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:
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.
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).
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:
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.
In the first reading, the people in the temple don’t seem encouraged by hearing God’s law. They seem in awe of it. They seem to accept that it’s trustworthy, that it’s wise to obey it. At the same time, they seem bowed down by it. They seem to focus on how they fall short of fulfilling it. But Ezra, Nehemiah, and the Levites tell them, ““Today is holy to the LORD your God. Do not be sad, and do not weep” (Neh. 8:10).
The psalm reinforces that the law of the Lord “is trustworthy,” “refresh[es] the soul ” and is cause for “rejoicing” (Psalm 19: 8-9). The Lord’s words “are spirit and life” (John 6:63).
The epistle presents God as a life giver through the Spirit. The passage also highlights the human tendency to focus on the gifts we lack rather than the ones we have.
This focus affects how the people see who’ve grown up with Jesus see Him. The reaction of the listeners isn’t included in this week’s passage, but when I read past this week’s excerpt, I see that they say the following about what Jesus reads and says:
“. . . all spoke highly of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They also asked, ‘Isn’t this the son of Joseph?'”
Luke 4:22
They can’t envision this son of Joseph, who trained to work with his hands, bringing “glad tidings to the poor,” “sight to the blind,” and “liberty to the captives” (Luke 4:18). Perhaps behind their questions is not only that Jesus isn’t prepared for the mission he tells them he’s on. Maybe the townspeople also remember that he was born too soon after Mary and Joseph’s marriage. Their vision of who Jesus is limited by their preconceived notions and biases.
What I’m saying (to the readings and beyond) this week:
Often, I don’t experience the law of the Lord as “refreshing” to the soul (P Psalm 8). l feel smug and indignant when I think of God’s commands and perceive myself as the one whose been wronged. I sometimes feel constrained when I’m tempted to do something that might not refresh my soul or someone else’s, something that could make my reflection less like God’s.
As I reflect on this reality of my experience, I think about what might change my feelings about God’s commandments. I remember something I once heard a priest say in a homily. I’ll paraphrase what he said like this: rephrase the commandments as statements about what we should do.
I don’t remember how he rephrased them, so I’m going to do that in my own words as follows:
Remember that the material world is passing away; hold onto and prioritize what isn’t.
Remember that you didn’t get where you are alone. Give back those who have given to you.
Recognize that a holy and healthy life is one with a routine that balances work and rest, activity and contemplation. Celebrate the resurrection and its message for all of us. Recognize that we all need community. When one of us suffers, we all suffer. This happens whether we realize it or not. When one of our community members is absent, we are all affected, whether we realize it or not. Live as if you know you are made to belong.
Take care of the life you’ve been given, and take care of the lives of those around you.
Make commitments and enjoy the security and stability of honoring them.
Be mindful of what you have. Be happy with others for what they have.
Respect others and what belongs to them.
Tell the truth with love.
As I read this week’s epistle, I see it can celebrate the beauty of differences. It can teach that the Spirit makes individuals members of Christ’s body. It teaches that these members are indispensable to the function of Christ’s body, no matter how different the gifts of one member may be from another member’s. It can be used as an antidote against envy and resentment.
Still, I can’t help but think how it can be used to justify never speaking out against inequities, never considering change to be necessary. It could be used to justify rigid social structures. It could be used to justify unjust discrimination and the perpetuation of stereotypes. It could be used to confirm biases and preconceived notions. “What? You don’t feel your voice is being heard, I can hear someone with more authority and/or education asking someone with less. What? You don’t feel seen? You don’t feel your gifts are being appreciated to the fullest?” Don’t worry. Jesus uses them fully even if you don’t feel like the Church, or your work, or your family, or the organization you volunteer with does. You’ll know this someday. You’re important to your communities even though you don’t and can’t have high-profile roles in them. Your communities need you to do work their leaders aren’t doing while they’re busy doing other, more visible, things. You’re essential. Be content and at peace with this. “
I think to myself, “What if Jesus had believed He couldn’t fulfill his mission because of who Joseph was? What if Jesus had thought the fact that Joseph was a carpenter meant that the Spirit wasn’t calling Him to His ministry?
