Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Shoots and seeds. It is who we are and what we have to contribute to the kingdom. And it is enough. So why are we left unsatisfied? Is the builder not working fast enough? Or do we not like the product we see under development? Have any of our efforts to insert ourselves into the process brought about better results? Or do we simply end up taking two steps forward and two steps back? Perhaps now is the time to surrender to our Parent's wisdom, and just be shoots and seeds. Let us love our brothers and sisters, really love them, and trust the kingdom to grow however our Master sees fit.

Ezekiel 17:22-24; Psalms 92:2-16; 2 Corinthians 5:6-10; Mark 4:26-34

Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

Is Eucharist for the clean or the unclean? We all know the answer corporate religion gives. They fuss and fret over who should and, perhaps more fervently, should not partake of the sacrament. But I say that Eucharist is not a reward for those who have already gotten life right, but an infusion of grace for those who need it most. And who is more in need than those who are dirty and unkempt? How can we expect anyone who is wallowing in sin to let go of such filth without a little help from the Divine? I tell you that our Parent desires a covenant with all of their children; all, not just a chosen few, or some, or even many, but every last one of us. And if accomplishing such a thing means that sacred bread and wine needs to touch unclean hands and lips, then let us sing alleluia and pass them along.

Exodus 24:3-8; Psalms 116:12-18; Hebrews 9:11-15; Mark 14:12-26

Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity

Scripture tells us that we were created in God's image. So if they are three, plural, a we are instead of an I am, then what does that make us? If the Trinity is truth, and we take that truth seriously, can we continue to worship our sacred cows of freedom or tribalism? Parent, Son, and Spirit are bound to one another as a family of love. Like it or not, so are you and I and all the rest of our brothers and sisters. We are family; bound to one another in a sacred dance that takes us far beyond our comfort zones of tolerance, sentimentality, or utilitarian convenience. A true we are, not just a collection of I ams.

So how do we tap into our trinitarian nature? How do we act more like the family that we are? Perhaps it is as simple as being gentle to one another. Give your siblings the benefit of the doubt. Try with all your might to see the best in the person you like the least. Do less agitating and more listening. And take a lesson from some anonymous Turkish villagers who in the midst of genocide mourned the loss of their neighbors: "The Armenians were the salt of our land … that which gave us taste and aroma is gone … may God look after us all." Yes, may We Are look after those she has chosen to be his own, those whom they have blessed with the greatest of all inheritances: family.

Deuteronomy 4:32-40; Psalms 33:4-22; Romans 8:14-17; Matthew 28:16-20

Pentecost Sunday

Veni, Sancte Spiritus. Ask and she will come. But he will not bring the gifts you expect, and certainly not the ones you want. Just yesterday, the Church honored our martyred brother Oscar Romero. What does his sacrifice mean given the violence that has consumed El Salvador since his death? Where is the peace, justice, or love? Are we ready now to bear the truth of the kingdom, or must we continue to hide from its fire? Will you take up your cross knowing full well that it will not change the big picture of this world one bit? Will you see the kingdom as it is, not as you want it to be? And will you run to that kingdom and embrace all the strange beauty it has to offer? Veni, Sancte Spiritus.

Acts 2:1-11; Psalms 104:1-34; Galatians 5:16-25; John 15:26-16:15

Second Sunday of Easter – Sunday of Divine Mercy

Psalms 118:1-24

I am going to take a break from blogging this Easter season. My mind aches, and I have finally been given permission to rest. I will resume my task for Pentecost Sunday. In the meantime, please hear in my silence a cry of thanksgiving for the delightful ordinariness of divine mercy.

The Resurrection of the Lord – The Mass of Easter Day

And so the forty days are over. We spent our time in the tomb, but now the stone has been removed. What do you see as you walk out into the sunlight? Does anything seem different than it was before? Is the world still the world, or has something wonderful appeared in its midst? Are your neighbors still just neighbors, or do you suddenly have more brothers and sisters than all the stars in the sky? Have you simply been paroled for one more year? Or have you risen with our Brother to a state that defies all our rules and explanations? And are you merely going through the motions because this is the day the Church has made? Or do you truly have reason to rejoice and be glad?

Acts 10:34-43; Psalms 118:1-24; 1 Corinthians 5:6-8; John 20:1-9

Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion

Yes, we are clueless. The crowds with their cloaks and leafy branches. The disciples and their sense of when to be indignant and when to fall asleep. The naked young man running for his life. And Peter, so brave, until he knows the stakes. Even Jesus, very human Jesus, who believes himself forsaken, if only for a moment. Despite our prayers and rituals and lovely theologies, we understand neither the kingdom, nor the Brother who lights a path to its doorstep. We still expect truth and grace to conform to certain rules; not our Parent's rules mind you, but our own. We remain as blind as those who cried out for Barabbas or who pounded in the nails. Such is how we enter this holy week. But it is not how we have to exit it. The tomb is an invitation, not just a memory. Will you accept it?

Isaiah 50:4-7; Psalms 22:2-24; Philippians 2:6-11; Mark 11:1-10, 14:1-15:47

Fifth Sunday of Lent

Jeremiah 31:31-34; Psalms 51:3-15; Hebrews 5:7-9; John 12:20-33

"A clean heart create for me, O God, and a steadfast spirit renew within me." Let this be our mantra as we enter into the last of these forty days. We cannot hope to be free of sin in this life. But we can plead for a heart that refuses to avert its eyes from our sins or to pretend that they are anything other than what they are, even as we commit them. And we can beg for a spirit that calmly bears both the just guilt of our own evil and the unjust suffering brought on by our neighbors' disobedience, even as we strive to wash them all away. Now, these might not be the gifts we long for at Easter, but they are the ones we need if we hope to enter into the mystery that is divine mercy.

Fourth Sunday of Lent

2 Chronicles 36:14-23; Psalms 137:1-6; Ephesians 2:4-10; John 3:14-21

"Let my tongue be silenced, if I ever forget you!" But we do forget. Babylon enchants us, even those who see it for what it is. We adopt its ways, even as we try to transform it. We are lost. Which is why we so desperately need these forty days. They are a time for silence and tears, that the fog might be cleared from our hearts and minds. And when it has, we might remember that Zion is not a place, but rather a promise, an oath of love from Parent to child that can never be taken from us.

Third Sunday of Lent

Exodus 20:1-17; Psalms 19:8-11; 1 Corinthians 1:22-25; John 2:13-25

Sometimes love means picking up a whip. No, this is not the sign we demanded, nor the wisdom we were looking for, but it is the truth we must proclaim. Our Parent's love is not fluffy or weak, nor does it suffer fools or tricksters. Its purpose is to refresh our souls, not to coddle them, for God desires us to taste a joy that never loses its sweetness. Which means we oftentimes need to hear a resounding chorus of "You shall not." Such grace might not be music to our ears, but it is, without a doubt, proof that something wonderful awaits us. So let us invite the divine whip into our hearts for the duration of these forty days, that we too might be consumed with zeal for our Parent's houses.