Fr. Jo's Reflection for the Most Holy Trinity, Year A, May 31, 2026

It requires more than a course in public speaking to turn around minds and hearts caught in the paralyzing fear of public speaking. Several years after I became a priest, my mother revealed to me that her greatest concern about my becoming a priest was how I would be able to speak to people and deliver homilies Sunday after Sunday. And my mother was right: because I was one of those individuals scared to death about standing in front of an audience. Yet, I knew that there were convictions clear as light to me. For example, I never doubted that I was called to be a priest. Hence, I told my parents and siblings when I was four years old that I wanted to be called Fr. Jo. I didn’t start to answer Father Jo in 1997 when I eventually became a priest. Yet, I’ll admit that nearly 29 years after ordination, I’m still uncomfortable in crowds and have not overcome totally the dread of public speaking. What have remained strong and unshaken are my convictions; and I’m never shy to express them. The apostles had a different reason for fearing to speak to people after Jesus ascended into heaven. They found themselves locked inside a room, floundering in the helpless fear that gripped them. They had been with Jesus for three years and had seen Him perform many miracles and speak words that pierced people’s hearts. They had seen that despite His kindness, love and compassion, people still hated Him and accused Him of being an impostor. They killed Him amidst two thieves, suggesting that He was an evildoer. The apostles could not shirk from these thoughts as they wondered how to confront the crowd that “put away” their all-powerful Master. He’d assured them of His presence to the end only to suddenly disappear from their sight. Then came this noise like a violent wind that burst through the house. Strong winds create violent stirs, bending, breaking, and uprooting things. The apostles felt the stir in their hearts as they saw tongues of fire resting on the head of each one of them. Their perspective about the future became shaken; their fears were broken and uprooted. The apostle learned that “not all storms come to disrupt your life; some come to clear your path.” They felt the new wind of God’s Spirit refreshing their lives, as rain refreshes the earth, fertilizing their thoughts and transforming them from fearful to courageous people. The effects of such sudden outburst were felt all through the city. The apostles felt emboldened to go out and speak of that about which they had feared. Fear could no longer hold them captives of the cenacle. The sound propped not just the apostles but devout Jews who had come to Jerusalem to celebrate their Harvest Festival, from which we derived the name, “Pentecost,” meaning “fiftieth”—that is, fifty days after the Passover. These people did not all speak the same language but each heard and understood the apostles who spoke only Aramaic. Two things happened here: First, a new Pentecost came about. Fifty days after our own Passover, which is Easter, the Catholic (Universal) Church was born through another harvest of regeneration by God’s Spirit. Second, the barrier in language that came as a result of Babel was reversed. The Spirit united all the different languages and peoples of the world into a single people. St. Paul references this in the second reading: “For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, slaves or free persons, and we were all given to drink of one Spirit” (I Cor 12:13). Henceforth, only one language can be heard—the language of the Holy Spirit, which is love. Perhaps you have heard people tell you they’re ‘spiritual’ but not religious. No problem! Demons too are spiritual, in fact, they’re pure spirits. Being spiritual says nothing special about us. However, only those united by God’s Spirit know the true love of God. God’s love connects us to the Catholic Church, which is the one universal community of believers in Christ. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

We seem to have inside us a switch of rebellion turned on at the moment someone tries to tell us what to do. Don’t we? We dislike authority—from the authority of parents to those of teachers, the Church, the police, and so on. The abuses of power and authority to which the world has many times been exposed through the course of history make us suspect authority and to be on the alert against authority figures. The only exception is when the authority figure is us; then, we complain that people under us won’t do the right thing. On this feast of Ascension, we learn that Jesus’ parting words to His remaining eleven apostles invoke the uncomfortable term and idea of power and authority: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Matt 28:18). He goes as far as transferring the authority to them for the purpose of mission, sanctification, teaching, and the building up of His body: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them...teaching them to observe all I have commanded you.” Jesus makes explicit that His commands are not for us to pick which ones agree with our sensibilities or the general events or thinking of our time. He demands observance of all His commands. Finally, He assures His presence: “And behold, I am with you, until the end of the age.” These parting words clearly reveal that Jesus