Let’s not underestimate the value of contributions that go unnoticed. Let’s look more closely, deeper, for the gifts in ourselves and those around us. Let’s respect the Spirit’s freedom of movement in us and around us.
What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:
Lord help us to see in ourselves the gifts that others may or may not see in us. Help us to be open-minded and creative in how we use the gifts You give to care for Your creation. Help us to trust that when our gifts are employed by cooperate with Your spirit, they will accomplish what You had in mind when You gave them to us. Help us to experience Your commandments as gifts to us. Amen.
What stands out to me from this week’s readings is a theme of gathering together.
The first reading describes the Messiah coming from
Bethlehem-Ephrathah,
too small to be among the clans of Judah . . . .
and yet the passage says of "one who is to be ruler in Israel":
". . . the rest of his kindred shall return
to the children of Israel.
He shall stand firm and shepherd his flock . . .
and they shall remain, for now his greatness
shall reach to the ends of the earth;
he shall be peace. (Micah 5:1-4)
The passage strikes me as a movement from the individual to the society, from the seemingly insignificant to the infinite. We read about the Messiah first and the flock second, but the movement of the passage is really in the other direction. The passage predicts the Messiah drawing all people to himself.
While the Old Testament reading strikes me as being about how the people will move toward God, the psalm strikes me as asking God to move toward the people. It asks God to protect and to save the people.
The epistle says that Christ is the fulfillment of what the Old Testament reading and the psalm foretell and ask for.
In the gospel passage, we read about Mary and Elizabeth being gathered together. God draws Mary to visit Elizabeth, and Elizabeth is drawn to the sound of Mary’s voice, as is John. Why? Because Mary brings Christ to Elizabeth and John.
What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:
What I’m saying (to the readings and beyond) this week:
For we are a people of the incarnation, we believe that Christ is within all of us, including you. How do you long to express it?
Sarah Simmons, CSJ
This question is delightfully attention grabbing for me. I would have expected a similar question to ask what I should do, what the Holy Spirit is prompting me to do? But how do I long to express Christ within me? That feels like a different question with a different answer. Longing to express something is a different experience than being expected to express something. Both experiences feel familiar. And how authentic is the expression of something that I’m saying because I’m expected to. Am I expressing what I am only because I think I’m expected to? What is my answer to the question that was actually the end of the reflection?
I long to express the incarnation of Christ within me by helping to create spaces where people feel safe. In these spaces, they can be honest with themselves and each other. This honesty happens because they recognize the many ways their experiences and desires overlap.
I believe the way a space is arranged and decorated can allow experiences of safety and connection. This belief is why many forms of design and decorating interest me. I also believe that how stories —both fictional and nonfictional ones — are told is crucial. They are key vehicles for creating spaces that allow room for growth and connection.
I’m always longing to share my own story more fully and more effectively, and to help others share theirs. It’s my experience that the storytelling journey is never a linear one, and it requires cooperation and vulnerability. It requires wrestling with what to hold on to and what to let go of. It invites a person to ponder when to take advice and when to follow God’s voice within. It involves gathering people together. It also celebrates the uniqueness of every person. Participating in stories is an intimate activity. It takes members of crowds who may start as strangers and builds relationships between them.
This week’s prayer:
Lord, work through us so that we draw each other to You. Help us recognize Your presence within us and in each other. May we recognize the people around us bringing You to us. Thank You, Lord, for our fellow Christ-carriers. Gather us together. Lead us on the path to peace both within and around us. Amen
The first reading for December 1st foretells the arrival of the long-promised Messiah. The passage from Jeremiah promises that the Messiah will “do what is right and just” (Jer. 33:15). People who trust Him and follow Him will be able to live in safety and security.
