A Shepherd In The Field

Our Father, who art in heaven,     hallowed be thy Name,     thy kingdom come,     thy will be done,         on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. When the disciples asked Jesus how to pray, he taught those beautiful words. We say them in our liturgy, daily offices, and while we are in community with one another. Yet, how many times do we contemplate each of those words? More importantly, do we pray them from our hearts and then live them? Or, do they bounce off our hearts like raindrops on a windshield?   Four words seem at odds with our modern daily lives: "Thy will be done." We have been conditioned in a culture of independence and self-sufficiency. Submission to something other than self is anathema to our worldly ways. For many, the movement to the Holy One is theoretical rather than real. Yet, Jesus says these words in the Garden of Gethsemane, "thy will" it is spoken throughout the Gospels, the Acts of the Apostles, and in Pa

The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love. The Lord is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made. Psalm 145:8-9  “I can’t breathe.” Those words continue to ring in my ears. George Floyd, a child of God, was gasping for air, calling for his mother and pleading for his life. The truth is revolting. It is easy to turn away and ignore the horror as if it is someone else's problem. Yet, how can we not be horrified and grief-stricken when we believe that every person is created in God's image? How can I ignore the cries when we proclaim that every person on this earth is a beloved child of God?  This becomes all the more heart breaking when we consider there are thousands more wrongful deaths of our sisters and brothers that do not make the headlines. Racism is not solely a problem for people of color. It affects us all. If one member of the body suffers, all suffer together. More than just a personal prejudic

Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go. —Joshua 1:9 The Lord is with you wherever you go. It is moving to read of the complete and total faith of our ancestors. Moses died, and now the Lord speaks to Joshua.  Joshua may not have expected this, and yet he listens. Doubts and fears are calmed because Joshua trusts in the Lord and remembers the Lord is faithful. Now, he is to guide the people into a new life and destiny. These holy words that God speaks to Joshua are not simple encouragement, but a divine declaration of the truth. God is with us.  Joshua is then drenched by the waters of courage and strength, for he seeks God. It is often difficult for many of us in the 21st century to understand the depth of this faith and believe that God speaks today. Yet God’s truth is ever-present, and God is speaking to us in the moment. When we hear these words: “God is with us wherever we go.” Do we believe it? Do we f

Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. So Jesus asked the twelve, ‘Do you also wish to go away?’ Simon Peter answered him, ‘Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.’ John 6:66-69 During this time of physical isolation, we have become connected in ways many could not have imagined three months ago. Virtually, we have seen creative and innovative ways to maintain our deep desire for relationship. At the same time, this present virtual reality has allowed for the expression of our longings, desires, and opinions, especially when it comes to the church. Through social media, numerous exchanges speak of the need to “change the church, be innovative and not waste this opportunity.” Yes, the church must change. At the same time, many argue that “we must maintain the tradition of the church, and not sacrifice tradition simply for innovation.” Yes, we must

They were all struck with astonishment and began glorifying God; and they were filled with fear, saying, “We have seen remarkable things today.” Luke 5:26 I do not like surprises. Unless the surprise is desirable or something that I have predetermined to be in my best interest, and the operative words are “I” and my. Formulas, planning, and projections fit neatly into an orderly, static, and unchanging world. Surprises often deviate from a constant desire for clarity and certainty. Shortly after I moved to Pennsylvania, I was at a meeting, and one of those sudden and violent rainstorms moved through the area. After the storm had passed, I immediately set my GPS for home and thought I was on my way. No chance. While the GPS had calculated the designated route and time, it did not take into account the immediate storm nor the aftermath. I followed the route, and a downed tree was in the middle of the road. I turned around, and it recalculated, I headed in the new direction a

We are inundated by reports of pain, grief, and even hopelessness. This gloom seems to lurk and is exacerbated by social distancing and being shuttered in our home. As of now, we cannot control the virus, and we are helpless. The feeling is similar to when you walk down a dark and unfamiliar path. Each step is hesitant, you focus on your balance, and your eyes are continually adjusting and seeking the destination. It is unsettling, and you just want to find the way back to your own sense of security.   In praying over the feelings that many are encountering, one word has been covering my prayers, and it is resiliency. To be resilient is part of the narrative of our faith and our history. Think of Abraham and the questions. The gloom evident as the Israelites wandered in the desert.  Grief is intimately felt by the frightened and doubting disciples in an isolated room. In this week’s Gospel, we hear of that uneven path toward Emmaus, where Christ set our footing straight. The resil

Holy Saturday.   We wait.   We pray.  We wait. We mourn. We wait. We hope. The earth is still. Painting by James Jacques Tissot

Lord Show me your face today. The Jesuit Priest Anthony DeMello wrote: “Peace is only found in the yes.” This prayer has always redirected my need to plan and prepare. The peace that is found in the yes is a constant reminder to sit in the sacred present and focus on what is found in the holy moment. We cannot respond affirmatively if we do not take the time to stop and listen to the question. As we begin the Paschal Triduum, (the three days that begin with the liturgy on Maundy Thursday and closes with evening prayer on Easter Sunday), the need for being sacredly present takes on more profound meaning. During this time of physical distancing, each moment provides the opportunity to heighten our practice of presence. Being watchful to the Holy Mystery entering and unfolding into our lives at any given moment.  In the pre-pandemic world, we were accustomed to looking ahead. To accomplish and move on to the next project. While admirable, this path consumes our lives (it

