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Posts Tagged ‘Doubts’

What Christ’s Wounds Say After the Resurrection

Posted in Easter, Reflections from Other Writers and Speakers, Reflections on Scripture, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 24, 2025| Leave a Comment »

Readings for

All in one place:

https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/042725.cfm

In the context of each Bible book:

  1. Acts 5:12-16
  2. Psalm 118:2-4, 13-15, 22-24
  3. Revelation 1:9-11a, 12-13, 17-19
  4. John 20:19-31

What stands out to me from this week’s readings:

We read more than once in this week’s Gospel that the disciples find Jesus in their midst, even though they’re behind locked doors. It also stands out that Jesus greets the disciples by saying “Peace be with you” and by showing them his wounds.

What I’m saying (about the readings and beyond) this week:

About the Readings

It’s as if Jesus is saying,” Don’t be afraid. It’s me. I’m here with you, and nothing can stop me from being with you now. I’ve gone to battle with everything that pushes you away from me. I won. See these wounds? They’re an everlasting reminder of my victory over suffering and death. This victory gives new meaning to your suffering and death. United to mine, your suffering will transform you. Like me, you’ll be someone new. And you’ll be that someone because of what you went through — what we went through — before.”

And beyond

We’ve lost, in Pope Francis, someone I would call the world’s pastor. From what I’ve seen, this is true, to some extent among people of various beliefs.

And here we are in the Easter season. Face tells me that the Easter he is experiencing now is different from the one that I’m experiencing. And my Easter share similarities and differences with the Easter you’re experiencing. You may not be experiencing the emotions you think of when you think of Easter. I’m not. I’m sad and uncomfortable with the unknowns the Church and the world faces. I grieve because of the many forms of violence (greed and selfishness, for example) and loss in the world.

Last Sunday’s readings and this Sunday’s readings tell me the experiences of Jesus’ followers on the first Easter were no different. They tell me the cross and the resurrection are two sides of the same coin. And neither experience is something only Christ goes through. Rather, we all share in both experiences again and we can’t have one without the other. When we have both, nothing can separate us from each other and from God — no suffering — not even death.

Still, sometimes a living sense of communion is hard to perceive on the earthly side of life. Jesus and his first spiritual family members understand that as well as anyone.

What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:

In Marissa Papula’s reflection for Divine Mercy Sunday, she explores how trauma and healing can coexist. She unpacks how the gospel passage for this week illustrates this coexistence.

This week’s prayer:

Jesus, help us to see You and to touch You in our midst despite any obstacles to being enlivened by Your presence. Renew us to do Your work in the world, and bring us to rest together with You and all Your beloved departed in eternity. Amen.

Works cited:

“Second Sunday of Easter, Sunday of Divine Mercy — Lectionary: 45.” Daily Readings, Lectionary for Mass for Use in the Dioceses of the United States, Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, 2nd typical ed, United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2025, https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/042725.cfm.

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Don’t Leave! We’re Just Getting to the Good Part!

Posted in Easter, Reflections from Other Writers and Speakers, Reflections on Scripture, tagged , , , , , , , , , on April 20, 2025| Leave a Comment »

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Readings for the Resurrection of the Lord:

All in one place (well, almost):

https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/042025.cfm

In the context of each Bible book:

  1. Acts 10:34a, 37-43
  2. Psalm 118:1-2, 16-17, 22-23
  3. Colossians 3:1-4 or 1 Corinthians 5:6b-8
  4. John 20:1-9
  5. See also John 20:11-18

What stands out to me from this week’s readings:

Peter refers to himself as one of the few people chosen in advance to be witnesses to all Jesus did in his earthly life and after His resurrection. These few witnesses have been given the responsibility and the grace to “bear witness that everyone who believes in [Christ] will receive forgiveness through his name” (Acts 10:43).

“‘[The Lord’s] mercy endures forever'” (Psalm 118:2-4).

There are two choices of epistle readings. The second option tells us to “clear out the old yeast… of malice and wickedness” and “celebrate the feast” … with the unleavened bread sincerity and truth (1 Cor. 5:7-8).

In the gospel passage we’re given for Easter Sunday, Mary of Magdala doesn’t yet understand that Jesus is risen. She tells the disciples, “They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we (the women who went to pay their respects at the tomb) or they put him” (John 20:2).

