Fr. Jo's Reflection for Easter Sunday, Year A, April 5, 2026

Psalm 122:3 says: “Jerusalem is built as a city strongly compact; it is there that the tribes GO UP, the tribes of the Lord.” And so, there’s this imagery of Jerusalem as a city to which people go up. From whichever direction you’re taking to Jerusalem, you’re going up. Located 2400 feet above sea level, Jerusalem, the ancient city remains the center of religious activities in the world. If the war would allow it, the Patriarch of Jerusalem Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa will ride a donkey into the city. The teaming number of pilgrims who normally participate in this time-honored annual ritual recall with great emotion the event that took place at that same road nearly 2000 years ago. From there too, one can see the Mount of Olives towering even higher by almost 300 feet, named after the olive groves that once covered its slopes. The Kidron Valley , also mentioned today is found between Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives . It is deep and dangerous, with peaks and valleys that, without question, would create the aura of the slips and tumbles, the highs and lows of the drama of salvation that we reenact today. Also, right at the base of the Mount of Olives is the Garden of Gethsemani, where Jesus sweat blood, the apostles slept, and the ultimate betrayal by Judas took place. A large surface rock at this garden has been used to form the sanctuary of the Church of All Nations to remind us that the love we celebrate today reaches to the ends of the earth. The liturgical name for today is Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord, juxtaposing the victory of redemptive love and the fatality of ancient pride. Palm Sunday or Passion Sunday thus marks the beginning of the Christian Holy Week after the long period of Lenten fast and prayer. Today, the Church enters the most important week in the life of believers when the entire event of salvation becomes real in Christ’s suffering, death and resurrection. Jesus enters as a triumphant king into His city, Jerusalem, the city of destiny. Yet, there’s much less to indicate triumph. He chose to ride not a horse but a beast of burden. Roman military generals rode on horses when returning from successful expeditions. The donkey reflected the animal of the poor. The singing of Hosanna (in Hebrew: “Save us, we pray”), the spreading of cloaks and branches did not take His focus away from what awaited Him. The drama of His conviction, sentencing, inhumane treatment by the Jews and Roman soldiers that culminated to His death cannot fail to move the heart once it is read. Regardless how many times you’ve heard it, each time it is read, we feel our spirit moved as whenever we watch The Passion of the Christ by Mel Gibson. The death of the Lord was followed by earthquakes, tombs splitting open, and the raising of the dead, as we heard in Matthew’s account today. These events caused those hired to keep watch over Him to cry, “Truly, this was the Son of God.” But the most important lesson is to realize that Jesus needn’t suffer so grievously if not for our sins. Hearing these words today and looking at Jesus hung on the cross, we should sense the full gravity of sin. According to Sheen, a personal equation must be established between the crucifix and us, where each of us should read his or her autobiography. We see our pride in the crown of thorns, our lusts and carnality in the nail and the torn flesh, sins of avarice in the poverty and nakedness, our wandering from the path of goodness and forgetfulness of God in the pierced feet, our thievery in the riven hands, and our sins of alcoholism in the thirst. God’s love and infinite mercy is also written there as part of our autobiography. The cross is the parchment on which it is written and Christ’s blood is the ink with which it is written. By His wounds we’re healed; by His blood, we’re ransomed. Right there on the cross, He forgave our sins and nailed them finally. Our hearts are filled with wonder and gratitude at so great a gift. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

It was still dark as I was returning from early Mass at the convent. As I pulled to the driveway of the rectory, a middle-aged man was standing there looking downcast. I could read intense trepidation in his face. I didn’t recognize him as a member of St. Andrew’s (the parish I was serving then). I drew close and asked why he looked awestruck. He started: “Reverend Father Sir, please help me; I just woke from a terrible dream.” Taking him to a corner where there was a bench, we sat, and I said, “Relax and share the experience with me.” He continued: “Fr., I dreamt that I died. I saw myself laid in state. Everyone was coming to view my corpse. Suddenly, the casket was closed on me, and then, and then...I saw myself lowered into the grave and in just seconds, heaps of sand falling on me. Then I woke up.” He ended with a plea: “Fr., is there something you can do about it? Let this not happen to me.” I did my best to hold my laughter. I asked if he was a parishioner to which he answered in the affirmative. I told him that I hadn’t seen him anytime around