Alleluia! He is risen!

…and yet. Tomorrow we return to ministry to God’s people. Elena will come in for help with her mother’s citizenship application. Barbara, 67, will call from a motel room — she’s paid up through Wednesday, but then has nowhere for her and her husband to go. Larry will emerge from three days of sleep after landing a room in our transitional shelter, recovering from exhaustion. Heather will ask for diapers for her twins. Tom will call at the last minute for a ride to the doctor. Each will reach out in hope or desperation, likely a mix of the two.

I am struck that in this Gospel for Easter Sunday, Jesus — the Resurrected One — does not feature. Rather, the story is about His followers. Mary, Simon Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved are the protagonists of John’s 20th chapter. But not Jesus Himself. The central, pivotal, foundational story of our faith does not include the central personage of our faith, at least not at this point in the text. And yet the Church gives us this passage on Easter Sunday to help us understand the Resurrection — not, I daresay, as an oversight or omission.

We see these key personalities, people who spent years with Jesus, struggling to make sense of the evidence. How does this shake their understanding of all that has transpired? The last line states plainly that they did not understand. And that is how we are left with this Gospel — again, on Easter Sunday: this moment of their lack of comprehension.

As they seek to understand, the disciples are left with one another. And so are we, in our various states of confusion, struggling with the evidence. Jesus comes to help us be with one another, not necessarily to help us to understand it all. How else can we grasp death-into-life, but in community? Today we begin the season of Easter. We celebrate Jesus’ defeat of death and the promise of eternal life. I don’t think we can take on all that this means in just the one day — the Church gives us 50 to work on it. Really, though, we’ll want the rest of our lives to wrestle with this gift, the revealing of God’s insistent love for us.

Alleluia! He is risen! Now back to work.

Scott Cooper serves as Vice President of Mission for Catholic Charities Eastern Washington and also on CCUSA’s PSM Leadership team.

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In 2010, while venerating the Shroud of Turin, Pope Benedict XVI offered a meditation on the powerful silence of that mysterious winding-sheet, calling it an “icon of Holy Saturday…the day when God remains hidden.” The pope went on to note that “our epoch has become increasingly a Holy Saturday: this day’s darkness challenges all who are wondering about life, and it challenges us believers in particular. We too have something to do with this darkness.”

Brittany Holberg, who has spent 27 years on Texas’ death row, understands the silence and darkness of Holy Saturday. Having experienced a profound conversion some years ago, Brittany began writing brief meditations on her experience of Christ’s presence in the most unlikely, most inhospitable of places: prison.

In May, Catholic Prison Ministries Coalition will publish a collection of Brittany’s meditations, Flowers in the Garden of Mercy, from which the following is taken. In this excerpt, Brittany expresses the sorrow and patience of St Mary Magdalene on Holy Saturday, a woman whose hope would be fulfilled the following morning at a tomb that tried and failed to contain the mercy of God.

You are gone, my Lord.

Your pierced and beaten body enclosed in a tomb after the horrors inflicted. After the horrors we all witnessed.

You had told us but we did not understand. And now we sit in stunned silence. Some are filled with regret at what they did not do. Others are ashamed of what they did do, fleeing in fear after your arrest. Others are simply numb, stunned into silence. How could all of this have happened?

I stood there and watched it all. I knew it would be more than my heart could bear but I needed you to know, my Lord, that I was there. Now I sit in silence, replaying every moment.

Oh precious Lord, come back to me. I have questions, yes, so many questions—but most of all I long to be in your presence again. No one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever loved me the way you do, and I cannot imagine going on without you.

On this strangely quiet day I take strength from your words, “Where two or three are gathered in my name…” I find certainty in the undeniable change you brought about in me and in my friends. We met something exceptional—we met You. You taught us that death does not have the final say.

That is why we will wait, Lord. We will wait for you.