The psalm for December 1st recognizes that God has the qualities described in the first reading. It also describes how those who trust God and follow God reflect those same qualities.
The epistle urges readers and listeners to treat each other with charity, as they have been taught to do. It calls us to be more and more vigilant in looking for opportunities to act with charity.
In the gospel passage, Jesus foretells that there will come a time when the world as we know it will be “shaken” (Luke 21:26). He says the events of this time will cause people to “die of fright” (Luke 21:26). But, he says, this doesn’t need to be the fate of His disciples. He teaches them that when they find themselves in the midst of disturbing events, He is near. “[R]edemption is at hand” (Luke 21:28). He says His spiritual family members will be prepared to receive this redemption if they keep returning to His teachings. They must also return to His example whenever life’s distractions, whether pleasant or worrisome, tempt them to lose sight of His Way. He reminds them that prayer is the source of focus and strength in the face of temptations and trials.
For me, the Old Testament reading for December 8th paints a beautiful word picture of the effect God’s salvation and the arrival of the Messiah will have on God’s people. Like the previous week’s Old Testament passage, the one chosen for December 8th is written in future tense.
The psalm selection for December 8th, in contrast, is written in past tense. The first two stanzas would fittingly describe the people’s reaction to the events foretold in the Old Testament reading. There is “laughter” and “rejoicing” (Psalm 126:2). People who trust in God will be lifted up, and everything will be made right. The visibility of the people’s joy gives glory to God, even among those who do not know the God of Israel, as well as the peoples who have been comforted, cared for, and freed by God. The third and fourth stanzas ask for God’s continued care. The narrator trusts that even in difficult circumstances, when he can’t see the fruits of his faith, it will, nonetheless, bear fruit.
In the epistle for December 8th, St. Paul writes to the Philippians about the content of his prayer. He writes about expressing joy in his prayer. His joy comes from the work the Philippians do with him for the sake of the gospel. He describes the affection he has for the recipients of this letter. He conveys that he experiences them not only as coworkers, but as as friends and family members brought together by Christ’s love. He assures them that God, who began the work of salvation in them will continue it and complete it. He prays that they continue to grow in “knowledge… perception” and “discern[ment]… the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God” (Phil. 1:9-11).
The Gospel passage for December 8 echoes the message of the Old Testament passage for the day and prepares to point to Jesus Christ as the fulfillment of the promises of both passages.
Combined, the message of the readings for these two weeks is that justice and security are coming. Don’t give up on this promise. Insist on believing that it’s possible with God. Keep looking for it — no matter how long it takes for you to see its fulfillment. While you cling to this promise, make room for each other. Make room for joy.
What I’m saying (to the readings and beyond) this week:
I feel called to more stillness and fewer words this Advent. I desire more focus, more intimacy with God — maybe more spontaneity with God.
So starting next week, I plan to focus on one passage. I may even concentrate on one word or phrase within the passage. The passage may even be one that’s not part of the Sunday readings. Maybe adjustments such as these will give me more time to sit with the divinely inspired words and to reflect on what they mean for me at the moment. Maybe this approach will allow me to do more listening to what God has to say to me. When I share what I hear, maybe you’ll be able to relate.
What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:
Colleen McCahill reflects on how, in the epistle for December 8th, St. Paul finds light in darkness. She also reflects on how Advent encourages us to seek light in times of darkness. It is a season that helps us do so.
This week’s prayer:
Lord, help me to seek and to find light amid the darkness that I experience around me and within me. Help me not to fear the brightness of the light but instead to let its fire shape me. Help me to follow the path it illuminates — the path of hope. Amen.
In last year’s post for the Solemnity of Christ the King, I wrote about the name of the solemnity. The name highlights how difficult it is for humans to describe who God is. Despite this difficulty, we try to use language to describe who God is. By its nature as a human creation, language is limited and imperfect. And yet we have no other means but language to describe Someone who is both omnipotent and personal both the ultimate leader and the ultimate servant at the same time. So we give God a name that we would give to a powerful human leader — king.
