From Season to Season

I generally have two books going at any given time—one for spiritual enrichment and the other for entertainment. I’m currently reading Jesus: The Son of Man by Kahlil Gibran and Love In the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I’ve also been making my way through an audio version of Michael Cunningham’s The Snow Queen: A Novel. A few days ago, I was listening to The Snow Queen as I went for a walk and I was struck by this passage: There’s something about the courting of disaster, in shopping terms, that fascinates Barrett [one of the book’s main characters], that holds his attention, helps render him satisfied with his current stature. It’s the technically extinct but somehow still plausible hint of calamity implied by the impulse purchase—the impoverished dowager or disinherited young earl who says, “I’m going to walk the earth in this perfectly faded Freddy Mercury t-shirt (two-fifty), I’m going to party tonight in this vintage McQueen minidress (eight hundred), because

The story of Jesus’ encounter with the Canaanite Woman ( Matthew15:21-28 ) that we hear this Sunday is one of the more difficult episodes of the gospels. Not because it shares the opaqueness of many of the parables or because Jesus is revealing a challenging theological truth. Instead, it’s difficult to read and hear because it is a story about Jesus that doesn’t fit our childish Sunday-school version of who Jesus was.  In this passage, Jesus has traveled to the Gentile (non-Jewish) region of Tyre and Sidon. John the Baptist has been murdered by King Herod ( Matthew 14:1-12 ) and Jesus himself is now on Herod’s radar. It is likely that Jesus has gone to these coastal towns to get out of Herod’s jurisdiction and to have some time alone to grieve the death of John the Baptist (throughout chapter 14 of Matthew’s Gospel, we hear, more than once, about Jesus trying to find solitude for prayer and reflection). This would be a region where he wasn’t known. And yet, he’s recognized by a Can

Since moving to Los Angeles a year ago, I find myself in a much more diverse theological landscape than I’ve known in well over a decade. Obviously, understandings of Mary and the Communion of Saints rank among the differences that divide Christians. The mystery that is celebrated in the Solemnity of the Assumption has often been described as a uniquely “Catholic” feast. And, while it is true that the Dogma of the Assumption was officially promulgated by Pope Pius XII in 1950, the mystery that inspires this celebration is firmly rooted in the ancient Tradition of the Church and has its foundations in the words of Scripture, and this celebration is shared with Orthodox Christians throughout the world. Many members of the Anglican Communion and the Lutheran Church also honor Mary on this day. This feast, which celebrates the truth that, at the end of her earthly life, Mary, the Mother of Jesus, was taken body and soul into heaven, evolved from a liturgical celebration of the “Da

During the fourth watch of the night, he came toward them, walking on the sea. When the disciples saw him walking on the sea they were terrified. “It is a ghost,” they said, and they cried out in fear. At once, Jesus spoke to them, “Take courage, it is I. do not be afraid.” Peter said to him in reply, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” Peter got out of the boat and began to walk on the water toward Jesus. But when he saw how strong the wind was he became frightened; and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately, Jesus stretched out his hand and caught him, and said to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” — Matthew 14:25-31   In one of my earliest (and most memorable) experiences of lectio divina (“holy reading”), I read Matthew’s account of Jesus walking on the water that we hear in this Sunday’s liturgy . This was nearly twelve years ago, shortly after I had entered monastic life. As I read and

And Jesus was transfigured before them; his face shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light… Behold, a bright cloud cast a shadow over them, then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.”     The Transfiguration of Jesus is one of those moments in the Gospels when the veil between Heaven and Earth all but vanishes and we are given a glimpse of realities that transcend the limits of our language, intellects, and even our imaginations. Found in all three of the Synoptic Gospels ( Matthew 17:1-8 , Mark 9:2-9 , and Luke 9:28b-36 ), this is one of those events that Scripture scholars and theologians struggle to explain. Even the traditional name we’ve given to this moment of revelation—“Transfiguration”—is nearly impossible to translate into a simple, concise definition. But the Transfiguration isn’t a puzzle to be solved. While we do well to ask if this was originally retold as a vision of t

The story commonly known as the “ Feeding of the Multitude ” is one of the best-known of the miracles of Jesus. It has been reflected on by countless theologians and preachers and is among the most frequently portrayed in works of sacred art. And yet, it seems that this is one of those stories that is wrapped in a sort of holy cocoon, isolated and unrelated to the realities of our day-to-day lives. But it’s a very real story with the very real experience of hunger at its center. Matthew’s account of this miraculous meal follows immediately after the account of the death of John the Baptist at the hands of King Herod ( Matthew 14:1-12 ). Jesus, having heard of John’s murder, goes into the wilderness to pray and grieve. And with this journey into the wilderness, the scene is set. Jesus and the Apostles are joined by a huge crowd of people who are hoping to see and hear this famous teacher. Jesus was moved by their presence: “his heart was moved with pity for them, and he cured thei