I grow weary because of my groaning;  every night I drench my bed and flood my couch with tears. My eyes are wasted with grief  Psalm 6:6-7 Throughout the bible, we encounter the holy narrative of anxiety, frustration, lamentation, grief, and tears. At times they can be distant words, at a far off time felt by a character in an ancient story. Yet, there are moments in our life where we can actually feel their pain and understand their tears. I know that during this moment in time, I have felt the tears welling up deep inside my soul, waiting to be liberated.  Holy Week is an opportune time for us to fully embody the meaning and importance of tears. The Gospel passages leading up to Holy Week are filled with tears. The woman with the alabaster jar washes the feet of Jesus with tears. Jesus cries both at the tomb of Lazarus and over Jerusalem. The overwhelming sadness and anguish he suffers in the Garden soak his clothes with tears. We feel the pain of Peter’s tear

Each Saturday, we “share the peace.” Last week, we shared a song that holds special meaning. As we enter into Holy Week, let us share the peace through a photograph. It could be of a place, a saint, a church - it is up to you.  Perhaps explain why the picture represents your faith. The first image I would like to share is at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. People from all over the world bring their prayers, pain, dreams, tears, and gratitude and offer them to God.  They come together as a people in faith and hold their heart to the Holy One. The candles also represent the knowledge that the light shines on in the darkness, and the darkness will never overcome it.  The second image represents two essential components of my faith: Pilgrimage and desert monasticism. The worn and weathered cross is found in the high mountain desert at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo Mountain Range (Blood of Christ in Spanish). The cross is on the road to the Santuario of Chimayo

Each Friday, we “share the peace” with one another through the written word. Last week, our theme was poetry. This week I am borrowing from the Rev. Jarrett Kerbel, the Rector of St. Martin in the Fields in Philadelphia. He asked people to post a favorite verse of a  song. It is a beautiful idea. Share the peace by selecting your favorite verse from a religious, spiritual, gospel, or any song that speaks to your faith or has deep meaning to you. I picked two songs: The King of Love my Shepherd is. I could not select only one verse as two verses always speak to my heart: The King of love my Shepherd is, Whose goodness faileth never; I nothing lack if I am his And he is mine for ever. In death's dark vale I fear no ill With thee, dear Lord, beside me; Thy rod and staff my comfort still, Thy cross before to guide me. The second song that has special meaning is Tunnel by Third Day: You got your disappointments and sorrows You ought to share the weight of that load

“The Lord’s mercy endures forever.” Psalm 136 Go and learn what this means, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.  Matthew 9:13 “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful ...” Luke 6:36 When I wrote this letter to the diocese at the beginning of Lent, no one could have imagined the reality we are living in. Yet, mercy is timeless, love,  love is eternal, hope is real, and this time will pass. I would like to offer this letter once again and ask you to hold mercy, hope, and love in your hearts.   I also invite you to expand your prayers to include a prayer for the entire world. I have changed the numbered points listed below to adapt to our current situation.  Let us pray.  Mercy is powerful, transformative, hopeful, life-giving, and foundational to both the Old and New Testaments. Mercy is knowing that we are forgiven. Mercy speaks of God’s inexhaustible love for each one of us.  Mercy is demonstrated daily through our ac

“Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.’ When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink.” Luke 5:3-5 Despite his initial hesitations and protestations, Peter trusted Jesus, sailed to the deep and let down the nets.  The water stirred, the nets became heavy with fish. The nets began to sink into the water and tear.  Peter and his companions pulled and pulled, and they could not bring them up.  Peter looked around and spotted the other boat.  He called for help, and his partners rushed to his side.  Together, alongside one another, each person reached down and pulled.  I suspect that Jesus joined in the work.  The nets began to rise, and both boats were overflowing with the gifts from God.   Turn on the television, and you cannot help but be overwhelmed by the latest reports and predictions of

He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, ‘Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.’ Simon answered, ‘Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.’  Luke 5:3-5 Our meditations this week are based on Jesus’ instruction to Peter that he “put out to the deep” and our need to live fearless in Christ. Yesterday, we reflected on fear. How the unknown can inspire anxiety. How the crushing weight of our fears can overcome us when we are vulnerable, and cannot control events impacting our lives. It is essential to name our fears and place them in the compassionate, holy and wounded hands of our Savior. We place our fears, deepest hopes, and dreams into the hands of Jesus through prayer. When we pray, we connect mystically to the

“When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, ‘Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.’” Luke 5:4 When? When is the vaccine coming? When is it going to end? When I am going to see my family and friends? When can we come together? When will things be like they used to be? When? When? When? The unknown always produces anxiety and fear.  At our last convention, a time when we were all together, I asked that 2020 be the year of "Living fearlessly in Christ." I used Luke 5:1-11 to emphasize this need in our diocesan life. It seems that 2020 is much different than we envisioned and now takes on a deeper meaning.  Luke describes Peter on the shore. He had been out all night in the boat, searching for fish.  Tired and frustrated, Peter returns with empty nets. Jesus wasn't invited; he gets into the boat. It is described as "The invasion of grace."  Jesus calls him to leave the comfort of the shore, and" put