What is striking about Brittany’s meditation is its repeated use of we. Holy Saturday—indeed, the entirety of the Church’s life—is a companionship. We support each other in times of darkness, in our Holy Saturdays when it seems God is hidden. And, like St. Mary Magdalene, we run to share with others our Easter joy in the Risen Lord.

As he concluded his remarks on the Shroud, Pope Benedict noted the large stain near Christ’s rib, “made by the blood and water that flowed copiously from a great wound inflicted by the tip of a Roman spear. That blood and that water speak of life,” Benedict said. “It is like a spring that murmurs in the silence, and we can hear it, we can listen to it in the silence of Holy Saturday.”

Reflection written by Brittany Holberg, Texas Death Row, with commentary by Joshua Stancil who was also incarcerated for 18 years. Joshua is currently the Executive Director of Living with Convictions and is Catholic Prison Ministries Coalition’s Creative Content Manager.

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John’s version of the Passion, which we hear today, describes in great detail many of the circumstances leading up to the death of Jesus on the cross. We hear about Judas’ betrayal, Peter’s denial, Pilate’s interrogation, the women at the cross and so much more.

We must not let these details distract us from the truth of today’s primary focus—a remembrance of the fact that Jesus died a violent death at the hands of the local authorities.

At a recent gathering at the University of Notre Dame, G. Marcus Cole, the dean of the Law School, put it this way:

Anyone who has spent any time in any Catholic school must realize that they’ve spent time face-to-face with the violence, brutality and innate inhumanity of the death penalty. It is clearly depicted on the wall of every Catholic classroom in every Catholic school—in the form of the crucifix on the wall. Our Lord Jesus Christ was a victim of the death penalty.

Unfortunately, the death penalty is not a thing of the past. In our country, this month alone, two men have already been executed and two more executions are scheduled.

The Catholic Liturgy for Good Friday invites us to pause and reverence that cross: the instrument of Jesus’ death—and of our salvation. I believe we are also invited to consider Good Friday as an opportunity to recommit to ending violence, and to pray for all victims of violence, especially the death penalty.

Eileen Reilly is a School Sister of Notre Dame, living in Bridgeport, CT. Currently she works with the Catholic Mobilizing Network which aims to “End the Death Penalty, Advance Justice, and Begin Healing.”

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In today’s readings, we witness Jesus breaking bread and washing His disciples’ feet as acts of radical love and service. When I was a child, I thought of these actions in simple, innocent terms: Isn’t it so nice of Jesus to serve His friends? As an adult, I am aware that there is far more to this story. Why does Jesus choose to eat and serve with the very disciples He knows are about to betray and deny Him?

Jesus’ new commandment in today’s Gospel—to “love one another as I have loved you”—feels far more daunting when I consider the implications. How do I love those who betray my trust and loyalty? How do I love those who deny our shared humanity? How can I love those who reject the dignity of my most vulnerable neighbors? How can I love those who act against the Common Good?

This is the challenge and the invitation of Jesus’ radical love. To love one another as He has loved us means expanding our circle of care, extending our service, and embracing the sacrifice required to love even those who have hurt or denied us. This is a love rooted in radical humility, solidarity, forgiveness, and service.

This Lent, I have felt an acute call to embody this love in practical, incarnate ways. As a volunteer, I spend time with neighbors in my community who face overwhelming challenges and barriers to thriving. Often, I find myself at a loss for words, trying to provide comfort and offer material aid whenever possible. Sometimes we pray together. Sometimes we hug. Sometimes we cry. Sometimes we do all of these.

These moments remind me that I cannot claim freedom if my neighbors remain burdened by unemployment, food insecurity, loneliness or systemic injustices. I am not free until my neighbors are free. The systems that I, too, am complicit in have betrayed them, denying them the right to live and thrive. To love one another as Jesus loved us means resisting this complicity and working tirelessly for liberation and justice—for all of us.

Who in my life or community am I being called to love, serve or forgive, even when it feels uncomfortable or challenging?

How might I step beyond my fears or biases to embody Jesus’ radical love and humility?