Phrases and individual words stand out to me as I read the readings for the solemnity this year. And yes, I’ve heard many of these words used to describe a king. Why? What does the dictionary say these words mean? What do their definitions tell us about us and about God?
The words that stand out to me from the Old Testament passage are “like a Son of man,” “Ancient One,” and “dominion” (Dan. 7:13-14). The passage prefigures Christ, and the translation “Son of Man” highlights what Christ shares with us — Human nature. “Ancient One” points to what separates Christ from other men — His divinity. The combination of the two natures within Him gives Him dominion over everything. Miriam–Webster.com defines “dominion” as “supreme authority.” What do the other passages say about how He exercises this authority? What does it look like?
The word that first stood out from the psalm is “majesty” (Psalm 93:1 Merriam-Webster.com defines majesty as “impressive stateliness dignity, or beauty.” Merriam-Webster.com defines stateliness as “marked by lofty or imposing dignity.” It defines dignity as “formal reserve or seriousness of manner, appearance, or language.” (And yet, books have been written about Jesus’ sense of humor as it is portrayed in the Gospels. Between Heaven and Mirth is one book that discusses the topic. It’s written by James Martin, SJ.)
Merriam-Webster.com defines dignity as also “the quality or state of being worthy, honored, or esteemed.” Additionally, the entry says dignity can mean “high rank, office, or position” or “a legal title of nobility or honor.” So majesty does carry associations with royalty, but it also carries associations with dignity and beauty. These are qualities each of us reflects in unique ways. Furthermore, in baptism, a person is anointed “[p]riest, [p]rophet, and [k]ing.” We use these titles to describe missions and ministries we share with Christ.
“Firm” and its synonyms also stand out to me from the psalm (93:2). God isn’t merciless and unyielding but does offer stability and is trustworthy.
The word that jumps out at me from the epistle is “firstborn”(Rev.1:5). It reminds me that God who is trustworthy and offers stability also offers constant renewal. God became one of us, suffered, and died to offer this stability and constant renewal. In His birth, His growth, His ministry, and His death, He showed us what we can become through Him. He offers us the gift of being reborn as priests, prophets, and kings.
The passage from Revelation recognizes Christ’s power and that that power has been shared with other human beings. It gives the power back to Christ willingly. The passage isn’t worded as if Christ has seized that power. Christ is Lord but doesn’t Lord over people.
Instead, He tells the truth and lives it. Nothing more, nothing less. He simply is who He has been, is and will be. It’s we who name things with our limited means. It is we who call Him king. The Gospel passage reinforces this message.
What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:
When Jesus says, “everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice,” I think he’s asking for more than simple obedience and piety. He’s inviting us to create spaces of true belonging by connecting through shared stories and experiences. I believe he’s calling us, not just to spread his message through words, but to embody and live out his teachings in our actions and relationships. To belong to the truth is to form genuine connections, where love, empathy, and understanding bring the Gospel message to life in a way that reaches others deeply and meaningfully.
What I’m saying (to the readings and beyond) this week:
Ms. Hastie says the above perspective “is best exemplified through the story of [her] adoption.” I encourage you to read more about that story here.
She concludes her reflection with these questions: What are your shared truths of belonging? And whom do you share them with?
Using Ms. Hastie’s examples as a guide, I’d say my “shared truths of belonging” are:
We all have lots of experiences with feeling like we don’t belong, with feeling rejected. Maybe many of us spend more time feeling like we don’t belong than that we do. Jesus did too.
We are all vulnerable, and this can be a difficult reality to come to terms with.
Each of us has different gifts and limitations. It’s helpful to recognize both.
Everything and everyone is interconnected, interdependent.
God loves everyone. Nothing anyone can do increases or decreases God’s love.
Whom do I share these truths with? You.