the parish. He concurred and added that I won’t remember that three years before, I had baptized his son. That ceremony was the last time Tim stepped into any Church. “What about confession and communion?” I asked. It was the morning he was to wed his wife—18 years before—that the priest pulled Tim aside and heard his unprepared confession. The rest of the story is that I had before me a walking spiritual corpse who’d been rotting in a grave for 41 years. The dream was a knock by Christ on Tim’s tomb to wake him from death, unbind him, so he could live again. I visited St. Andrew’s a couple of years ago and saw Tim. He rushed out and gave me a big hug and told me he was the chairperson of St. Andrew’s Lay Discipleship. He said he was grateful for the dream that liberated him from the chains of death and the grave. Quite a long story; quite a resurrection story! “Do you hear this knock on your own grave?” Maybe you are someone, who today are wearing the accoutrements of death and need to be freed. Sin does hold its captives in chains. Lack of prayer and spirituality, pride, forgetfulness of God, impurity, love of money and security, consumerism, and neglect of the poor are all outfits of death and form a huge stone at the door of a sin-laden soul. Would you permit today that the stone be rolled away? Martha complained that Lazarus’ body would have started smelling after four days. Your soul could be as stinking as Lazarus’ dead body. No perfume can cure the smell of a sin-smeared soul. Only the Lord can roll away the stone and smear you with the scent of freedom, wholeness, and holiness. Hugh of St. Victor said: “Damp wood kindles slowly...so are our carnal hearts. Touch them with the spark of the fear of God, or Divine Love, and the great clouds of evil passions and rebellious desires roll upwards. Then the soul grows stronger, the flame of love burns more hotly and brightly, the smoke of passion dies down, and the purified spirit rises to the contemplation of Truth.” Men are not free until they are set free by Christ. Death, grave, sin, slavery, oppression, and even law equally hold men and women in chains. By swapping these chains with that of Christ we become truly free, for “only the Christ-fettered are free” (Sheen). Lazarus’ resurrection is not the resurrection that we await—he had to die again to attain that resurrection. His resurrection is one that is repeated each time we enter with true sorrow into the confessional. There, the grave is busted and new life is gained. That is why the Church refers to baptism and penance as sacraments of the dead; they are sacraments given to those who are spiritually dead because of sin. Lent is a sure invitation to repentance that leads from death to life. Where sinful decay has set in, Lent and repentance bring rebirth and a flowering of Easter joy, especially for our dear brothers and sisters who are to be born again at the Easter sacraments. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

Imagine that all of us were blind with the exception of the Thompson’s, and they tell us that they could see the sun appear in the morning, and after twelve hours of daylight there’s night. Would we believe them? A fraction of us may, but there’s a large number who would tag their claim “delusional.” With our knowledge of psychometry, we can statistically poll the number of people who strongly agree or not, and infer that since we’re blind, they ought to be blind, too. If they hold to that claim and say that there’s something like a rainbow, a blue sky and green trees, we’ll suggest that their claim was a complex based on wishful thinking and propose they see a therapist to cure them of their curious wish for color. This is the attitude of people who live in sin and unhappiness, who call divine truth a superstition or a myth? In their arrogance and blindness, they turn their backs on God with familiar statements, like: “I believe only what I see, feel or touch; ...I make my own decisions about what is right or wrong; ...there is no God; or at best, he is absentminded; ...the Church is a bunch of power-hungry men who love to control others, especially women; ...priests are hypocrites and creepy men who sleep with children, etc.” A little extra wealth will make some boast that they’re happy here, and have no need of heaven hereafter. Compare this attitude to that of the Pharisees in today’s Gospel. They were convinced that there was no way Jesus could be the Christ and added a threat: “If anyone acknowledged Him as the Christ, he would be expelled from the synagogue.” So, when the former blind beggar told them that Jesus could be the Christ, they quipped: “Are you trying to teach us?” And because he was born blind, they added an insult: “You were born totally in sin.” But that man had much better vision than they did. His healing came progressively, unlike Christ’s other miracles. He was first healed of physical blindness, then followed the miracle of spiritual sight, which also happened progressively. In the first miracle, he gradually started to see physical objects like everyone else, but in the second, faith was awoken in him; he had a spiritual insight that put him above, especially, the “blind-know-it-all-Pharisees.” Today’s miracle is a reminder that spiritual blindness wreaks more havoc than mere physical blindness. A man or woman caught up in the blind alleys of hatred, resentment, prejudice, passion and falsehood may refuse to see a better world. For example, you would have noticed that majority in today’s media, of either persuasion, suffer from such terrible blindness that it would require extraordinary divine intervention to dig them out of the dark alleys in which they’re trapped: Pure demonic infestation of anger, hatred, and hysteria. The blind man of today has something to teach all of us: we need to progressively encounter Jesus anew. In his case, the progression is made from seeing Jesus as a mere man to seeing Him as a prophet . Eventually, when his spiritual sight is totally restored, his gift of faith proves even more miraculous than his physical sight, when he says, “I believe you are the Christ.” Like him, we received at the baptismal font the gift of faith, curing us of our spiritual blindness. We grew with that, and as our faith matured, our perception of Jesus also matured. We’ll keep maturing till our perception of Jesus reaches its richest form. The exciting thing about Jesus is that the more we learn about Him, the greater He becomes. Sadly, in other relationships, the more we learn about our wife, husband, friend, or neighbor, the more their shortcomings are revealed. Going back to our earlier story, suppose one of the Thompson’s who could see becomes so ridiculed that she finally plucks out her eyes. That would correspond to abandoning one’s faith because of the derision of the world. This Lent, resolve never to judge your life by the candlelight of the mediocrity and ordinariness of your spiritually blind neighbors; instead, glow in Divine Light. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

Life came from water , or as Thales of Miletus philosophized, “Water is the urstoff of all things,” and it appears the Lord agrees. When He asked the Samaritan woman for water, He needed that commodity which was most essential to life. Nothing can replace a person’s thirst for water: not Coke, not wine, tea or juice. Water is the basic amenity which we didn’t make and which we cannot live without. The Igbos of South-eastern Nigeria have a saying: “Mmiri enwe iro” (water has no enemy); so, when it rains, it doesn’t discriminate. Water is so gentle that it follows the line of least resistance. But when ruffled, it can also be destructive, unleashing floods and tsunamis. When calm, it provides avenues for voyagers to traverse the earth and goods and services to reach their destinations. In the first reading, we learn that God can make water gush out of the rock to satiate the thirst of His people who cry out to Him. The desert thirst was, however, both a warning and an invitation for Israel to trust that their God is always in their midst. Our Lenten desert or fast is an invitation to an arid land where our trust turns from worldly allurements to the provision made by God’s spirit who leads our spiritual journey . When Jesus asked the Samaritan woman for water, it was her life (and ours), empty and lacking in the proper spiritual nutrients to support it that He beckons us to offer to Him. His request for water was an allurement to inveigle and seize our utterly worldly and sin-laden soul—represented by the reprobate woman of Samaria—for the unction of the Spirit. It was a betrayal of sort, from the recklessness of sensual pursuits to the inebriation of the Spirit. Jesus asks us to turn our poverty over to Him and become enriched, to give our distress and gain joy, to surrender our chains and become free. When the strong asks help from the weak, it should be provided in haste with the hope that such help would attract greater benefits. When God asks you for life, you need not be stingy in offering Him that which belongs to Him. God is much more generous with His spirit than the rich man with their money. To the woman at the well, He says, “Whoever drinks the water that I will give will never be thirsty again.” He makes the point that we have a spiritual thirst, more profound than our physical thirst for water. It happens that some do not recognize this; hence, they’re unaware of their inner poverty and nakedness. But the Lord knows. He knew that the woman of Samaria—five times divorced—hasn’t had any good fortune finding the perfect guy. But she could find in Jesus her soul’s desire. He is the one of whom the Psalmist says: “As a deer yearns for running stream, so my soul is yearning for you, my God” (Psalm 42:1). Isaiah similarly prophesied, “Come to me, everyone who is thirsty” (Isaiah 55:1). Jeremiah likewise calls Him, “the Spring of living water” (Jer 17:13). St. Augustine found after a life of desolation that our hearts are made for God, and can rest in him. Someone else wrote: “Our hearts have a God-shaped hole in them; that only God can fill.” Charlie Brower wrote about the foolishness of attempting to satisfy spiritual thirst with material things: “My friend Bill is one of those guys who’s still searching for success, even though he’s already found it...still scoring touchdowns, even though the game is over and won. He’s come to the end of the rainbow, but there’s no pot of gold there. He’s found the buried treasure, but it’s empty.” The point is: material success alone leaves us empty. There’s a void in us that no material object can fill. Man cannot live without God; the infinite haunts him constantly. As the sun rises without asking permission of the night so divine life invades us without consulting the darkness of our mind. Even when our intellects bar God’s passage by the false obstruction to belief that unsound thinking erected, He is able to penetrate to us through the secret door we have not known how to bolt (Fulton Sheen). Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

