Good friends are truly one of life’s greatest treasures. To have a friend is to have someone to turn to, no matter what, someone to confide in, someone to trust and rely on. Real friends are self-giving and not concerned with what they will get in return. They are not manipulative or two-faced. They are not judgmental or conditional. Real friends are indeed a treasure.
 
John’s gospel is replete with Jesus’ assurances of his love for his disciples and commands for his followers to love others, but only in this week’s gospel does Jesus complicate matters by calling the disciples friends. I say “complicate” because even though we recognize friendship as something quite special, at the same time we tend to think of friendship as somehow being “less” than love — less intense, less invested — when in fact, it makes a different sort of demand on us.
 

While love seems to be or not be, friendship implies more choice. We love our children, our siblings, our parents just because we are in relationship with them. We speak of falling in love with our spouse or partner as something that seems somehow out of our control. But friendship is different. It is rarely as instinctive as a parent’s love for a child, nor is it as involuntary as falling in love can be. Real friendship, mature friendship isn’t automatic; it’s intentional, it takes work, and requires commitment — even to be friends with those whom we love.

Jesus calls his disciples friends, and in doing so, he upsets the usual teacher-pupil relationship, he breaks boundaries, and he brings a new dimension to the bond he has with his disciples. No longer are they master and servant. Rather they are “friends,” with all that entails.

Friendship in the first-century Mediterranean world was a serious matter. To be considered a friend was to be in a position of honor. Being a friend meant being treated as kin with the attendant obligations. To be a friend meant to look out for the welfare of the other, to put the other’s needs on an equal footing with one’s own. Friendship implied reciprocity as well — to consider someone a friend meant counting on that person to return that level of concern and care. When Jesus calls the disciples “friends” he is investing them with this concern. He has shared with them what the Father has revealed to him, and he has given them the task of going out and sharing this revelation with the world.

I’m not sure that the disciples were comforted or reassured by Jesus calling them “friends.” I’m not sure that they were ready to be friends in return. Nonetheless, in calling them friends Jesus expanded how the disciples might understand their relationship with him, and through him, their relationship with God. Not only were the disciples loved as a parent loves a child — without reservation, without expectation for anything in return, but also they were held as friends — not as children, not as servants, but as chosen ones who could be relied on, counted on, trusted. Friendship with Jesus would be friendship held to its highest level.

As disciples we too can count Jesus as a friend.. To be a true friend is to care about someone’s hurts and pains without regard to the cost to oneself, without regard for any possible return on the investment, and there is no question that Jesus does that for us. What’s more, to think of Jesus as friend means that we can find Jesus in our human friendships. We can see the face of Jesus in the faces of those who care for us.

To think of Jesus as friend means also that we can see in Jesus a model for what friendship at its best means. To think of Jesus this way challenges us to be intentional about our relationships in the world, to reach out in friendship without regard to the possible cost for ourselves, without thinking of what we might receive in return. Just as Jesus broke down boundaries by calling his disciples friends, so too might we break down barriers by reaching out in friendship to those who are different from us, the poor, the marginalized, the needy.

Good friends are truly a treasure, and in Jesus’ friendship we have the greatest treasure of all. Thanks be to God!

My father, an avid gardener, told me one time about a cucumber plot he had planted:
 
He had been very careful to select the best seeds, and plant each one at its proper depth.  He fertilized and watered the plants, he worked the soil faithfully each week to prevent weeds from encroaching and he sprayed to prevent bugs and blights from afflicting the young plant.
 
The season was a good one – just the right amount of rain and sunshine, and on the vines appeared broad green leaves and in due course the blooms.  It looked magnificent.
 
One day he noticed that here and there certain leaves were dying, certain blooms fading.  Most of the leaves remained a healthy glossy green, but scattered among them were those turning brown.  Why, he wondered, would some die in the midst of all the living?  So he investigated.
 
Stepping carefully among the tangled mass of vines he traced the ones on which the leaves and blooms were dying, until he found that they were all connected to a single stem.  There, just above the ground, cut-worms had severed the stalk. The entire vine above that point was dying because it was no longer attached to the roots and the stem that had produced it.
 
It is a common tale – but it is an instructive one.
 
This Sunday’s Gospel is about pruning and bearing fruit. Bearing fruit requires pruning. The pruning tool is the Word of the Son. His word teaches us and guides us. Allowing this word to shape us brings forth a life-giving relationship with Jesus that assures abundant and good fruit.
 
Our life flows from Christ’s life. We are grafted onto him, receive our life from him and are shaped as faithful disciples by his word.
 
Remaining in Christ has its demands. To remain in Christ means that we live as Jesus lived-in deed and truth. Being the branch grafted onto Christ’s life is very real and demands that we allow ourselves to be pruned.
 
This is what Easter is all about: new life in Christ.

The Ursuline Sisters of Youngstown welcomed about 300 family members, friends and members of the media to an Open House April 29, 2012, which offered tours of our new living spaces in Phase I of the Motherhouse Reconfiguration Project and refreshments in our dining hall.
 

The guests toured our 24 barrier-free living spaces, private, handicapped-accessible bathrooms and common spaces, which were created following Universal Design principles to accomplish a few important updates. First, they help ensure the safety of aging Sisters who have faithfully served generations in our community. It used to be that our rooms were cramped, our corridors were dark, and there was a central bathroom and showering area for all to use. Now, the corridors and rooms are well lit and bright and safety components have been installed.

Our Motherhouse is nearly 50 years old, and like all older homes, it was in need of critical updates in plumbing, electrical components, and heating and ventilation systems. The changes have brought our building’s infrastructure into the 21^st century.

 
And finally, we’re expanding the space the Sisters can use for ministry at site. The Ursuline Sisters are committed to using their resources for mission and the common good.

In May 2012, construction will begin on Phase II of the Reconfiguration Project – the establishment of 12 apartments for senior citizens of limited income. This project will create 12 barrier-free apartments with private bathrooms as well as a lounge, storage, and mechanical spaces in The Ursuline Center, which will provide safe and affordable housing for local senior citizens of moderate Social-Security income.

On April 28, 2012, the Ursuline Sisters of Youngstown, friends and family ended mass with a procession to our newly reconfigured living spaces to bless our house.  
 
Fr. Nick Shori celebrated mass and the prayers over the new space, and he, General Superior Sister Nancy Dawson and Motherhouse Administrator Sister Bridget Nolan blessed every room and space with holy water.
 

Although the space won’t be move-in ready for a few weeks, our spirits are high as we look forward to this new chapter in our lives, which is a great blessing indeed.

Following Universal Design principles, 24 living spaces with private, handicapped-accessible bathrooms are being created to make better use of our building and provide safety for the Sisters now and into the future. New plumbing, electrical components, and heating and ventilation systems are bringing the building’s infrastructure into the 21^st century.

As you’ll see in the video below, the assembly April 28 sang the following song to inaugurate our new living spaces. We would be grateful if, as you read it, you offer it up as a prayer for the blessing of our house.
 

Bless this House

Bless this house, O Lord we pray,
Make it safe by night and day . . .
 

Bless these walls so firm and stout,
Keeping want and trouble out . . .
 

Bless the roof and chimneys tall,
Let thy peace lie overall . . .
 

Bless this door that it may prove,
Ever open,
To joy and love . . .
 

Bless these windows shining bright,
Letting in God’s Heavenly light,
 

Bless the hearth, the painting there,
With smoke ascending like a prayer!
 

Bless the folk who dwell within,
Keep them pure and free from sin . . .
 

Bless us all that we may be,
Fit O Lord to dwell with thee . . .
 

Bless us all that one day we may dwell,
O Lord! With Thee!
 