endorses at least three forms of authority: first, the authority of His Father; second, the one He hands on; and third, the authority given for mission. Hence, divine authority is the highest form of authority . When it collides with human authority as often happens with several unjust laws promulgated by people on suit and tie or black robes, “we must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). Secondly, authority is given, not taken . If someone tells you he or she is a minister, ask who ordained or commissioned them and whether the claim streams from apostolic succession. Prophets and ministers like Jim Jones and David Koresh made such claims and history teaches that it’s a bad idea to follow self-proclaimed prophets. Yet, not only fools, but many intelligent people get trapped in their nets. Thirdly, be suspicious of any Church that appears self-serving, even with the best motives . Every Church authority worth obeying must hinge on the mission to serve and sanctify. Somewhere else, Jesus shows respect for local and public institutions—Remember when He miraculously raised money from the mouth of a fish to pay some form of tax that He needn’t pay, and when He enjoined His listeners to render to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God’s. He even told Pilate during His trial that his authority (Pilate’s) was given to him from above. It’s not alright to think that authority or authority figures (especially the ones we don’t like) are always evil and we have to resist them. We must be discreet about our resistance. Yes, the misuse of authority throughout history has been well documented. The abuses of authority in God’s name are also well known—from the Crusades to the forced conversion of the natives, to the genocides, beheadings and zealotry of attacking innocent people on the streets, trains, buses, airplanes, marketplaces, or wherever terror can be unloaded. God never endorses such use of power; even should it be preceded by a proclamation of —‘Allah Akbar’ (God be praised). How we know that someone is using authority in the name of God is when the person is using it to serve. The last demonstration of authority by Jesus bears this out. After washing His disciples’ feet, He told them: “You call me Teacher and Lord, and you speak well: for so I am. Therefore, if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash each other’s feet ” (John 13:12-14). He demonstrates authority through service, commanding that, among His followers, all who exercise authority must be servants of all (Matt 20:26). These are parting words of the Lord that should remain deep in our heart. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

I recently learned from an episode in the History Channel that there are coal fires burning underground in this country and that some of the fires have burned for decades, with no way to put them out. I’m unaware of the facts behind that area of geological science. All I heard was that the fires thrive on the oxygen provided by the mazes of mineshafts; and these special types of coal can burn and burn, with steam rising from the ground with multifarious effects. The fires smolder relentlessly, without end. Interestingly, there’s such fire burning daily inside each of us. You have heard me say that Morning Prayer in the family in which I grew up started daily at 5am. We start with the Sign of the Cross and the invocation: “Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful; and kindle in them the fire of your love . ” How does the Holy Spirit do this? And what is this fire that He kindles? Jesus tells us in today’s gospel: “I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you forever, the Spirit of truth whom the world can never receive since it neither sees nor knows him; but you know him, because he’s with you, he is IN you” (John 14:16). Yes, God’s Spirit dwells in each of us, alive and well—“...alive,” yes…; but “well,” it depends. Similar to the coal fire mentioned earlier, the Holy Spirit is inside us like the “fuel,” but He needs the oxygen that we’ll provide to manifest Himself fully so the spark can fan into flame God’s love deep in our hearts. Unfortunately, we often clutter our senses, hearts, mind, and spirit with the clouds of passion and rebellious desires that dampen the fire of God’s Spirit. In today’s second reading, St. Peter encourages us to fan into flame God’s Spirit in us, so that we may have clear answers to those who ask or challenge us about the reason for the faith we hold. Note that St. Peter didn’t suggest that when asked about our faith, we refer the inquirer to our priest. Many of us stopped learning about the faith in second grade when they ‘graduated’ from CCD class. They live their adult religious experience with the mindset of adolescents. Would you even permit a physician who learned only general medicine to fix a tumor in your brain? Across the board, many Catholics appear to be concerned only about the “how,” and not the “why” of their faith. For example, how to receive Holy Communion—in the tongue or hand, rather than why we receive it; how to process in for wedding—with rock or classical music, rather than why the sacrament is needed for their life-together in God, etc. Many opportunities are provided for us to grow in our faith but many Catholics don’t seem to care. When their life becomes crushed by the dominance