If you think you’re too old to change course, take a cue from Abraham and his wife Sarah. Abraham was 75 years old when God called him to abandon his native land to head out to some unknown land for a mission not too clear. It was an adventure that he undertook based solely on the strength of God’s word. Thus, Abraham’s journey to an uncharted future began—a journey which saw him depart from current day Iraq to Palestine. Had that journey not happened, we won’t be talking about a place today called the Holy Land. God might still have sent Jesus to us, but it is possible He would be called ‘Jesus of Bagdad’ rather than Jesus of Nazareth. We often speak of our “Spiritual Journey” or our daily journal—coined from the French word jour, to describe a daily record of events. Here is a lesson to learn from Abraham’s journey, unlike Adam and Eve presented to us last Sunday: We should never think that we know better than our Maker whose predilection is that we find happiness in him. We should never think that we are too old to start over or to make a change for the better. The perduring reality of our existence suggests that the invisible and the unknown are much truer than what we can see, feel, or touch. From our naked world of nature, we often realize surprisingly that deep beneath a flowering meadow, a volcanic eruption has been forming for many years. And that leads us to the mountain experience of Peter, James, and John, reported in today’s Gospel. The Evangelist, Matthew, masterfully related the story of the Transfiguration. He was not at the scene, and thus didn’t own this story. He was a reporter of an experience that Peter, James, and John recounted to the Church. Hence, like the other evangelist, he unleashes his journalistic skills to report an experience so strange that it was almost impossible to sketch. We find him groping for the most striking terms, yet unsatisfied as he notices that his expressions were far too inferior to describe the reality. Mark, who is known for brevity in expression sounded even more laconic in his description of the event. For each of the apostles present at the Transfiguration, it marked a turning point in their perception of Jesus. For them, it remained an experience unlike no other in the visible world. Jesus took Peter, James, and John. Why not Judas, Thomas, and Phillip? Because He knew those who best understood His teachings, as well as those whose pantry of spiritual foods needed more supplies. Next, He led them up a high mountain. Why not the plain? Because divine realities are to be perceived from an exalted position, not in the plain. Spiritual life involves climbing a mountain from where we can be given the vision to perceive ultimate things. St. Theresa of Avila notes that there are no plains in the spiritual life. One must continue to climb and should double up effort when the journey becomes tough. The spiritual plain is the cafeteria where the gullible pick and choose what aspect of God or His word to accept. Intentional Catholics remain on the incline. We’re invited this Lent to climb the mountain with Jesus, experience His glory, and become similarly transfected (as scientists through a process called transfection introduce purified nucleic acid or DNA into mammalian cells to produce a desired protein). Introduction to the life of Jesus is our way to glory. Hence, Transfiguration is “the sacrament of our second regeneration” (CCC, 556). Unlike Moses, who coming from Sinai as mediator between God and Israel exuded a reflected glory, Christ entered the cloud with a glory that is His own: a glory He revealed to the apostles who saw Him converse with the greatest of the greats—Moses and Elijah. Eternal reality dawned on them and they begged to not go. But Jesus was preparing them for the Scandal of the Cros s so that amidst the doom and gloom that will accompany His saving death they may be strengthened by this vision of the likeness of the glory of heaven . Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