God,
Help me to respond to Jesus’ call to humility and service;
May my love not be limited by fear, hopelessness or prejudice;
Make me an advocate for peace, an instrument of aid for those in need and a justice worker for the oppressed.
AMEN.

Kelly Hickman serves as the Director of Development for Jesuit Volunteer Corps (JVC) Northwest and Co-President of the Conference of St. Vincent de Paul at St. Edward Parish in Seattle, WA, where she lives.

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Six weeks ago our Lenten journey began. I preached at our Noon Distribution of Ashes and started by wishing everyone a Happy Lent. Yes, Lent is a time of prayer, fasting and almsgiving. But this year I encouraged everyone to also open their hearts to listen to what God is calling each of us, individually and collectively, to do.

As we reach the end of Lent, we can take stock of how Jesus has opened our hearts by reflecting on the Passover meal in today’s Gospel. Jesus and his disciples reclined at table, which was a typical way that Jewish people ate. They believed this allowed for better digestion and helped attendees feel secure in their position and friendship with each other. Jesus and his disciples were obviously close to one another at their Passover celebration. Are we secure in our relationship with Jesus? Would Jesus be secure with us?

A friendship existed between Jesus and Judas. It was enough of a friendship that many scholars believe Judas was to the left of Jesus so that, when reclining, Jesus would be resting on Judas. So why did Judas look to betray Jesus and turn him over to authorities?

Theologian William Barclay points to three potential reasons: 1) extreme greed (not likely as the actual price was not as significant as one might think); 2) Judas was disillusioned because he thought Jesus was going to lead a great rebellion which did not occur; 3.) Judas wanted to force Jesus’s hand to act more quickly in bringing about the kingdom. Barclay concludes that, whatever the reason, the tragedy is that Judas refused to accept Jesus as he truly was. Rather, Judas was trying to make Jesus into someone he wanted him to be. Do we accept Jesus as he is, or do we try to make him into something that fits our image of him?

As our Happy Lent journey concludes, do we have open hearts and accept Jesus for who he is: the risen Son of God who first must suffer so we can get to the joy and glory of Easter and the promise of eternal life?

Deacon Paul Kipfstuhl is the Director of the Social Action Office for Wayne, Ashland and Medina Counties for Catholic Charities in the Diocese of Cleveland. He is a member of the CCUSA Parish Social Ministry Leadership Team and on the Board of Directors for the National Association of Catholic Social Action and Mission and Catholic Mobilizing Network. He and his wife Michelle live in Medina, Ohio. They have two adult children and a granddaughter.

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In these last days of Lenten 2025, I am thinking, “Where did it go?” It was the same number of days this year as any other, but somehow with the noise and chaos all around us it seemed to speed right by. I prayed with the daily readings, and I didn’t miss Laetare Sunday, but those slower days of remembering Jesus’ days in the desert eluded me this year.

The fact that the news headlines bore witness to a cut or a firing or another unknown was surely part of that. Perhaps like you, I like to make plans and know what is coming. But this is not part of the scene these days — except — except when we remember the words of today’s reading from Isaiah: “I will make you a light to the nations that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.” Someone else is really in charge, despite what the news feeds say.

The psalm — “For you are my hope, O LORD; my trust, you are my strength. My mouth shall declare your justice, I proclaim your wondrous deeds.” Our God is in all of this. He has experienced the worst of injustices by leaders and the state and he has triumphed. And, may I remind myself (and perhaps you), God continues to triumph in the people we are so privileged to serve, offer kindness to, accompany, listen to, and companion — all despite what external forces are doing.

At a gathering of my religious community early in Lent, I shared that I did not believe that any of what was happening in the US would change through anger or rage or retaliation, but only through love, as Dr. Martin Luther King so often said. I told my sisters that my Lenten practice was to attempt to love the person serving in the White House. It has not been easy, or something that happened every day, but every person is a child of God and every person is loved by our God. Jesus said to Simon Peter in today’s Gospel, “Where I am going, you cannot follow me now, though you will follow later.” Perhaps that later is now!

