, my child, surely you have seen some..." I have often wondered why she didn't use their names, yet she went on to recount a very intimate moment in the life of the lad -and his father. Again at the end of the discourse Mary says: "Well, my children, you will make this known to all my people." 

Is my God near and supportive, or distant and silent? When I think of and pray to God, do I call him by an intimate or more impersonal name?

TUESDAY OF THE FOURTH WEEK OF EASTER John 10:22-30

"The sheep that belong to me listen to my voice."

Words, sounds, voices are such a great part of our lives. From our first con­scious moments, they are our major means of expression, of communica­tion. They take on meaning for ourselves and for others, not because they are heard but because they are listened to. Listening requires attention to words and to persons. It involves discernment and leads to choices. How often Jesus felt flustered because people heard without listening, without understanding, without opening their hearts. His teaching was not about dogma but about relationship with a loving God to whom we could cry, "Abba" (Galatians 4:6). Rather than listen to his voice, so often we continue to close our ears and cry out, "Crucify him" (Mark 15:13). 

At La Salette the children said that once they heard the voice of the Beautiful Lady their fears melted away. They found themselves drawn into her company, standing so close that no one could have passed between them and her. They listened attentively. Enthralled with the person before them, they didn't always understand her words but did grasp the urgency of her message. Their dialogue with her was etched into their memories, into their lives. But it took time to flower, to ripen, to mature into practice. Remember that on the day after the apparition, Maximin didn't even attend Mass after he and Melanie had recounted their story to Father Perrin, the parish priest. 

WEDNESDAY OF THE FOURTH WEEK OF EASTER    John 12:44-50

`Anyone who rejects me and refuses my word has a judge."

Coming right before the narration of the Passion, these words reflect how Jesus might have looked at the result of his years of teaching, preaching, working miracles, trying to shed new light on the reality of our world. Was he a success or a failure? Except for a few trusted friends, people didn't perceive him as a shining light. People didn't hear his loving message of forgiveness and con-version. People didn't believe in him but wanted to use him for what they could get out of him. Even Judas thought he could get his 30 pieces of silver and that Jesus would somehow get away. Jesus, however, knew that the end was near. Or rather that a new beginning, so far removed from any miracle he had worked till then, was at hand. Yet he had not come to judge or condemn but to save. 

At La Salette Mary tries to help us realize the effects of our actions. "If the har­vest is ruined, it is only on account of yourselves. ... If they are converted, rocks and stones will turn into mounds of wheat and potatoes will be self-sown in the fields." Our pernicious choices help create a social structure that brings ruin upon ourselves and upon others, extending over and beyond what we imagine. We might feel distant from those who died in the great famine of 1846, but can we think of ourselves as uninvolved in what is happening in the Balkans today? If we believe we can escape the effects of what is going on, we are deaf to Mary's words: "It is only on account of yourselves.^" 

Do I recognize that what I am, what I believe, and what I do all have repercus­sions on my life and on that of others? What actions should this call me to?

THURSDAY OF THE FOURTH WEEK OF EASTER    John 13:16-20

"Whoever welcomes the one I send welcomes me."

We have all heard stories of a Jesus in disguise coming to visit a household as a beggar, a child, a homeless person. Those who welcomed him were astonished to discover him under the disguise. The stories are touching and the reality is even more so. Jesus comes indirectly to us through those who touch our lives. We shouldn't be surprised when we don't recognize him. Mary Magdalene didn't recognize him until he spoke her name. The apostles recognized him only when they saw his wounds. Though they walked with him for hours, looked into his eyes and heard his voice, the disciples going to Emmaus needed to share the bread of fellowship before they recognized him. Welcoming people means re­ceiving them with pleasure, satisfaction and hospitality. It means sharing what we have. It means caring about those we receive as well as for them. 

When Maximin and Melanie first saw the globe of dazzling light they were afraid. They would have fled had not the globe parted to reveal the Beautiful Lady. Like her Son, Mary came disguised. Maximin naively thought she had come up there to cry her heart out because her children had struck her. When she stood and invited them to come near, their fears melted. As Mary came toward them they approached her. Each welcomed the other. She brought Christ into their lives; first through the shining crucifix on her breast and then by the conversion which would gradually take place in their lives. Hospitality is considered one of the chief Christian trademarks. It calls us to welcome disguised saints and sinners into our lives, where Jesus can have the pleasure and satisfaction of encountering them. 