The season of grace is once again upon us to share in God’s grace of redeeming love. If you don’t consider it a privilege, ask those parishioners who celebrated Lent with us last year but are now departed. Did I just say, “Ask them?” In fact, you have no way of asking them. No suggestion is made that their departure is a bad thing, yet our opportunity to celebrate another Lent is a grace that some of them never utilized. Maybe, it’ll take a few more Lents before we fully come to an appreciation of grace and prepare ourselves to embrace fully this gift of salvation. As is usual on every first Sunday of Lent, salvation’s two archrivals, namely, Jesus and the devil, are presented to us sparring in the interlude to the stupendous combat that would be finally cast at a place called Calvary. Their positions are clear—one is interested in stalling every effort to make us better, and the other wants to offer everything, including His life, to help us reap the priceless fruit of salvation. Their tactic, however, would dazzle some of us. While the devil presents us some of what society regards as pragmatic approach to solving problems, Jesus wants us to take a deep breath and look at the totality of the picture and even make difficult choices to avoid getting stuck along the way. The devious sense approach of the devil invites us to take on popular and desired affectations like social work, allurement, and greed. Jesus’s approach is to tread carefully and subdue these desires, and focus on the greater good. How we respond to the temptations reveals which of the two archrivals we have made the choice to camp with. The first reading presents the prologue to this rivalry. In actuality, it is a rivalry that every minute of everyday happens in our senses, intellect, and will. The story of the creation of our first parents, their temptation and fall from grace is more a theological treatise than a historical oeuvre or presentation. It says that an All-knowing and All-powerful God created our first parents and placed them in a comfortable place, giving them everything needed to be happy forever. Then came this stranger who tells them that God deceived them by limiting the array of possibilities for their enjoyment. He proposed that they take on the very project which their maker made clear would ruin them. And you know what…? They believed the stranger. That is the problem of evil, a problem which St. Paul tries to explain in his letter to the Romans in today’s second reading. In summary, these passages tell us that evil is rooted in our decision to: 1, listen to the stranger who wants to ruin us; 2, make our own rules; and 3, stand in opposition to an all-good God . If God limited our free will and left us like the plants and animals that do not have to worry about choosing between right and wrong, would that have served us better? The story of the temptation of Jesus by the devil is cast to show exactly how the devil plots our downfall and how we can side with Christ to get him off our neck. Almost every temptation takes the same format and are rooted in: Comfort, Power, and Possessions. Comfort : Related to the search for bodily satisfaction with food and drink, sex and leisure. When ordered right, it produces sustenance. When ordered according to the devil’s script, it has calamitous effects: overindulgence, addiction, infidelity, divorce, abortion, etc. Glory : Related to the desire for attention, excitement, esteem, honor, etc. When ordered right, it shines divine light on our lives. When ordered wrongly, it leads to selfish ambitions, vanity, depression, suicide, etc. Possessions : Related to the desire to have and use stuff. When ordered right, it leads to contentment. When ordered badly, it can be a major source of unhappiness. We should be as smart as Jesus who knows that to God, not the devil, belongs all things; hence, he could neither give them to Jesus, nor to us. We’re to boldly tell our adversary, as Jesus did, ...to get lost. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

Whenever I see an icon on my phone asking me to update the software, I usually grow apprehensive, not knowing what changes are coming to the little machine. Sometimes, it’ll mean relearning everything you already knew, as our little devices appear to have a mind of their own that you’re expected to figure out. The technology experts at Silicon Valley are at a mad rush to innovate, not knowing that it’s very challenging for people to keep up with their unending updates. Yet, because we seem to have become sucked-in to technology, we patiently get to work and in no distant time, we learn it all and move on with our devices, even loving the new changes, until another call for update. The Christian life often sounds similarly like a constant call to update. When Jesus says that He has come not to abolish the law or the prophets but to fulfil, it sounds like a call to update our spiritual software. We have been following Matthew’s account of the Sermon on the Mount . Before we even get lost, let’s recap. After Jesus moved out of the house of Mary and Joseph, He began announcing the message for which He came, namely: “Repent for the Kingdom of God is at hand.” Next, He sees a crowd anxious to get the full gist about this message and climbs uphill. There He sits down and starts to lay out His vision for the New Way . He issues eight Beatitudes associated with the kingdom. As they get sucked-in, He excites them all the more with indications that they belong to nobility, simply by choosing the new way; hence, they are like salt which would season the earth and preserve it from corruption, and like light