In response, Peter and another disciple run to the tomb, and the disciple who is not Peter gets there first, yet Peter goes into the tomb first. He sees the burial cloths but not the body of Jesus. We aren’t told much about what he makes of this discovery. We are told that the other disciple sees the burial cloths, which are apparently neatly set aside separately from each other, and believes. What the disciple believes we aren’t told. I find the question of what he believes even more perplexing because of the last sentence: “For they did not yet understand the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead” (John 20:9).

What I’m saying (about the readings and beyond) this week:

So if you’re wrestling with doubt and/or confusion this Easter, you’re in the company of more than one disciple.

If you’ve arrived at this Easter and are still clear[ing] out the old yeast of sins, habits and wounds, the second option for the epistle is a reminder that the journey to union with Christ and the members of his body is a lifelong one. It doesn’t end this Easter. Otherwise, we wouldn’t need the exhortation to “[c]lear out the old yeast” (1 Cor. 5:7).

If you’re bothered because the first reading refers to “witnesses chosen by God,” but the disciples in the Gospel passage for Easter Mass during the day don’t see the risen Lord, you’re not alone. I’m with you (Acts 10:41).

Now right after the Gospel excerpt for that Mass ends, Mary of Magdala does see and speak with Jesus, who is risen. The passage that describes this encounter is my favorite in the Bible. It’s more detailed than many passages. It’s easier with this passage than with many others to use my imagination to engage all five senses in the scene it describes. For me, it conveys confusion, grief, tenderness, and intimacy in a way that few other Gospel passages do. In the Gospel of John, it’s because of, or at least after, this encounter between Jesus and Mary Magdalene that other disciples become chosen witnesses of Christ’s resurrection. That’s why, although this encounter isn’t included in the lectionary until the Tuesday after Easter, I’ve linked to it at the top of this post. Several years ago, I also wrote this short story based on the passage.

What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:

Dr. Cynthia Bailey Manns offers her own celebration of Mary Magdalene’s love for Jesus. She powerfully conveys the importance of this love in salvation history. I was particularly inspired by her reflections on the ways Mary expresses this love in the days leading up to the resurrection.

This week’s prayer:

Lord, help us to live in ways that reflect that You live and are with us in every circumstance of our lives. May our lives bring this truth to all of creation. Amen.

Works cited:

“Tuesday in the Octave of Easter” — Lectionary: 42.” Daily Readings, Lectionary for Mass for Use in the Dioceses of the United States, Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, 2nd typical ed, United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2025, https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/042025.cfm.

“The Resurrection of the Lord: The Mass of Easter Day”— Lectionary: 262.” Daily Readings, Lectionary for Mass for Use in the Dioceses of the United States, Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, 2nd typical ed, United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2025, https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/042225.cfm.

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Lord, Love Me out of the Darkness of Exile

Posted in Lent, Reflections from Other Writers and Speakers, Reflections on Scripture, tagged , , , , , , , , on March 10, 2024| Leave a Comment »

Photo by I.am_nah on Unsplash

This week’s readings:

  1. 2 Chronicles 36:14–16, 19–23
  2. Psalm 137:1–2, 3, 4–5, 6
  3. Ephesians 2:4–10
  4. John 3:14–21

What this week’s readings say to me:

This week’s readings are about being in exile — far from home, the place where one belongs. The first reading and the psalm teach that God can work, even through those in exile — perhaps especially through the exiled, provided that those in exile don’t lose sight of who they are and where they come from. God works through those in exile precisely because while they hopefully can live in harmony with the people native to the place they now find themselves, they stand out. They can use their visibility to be examples of authenticity and charity. Humility is necessary for authenticity, and authenticity makes room for charity, which is service toward and cooperation with others.

The third reading teaches that we can be neither authentic nor humble if we’re under the illusion that anything we are or anything we do comes from us alone. Setting aside any environmental factors that contribute to who each of us is, none of us would exist without the combined DNA of other people, and none of the people who make up who we are would exist without God’s life giving, sustaining, and restoring love. All that is exists to magnify and to be a channel for that love.

Unfortunately, the magnifying glass or prism that each of us is meant to be gets clouded by things we get tricked into thinking are God. These idols block our ability to see God’s light, to feel its warmth, through and beyond them. Blockers of God’s light that come to my mind are fear, shame, anger, and envy.