of ego, they demur and seek solace in drug, alcohol, and an infinity of trifles. A little openness of mind and heart mixed will the flame of God’s Spirit will cause an explosion of light and warmth and goodness. Then the soul, according to Hugh of St. Victor, will grow strong, the flame of love will burn more hotly and brightly, and the smoke of passion will die down, letting God’s love to burst from us into the lives of those around us and into the world. Have you ever wondered why some people, like St. Teresa of Calcutta, are able to forget themselves to accomplish acts of love and kindness beyond measure? Is it because God gave them more than He gave us? No! People who do incredibly good and selfless things are not different from you and me. They have only had an openness and willingness to provide the oxygen for the Spirit to burn within them. God’s fire never goes out, but we can help it burn a little brighter by eschewing selfishness, nonchalance, and indifference. We are invited this sacred season to open ourselves to learn our faith by reading quality spiritual books, good Catholic programs online or in the television. Practice prayer, meditation, and Bible reading, and you’ll become equipped to warm your neighbor with the Spirit’s fire. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

A frequent Protestant defense for the Reformation was that Christians got along very harmoniously for 1500 years until the Catholic Church got corrupt, leading to the reforms orchestrated by Martin Luther. My history professor often said that “ignorance of history is the greatest defect of Protestantism.” Does the first reading of today suggest that there was always such kind of harmony? Greed or corruption are human experiences not new in Christianity. Archbishop Judas Iscariot was a thief (John 12:6). Ananias and his wife Safira (Acts 5:1-11) were liars and corrupt Christians. There was racial discrimination in the early Church (Acts 6:1). Simon Magus committed simony (Acts 8:9-25). Christians were never immune from corruption; but the church was equipped with mechanisms to handle it. The Holy Spirit instructed her to replace Judas with Matthias (Acts 1:12-26); to appoint deacons to serve food (6:1-6); to call councils to debate issues of faith and morals (Acts 15:8-29); to determine that people can worship God in their native tongues (Vatican II), etc. The Holy Spirit remains with the Church, directing her along the way, teaching her the truth, and filling her with an enduring life. When Jesus says in today’s Gospel that He is the Way to the Father, He is not speaking merely of a smooth highway like the Indian Nation Turnpike . He indicated that the road would be more like the rough McAlester streets and as winding as the mountain trails of Colorado, which require consummate attention to navigate. It’s hard to fall asleep driving on such trails. People will fall asleep on the Easy Street . The Truth to which Jesus refers Himself is not the valid demonstrations or proven hypotheses of scholars. It is the truth that doesn’t need continuous validation because it doesn’t change. The Life which Jesus is, transcends the smooth, polished, unruffled reveries that can be bought and paid for by the affluent. He is life that does not end in death but endures unto eternity. Hence, St. Peter in the second reading admonishes us to keep our gaze on Christ the Living Stone, so we may be built into a spiritual powerhouse. Tired of the constant propaganda in media, I took my attention away from them, and currently juggle from EWTN to the soccer channel, the National Geographic and the History Channel . I recently watched an episode of “Modern Marvels” in the History Channel—about the building of the Hoover Dam . I was amazed to learn that 90 years after its completion in 1936, the concrete in the dam is still cooling. I was more confounded by the episode on the construction of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis. The engineers built the arch from ground up on both sides simultaneously; with the two giant “legs” reaching hundreds of feet in the sky. As the two “legs” curved closer to each other, it was as if they were yearning to be connected. Then came the piece that connected the two: that one piece put the entire structure in harmony, fitting perfectly and unifying the whole just as the designers envisioned. The engineers reported that it was more a work of faith than of technical ingenuity. That final piece was called “the cornerstone,” giving the state of Missouri its name, the “Keystone State,” Gateway to the West. Quite true, the cornerstone isn’t just one at the base but the stone that holds the two “legs” together. The second reading today tells us that Jesus is this stone which joins the divine and the human, the bridge between heaven and earth. Psalm 118 describes Him as “the stone rejected by the builders that has become the cornerstone.” When next you’re at Mass, watch the priest as he mixes water and wine together before consecration. He prays silently: “By the mystery of water and wine, may we come to share in the divinity of Christ who humbled Himself to share in our humanity.” Jesus does not just give us a glimpse of heaven; He also gives us a glimpse into our very selves. He is the true keystone and gateway to heaven.  Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