that shines on all revealing things hidden and paths clogged with dangerous obstacles. In essence, they are to add flavor to life in order to reveal its true and lasting taste and shine the light to others so that they may see and know the way to the kingdom. But He warns them that should their salt become insipid or their light grow dim, they’ll not only lose the taste of the kingdom and miss their way, they’ll even lead other people astray. From there we arrive at the instructions of today, which illustrate how the new way far outpaces the old order in clarity and perfection. The next three Sundays will be a continuation of Matthew’s famous mountain discourse of Jesus. This year, though, we’re interrupted with Lent coming early. Today’s discourse peers into our internal thoughts and even desires revealing how they can bear moral consequences, either for good or for bad. Jesus first states that there is something called “murder by intention.” We may never be able to physically kill someone, either because the opportunity does not present itself or because we lack the courage (or cowardice) it takes to murder someone. Yet, a definite intention to do so is enough to infer moral culpability. What should we guard against? Anger and hatred. Similarly, we commit adultery not just when we’re caught with another person’s spouse. If that is all it takes, then unmarried people, those who have same-sex attraction, pedophiles and prostitutes would be exempt. Lustful eyes and heart are as egregious as physical acts of adultery. In this online age, the act of adultery can be completed online through pornography and masturbation, indecent exposures through snapchat, aka sexting, hours upon hours in immoral chatrooms, indecent dressing meant to seduce, etc. We must repeat this truth over and over to ourselves: pornography is adultery . Contrary to the view that the Church has become lenient with divorce, Jesus reiterates today that divorce is equally adultery. What should we guard against? Lust and Moral Indiscretion. Finally, Jesus is spot on about the different forms of falsehood prevalent in our time. Whether they’re boldface lies, malicious twisting of other people’s words, innuendos, contradiction of facts, aka alternative facts, fake news, and the like are all from the evil one. Children of the kingdom should flee from lies. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

Though the term “witness” is attached irrevocably to the exercise of religion, many Christians prefer to live like others, ignoring their Christian identity and witness. One of the disheartening things we heard during a past election season was that Christians should change their beliefs to conform to popular ideas. We were told to update our beliefs to agree with the world; that the Bible was an archaic literature that no longer serves our time; that we have overgrown reliance on an old creed and way of life. Many believed it and joined the rank and file of those who want to strip the world of all allegiance to God. But here comes Jesus today in His Sermon on the Mount instructing about our exalted position in relation to the world: “You are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world.” First, He says, “You are the salt of the earth.” He means two things: one—salt adds flavor to our food and drinks. Imagine cooking an important meal with no salt. The food will taste bland and won’t pass for a tasty dish. Two—before we learned to preserve food in ice-boxes, the ancients used salt for this purpose. For example, salt kept meat from going rotten, and in fact, the Greeks had a saying that salt was to a dead body like its soul . Pickle meat with salt and its freshness returns. Salt defended against corruption. It was at a time the most important commodity. Wars were fought for control of salt mines; and Rome used salt to compensate soldiers and for trade; hence, from the Latin word for salt salarium , we derive the term “salary.” It is even claimed that the word soldier comes from the Latin expression “ sal-dare ,” which means “to give salt.” These explanations are necessary for unpacking Jesus’ saying that we are the salt of the earth. Not only are we to give flavor to a wearied and insipid world as does salt to the dish, it is also our vocation to defeat the corruption of the world in the same manner that salt attacks dead meat. The flavor and purity of the Christian is so essential that people should be able to take a cue from us about nobility of life, and, like gallant soldiers, we’re to give the salt of protection to our society attacked by our vicious enemy—the devil. Our Lord is literally saying that if we fail to give flavor to the world, preserve moral virtues, retain godly values, and defend our spiritual borders, we are good for nothing. The world would trample on us; and unfortunately, it appears that’s where currently we are or the road to which we are dangerously heading. Second, Jesus says “You are the light of the world.” He compares believers to Jerusalem—the city set on a hill. It’s a call to action, not words; to shine light, and not hide away. St. John Chrysostom was convinced that if we truly lived in imitation of Christ, obeyed