This week’s Gospel reading reassures us that Jesus didn’t come into the world to condemn us for the very human experiences that I just listed. He came into the world to bear the weight of all our sins, our weaknesses and our pain, to surrender himself entirely to these, going so far as to engage with death itself so that He could neutralize its power and along with it, the power of every other human frailty. The key to experiencing that, as evidenced by His victory over death, He’s stronger than every idol is to hand over the imposters to His custody so they don’t take custody of us. This handing over is so much harder to do than the writing about it was. The imposters still feel powerful, no matter how many times we hear that God has rescued us from them. We let ourselves get trapped by them into believing we should hide from the light because we belong to the seemingly stronger darkness, and that we’ll be set adrift and alone if we come into the light’s embrace and expose the distortions darkness creates as the illusions they are.

What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:

Click here to find out how Ogechi Akalegebere sees connections between this week’s readings and the work of Thea Bowman.

Beyond this week’s readings:

It’s one thing to write about not hiding from the light and instead moving forward into its healing rays. It’s another matter to take the risk of coming out of hiding and to trust. One step toward allowing God to embrace me in my weakness and with all the I’m ashamed of is to bring what I’m tempted to hide to God in prayer. Doing this feels like coming to God and asking God to put a spotlight on me. In this situation, I may confront what I’d rather hide, even from myself. But I’ve also been known in times like this to be confused about what God wants me to bring to light. These tendencies are the reason why I need at least one other person to help me lift to God what I’d rather not acknowledge. The first three readings support my need for healing to have a relational component I can perceive with my physical senses.

And yet it’s so hard to seek this help, to put into words what fear warns me keep silent. After all, everyone else is imperfect too, and no one has the unlimited perspective of God. Will my frailty, my failings be understood if I share them? Will they be judged? Can I even put them into words? Will doing so ever bring me closer to spiritual wellness? After years of struggling in the same ways, believing I can be spiritually free and comfortable in the light is so difficult.

Nonetheless, “I do believe,” Lord, [H]elp my unbelief. (Mark 9-24). Help me not to carry burdens you are waiting to take from me. Grant me the grace to seek and to find refuge in Your light along with and in the sight of all your children. Amen.

Work cited

The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

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The Character and Source of Wisdom

Posted in Ordinary Time, Reflections from Other Writers and Speakers, Reflections on Scripture, tagged , , , , , on November 12, 2023| Leave a Comment »

Photo by Gadiel Lazcano on Unsplash

This week’s readings:

  1. Wisdom 6:12–16 
  2. Psalm 63:2, 3–4, 5–6, 7–8
  3. 1 Thessalonians 4:13–18
  4. Matthew 24:42a, 44

What this week’s readings say to me:

This week’s readings say to me that God’s wisdom, born of God’s unconditional, self-emptying love transcends gender, time, and even death. It’s alive, a guiding light and a relationship sought and found through alertness, preparation, perseverance and patience. It can’t be faked or borrowed and returned. It has to be kept and nurtured. The path to it cannot be rushed, and the process of encountering and journeying with it comes with a cost that’s worth paying to make it my own. Knowing and not knowing it affect my mind, body, and soul. Being open to it, living with it, and following words leads would make me the undistorted version of myself, while closing my mind, body, and soul to it would leave me lonely and unrecognizable to anyone acquainted with the best version of me.

What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:

Paula Rush explores what the symbolism of this week’s readings has to say. I found her perspective on the parable in the Gospel reading particularly refreshing and inspiring. I would say her reflection ends with a twist. Go to this page out to find out what her hope-filled perspective on the foolish virgin is.

Beyond this week’s readings:

Until the evening two days ago, I was traveling, and I got sick at both the beginning and the end of my trip. Then I came to my desk to work on this post yesterday. I didn’t feel like moving a muscle, and congestion meant talking to my dictation software wasn’t as comfortable as usual, not to mention that the software probably wouldn’t have understood me as well as it usually does. I set my timer, and when it went off, only the headings and the locations of the Scripture passages had been added to this post. I decided to spend the rest of the day catching up on shows I missed while I was gone and playing games on my phone. And when I got up this morning, I still felt like I had nothing to offer.

