I would love to be delivered from the disquietude, the anxiety, the unease, of this world. Want to come up with me to the mountain for just a little bit?
We do not know much about him, but James must have been a pretty big deal.
It’s been fifty days since Easter Day. Fifty days. Seven Weeks. An entire liturgical season spent physically distancing from our church families.
Here, forty days after experiencing the impossible, grappling with the fact that Jesus had risen from the dead, the disciples are again standing in awe.
As a priest I probably shouldn’t admit to this, but I know next to nothing about James and Philip, the two saints whom we honor today. To be fair, none of us can claim to know much about them either.
Gilded chapels and stained glass light have been the setting of my past reflections on the feast day of Saint Mark the Evangelist. But this year, there is COVID-19. It seems that nothing is left untouched by the pandemic.
Our faithfulness is not a reality show to be won, but rather transformation for God and glory to God alone.
“Mama, will your bottom just keep getting bigger and bigger until the baby gets here?”
Modern parenting has no shortage of overthinking things, and in particular, no shortage of overthinking holiday celebrations.
I am the oldest of three children in my family. My two sisters are my best friends, though for many years before I came to see them that way they were also my worst enemies.