God’s precepts, bore injuries without retaliation, rendered good for evil, blessed when we’re cursed, there’ll be no more pagan in the world. It is because of our failures to be light that the world is such a hateful place filled with the darkness of error and unbelief. To answer the call to be lightsome, I invite you to say this prayer by St. John Henry Newman that you may be illumined by Christ and bear His light to the world: “Dear Jesus, help me to spread Thy fragrance everywhere I go. Flood my soul with Thy spirit and life. Penetrate and possess my whole being so utterly that all my life may only be a radiance of Thine. Shine through me, and be so in me that every soul I come in contact with may feel Thy presence in my soul. Let me look up and see no longer me but only Jesus! Stay with me, and then I shall begin to shine as Thou shinest, so to shine as to be a light to others; the light, O Jesus, will be all from Thee; none of it will be mine; it will be Thou shining on others through me. Let me thus praise Thee in the way Thou dost love best by shining on those around me. Let me preach Thee without preaching, not by words but by my example, by the catching force of the sympathetic influence of what I do, the evident fullness of the love my heart bears Thee. Amen.” Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

Jesus’ mission statement, which we heard last Sunday says: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Today marks the announcement of His vision for the kingdom, which, unlike the commandments of old that carried prohibitions, issues benedictions. In place of “Thou shall not,” we hear, “Blessed are you.” The eight Beatitudes form a litany of blessings spoken from an exalted position. Just as the law that issued prohibitions came from the mountain, so the beatitudes are addressed from the mountain—both evoking distinctive arrays of exaltation. The new vision, however, arose not as a correction for disorderly conduct, rather, as a message embedded in God’s love, and the responsibility to which He calls the people of the new covenant. For, even if the entire commandments were meticulously observed—which they weren’t—such observance would only promise an orderly world, not necessarily a blessed one. The beatitudes teach that through Christ we gain fullness of blessings for conditions that fall often out of sync with worldly paradigms and appeal. Let’s examine them one after another. 1. It has to be nerve-racking to hear Jesus contradict the assumption that poverty is a sign of divine retribution or that wealth is allied to divine blessings (Psalm 112:3). But Jesus speaks about the “anawim” or the poor in spirit , which, in the Hebrew sense, implies those so overwhelmed by need that they absolutely depend upon God. While it involves the materially impoverished, it also embraces those who absolutely rely on God’s help—whether materially poor or rich. Both the rich man, Zacchaeus, and the poor woman who gave the “Widow’s mite” (Mark 12:4-44; Luke 21:1-4) are counted among the anawim . You who trustingly depend on God for your help and salvation are the anawin , regardless of your socio-economic status. 2. Mourning and tears that stream from a broken heart that seeks God’s justice, mercy, and forgiveness, will bring comfort. Selfish tantrums for not having one’s way may rend the heart, but will attract no blessings. 3. The meek who will inherit the land of promise are the humble, patient, and long-suffering. The vicious and self-righteous who think themselves the center of the universe will have the grave as their only inheritance. 4. Does your heart hunger for righteousness and upright living? Your satisfaction will be like an overflowing stream. On the contrary, life for those who crawl back into blatant narcissism, cruelty, rudeness, and willful ignorance shall be like muddy, swampy water infested with vermin of all kinds. 5. Mercy is an attribute of God, and those who live by this divine attribute will experience its reciprocal effect: they shall obtain mercy in return. The merciless will reap fierce judgment for themselves and their deeds. 6. The pure in heart who seek God with undivided attention will experience the glorious face of God. The depraved who let their hearts to be caroused by debauchery and practice every abominable act will grope in eternal darkness. 7. The peacemakers who seek harmony with others share in the mission of Jesus to reconcile the world to Himself (2 Cor 5:19), and are rightly children of God. Those who cause division and hatred among people are rightly children of their own father—the devil, whose essence is division. 8. Persecution and social ostracism on account of the faith and righteous living are passports to heaven. Those who blackmail, gossip, and damage others’ reputation have signed their deportation orders from the reign of God. Finally, Jesus emphasized the eschatological nature of the beatitudes and personalizes it when He turns from “blessed are those” to say “blessed are YOU” and asks you to rejoice and be glad over any affliction you suffer in His name, because you’ll not fail to receive your reward. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo