“He wears shorts, a fleece, socks and sandals, almost ready to change with whatever the elements will bring. He bends down to show us something in between the rocks. It’s an everlasting daisy. As I listen, I touch the underside of moss so soft it feels like a pillow of fairies.”
“The powerlessness is a gateway. Self-emptying for the sake of love is a gateway. It is Christ’s gateway. The gentle letting go of everything – the spilling of pain, of life itself – for love – we’re called to do it in just the same way as he did. We’re called to do it for love.”
“This Palm Sunday, let us see if we are laying blame in the right places. Just as we are asked to reflect and converse with each other about our differences and how we can live together with respect, peace, and love of neighbors, let us stop and remember that painting with broad brushes when it comes to guilt or accusation is not what Jesus taught or expects us to do. May we view each other with charity, not hatred.”
“I can no longer “tsk-tsk” the Psalmist
This time around…
Because he’s me…
And I have to live with the fact
That from time to time
I’ve been just as raw and audacious with God.”
“How many times have I read those words and not remembered the next phrase that follows? Jesus, undergoing one of the most cruel tortures a mind can devise, is not merely announcing his death. He is also expressing his absolute trust in God. ‘Into your hands I commend my spirit, for you have redeemed me, O LORD, O God of truth.'”
(An invitation to the observance of Holy Week) Do not rush to Easter You may stumble over someone slowly carrying their cross, might miss the
“Dear God
I’m here
and ready to start
something new
fresh and exciting …”
“Christ in the midst of his suffering looks strangely serene. He himself is a portal to a whole new way of looking at things. It isn’t some glorious heaven full of adoring angels and sycophantic saints – which would be more of the same ol’ same ol’. It’s something else, a new reality, a new way of understanding.”
“The more I look at the picture of the little plant, the more I remember, like the smell of the salt water, the gentle breeze, the bright blue water reflecting the cloudless blue sky, the crunch of sand under my feet, and the warmth of the sun. I remember the companionship of my friend and our mutual enjoyment of being together as we listened to the waves breaking gently onto the shore.”
“The worried, struggling Jesus of Lent, is one to whom we can relate, especially now. Like Jesus in Gethsemane, we pray for an end to ever-mutating covid and avoidance of war on an unprecedented scale — requests which may be unfulfilled.”