I considered not including this section in this post. Ms. Hastie’s concept of “shared truths of belonging” was difficult for me to reflect on. When I thought about this, I realized I spend much more time focusing on the ways I don’t belong. I spend less time considering the ways I do belong. I often feel like even my family is a collection of people with incompatible personalities and approaches to life. This perception bothers me. I have trouble letting my family members belong as they are. I pray to grow in the ability to be more accepting, and I would always appreciate your prayers.
I don’t think I’ll be posting on the readings for December 1. Or at least those readings won’t get their own post. I think I’ll make a combined post about the readings for December 1 and December 8. I’ll plan to post it before December 8.
We’ll see if the plan comes to fruition. It’s a busy time of year.
Between now and whenever I publish the next post, I want to focus on recognizing the “shared truths of belonging” in my life. I want to be present for others and for God.
I wish you and yours a happy Thanksgiving. This time of year can be one of joyful re-connection. I also recognize that it’s a very difficult time for so many people. My prayers are with you.
This week’s prayer:
Lord, Thank You for living, dying, and rising for us. Help us all to experience Your “shared truths of belonging.” Help us experience Your comfort and Your presence in times of loneliness and grief. Help us to work with Your graces to strengthen the bonds of the human family. Help us to see each other with Your eyes. Help us to build communities and societies that find their foundation in truth lived in love. Amen.
The first reading presents someone who trusts receives God’s guidance and doesn’t rebel against it. He goes where God’s Spirit prompts him to go, and he hasn’t “turned back” (New American Bible Isa. 50:5). He hasn’t “turned back” even though he’s treated the way Christ will be treated during his passion (New American Bible Isa. 50:5). He never wavers from the path God leads him on despite his being treated this way. Why? Because, as a newer translation of the same addition of the Bible says, “He who declares my innocence is near” (New American Bible Revised Edition, Isa. 50:8). So in this passage, God is the best defense attorney. God knows God’s own law better than the people who are wrongly accusing and abusing Isaiah. The case of the accusers has no foundation.
In the psalm, the narrator explains why he loves the Lord. He says he loves the Lord because the Lord has heard his cries for help. He was in danger of death. His spirit was threatened by other spirits that have rebelled against the Holy Spirit. God saw how vulnerable he was in the face of these forces and stopped them from causing him to stumble and from weeping in hopelessness (New American Bible Revised Edition, Psalm 116:8). As a result, [he] “shall walk before the Lord in the land of the living” (New American Bible Revised Edition, Psalm 116:9). According to a note in the New American Bible Revised Edition, “walk[ing] before the Lord in the land of the living” “probably refers to being present to God in the Temple” (Psalm 116:9; 116:9n). This explanation prompts me to ask the question: what can we do to be active in living with faith?
The first two verses of the Old Testament reading give one answer and the third reading, the epistle, develops that answer further, telling us that wanting others to have what they need doesn’t bring faith to life. It’s taking part in providing what others need that brings faith to life. Faith isn’t demonstrated by prayer alone. Prayer opens us to the guidance that helps us discern how best to respond to the needs around us. Whatever the needs are, God brought us into being to meet them, even in the face of extreme opposition, as is the case in the Old Testament passage.
None of us is alone and having been given this work to do. God has done this work first and has called prophets to take part in it. God has also taken on a human life and suffered for it.
We will struggle. and sometimes suffer when we imitate Him. Why? Because humans have a tendency to want to hold onto power by keeping it to themselves and using it for themselves. Christ’s power, on the other hand, comes from his willingness to share and to surrender it. If we trust that surrendering is the true source of power, we receive that power as well. We receive that life. Turning inward in fear and holding on tightly to what we have isn’t the source of life, the Gospel passage says. Being able to hold loosely to what we have because we trust in God is the source of life.
What I’m saying (to the readings and beyond) this week:
To the first reading I say that I wonder if it’s my experience that “God opens my ear” (New American Bible, Isa. 50-4c). Maybe God does but like a door, I close it again because when my spiritual ear is open, so many voices come in and none of them is perfect, and that includes my own, of course. So when I choose what voices to listen to when and I act accordingly, I’m not sure it’s God or everything less than God that I rebel against.