Then I let Hallow app guide me through an imaginative prayer session and a St. Jude novena centering around the feeding of the 5,000, a.k.a. the multiplication of loaves and fishes (Matt. 14:13-21; Mark 6:30-44; Luke 9:10-17; and John 6:1-15). When the apostles thought there was no way they had enough food to feed the crowd who had been listening to Jesus was so long, that’s when I realized I could relate, in a way.

As I write, I’m wrestling with doubts that anything I put in this post will feed you intellectually, spiritually, or emotionally. If something I’ve included here does resonate with you, I’d be interested to know what, if you’d like to share a comment.

But also as I write this after sitting with the readings, I’m reminded that it isn’t I who do the feeding. It’s God. I have only to desire God’s wisdom and to take one step at a time to prepare for and to receive its movement.

Come to me, Oil for my lamp, Wisdom of God. Give me the wisdom to recognize You so You can recognize in me the person I am in You. Amen.

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Where Can I Find God?

Posted in Easter, Reflections on Scripture, tagged , , , , , , , on April 23, 2023| 1 Comment »

Photo by Marek Piwnicki on Unsplash

The general answers that Luke 24: 13-35 is giving me are, “not where you expect” and “where you least expect.”

I relate to the pair of Jesus’ followers who come upon a stranger as they’re walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus, though when I first revisited the passage, I didn’t find their experience that relatable. Why wouldn’t I recognize Jesus if I’d spent every waking moment traveling with him for months or even years? Clearly, being unrecognizable and later returning to recognizability in an instant is something Jesus’ resurrected body can do that mine can’t do yet. So this story recounts a one-time event, a specific miraculous occasion that’s been handed down to me to teach me something. And in one sense, I suppose this initial interpretation is valid.

But I think another one is valid at the same time — because, in other ways, as I wrote before, I do relate to these deflated, despairing travelers. They’re lost, even though someone watching them would say they know exactly where they’re going—Emmaus, right? Yet they can’t really get what and where they want unless they are moving forward inside as well outside.

They’d come to believe that Jesus, as the Messiah, would lead them, their families, and the united tribes of Israel (what I might think of as their “country”) to external liberation.

But Jesus has been killed, and they feel no freer than they were before they heard him teach. In fact, their situation feels more precarious. Jesus has inflamed their hope only to fail them. Sometimes I think having hopes sparked and then having the sparks extinguished feels worse than never having had them ignited.

Before they end Jesus encountered each other, God had promised the Messiah to them, but God had not yet seemed to deliver on that promise. Hope founded on words is powerful but not as powerful as hope founded on experience. In the case of this pair, the experience on which their hope had been founded was the experience of journeying with Jesus. What experience would fuel more radiant hope than that one?

But now their bonfire of hope has been deluged. Only ashes are left of it. These are the ashes of grief, confusion, and despair. Heaped upon these ashes are boulders of fear because now, not only do they seem not to have a Messiah in their midst, but also, they’re in danger if they’re recognized as two of the people who followed Jesus, who has been executed as a traitor.

Now, I’ve never felt that I could be accused and executed for treason at any moment. However, I have plenty of experience with what heavy weights emotions can be. Too many times, my expectations and emotions prevent me from seeing the blessings that are right in front of me.

I think that’s part of what’s going on with the two people who walk with Jesus in this passage. Their expectations and emotions have led them only to be weighed down by the emptiness of the tomb rather than to recognize the confirmation and hope this particular emptiness offers them.

And their reaction is no wonder. When I think of an empty tomb, I think of having absolutely nothing left of someone I love. No one else’s report of an encounter with that person can fill the hole that the loss of that person leaves in my life. Talking or hearing about what and who you long for is not the same as what and whom you desire occupying physical space in your presence. It’s not the same as being able to touch who or what I long for, or more intimately, having it offered to me and receiving it into the empty space inside me.

Hearsay is not the same as an encounter. Neither is knowledge. I think that’s why, even after Jesus “interprets everything that refers to him in the Scriptures,” the traveling pair is still no nearer to understanding what recent events mean for them, and they still don’t recognize Jesus (Luke 24: 27).