Blessed Holy Week!

Sr. Betsy Van Deusen is a Sister of Saint Joseph of Carondelet who serves as CEO of Catholic Charities of the Diocese of Albany.  She enjoys swimming and spending time with her little “grands” – Noelle, Hoak, Nash, Patrick and Colter!

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Judas was known to be a thief.
Jesus put Judas in charge of the money bag.
What was Jesus thinking?

A bruised reed he shall not break,
and a smoldering wick he shall not quench…

A good and loving guide lights the way home. Jesus wanted Judas to focus on the one thing necessary, the better part (cf., Lk 10:41-42).

In the gospel today, Jesus understands time is running out. His enemies — who want to kill him — are closing in.

It’s six days before the Passover, before Jesus’ sacrifice. He travels to Bethany to dine with Lazarus, Martha and Mary. Each of these siblings encountered Jesus in a powerful way, and they all witness to Jesus’ life-changing love. Lazarus, who was resuscitated by Jesus, is such a powerful witness that he becomes a target of Jesus’ enemies too. Martha responds through service. And Mary’s generous anointing of Jesus bespeaks how deeply she has returned his love. All three put Jesus’ words into action: “as I have done for you, you should also do” (Jn 13:15).

Judas was at the dinner too, but he was blind to the witnesses before him. He could only think about money. Jesus, gently, tries to help Judas face his sin and change his focus: you will not always have me. But Judas did not have ears to hear. Worse, his heart was closed to Jesus’ words; he ends up betraying Jesus. He makes no effort to ungrasp the money bag.

Returning Jesus’ love, as Mary, Martha and Lazarus did, and following his words result in a communion with him that begins here and lasts forever. And being in communion with Jesus gives one hope in his victory and moves one to share his love: caring for the poor and establishing justice. Yes, we need material things, but “moth and decay” destroy them. The one thing necessary is abiding in Christ; he is the better part.

“The service of charity is…a constitutive element of the Church’s mission and an indispensable expression of her very being… It is important, however, to keep in mind that ‘practical activity will always be insufficient, unless it visibly expresses a love for man/woman, a love nourished by an encounter with Christ.’” Pope Benedict XVI, On the Service of Charity, 11 Nov 2012.

David Werning is Director of Social Policy Engagement at Catholic Charities USA.

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We could easily be persuaded to think of Palm Sunday as a bit like Mardi Gras with a parade, rejoicing crowds, confetti, and even a king to be honored! Yet, upon closer inspection and reading between the lines, we can see it likely felt more like a roller coaster for those intimately involved.

Using St. Ignatius’ style of imaginative contemplation for the initial reading, we are jostled within the crowd, standing on tiptoe to see over the shoulders of those in front of us, straining to see the main attraction, the One riding the donkey. For the next reading we peer into the heart of Jesus — as he reminds himself why he is navigating the crowds on this day. The Psalm whips us onward to Golgotha where we hear Jesus’ anguished pleas to the One he deeply loves: “Why THIS way? Why do you feel so removed, my God, and I, so alone?” Up and down, left and right we are manhandled as we traverse the interior experience of the King of Kings. Ultimately, the rollercoaster slows to a stop as we spill out into the familiar scene in the upper room for the last meal Jesus will share with his friends before he dies.

Where do you see yourself – find yourself – in this scene? Are you the one who serves, washing the feet of those who enter, or carrying the plates laden with savory, home-prepared food to each of the apostles? Do you clear the dishes and refill the cups at each place? Do you hear the conversation and banter, ultimately sweeping up and wiping down as they leave together for the Garden of Olives?

Of course. Of course you serve, and wash, and listen, and lift, and clean up after this meal…because that is what you do every single day that you work for Catholic Charities. You are present for every rollercoaster ride that humanity brings to your door. The twists and turns that life serves with gusto often leave our clients disoriented and breathless. Your attentiveness nourishes, and sustains, and stabilizes.