If you have a pet, you can sense the idea percolated in today’s gospel about the sheep hearing the voice of the shepherd, and the shepherd calling the sheep by name. In a certain small-claims court where two individuals fought over the ownership of a puppy, the judge decided the case by letting loose the dog to determine the party in whose direction the puppy would proceed. That clearly decided the case. There’s also reason why a dog would bark at strangers as opposed to its owner to whom it wags its tail. Every year, on the Fourth Sunday of Easter, the gospel reading is taken from the 10th Chapter of St. John’s Gospel where Jesus teaches lessons on the sheep, the sheepfold, the gate or door of the sheepfold and about shepherds—good and bad. He tells us that He is that Good Shepherd who lays down His life for His sheep. The reference to laying down His life for the sheep and taking it up again has a resurrection motif and explains why the Easter season is the opportune time to reflect on the Good Shepherd. Hence, the Fourth Sunday of Easter is normally called the Bonus Pastor or Good Shepherd Sunday . Lest someone misunderstands the use of the metaphor of the shepherd and the sheep or feels demeaned by being called sheep, Jesus makes a direct connection of His being a shepherd with the paschal mystery through which He laid down His life, took it up again—resurrected—in order to gather together the flock entrusted to Him—whether they are currently part of the sheepfold, the Church, or exist in various sects and traditions of the world religious bodies. By calling Himself the Good Shepherd, and we, the sheep, Jesus shows that there’s an intimate relationship between Him and us, fostered by prayer and the sacraments offered to us through the Church, His true sheepfold. The Catechism teaches that “the Church is, accordingly, the sheepfold, the sole and necessary gateway to which is Christ. It is also the flock of which God himself foretold that he would be the shepherd, and whose sheep, even though governed by human shepherds, are unfailingly nourished and led by Christ himself, the Good Shepherd and Prince of Shepherds, who gave his life for his sheep” (CCC 754). We must therefore learn the voice of our shepherd in the intimacy of prayer. Many who dog-sit or pet-sit for another may get quite acquainted with the pet, but not as much as they would were they the pet’s owner. Jesus says that there lies the difference between the hireling and the owner. The extent to which the good shepherd would zealously guard the sheep is shown by his readiness to have himself torn to pieces by a wolf than let the wolf scatter and make a meal of the sheep. You may wonder what sense there is in dying to save mere animals. It’s even more astonishing to think of God dying to save mere mortals. In this, there can be no presumption of equivalence. Hence, St. Peter, in the second reading, considers it the greatest act of love that He bore our sins in his own body upon the cross. Similarly, no event, no idea or name would suffice for our salvation other than the name of Jesus. St. Peter declares today: “for the promise is made to you and to your children and all those far off” (Acts 2:39). What about non-Christians and non-believers? Leave it to God to work out how, in His inscrutable wisdom, He will unite all the other sheep that do not belong to the sheepfold of the Church, teach them the voice of the Shepherd, and bring them to pasture. Do I think that the various branches of the Lutheran, Presbyterian, Methodist traditions that all identify as “First” leaving no room for a “Second” will someday unite? It’ll be a miracle. How about the Jews, Muslims, Confucianists, Hindus, Shinto, Tao and the Nones? With God nothing is impossible. We’re to be content with knowing that the Good Shepherd , the Great Gatherer has provided space for all and His watchful eyes are upon all His sheep wherever they may currently be. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

Emmaus was a city in the Shephelah or “lowland” of Palestine, noted for several Jewish historic conquests. In 166 BC, it was the site of the victory of Judas over Gorgias in 1st Maccabees 4:1-22, including the first Old Testament reference to the resurrection. Earlier, Joshua had defeated the Canaanite league around this region (Joshua 10). It was also where the Samson’s exploits occurred, as well as David’s duel with Goliath. It’s mostly a residential part of town with limestone foothills that made the area fortified against enemy attacks. Emmaus is the earthly city. In today’s account of Jesus’ appearance, Luke doesn’t tell us why the two disciples are going to Emmaus or whether they reside there. However, Luke’s reference to the town might point to its relative importance as a hideaway or “cool off” town from the buzzing in Jerusalem. The two disciples appear to be leaving behind the ‘spiritual angst’ of Jerusalem with a ‘failed Messianic hope’ in Jesus, an empty tomb, and a hollow echo to the mundane fortifications of the limestone foothills of Emmaus. It is a journey from the spiritual height to a disappointing spiritual lowland. Little do they realize that the Lord who gave His people a number of victories near Emmaus is on the way with them to make their troubled hearts burn within them . He will turn their bread of tears into a joyful presence, and return them to the beauty of