Jesus knows what the pair needs to be able to recognize that he has been restored to life and can fill their emptiness. But he won’t impose what they long for upon them against their will. He “[gives] the impression that he [is] going farther” (Luke 24:28). He stays with them, breaks bread with them only after they invite an apparent stranger to join them. Then, it’s in the concrete action of breaking bread, blessing it, and giving it to them, even as they share what they have with him, that they recognize him and are in touch with how their hearts were set on fire “while he spoke to [them] and opened the Scriptures to [them]” (24:30-31).

God is working to fill their emptiness before they realize what’s going on. They realize how God is working in them through Jesus only after that work is shared among the group of three in a tangible way. They realize it only after they enter into a concrete offering of thanksgiving to God. They realize it only when they receive the Eucharist. In fact, “The term “Eucharist” originates from the Greek word eucharistia, meaning thanksgiving.”

This is a story to remind us that Jesus offers himself — God — tangibly to me and to you through creation, especially under the appearances of bread and wine as we gather with our needs and our gratitude. This story also reminds us that unless we have space within and around us for God, and we have gratitude for the ways God is already filling our emptiness, emptiness will only feel like lack and loss instead of the vessel for gifts that it can be.

Creator, Sanctifier, and Redeemer, help me to keep an open mind about Your plans. Help me to trust that I can see You at work everywhere so that I will see You at work everywhere. Help me to have and to express gratitude for Your work within and around me.. Amen

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm

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A Story That Challenges and Consoles

Posted in Reflections on Scripture, tagged , , , , , on November 5, 2022| Leave a Comment »

Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash

But you have mercy on all, because you can do all things;
and you overlook people’s sins that they may repent.
For you love all things that are
and loathe nothing that you have made;
. . . . [y]our imperishable spirit is in all things!

Wisdom 11:23-26 and 12:1

I’m starting with these verses because it would be helpful to me if they were permanently engraved into my mind. If your Bible doesn’t include the book called Wisdom, look it up. It’s an offering of poetically presented but practical advice and encouragement, just like Psalms, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes are.

These verses are part of the Old Testament readings for October 30, and for good reason, it seems to me. Why? Because the New Testament reading for that day, Luke 19:1-10, tells the story of Zacchaeus and his neighbors. It’s a story that, for me, inspires a lot of questions. It says Zacchaeus was “seeking to see who Jesus was,” not that he wanted to listen to Jesus or talk to Jesus or even see what Jesus looked like. No, he wanted “to see who Jesus was” (Luke 19:3). [italics mine]. This says to me that he was curious about Jesus’ character and identity. Why does he think he can find what he seeks using nothing more than his eyes?

Well, Wisdom 12:1 tells me it’s not just his physical eyes that are at work. More is already going on here than meets the physical eye. That “imperishable spirit that is “in all things” is already at work in him. Maybe he knows it. I imagine he longs for the days when he was a valued and respected member of the community. I imagine he longs for the days when he didn’t see his reflection in a puddle and find looking back at him a man dressed in finery he had obtained by not sharing with his less fortunate neighbors, by extorting his them even, and in doing so, by betraying the call and community he had received as “a descendent of Abraham” (Luke 19:8-9).

I wondered what had caused the behavior that cut him off from his people. I began my quest for possible answers by looking “extort” on m-w.com and found it defined as “to obtain from a person by force, intimidation, or undue or illegal power.” I wonder why he got started down unjust paths. Maybe he was just prone to greed and selfishness. Or maybe as he was growing up, his family barely had enough to survive. Maybe he had felt powerless and as he came of age, greed and selfishness were the shields he put up to protect himself from the fear of repeating the struggles in his past. Maybe Roman authorities were extorting him, requiring him to meet certain quotas to protect himself and to be able to continue protecting and providing for his family. Regardless of why he had become the person he had become, I get the feeling that giving “half of [his] possessions… to the poor and paying back “four times over” anyone he has extorted would cost him more than material goods (Luke 19:8).

If Zacchaeus keeps his promises, he’ll have to face people he has badly hurt — probably not just in ways that affected them in the short term. He may have to face that he has made others suffer in ways that still others once made him suffer. Facing such a reality would reopen old wounds as would giving away the possessions he may have used to help himself feel secure. And these costs don’t take into account that Roman authorities may not appreciate his generosity. Their lack of appreciation could bring another level of hardship — or worse—to him and his family.