What fears hold me back from welcoming Christ into my life today? What fears hold me back from sharing the bread of fellowship with my brothers and sisters?

FRIDAY OF THE FOURTH WEEK OF EASTER        John 14:1-6

"I am going to prepare a place for you."

Jesus must have experienced a whole range of feelings as he bid farewell to his disciples. Things would never be the same. Their solidarity would be broken. Judas would betray him. Peter would deny him. All would flee. As Son of God, he had come down from heaven. As son of Mary, he would be going home for the first time. What expectation, what joy! But to get home, he would have to suffer and die. What horror, what revulsion! Though he would rise from the dead, he would no longer be with his disciples as before. Is it any wonder that he tried to forestall their fears. "Do not let your hearts be troubled. ... I am going to prepare a place for you." 

Many of us have experienced that place which is special to her Missionaries and to all her devotees - Our Lady's shrine in the French Alps. This conjures up a blend of physical, psychological and spiritual attitudes, feelings, judgments and memories. For some La Salette is a picturesque place of prayer, for others it means a barren wilderness of sorts. Some felt at home, while others have been there and known desolation. For those who minister there week after week, rou­tine can set in; whereas for first-time visitors, feelings of anxiety before the unfa­miliar could arise. However we view this mountain sanctuary of La Salette, it is a stepping stone in the spiritual lives of countless pilgrims. After her visit to earth on this mountain, Mary returned to heaven. We can echo Maximin's words: "We should have asked her to take us with her." Hopefully, one day she will. 

What range of feelings surges in me when I think of going home to Jesus? Is mine a peaceful confidence that I shall indeed follow where Jesus has gone?

SATURDAY OF THE FOURTH WEEK OF EASTER John 14:7-14

"To have seen me is to have seen the Father."

The word Father appears ten times in this short passage. When I predicate a word, a name, or idea of God my understanding is colored by my own expe­rience. What relationship did I have with my father? What influence did he have in shaping my life? Was he a stem taskmaster, a soft touch, a mentor at play and work, or one who made me feel like a klutz? Did he challenge me, encourage me? Was he present when I needed him or was he always too busy? Or did I com­pletely lack a father figure because of death, divorce, separation, or abandon­ment? All these shape my understanding of God as Father. Shape it, yes; limit it, no. Jesus, God-become-flesh-for-me, gave me another way of knowing God as Father. His human experience of God has become mine, opening up my heart and soul to this revelation of the heavenly Father. 

A Father who cares intensely for his children sent Mary to La Salette. My under-standing of him through her words will be colored by my human experience and by my life of faith. The incident of Maximin with his father in the field at Coin can surely show how much God the Father cares for me, provides for me. "Here, my child, eat some bread this year while we still have some. I don't know who will eat any next year if the wheat continues like that." Mr. Giraud's words bring to mind other words I so often speak to my Father: "Give us this day our daily bread" (Matthew 6:11). And we recall Jesus' tribute to the concern parents have for their children: "Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for bread, will offer a stone?" (Luke 11:11). 

How do I envisage God as my Father? Is there still a shadow of the punitive parent over my personal image of God?

MONDAY OF THE FIFTH WEEK OF EASTER           John 14:21-26

^"Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them,
and we will come to them and make our dwelling with them."

Dwelling with us is what Jesus is all about. "And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us." The Incarnation is more than cohabitation. Jesus came to share every aspect, every fiber of our humanity. He tells us that through the loving observance of his commandments we can share in his divine life. What an exchange! We know how difficult it is to dwell together, to form community. All community is based on perceived needs. Not to perceive needs keeps the com­munity from developing. There are many things that thwart human community: individualism, unwillingness to forgive, aggression, indifference. One thing that fosters community is love, which is why Jesus says he will be found dwelling in those who love. 