Because of this experience, I take comfort that Christ encountered both opposition and support from every corner. He didn’t encounter opposition or support from only one group or another that He seemed to belong to or not to belong to or that seemed to some of his contemporaries to have spiritual and/or temporal authority over Him.
It’s a challenge to internalize that God defends me and that “I am not disgraced” when I have trouble recognizing this (New American Bible Revised Edition, Isa. 50:7). It’s a challenge not to be controlled by fear and not to be held back by walls in my mind and the walls I want to build around me to protect myself.
As I reread the psalm excerpt, I see that it’s written from the perspective of someone who feels trapped — “helpless” even (New American Bible Revised Edition Psalm 116: 6). It’s God who saves this person when he cries out to God. This person alone can’t save his own life.
Reaching out to God in the midst of fear is the key to not letting the fear kill the soul. It’s a key that’s most difficult to take hold of in life’s most difficult times, but that’s why God became one of us and then allowed Himself to be killed. He took the worst parts of us onto Himself so that we could become our best selves, so that we could become more and more like Him. That’s why the name for Christ that resonates most deeply with me is “God with us” (New American Bible Revised Edition, Mat. 1:23).
What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:
Zulma Tellez reflects on Christ on the cross as a profound a profound expression of God with us.
This week’s prayer:
Lord, You have thrown me many spiritual life preservers, the greatest of which is Your sacrifice on the cross. Don’t let me close my spiritual ears to the sound of your voice. Instead, help me tear down any walls that fear has built in my mind and heart to keep me from reaching out to You and my neighbors. Amen.
I think I’ll use a very current term to distill what the first reading says to me this time. It’s about the importance of self-care. When the passage begins, it seems like Elijah is physically and spiritually depleted. He asks God to end his life because he’s “no better” than anyone who came before him. (1Kings 19:4). I imagine him thanking that realizing this must mean he’s failed at the mission God has given him. After all, how can someone who’s no better than anyone who came before him be an effective prophet?
The situation is a reminder that God is at work even when we’re depleted. Sometimes, we’re most open to God working within and around us precisely when we feel we have nothing left to give. If we turn to God at no other time, many of us do so when we can’t see anywhere else to turn. I acknowledge this truth of human experience not to say that God wants us to be depleted. The Old Testament passage gives evidence to the contrary.
God knows that we need food, drink, rest, and to feel cared about to do our work and to be whole. God usually doesn’t force what we need upon us. Instead, God offers it, and it’s up to us to receive it. It was up to Elijah to acknowledge to God that he felt defeated and depleted, to rest, and then to take the nourishment that God offered.
The psalm reinforces that God provides for those who are open to receiving what God offers and to doing God’s work. It also reinforces the role the speaker has in finding what he needs, but it does so in a different way than the Old Testament passage does. The speaker says, “I will bless the Lord at all times” (Psalm 34: 2).
I had a gut reaction to this line, especially because it’s the first one included in this week’s psalm reading. I thought, “I don’t, and I won’t because there’s a lot that happens in the world that doesn’t seem like the will of a loving God, and I don’t understand why God, who I choose to believe is love, would allow these things to happen.
Thankfully, because I believe God is love, I also believe that a lot of things that happen grieve God. And I believe that sharing my grief and anger at what happens around me built as much of a connection to God is giving praise for God’s providence does.
My gut reaction also begins to feel different when I read later in this week’s psalm excerpt that the speaker “sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears” (Psalm 34:5). Maybe having a record and so being able to remind himself of the ways the Lord “answered [him] and delivered [him] from all [his] fears is the reason [“God’s] praise shall be ever in [his] mouth” (Psalm 34: 2; 5).
It might be helpful to consider the ways each of us can keep a record of times we’ve felt we’ve had what we needed and were seen and heard. Keeping such a record in whatever way makes sense for each of us may give us strength in those times when we don’t feel we have what we need or when we don’t feel seen and heard.