Words and Music by Helen Taylor and May H. Morgan

One problem with the many references to sheep in the Bible is that so few of us have any real contact with these animals. The metaphor is simply lost on us. What does it mean to be compared to sheep? The little we’ve heard or read about them—that they’re not particularly bright—does not endear us to the metaphor. But here’s the thing about Good Shepherd Sunday: it’s not about sheep at all. It is about a shepherd—the “Good Shepherd”—but even that designation is charged with meanings that can be lost on us.
 
“I am the good shepherd,” says Jesus. “The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep” (John 10:11).
 

The life of a shepherd was anything but dreamy or picturesque. Taking care of sheep was dangerous, difficult, tedious work. Shepherds were, as one commentator has said, “rough around the edges, spending time in the fields rather than in polite society. For Jesus to say, ‘I am the good shepherd,’would have been an affront to the religious elite. The claim had an edge to it. A modern-day equivalent might be for Jesus to say, ‘I am the good migrant worker.”
 

So John is doing in his gospel something that Luke does in his. Recall the Good Samaritan: Jesus tells a parable about a man mugged in the street and left for dead. Two members of Israel’s spiritual elite—a priest and a Levite—pass him by and hurry on their way. But a Samaritan—considered unclean and morally suspect—binds the man’s wounds, pays for his care, helps restore him to health.
 

Jesus makes a Samaritan the hero of the story, something that would have scandalized his hearers. His basic message is not: be kind; help others (which is what we’ve reduced the parable to). His message is this: the Kingdom comes in surprising ways, through surprising people, through a God who turns our expectations and our prejudices upside down.
 

The Good Samaritan. The Good Shepherd. Those who are lowly, dubious, suspicious, contemptuous; those discounted, counted out: pay attention to these—God is probably at work in their midst. The Good Samaritan gives of himself fully to save a stranger. The Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.
 

How are we, disciples of the Good Shepherd, to lay down our lives? When we listen to another’s opinion instead of stubbornly clinging to our own; when we sow unity instead of seeds of discord; when we gently bring others to honesty about self and how they  are living; and when we build others up rather than tear them down. In these and a myriad of ways we incarnate the Good Shepherd’s love.

This Sunday is the World Day of Prayer for Vocations. In 1963 Pope Paul VI designated Good Shepherd Sunday as World Day of Prayer for Vocations. Christ Jesus, the Good Shepherd, knows us well and gives his life for us. In the name of Christ Jesus we rejoice in the Good Shepherd who leads us into fullness of life.  As we celebrate this feast we pray for fidelity to our vocation.
 
The Church invites us to honor the vocation of all Christians given at baptism. Through the vocation of marriage, priesthood, diaconate, consecrated life, and the single life may we further the reign of God. May those who are discerning their life vocation listen to the voice of the Good Shepherd to guide them.
 
We offer this prayer to be said on that day.

Gracious God, You have called me to life and gifted me in many ways.
 
Through Baptism You have sent me to continue the mission of Jesus by sharing my love with others. Strengthen me to respond to Your call each day.
 
Help me to become all You desire of me. Inspire me to make a difference in others’ lives. Lead me to choose the way of life You have planned for me. Open the hearts of all to listen to Your call. Fill all with Your Holy Spirit that we may have listening hearts and the courage to respond to You.
 
Enkindle in my heart and the hearts of others the desire to make the world a better place by serving as Lay Minister, Sister, Priest, Brother or Deacon. Amen.

In this Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus assures the disciples that he is not a ghost: “Touch me and see, because a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you can see I have.” This risen Jesus is not a ghost. He is alive! This last statement, however, is much easier said than grasped. Resurrection is outside our human experience, so we have a hard time making it concrete. This gospel challenges us to move resurrection beyond a theological concept to a life to be experienced by us, here and now. How concrete Jesus is in leading the disciples to experience and believe in his resurrection. In this gospel, Jesus comes to them, where they are, he invites them to touch his risen body and he eats baked fish!