Of Mahatma Gandhi, Pandit Nehru said: "Where he sits is a temple and where he walks is holy ground." We can say that of each other, because Christ promised to make us his home, his temple, his dwelling place. Dwelling together in commu­nity has always been an integral part of the La Salette Missionary life. This was demonstrated in the document shared with us by our young religious brothers who gathered at La Salette in December 1998-January 1999 to prepare for their perpetual profession of vows. Based on solid foundations (Scripture, the convic­tions of our founders, our present Constitutions, Pope John Paul II's apostolic letter Vita Consecrata ), community calls us to more than cohabitation, namely: "private and community prayer, especially the Eucharist, interdependence, dis­cernment, dialogue, openness and sharing, respect for others, hospitality, atten­tiveness to the needs of others, co-responsibility, forgiveness, an active obedi­ence, and sharing in those moments together that manifest human relationship and joy in community." 

TUESDAY OF THE FIFTH WEEK OF EASTER     John 14:27-31

"Peace I leave with you; peace is my farewell gift to you."

The gift of peace is echoed in every Mass yet it so often eludes us. When it is experienced it exudes wholeness, a reconciliation, a sense of union with all of creation and beyond. Could that be why Jesus left it to us as his farewell gift? He was about to reconcile the world to himself, to join again the created and the Uncreated in a special relationship. The result would be that peace which he alone could give, a joy for which all of creation had been groaning (Romans 8:22). St. Augustine was possibly describing it when he said that a Christian should be alleluia from head to toe. We are an Easter people and, with that fare-well gift in our hearts, alleluia is our song. 

When we first hear of La Salette there seems to be no echo of peace and joy. Rather we find a continual flow of tears, we hear of suffering, of God^'s arm grown heavy, people swearing, human beings behaving like dogs, famine, worm-eaten crops, children dying. Hardly a reason to sing alleluia! But as we look deeper into the meaning of the tears and the message we can distinguish the call to conversion, to reconciliation, to joy and peace. We come to understand the meaning of the word if that Mary spoke. Christ left us his farewell peace as a gift that must be received, not as something foisted upon us. He said that we have his life in us, that salvation, peace and joy are ours, "If you love me." Anyone who has experienced the grace of reconciliation knows the profound peace that comes when the if changes to yes . 

What would it take for me to experience a deeper sense of Jesus' farewell gift of peace? How expectant and trusting is my relationship with him?

WEDNESDAY OF THE FIFTH WEEK OF EASTER John 15:1-8

"Whoever does not remain in me will be thrown out like a branch and wither;
such branches are gathered and thrown into the fire and burned."

Chapter 15 of John's Gospel is a richly constructed monologue in which Jesus goes far beyond a farewell to his disciples. The imagery of the first part is clear - no life in branches separated from the vine, abundant fruit when branches are trimmed. One way or another some part of the vine is going to be trimmed, cut, pruned with branches separated from the stem. These branches will be placed on the vineyard wall to dry, then used for firewood. I remember being in a vine-yard once where such precious branches were removed from their drying place and used to make a very hot fire over which to roast our dinner of shellfish. I have also seen them used to kindle a fire in an outdoor oven for baking bread. Even these seemingly no-good twigs are precious and useful. 

The La Salette event often reminds me of these separated branches. When Mary spoke to the children she was directing her words primarily to people who were like severed twigs - abandoning church, not observing the Lord's Day, swearing, neglecting private and communal prayer. They were surely cut off. Yet there still must have been some life in them. They were precious enough for her to come and plead for their return. A desperate situation surely, but not a hopeless one. It seems that an incision had to be made into the vine that it might receive as a graft those not completely withered branches. La Salette, then, is a miracle of hope. Mary was willing to let us see her sorrow, her tears, her maternal solicitude for us when we stray. Perhaps it is because of her tears falling on us that we retain some spark of life and are kept from withering and dying. 

What have I done lately to thank the Lord for not allowing me to wither and die spiritually? To what extent have I made the moral and spiritual values of Chris­tian life inwardly my own?

THURSDAY OF THE FIFTH WEEK OF EASTER John 15:9-11
"1 have kept my Father's commandments and remain in his love."