Maybe keeping a record of those experiences of abundance and connection, of grace, will help us glorify the Holy Spirit rather than “griev[ing]” it (Eph. 4:30). Maybe this practice will help us avoid what the epistle is urging us to avoid and to embrace what the epistle is asking us to embrace. I find the excerpt’s message easy to hear but difficult to put into practice. Maybe keeping track of empowering memories is a way of experiencing God’s presence with us when we find ourselves in situations that feel less empowering.
In the Gospel passage, Jesus’ contemporaries are having trouble recognizing that He’s God in their midst and that learning from Him, imitating him, and taking His words to heart would feed them, giving them life, not only in that moment, but eternally. Listening to Him and receiving what He provides leads to God, and recognizing how God has guided and provided in the past makes God present among us in the current moment. It points to Christ.
What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:
When we are called on to make sacred sacrifices in order to ‘live in love’ – it is not our very self – our created self- that we are losing. It is the assumptions and projections of who we should be, the expectations and external pressures of others laid onto us by others.
Note: I won’t have much time for the blog for the next two or three weeks. Until I have more time to devote to Sitting with the Sacred, I’m planning on keeping this section brief, perhaps by pointing out an overall theme or lesson that stands out to me. So, what’s going to come to me this week?
On my first read-through of the readings for June 23, I noticed lots of imagery relating to stormy seas, the Lord having power over them, and as a result, people being kept safe amid destructive forces.
But the passage from 2 Corinthians doesn’t immediately seem to fit in with this theme. I’ve struggled to unpack it’s meaning, but I think the gist of its meaning is familiar: because Christ withheld nothing from us — not even His life so that he could conquer death and stop it from having the final say, we should withhold nothing from Him. We must instead ask for the grace not to see others only in terms of what is transitory, such as looks and abilities, or in terms of what they can do for us. All of these can and do change.
We are also being encouraged to ask for the grace not to view others in terms of the harm they’ve caused. Looks, abilities, what we can do for each other, and the ways we can hurt each other — none of these things remain as they are. They’re transformed by Christ’s resurrection. So are understandings of what it means to be saved and to die. I suppose that’s why, in the Gospel passage, Jesus is able to sleep while the apostles are terrified of drowning in the storm. He knows that neither the storm nor death have ultimate power over anyone in the boat. He and our free will have the ultimate power — because He and God are one, and it is God’s love that gives life and the freedom to receive God’s love or reject it.
It’s not trusting that love that brings about spiritual death. At one time or another, each of us will undergo physical death. But whenever we trust in God’s love and share it, we receive new life in our spirits.
This week’s prayer:
Lord, protect us as we face the literal and figurative storms of life on Earth. Thank You for being with us in the midst of the storms of all kinds that life sends our way. Help us to experience that storms don’t have the final say — no matter how much they hurt us. Help us to experience that it’s okay to have questions and be angry and afraid when they hurt us.
This week especially, we bring to prayer residents of coastal communities, seafarers, police, firefighters, healthcare workers, lifeguards, pastors, ministers, counselors, aid workers and many others who offer rescue in all its forms. Amen. We offer this prayer in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
The theme I’m getting from this week’s readings is that authentic, nurturing strength comes from God. Like last week’s passage from 2 Corinthians, this week’s Old Testament reading reminds me that nothing visible will remain as it is forever. The passage says branches of a cedar tree can break off and become shoots that will grow into a new tree able to shelter everything. A towering tree can also be struck down, a green tree can wither, and a withered tree can bear fruit. All of the above can happen because God allows it. The passage closes by reminding me that God keeps God’s word. God is trustworthy.
This week’s psalm excerpt begins with the following words:
It is good to give thanks to the LORD, to sing praise to your name, Most High, to proclaim your kindness at dawn and your faithfulness throughout the night.
