Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Grace and truth

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Ex 19:2-6a / Rom 5:6-11 / Mt 9:36–10:8

Memorial of Saint Francis of Assisi

Naked and alone
With you, I have everything
O beloved yoke!

Gal 6:14-18 / Mt 11:25-30

Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

O beloved Cross!
Create in me a clean heart.
Your will, forever.

Nm 21:4b-9 / Phil 2:6-11 / Jn 3:13-17

Memorial of Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Priest

Their glory or mine?
Arrogance is slippery.
Surrender to Them.

1 Cor 10:31-11:1; Lk 14:25-33

Friday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time

"Here I am," O Lord.
Your refuge, your love, your all.
For you, I endure.

Gn 46:1-7, 28-30; Mt 10:16-23

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

"Follow me," They say.
Grace, your sole inheritance.
O Lord, you are mine.

1 Kgs 19:16b, 19-21; Gal 5:1, 13-18; Lk 9:51-62

Friday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time

Earthly treasures fall.
Wonder is all you will need.
Delight in weakness.

2 Cor 11:18, 21-30; Ps 34:2-7, 18; Mt 6:19-23

Easter Sunday – The Resurrection of the Lord

The tomb is open and here is your hope: "Seek what is above."

Many will call this escapism. They find hope in the power of smart people and smart ideas. They place their faith in utopian promises of transforming our world into something better, something beautiful. But such dreams, noble as they might be, always end in death and despair. For they are human schemes, and such things always come with the human baggage of greed, arrogance, and brutality.

Which is why our Parent asks us to "think of what is above, not of what is on earth." This is not a call to deny the reality of the culture of death, but an invitation to see that reality for what it truly is. Things we perceive as ugly or futile are actually steps in a grand plan that might take decades or centuries to come to fruition. God always produces what they desire, which is why love always wins.

Yes, accepting this invitation brings great challenges, but not an impossible task. And once you gaze through your Parent's eyes, you will never want to look away. You will come to know that your purpose is not to fix the world, but to weave your small piece in the grand tapestry of life. In short, you will find something wonderful, something that makes every day worthy of rejoicing and being glad.

So once more, here is your hope: "Seek what is above." Will you take it?

Acts 10:34-43; Psalms 118:1-24; Colossians 3:1-4; John 20:1-9

Solemnity of All Saints

"When our Lord saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he had sat down, he whipped out his smartphone and began to tweet at them, saying: 'Shame on them who ...'"

How many of us long for that version of "The Sermon on the Mount"? How many of us look around at our brothers and sisters and struggle to find any worthy of the label "blessed"? How many of us prefer our petty little tribes to the strange and confusing beauty of our Parent's family?

There is a certain smallness to American culture and politics at our present moment in time. Everyone is stuck in their corners, bleating about this wound or that slight; each tribe attempting to outshout the others, but none succeeding. It is more tiresome than I can possibly describe, especially standing in comparison to that which we celebrate today: the Communion of Saints, aka our family.

In saying such things, I do not deny the reality of injustice and sin. But the Beatitudes are creatures of the kingdom, not the world. They are meant to be lived in the kingdom, not the world. Yes, this realm exists in the here and now, but not as the utopia of any of our plethora of isms. It cannot be found via human ingenuity, nor built by human institutions. The kingdom is a choice of heart and soul, a path to be trod each and every day; not the easiest to be sure, but the only road worth traveling.

So how does one get there? Choose the simplicity of loving your neighbor. Choose the nobility of doing good to those who hate you. Choose the truth that no amount of "progress" in technology or ideology can ever transform the world into something other than an unholy mess. And despite the latter, choose the honor of bearing grace to your siblings, starting with the most sinful and unworthy.

This is a vision made tangible in a set of tapestries hanging in the cathedral of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles: a true communion of saints, ancient and new, famous and ordinary, a rainbow of diversity, all reveling in God's light and love with absolutely no regard for "official" saintly status.

This is the kingdom. This is our family. This is who we can be, if we so choose. It is perhaps a foolish vision. But if thus, then let me be an eternal fool, for it is a vision blessedly wonderful.

Revelation 7:2-14; Psalms 24:1-6; 1 John 3:1-3; Matthew 5:1-12

Second Sunday of Lent

Do you truly long to know our Parent's face? Do not answer now. Let that question steep in your heart for the remainder of these forty days, because it is not one to be taken lightly. God is not a cuddly pet or a drinking buddy. Our ancestors knew the wisdom of awe. They understood what they were dealing with. Do you? So pray hard this Lent. Because some things just cannot be unseen.

Genesis 15:5-18; Psalms 27:1-14; Philippians 3:17-4:1; Luke 9:28-36

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

"Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?'" It feels arrogant to claim such words. Perhaps that is why God chooses to deliver them to the unclean. I know my sin, and so I also know that my calling is not a reward. Call it a gift, a duty, a glorious burden, but never a reward. I am lowly, the least of their servants. But by their grace, I have been made useful. Wherever our Parent needs me, I will go. And whoever the audience, I will sing their praises.

Isaiah 6:1-8; Psalms 138:1-8; 1 Corinthians 15:1-11; Luke 5:1-11

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

"Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation." I was so young when you took me and told me to speak for you. I didn't have a clue. Not a fucking clue. How I wish you had instructed me like you did the Twelve. Instead, you made me wander, with authority over nothing. I'm tired. So very fucking tired. It feels like all I ever do is shake the dust off my feet. But you chose me. You sent me forth. What else can I do except move on to the next place? So please, my friend, please show your useless servant mercy, and lavish me with your grace. Alleluia, alleluia.

Amos 7:12-15; Psalms 85:8-14; Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:7-13

Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Jeremiah 20:7-9; Psalms 63:2-9; Romans 12:1-2; Matthew 16:21-27

Many days I lament not experiencing the "derision and reproach" of which Jeremiah speaks. Better to be an infamous prophet than an obscure one, or so it seems in those moments. But that is just me "thinking not as God does, but as human beings do." My job is to take up the cross and to walk my own Via Dolorosa wherever it may lead. Whatever beauty emerges from that journey belongs to the One from whom I cannot escape and for whom my soul thirsts "like fire burning in my heart."