As the donkey passes your place in the crowd, Jesus looks over and catches your eye – and holds it. Gratitude is in his expression. You are there for him, today. You are there for everyone he sends to you, staff or client, each day you serve him with a heart that is so like his own.

Monique Jacobs, MS, is Director of Mission and Identity at Catholic Charities of Northern Nevada.

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We have almost made it to Holy Week. We have gone through the desert and are approaching Jesus’ Passion and Resurrection. But we are still on the journey to greet Him Easter morning.

I don’t know about you, but this Lenten season has been particularly difficult with all that is happening on a national and global level. Many of our clients, especially our Refugee and Immigrant clients, are facing uncertainty, and our roles at Catholic Charities are to walk along-side them as they travel through their own desert of sorts.

The First Reading today ties in beautifully to our current landscape and the desperate need to see each person we meet as a child of God. “Never again shall they be two nations, and never again shall they be divided into two kingdoms.” Our Lord is calling us all home to Him, regardless of race or religion, nationality or gender. We are all one Church under one God.

God has a plan for us — a plan for our clients that we serve — and our job is to help inspire them and guide them. As we finish out our Lenten journey and enter the Easter season, let us reflect on the nation that our Lord is uniting us in. Through all of the politics and uncertainty, let us be a light for our clients to see the plan that God has for each of them.

What a gift we have been given to be able to live out the Gospel to those most in need each and every day. Pray that we can lead them to Christ through our love and joy for Him and His Church. Let’s finish our Lenten season strong and continue to be the light that shines for our clients who are struggling in the dark.

Kimberly Baietto is the Parish Engagement Manager at Catholic Charities Fort Worth.

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Terror on every side!

Sounds like our world today, does it not? We can’t look hardly anywhere in the world and not see conflicts, wars, natural disasters, destruction, displacement of millions of people and loss of lives, to name a few. On top of all that, there’s been the loss of much funding and resources to address these immense problems locally, nationally and globally.

We who work in agencies like Catholic Charities or Catholic Relief Services may well feel like Jeremiah in today’s First Reading — persecuted and denounced for the good works we have been trying to do. Yes, even Jesus faced stoning and potential arrest for tying His good works to His intimacy with the Father. And as we know, that arrest would come on Holy Thursday night.

Yet in spite of all this, Jeremiah, Jesus and each one of us have reason to hope: a hope that keeps us from falling into ultimate despair, and to continue those good works which rescue the lives of the poor and vulnerable. It is that hope which allowed Jeremiah to sing to the Lord and to praise the Lord. It is the hope which allowed Jesus to complete His Mission. And it is that very same hope which sustains and allows us to keep going in these uncertain and perilous felt times.

So, how do we?

Though no longer employed at my local Catholic Charities, that agency remains a vital partner of mine in my pastoral work at my two parishes. I recently led a retreat for the staff there on Sustaining Hope. I offered the following three critical points I believe are necessary to sustain hope:

Prayer and Meditation: These ground us, bring us back to the present moment, and help us manage fears of the unknown. They foster calm, steady resolve and empower us to face the future with clarity and peace. We must stay inwardly centered in these times of uncertainty.

Community: Connections to others strengthen us. We are not alone. Our relationships with friends, family and community create a critical support network. By reaching out, sharing burdens and offering mutual support, we bolster our abilities for collective resilience.

Service: We channel our inner struggles into outward action and continue to serve and make a positive difference in the lives of others wherever we can. In spite of new obstacles, there will always be opportunities before us — even if only in little ways — in which we help another and bring some hope to them which, in turn, nourishes our own hope.

Every act of love and gesture of kindness matters and makes a difference. As the patroness of one of the parishes I oversee, St. Teresa of Calcutta said: Do small things with great love!

Deacon Lucio Caruso has served in pastoral work for nearly 50 years, 16 of which were with Catholic Charities. Today he serves as Pastoral Administrator at two multicultural and multi-lingual parishes in the Archdiocese of Louisville.

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