Psalm 92:2-3
It says that those who are just will “flourish” (Psalm 92:13-14). It says those who have deep roots of faith in God will remain with God eternally. They’ll never cease to bear fruit. They can sway in high winds without breaking. They proclaim the perfect love of the Lord without hesitation.
The epistle, like the psalm, presents the ideal attitude and behavior of someone who places his or her trust in God. This person is “courageous,” always seeking to live the life God has called him or her to live with the help of the Holy Spirit (2 Cor. 5:8). He or she lives this way despite the struggles and obstacles involved in living this life and despite desiring to be free of these troubles and obstacles. Why? Because the person has faith that on the other side of death, he or she will reap what he or she has sown, “whether good or evil” (2 Cor. 5:10).
The Gospel reading uses a parable to remind me that I’ll reap what I sow. I find the way the Gospel passage shares this message to be more relatable and encouraging than the way the epistle teaches the same. The Gospel passage says to me that I don’t have to know every step of the path forward for the journey to be worth taking and to bear fruit. The smallest seed can grow into a tree that will serve so many good purposes. And God gave that seed the innate ability to grow when it’s cared for and to become so much more than it appears to be able to become.
What someone else is sharing about this week’s readings:
Kathleen O’Brien acknowledges that it’s natural for all of us to imagine the end results of processes we begin and journeys we set out on. At the same time, her reflection on this week’s readings uses the lifecycle of the mustard seed to invite us to recognize God’s presence in each stage of the process or journey. She encourages us not just to focus on imagining the end result we want but also to recognize that each stage is important for growth and contributes to the end result. Furthermore, she invites us to recognize that the end result may be different from what we had imagined, but differences don’t reduce the value of the result.
Beyond this week’s readings:
“. . . I want to . . . invite you to recall and reflect on something you have or are tending to. . . .Now, when you reflect here, what do those different stages in consistently tending to something look like for you? How did you feel when you first started your big project . . .? Maybe your feelings would swing from feeling confident and in control to then feeling inadequate and not enough. What were your imagined expectations of the end result?
When it comes to tending the current iteration of my novel manuscript, the first stage feels like knowing something no one else does yet. It’s an exciting experience because it’s the experience of starting something new. It’s a journey no one can get in the way of yet because no one else knows about it yet. What grows out of my seat of an idea can’t yet fall short of resonating with someone else the way it does with me. It’s good enough for me, and that’s all that matters. The seed feels safe cocooned in darkness.
In the second stage, the drafting stage, the seed of an idea struggles to break the surface of the soil, which in this case, means it struggles to transform from the dialogue-and-image snippets in my mind to sentences, paragraphs, and pages in my word processor, And I want so much for those pages to describe a coherent and satisfying series of events experienced by empathetic characters. This stage means relying on determination — faith by another name — in the face of frustration.
In the third stage, my seed will be exposed to the elements. The elements, in this, case will be the feedback of others and of editing software. The plant may be pruned. It will likely have more done to it than pruning. It will have branches removed from it. It may even be cut back to the point of being no more than a seedling again. It may need to be planted elsewhere and to grow into a different shape than the one my constantly shifting vision had of it as a mature plant.
Only a couple of my fictional plants have ever grown beyond their first exposure to the elements. None of my ideas for novels have ever grown beyond the third stage. I’ve felt overwhelmed by the feedback, the revision process it necessitated, and the time the process required of me. I couldn’t figure out how to make my seedlings for novels hardy enough to survive, let alone thrive. I couldn’t see how to manage their networks of roots that grew, seemingly, in every direction. Their sprawling root systems tripped readers and blocked their paths so that no one, not even I, could get close enough to benefit from what they might have had to offer.
This week’s prayer:
Lord, help me to trust that You are at work in both the consolations and desolations I experience on this journey of life. With the power and guidance of Your spirit, I can allow both joy and pain to bring me into union with You. I can become and do more than I imagine. Help me trust in Your vision and that You have a plan for achieving it, even though I can’t see the plan or the realization of it yet. I pray this prayer in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Sitting with the Sacred 