Like long ago, Jesus comes to us where we are. No matter whether we are faltering in our ability to be faithful, or are terrified at the demands living the Gospel entails, or are struggling with doubt, Jesus still comes to us.  When we stray, Jesus touches us with his forgiveness and invites us to forgive others. Jesus invites us to come  to his table, feeding us with his risen Body.  Jesus is alive!

The risen Jesus is known today in the goodness that surrounds us, the hope that encourages us and the love that strengthens us. The reality of the resurrection is known when we are forgiving people, when we are repenting people. The resurrection, then, makes a difference in our lives. It challenges us to do what is utterly basic to the gospels: repent and forgive.  This Jesus is alive. This is no ghost.

We have seen the Lord!” Who has not longed to hear those words? Or who has not longed for the experience that gave birth to the words? Most of us are like Thomas in today’s Gospel—not that we are doubters, but that our faith is based on the words of others. Someone else has the experience, and we hear about it.
 

But that is not exactly true. God does not favor a chosen few with an experience of the risen Christ and then require the rest of us simply to take it on their word. Not at all! The resurrection means that Jesus is alive for each of us. At the end of his book Life of Jesus, François Mauriac reminds us that since the resurrection, we are apt to encounter the Lord when and where we least expect. Today’s readings provide us with a few examples of this.
 

The description of the early Christian community found in Acts reminds us that Christ is indeed among us, living in the community, in the members of his body. He is alive in those who are one in heart and mind, who share what they have with each other. These early Easter-people were so transformed by their resurrection experience that nonbelievers looked in wonder at them and exclaimed, “These Christians, see how they love one another.”
 

We are no different. We too find Christ in our community. His vulnerability can be found in children and in the elderly, his courage in those who stand bravely for principle or who accept suffering with dignity. His kindness shines forth in the smiles of others, his healing power in their gentle touch.
 

We also meet him in the weaker members of his body. Jesus invited Thomas to touch his wounds. He extends that same invitation to us. It is his fear that we see in the eyes of the mentally ill; it is his terror that grips the refugee; his need reaches out to us in those who are hungry or imprisoned. As Mauriac reminds us, this risen Christ might be just around the corner. Have we experienced him? Can our contemporaries say of us, “These Christians, see how they love one another”?

In our continuing series of Vocation Stories, short videos about the Ursuline Sisters of Youngstown, Sister Bridget Nolan tells us why she became a nun : “My life is not about me. It is about what God wants me to do. It is about God, others, the earth.” Sister Bridget also shares why she is proud to be an Ursuline Sister of Youngstown.

Anyone who has ever been to a burial service in a cemetery knows how gaping the six-foot hollow in the earth is. If we peer into the empty space, it seems to go down forever. It is deep, foreboding, not just a little bit frightening. We are much more comfortable when the casket is lowered, the earth has been replaced and cultivated and planted, and living green grass replaces the gaping hollow. Death and tombs have a finality about them. No doubt so Mary, Peter and John believed as they raced to the place where the lifeless Jesus had been laid. They simply did not yet understand. They sought a lifeless body and found an empty tomb. They queried about “where” and discovered “what”. They simply did not yet understand. They simply did not understand that he had to rise from the dead.
 

Our belief in the Resurrection must begin with the empty tomb. It is the empty tomb that brings us to raise the question about where they put Jesus’ lifeless body. It is the empty tomb that sends us searching for what we thought was lifeless. It is the empty tomb that brings us to belief: Jesus is alive, he is risen. Only as the risen Lord comes to us does our own belief in the meaning of the empty tomb continually grow. Easter faith is never still.
 

Jesus’ risen presence can be found where we least expect it – in the gentle smile, in the unexpected extension of a helping hand, in the goodness and generosity of oyr family and neighbors and friends. And even perfect strangers.
 

Easter teaches us that we must give ourselves over for others in total love. This is the paschal mystery. Easter faith is never still. The risen Lord is always active. In our Easter faith. In our acts of love.