Fidelity is not a quality particularly required, sought after or cherished in today's society. This is true in business dealings, in interpersonal relationships, in marriage and in religious life. To Jesus, however, it was essential. He was faithful to his Father, to his mission, to his word, to his disciples and friends. His joy came from being loyal and faithful, in loving and being loved. His obedience was loyalty to his Father. His fidelity was loyalty to himself. Abiding by them both brought Jesus to his death, yes and death on the cross. It also paved the way for his resurrection - new life for him and for us. Sharing that joy, sharing that life, sharing that fidelity, will bring us completeness. 

I marvel at the faithfulness of Melanie and Maximin to what they witnessed at La Salette. These two uneducated children, Maximin a scatterbrain, Melanie an in­trovert, had to undergo personal scrutiny, long hours of questioning, buffeting by family and friends, scorn from churchmen. They remained faithful. I find Maximin's last testament a marvelous declaration of fidelity. "I firmly believe, even were it to cost the shedding of my blood, in the renowned apparition of the Blessed Virgin on the holy mountain of La Salette, September 19, 1846, the appa­rition to which I have testified in words, in writings, and in suffering. After my death let no one assert that he has heard me make any retraction concerning the great event of La Salette, for in lying to the world he would be lying to himself. With these sentiments I give my heart to Our Lady of La Salette." 

How has fidelity been part of my life? To what and to whom do I feel most firmly attached?

FRIDAY OF THE FIFTH WEEK OF EASTER      John 15:12-17

"It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you."

Perhaps the word that best describes the thirst of society today is freedom - freedom of assembly, freedom of choice, freedom of speech, freedom from restraints of all kinds, especially authority. Freedom of choice is foremost. It gen­erally implies the liberty to choose whom and what I want, when and how I want it. It is often said that you can't choose family but you do choose friends. In choosing us to be his friends, though, Jesus puts a damper on freedom. ^"You are my friends if you do what I command you." Does the price of friendship mean taking orders? Now that's countercultural! The friendship he offers, however, is not based on one-to-one equality. "It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain." 

Maximin and Melanie were chosen and given a mission. As wonderful as it may have been to be chosen to witness the apparition, they paid a price. Their lives were disrupted. From obscure, uneventful lifestyles they were thrown first into the path of belligerent critics only to become objects of excessive adulation later on. Free-spirited Maximin was hemmed in too quickly by the walls of the semi-nary classroom when all he desired was the freedom of the mountain slopes. Taciturn, melancholy Melanie was soon caressed by fame and a following; her chances of living a simple, hidden religious life thus permanently damaged. 

How often do I stop and think about the call and mission the Lord has chosen to give me? What countercultural efforts can I expect to make, if I choose to be Jesus' friend in this day and age?

SATURDAY OF THE FIFTH WEEK OF EASTER      John 15:18-21

 .. on account of my name."

Every name is sacred, yours and mine included. Shakespeare asked, "What^'s in a name?" Some names still instill fear, some inspire awe, some foster tenderness, others ooze with hate, some leave us indifferent and unmoved. For most people God's name, be it Yahweh, Allah, Jesus or Zeus, carries a special reverence. In God's name people have sacrificed their lives for others just as Jesus did for all humankind. In the name of God, wars were waged; infidels, heretics, and innocent people were tortured and put to death; the gospel was preached far and wide; grace was dispensed; innumerable prayers and sacrifices were offered; saints were canonized. Jesus knew his name would be reverenced, cursed, defiled and invoked as a panacea for every ill, and often by the same person - me.

At La Salette, Mary underlines the irreverence people have for God's name. It comes in the form of swearing and is also. seen in indifference to what God asks through the commandments, the laws of the church, the requirements of sacra-mental life. That attitude was not limited to 1846. I have only to consider the extent to which I accept and live the reality of the post-Vatican Council II world and church to realize the necessity of voicing my present-day mea culpa. But do I? "And as for you, you pay no heed." I know my indifference touches Jesus deeply, because Mary accented it as "one of the two things that make the arm of her Son so heavy."

When I pray in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit how do I come into the presence of my God? Does my prayer continue to have an influence in my life long after the words have passed my lips?

MONDAY OF THE SIXTH WEEK OF EASTER      John 15:26 - 16:4

"You have been with me from the beginning."