Perhaps the Roman authorities would bear appraising if they didn’t allow Zacchaeus to keep his promises of reparation and so they wouldn’t punish him. But I have my doubts. I remember the decisions I’ve read that authorities made during Jesus’s final pilgrimage to Jerusalem. If I had cost like these and the material ones Zacchaeus has promised to pay on my horizon, I have a hard time believing I’d have the faith to follow through. As I write this, however, I pray for that kind of faith. Faith aside, maybe Zacchaeus’ own fear the crowds and what they could accomplish will encourage him to keep his promises. The Lord works in all kinds of ways.

Maybe when Zacchaeus keeps his promises, his neighbors will forgive his unjust behavior toward them. But I bet the forgiveness will take time, and the time between fulfillment of the promise and the forgiveness will be difficult. Who knows what the people have lost as a result of Zacchaeus’ actions that cannot be paid back. Poverty has many ways of taking lives.

I imagine that some of the people in Jericho that day may have hoped Jesus would provide them relief from their poverty — for example, by healing a sick or injured family member so that person could return to contributing to the well-being of the family. And I imagine that while Jesus was in their midst he did work miracles. Yet other Gospel stories suggest not everyone who clambered after Jesus received what they had hoped to. When I consider this likelihood and that Jesus spent part of his time in Jericho having dinner with a person who contributed to the suffering of people who sought Jesus’s help and guidance, the Lord’s invitation to himself is challenging as much as consoling. I empathize with the people who call Zacchaeus out as a sinner.

Then there’s the reason I do find the story consoling. The narrative doesn’t tell me whether Zacchaeus kept his promises. Jesus announces that he’s coming to dinner at the tax collectors house before the promises are fulfilled. Now that’s mercy. That’s “overlook[ing] people’s sins so they may repent [italics mine] (Wis. 11:23). Jesus seems to know that Zacchaeus is going to keep his promises (Luke 19:9). I imagine that Jesus wants to reassure the crowd and Zacchaeus of this. Moving forward in time, I also heard somewhere — where I don’t remember — my apologies if you are the source — that names are mentioned in the Gospels when a person was known in the Christian community at the time the gospel was written. That says something about how things might have turned out for Zacchaeus. But as I go back to experiencing Luke’s story of Zacchaeus as if it currently unfolding, the message I get is this: Jesus knows — and wants to remind us and the extorted crowd — that Zacchaeus, like all the rest of us, needs to know that, no matter what a person has done, God wants his or her company. Zacchaeus needs to know God’s unconditional love before he can give it back to God and share it with the people around him. All of us need the same.

Work cited

The Bible. The New American Bible, Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc., 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.174, Universalis Publishing Ltd.,7 Oct. 2022, https://universalis.com/.

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Defending Against Discouragement

Posted in Reflections on Scripture, tagged , , , , on October 19, 2022| Leave a Comment »

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

The Old Testament and New Testament readings from this weekend offer reassurance for those times when we face helplessness, hostility, injustice, despair, and discouragement.

In Exodus 17:8-13, Moses, by himself, can’t send the army attacking his people into retreat. He can pray, but even that gets hard to do without stopping. That’s why God works through relationships, so others can support us when the balloons of our faith, which are inflated with persistence, deflate. In Exodus 17:12-13, support takes the form of Aaron and Hur holding up Moses’ arms whenever they grow fatigued from being extended in prayer.

The next time I’m the person whose balloon of faith is deflated, I’ll take comfort in Luke 18:1-8. It tells me that just making a habit of talking to God will open me to closer union with God, to doing God’s will, and to receiving God’s gifts. Even when the balloon of with my faith is no larger than a mustard seed, when my faith is more about being consistent than about growing in love, it has the power to shape me for the better, little by little, like a creek carving a canyon. Even when my faith is far from bottomless and my love far from unselfish, both virtues can sculpt me into my best self. They’ll grow in me — as long as I don’t give up on them.

Work cited

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

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Faith Goes Beyond Obedience and Certainty

Posted in Reflections on Scripture, tagged , , , on October 6, 2022| Leave a Comment »

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

“The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith.” The Lord replied, “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.