spiritual elation. Hence, they’ll hurriedly leave the ‘lowland’ (Emmaus), and return to the spiritual highlands of Jerusalem with the joyful news of His presence. The Eucharistic motif of this story is unmistakable. Every Eucharistic gathering echoes Emmaus. Christ inspires us with words of scripture, and breaks His journey to be with us at the evening of our lives, when we have grown weary. The Church adapted the words of the two disciples in her prayer: “Mane nobiscum Domine, quoniam advesperascit”—“Stay with us Lord, for the evening falls. ” As we offer gifts of bread and wine to the welcome guest of our soul, He breaks the Bread of Presence and shows Himself to us. With joy, we go out to announce Him in the heights. He’ll continue to walk seven days a week with us and our Christian neighbor, as He walked seven miles with Cleopas and his unnamed companion. He already told us that where two or three of us are gathered, He’ll be there with us (Matt 18:20). He’ll speak words that burn within our hearts, until our journey finds us once again at a new Emmaus (another Sunday), where we break bread and experience His Real Presence. It is easy to notice that the Mass was modeled after the Emmaus journey, with the two parts of the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. At the outset of the first part, we lay our disappointments, failures, negligence, and contrite heart in the Penitential Rite , as the two disciples on the road to Emmaus told Him about their failed hopes. In the Readings of the Day , we listen to Him as He draws from scripture a tapestry of God’s salvific mystery realized in Him. Every good Homily should make our hearts burn within us. At the Universal Prayer , we invoke Him, like the two disciples to stay with His Church, at this evening of life and be our welcome guest. The second part of Mass starts with Offertory , where we offer bread and wine and gifts from our treasury of His blessings. At Consecration , He takes the bread, blesses it, and breaks it. At Holy Communion , He opens our eyes to recognize His presence. Ite Misa Est is a call to carry the joy of the Lord’s presence to the wearied, the sick in need of His healing, the unbeliever to whom we reveal Christ’s light. Why was He revealed only at the breaking of bread, and not when He spoke to them? Because our faith would not terminate at the Table of the Word . The real presence of the resurrected Christ is perceived only at the Eucharistic Table; that is why the Church calls the Eucharist, “the source and summit of our Christian life.” Next time you’re at Mass, try to locate yourself in Emmaus. Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

You’ll perhaps think that if Jesus had shown Himself to more people besides His disciples, everyone would believe that He rose from the dead. Suppose He made sudden appearances at Herod’s palace, at Pilate’s and Caiaphas’s, and showed up at the temple, that would be impressive; but He would need to perform more feats. Even if He dashes into the Synagogue in Capernaum like a conquering war general, disrupt the Torah lesson of the day and frighten observers with portents that show Him as the enemy they couldn’t conquer, that would not have been enough to make everyone believe He’s the Messiah? To win over the crowd by miracles would require unending miracles. The resurrection did in fact frighten the guards stationed at the tomb who reported their experience to the chief priests. Yet, the effort by the chief priests to bribe them so they could lie about the resurrection, and the press release by the authorities: “His disciples came during the night and stole him away while the guards were asleep” (Mtt 28:11) show that no amount of physical evidence would have been enough to convince the Jews. Something different would be required—namely, faith. Today’s appearance of Jesus to the apostles touches on a number of themes. He came to make peace with them; hence, they were filled with joy when they saw the Lord. He also meant to confirm their faith in Him. Therefore, He breathes on them the breath of the Holy Spirit, through whose power they will become witnesses of the resurrection. He commissions them to continue the work He began. We heard Luke report in the first reading that the community they left behind devoted themselves to (1) the teaching of the apostles (2) to a communal life (3) to the breaking of bread, that is, to the celebration of Mass, and (4) to prayers. His appearance was also a salutary lesson on the fragility of human nature and an assurance of divine mercy. These men must have been extremely embarrassed at their tepidity, denials and abandonment of their Friend and Master. Their hearts must have reeled in utter shame and remorse. But He forgives them, and right there, commands them to forgive others in His name. By this He establishes an avenue or sacrament of God’s mercy. Hence, this Sunday all over the world has been designated ‘Divine Mercy Sunday.’ A disciple, therefore, is one called to carry the message of God’s mercy to a world that is broken, yet claims self-sufficiency. He will have to contend with a powerful force that opposes God with the agenda to destroy faith. Our first glimmer of Him attempting to confront the world’s modus operandi came with the reaction of Thomas to the report by his fellow apostles. Thomas represents the world—the so-called scientific community—for whom the criteria for truth and any possible cognition of reality will be limited to concrete observable data. Hence, if you cannot touch, feel or measure it, then that idea falls within the realm of unverifiable conjecture to be rejected. Yet, the second appearance to Thomas reveals more than effort at evidentiary proof. Here, Thomas represents each one of us with a tinge of vertigo, an inner restlessness or torment which requires destruction in order that it might be refashioned by the risen Lord. Christ makes clear that beatitude is guaranteed only by faith: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe” (John 21:29). Faith will become a struggle to overcome the collective mentality of the world, its fears and anxieties, its vanities and lusts, and its refusal to undergo the destruction to which it’s destined in order to be recast in the image of Christ. Thomas’ inquiry turns to a prayer that the Lord may assuage our inner restlessness and give solidity and permanence to our faith in Him. At the revelation of Jesus, Thomas exclaimed, “My Lord and my God.” John makes the point that the exchange between Jesus and Thomas is a story told to help us “believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, so that through this faith you may have life in him.” Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

I recommend that every Christian should have on their bucket list of things to do before they die, two pilgrimages: one to Rome, specifically for the celebration of Easter, and another to Jerusalem for the celebration of Holy Week. It’ll be a kind of ‘reverse pilgrimage’ to attend the Easter event in Rome before the Passion pilgrimage in the Holy Land. Conventional wisdom would suggest doing it the other way round, but that’s not how majority of us started our faith journey. We first became believers before we learned what we believed; something like St. Anselm’s “fides quaerens intellectum” (faith seeking understanding) or like an adopted child growing up in her adopted family, then after many years goes in search of her natural parents. An Easter pilgrimage to Rome will find you one among nearly half a million Christians at the vast piazza of St. Peter’s Basilica. You’ll be stunned at the number of people who share the same faith as you, especially when after Mass, the pope greets you and your fellow Christians, “Happy Easter” in different languages to loud cheers and applause. You’ll be amazed at the unity expressed at the one altar of the Risen Lord. Your next pilgrimage to celebrate Holy Week in the Holy Land will certainly be subdued as you’re led to the actual sites of Jesus’ Passion, Death and Resurrection. If a walk through the “Via Dolorosa” on Good Friday doesn’t leave tears in your eyes, you should see a therapist because you may not be truly human. You’ll also see that Jesus remains a sign of contradiction for that land when you notice that there’s still division among different Christian sects who claim a section of the churches to themselves. Many a time, fights will break out between the Franciscans and the Greek Orthodox or the Armenians and the Syriac Orthodox. Several Jewish (or Arab merchants) will yell at you to buy fake Christian artifacts—just for the money. Remember, they still think Jesus was an impostor, and their Messiah is yet to arrive. And your greatest misery will come from seeing the staggering Dome of the Rocks —the largest religious edifice in Jerusalem—a mosque, erected on the Temple Mount, from where Muslims claim Mohamed ascended into heaven. (I must have spoiled your Easter). You can see why I suggested the Rome pilgrimage first. Yet, everything I’ve told you is true. There is about 20 centuries separating the events you experience in Rome and the ones in Palestine, but there’s a tapestry of connection between them. The sad events in Jerusalem gave rise to the joy of Rome. The Hosanna and Alleluia you hear in Rome are, after all, Hebrew words, but they resound everywhere they’re announced; they have remained words untranslatable. During my visit to Korea years ago, they were the only words I understood at Mass. Truly, a radical overturning of the entire history of humanity took place this morning. There’s hardly one of us who has not experienced the death of a loved one or friend or someone we admire. I can give anything possible to have my mother back to life. Yet, for me, the consequences of Jesus’ resurrection remain enormous or even incalculable. A new kind of existence which cannot end for my mom or our departed loved ones is ushered in for all of us. It’s as if some sort of implacable, underground vitality surfaced from the innermost depths of humanity, flooding everything and imposing itself irresistibly on us (Motte). Though I still fear bodily death, I’m assured that death would not annihilate me; rather, it has been turned to a tool for my transformation unto glory. And the greatest news is that sin is conquered . My failures that stream from a complicity with entrenchment to worldly power and security, which constantly beguile human existence has been dealt a fatal blow. The resurrection of Christ has defused this seductive power of sin and granted me freedom through His life-giving Spirit. Happy Easter to you all!!! Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo

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