Cradle Catholics" often speak of having been "born Catholic." Tertullian, one of the early North African Church Fathers, offered this corrective: "Chris­tians are made, not born." If it is true that we Christians are not born, but made, then how is it that we are made? In the same way that Peter, Mary of Bethany, James, Mary Magdalene, John, Martha, Andrew, and the rest were made like Christ: by dwelling with him, by following him. We become his disciples, we are not born so. It is something we must choose daily. Those of us who have been with him from a time shortly after our birth do sometimes take our Catholic Chris­tian faith for granted. But the Risen Lord comes to stir us out of complacency and into a more mature responsibility for our faith as adults. 

Because of Christianity's early history in France, the country is sometimes re­ferred to as "the eldest daughter of the Church." Unfortunately today, there is much indifference and some hostility to the Christian faith in this ancient cradle of Catholicism. Mary, Mother of the Church and Mother of La Salette, went to the people of this eldest daughter in order to rouse them from their sleep, to bring their faith to life again in the name of Jesus her Son. Her words apply still to the Church throughout the world. For the renewal Mary sought to bring to "all her people" to be effective, we must continually grow in our faith, coming to a more mature level of trust in her Son. 

In what ways do I take my faith for granted and fail to truly appreciate this gift of God to me? Have I thought to pray for the children and adults who were baptized in my parish this Easter Season?

TUESDAY OF THE SIXTH WEEK OF EASTER         John 16:5-11
"When he comes, the Paraclete will show the world how wrong it was."

We don't usually think of advocates as those who tell us what we have done wrong. We think of them as those who stand up for us and fight for us to the last. The Holy Spirit, our promised Paraclete before the Father, shows us the ways in which we have betrayed ourselves, the ways in which we have contra­dicted our true selves, the ways in which we have done wrong. We, who are flesh and spirit, must learn from the divine Spirit how to be human. It is the Spirit who leads us to recognize how wrong we are about our sins. The Spirit calls us away from both these extremes: our sins either don't matter at all or they are too great to be forgiven. As this Paraclete helps us to see how wrong we have been he also shows us how right with God, self and others we can be. 

Mary's message often seems stern to me. That sternness is tempered, however, when I recall that it was spoken by a mother. The image I have of a stern mother always includes that of a child who has just done something to hurt a friend, or him- or herself. "Why did you hit Bobby?" "Get away from that stove now! You'll get burned!" "Go to bed. You need your rest." "If my people will not repent, I will be forced to let go the arm of my Son," said Mary at La Salette. Reading between the lines, I am tempted to insert, "I'm warning you. It's for your own good." 

What warnings have I heard that I do not heed? Do I take the counsel of others seriously, or am I a spiritual individualist, insisting on learning only from my own experience of God, rather than trusting in the experience of others, like the saints, and my brothers and sisters in the Lord?

WEDNESDAY OF THE SIXTH WEEK OF EASTER   John 16:12-15

"The Spirit of truth will announce to you the things to come."

A pocalypticism is all around us. There is much talk about the end of the world out there these days because of the new millennium. In light of this we might be tempted to think about the end of the world when Jesus tells his dis­ciples that the Spirit will reveal what is to come. When we look for the magic formula that gives us the day on which the world will end and Jesus will come in glory, we risk forgetting to welcome him into our life this very day, this very moment. Perhaps those "things to come" refer not to the end of the world, but to this world's evolution toward God's Kingdom and the revelation of God's will for us, our calling and direction in life. Some go through life aimlessly wander­ing, never sure of their steps, yet hoping to stumble into the right direction. With the Spirit as our guide, however, our steps are sure, and we walk the straight and narrow path of Christ (Matthew 7:14), not out of fear, but out of faith. 

Mary's message at La Salette is apocalyptic in the truest sense of the word. Apoca­lypse means revelation. Mary's message manifested the divine disappointment over the way things had gone (rotting crops) and also the divine hope that things would be much improved (self-sown seeds). Just as the earth sometimes seems to withhold a harvest from us, so too our hearts sometimes withhold justice from each other, obedience and worship from God. At other times, though, our re­sponse seems generous, pure, spontaneous, full of good will. At La Salette Mary calls us to such Spirit-led spontaneity.