Luke 17:5-6

This weekend, when I heard Luke 17:5-10, I found myself imagining the apostles second-guessing their decisions to drop whatever they had been doing and follow Jesus. They’d seen healings and heard a Divine voice, but they were also still seeing so much injustice and suffering. Wasn’t the Messiah supposed to end injustice and bring peace — for all people of goodwill? I imagined the apostles weren’t just seeing suffering. They were feeling it. Maybe the day they made the plea recounted in verse 5, their body aches and dry skin were demanding their attention more than usual. Maybe they missed their families, too. It had been a while since they’d feasted and toasted any newlyweds. I heard their request as being akin to saying to Jesus, “We’re running on empty. We need to refuel, spiritually. And fast. What’s the best way to do that?”

“Who among you would say to your servant who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here immediately and take your place at table’? Would he not rather say to him, ‘Prepare something for me to eat. Put on your apron and wait on me while I eat and drink. You may eat and drink when I am finished’? Is he grateful to that servant because he did what was commanded? So should it be with you. When you have done all you have been commanded, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do.’”

Luke 17:7-10

The reason I put the apostles’ plea in this context is the rest of the reading. Remember, it doesn’t end with Jesus’ reassurance about the power of a tiny seed of faith. What comes after the well-known images of the mustard seed and the mulberry tree is a parable about an “unprofitable servant” (Luke 17:10). Was this servant disobedient? No. He merely did only what was required of him (17:10). Because he doesn’t exceed the minimum requirements of being a servant, he’s unprofitable. Maybe another way to understand what makes him unprofitable would be to say that he follows the letter of what’s asked of him, but not the spirit. He obeys the master but doesn’t love him the way God loves him. He doesn’t treat the master like a beloved family member. (Of course, a human employer would be called to treat his employee the same way; faith trusts that God does that). Faith also doesn’t expect an immediate reward and is open to rewards taking different forms than expected. In other words, humility, perseverance, generosity, and patience are essential characteristics of faith.

Now, everything I’ve written in this post so far is inspired by my initial reactions while hearing the Gospel reading this weekend. Once I heard the homily, it became apparent that I wasn’t the only one this weekend to use this reading as a reflection—not just on the power of faith, but also on what faith is. The homilist spoke about what faith is, too. He said, “Faith is a gift from God and a response to that gift.” He went on to share three stories. One was about a mother diagnosed with cancer being confident that God would use her diagnosis for some greater purpose and being curious about what that use would look like. Another story was about a nun diagnosed with cancer who surprised the doctor because she didn’t look unhappy about the diagnosis. “Either way, I win,” the priest quoted the nun as saying. “Of course I’ll take the treatment.” If it worked, she’d gone serving God here on earth. And if it didn’t, she had faith that she would come to rest in the fullness of God’s presence. These were the second and third stories the priest told. The first was about St. Maximilian Kolbe, about whose life and martyrdom you can read here.

Only in the case of St. Maximilian Kolbe did the homilist reveal the outcome — at least the earthly one. These stories are reminders that faith doesn’t guarantee an easy journey. It doesn’t mean being certain about how this or that development is going to turn out. It means accepting our crosses, and not only that, according to the parable that makes up the second part of the Gospel reading for this Sunday. Faith means embracing crosses—not in the sense that we have to pretend that we like them—but in the sense that we trust they have meaning, and without knowing what that meaning is, we trust that God doesn’t want us to carry burdens in vain or alone. After all, God sent Jesus to carry our crosses with us and to keep them from destroying our souls. Furthermore, we can be the ones who turn our crosses into ways to serve the common good. We can help others to carry and to find purpose in their crosses.

I, for one, have a lifelong history of not embracing many of the crosses in my life. But I take comfort in the fact that every moment is a new opportunity to practice the faith I wrestled with in this post. Lord, help me. Amen.

Work cited

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

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What if the Prodigal Son’s Father Isn’t God?

Posted in Reflections on Scripture, tagged , , , on September 14, 2022| Leave a Comment »

Photo by Santiago Lacarta on Unsplash

Hi! I won’t have much time to devote to this blog for the next couple weeks. In the meantime, I’ll be sharing the reflections of others. I hope you find this reflection about the Parable of the Prodigal Son to be insightful.

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Be Undaunted by the Narrow Doorway

Posted in Reflections on Scripture, tagged , , , , on August 25, 2022| Leave a Comment »

Photo by Egor Myznik on Unsplash

Someone asked him, “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” He answered them, “Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough. After the master of the house has arisen and locked the door, then will you stand outside knocking and saying, ‘Lord, open the door for us.’ He will say to you in reply, ‘I do not know where you are from.’ And you will say, ‘We ate and drank in your company and you taught in our streets.’ Then he will say to you, ‘I do not know where you are from. Depart from me, all you evildoers!’

Luke 13:23-27

“All I can think about are the ways I don’t feel strong enough to enter.”

“I know,” Jesus replied in my mind. “That’s why you needed me to be born, to bear the weight of human existence, weakness and sin. That’s why you needed me not only to bear the burdens of being human for 30 years or so, but also to bear the consequences of all sin in a way no other person could. I had to bear it all, so none of it would have the final say in your life if you let me bear it with you. My bearing it all and letting it kill me briefly made it so that weakness and sin will only kill you if you hold onto it instead of giving it to me. Don’t hold onto burdens I have already lifted, and if it’s our Father’s will that you carry a weight for a while, don’t believe the lie that you have to carry it alone. Don’t give up when you fall under the heaviness. Not giving up is what it means to strive. That’s why I said to ‘strive to enter the narrow gate’ (Luke 13: 24). The keyword is ‘strive.'”

“But you said ‘many will not be strong enough’ to enter (Luke 13:24).

“It takes a lot of strength to maintain hope — assurance that Good has had the final victory over Evil — in the midst of suffering. It takes a lot of strength not to try to save face, to practice the humility of sharing your burdens, and/or to make the sacrifice of admitting you’ve been wrong and done wrong. And the more you fall into the traps of pride, the easier it is to believe the lie that you always will. It takes a lot of strength to let go of the illusion that it’s best for you to control everything in your life. It takes a lot of strength to keep hoping and striving in the face of life’s uncertainty and its obstacles. You know all this as well as I do.”

“Yes, I do know. I also know I don’t have the strength for any of that.”

“Come to me, and you will,” he said. “Trust that I’ve given you the strength, and when your trust wavers, keep daring to trust again. Keep seeking me, and you’ll find me” (Matt. 11-28-30; 7:7).

“If that’s true,” I asked, “Why does the Master lock the door in the parable? Weren’t the people he locked the door against seeking him?”

“Had they striven to do as the master does?” he asked. “Did they act on what he taught in their streets, or did they only hear the sound of him teaching? Did they ever have a one-on-one conversation with him, or did they hide in the crowd, like a movie extra? Did hiding feel safer than greeting the host, or were they simply content to linger in sight of the house rather than crossing its threshold while the door was open? Did they greet the host when they accepted the food he offered? Did they receive his offerings? Did they have gratitude? Did they open themselves up to him, and did they allow him to open himself up to them?”

He continued, “Who doesn’t want to protect the peace of his or her household from disturbance and from strangers who might harm the household? Who wants to let in someone he or she doesn’t recognize, especially when it’s dark and hard to see who or what the stranger has with them? Who wants to let in a stranger who seems to want the master’s help, but might want to use gaining entry to harm the master and his loved ones?”

This master knows the intentions of all who knock on his door,” he reminded me. “This master knows who and what they’ve brought with them, and he knows whether they are prepared to leave outside anything he doesn’t want to in his house. He knows whether they are ready to make peace with him and work with him for the good of his household. If they aren’t, they aren’t ready to enter it, which is not to say they can get ready by themselves. As I said before, it takes strength to surrender to purification, the purification that’s necessary to embrace and to be fully embraced by Presence and Loving Relationship (“The Pain of Disconnection”; “Images of the Trinity”). I look out for for myself and for the good of my family and all that belongs to me. I think even someone with more limited knowledge and resources will usually do the same.”

“I think so too.”

Works consulted

The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.

Rohr, Richard. “Images of the Trinity,” Center for Action and Contemplation, 12 Jan. 2022, https://cac.org/daily-meditations/images-of-the-trinity-2022-01-12/. Accessed 25 Aug. 2022.

—. Rohr, Rohr. “The Pain of Disconnection,” Center for Action and Contemplation, 11 Jan. 2022, https://cac.org/daily-meditations/the-pain-of-disconnection-2022-01-11/, Accessed 25 Aug. 2022

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