Br. Lain Wilson

Luke 18:9-14

One thing I struggle with is getting out of my head when I’m trying to talk with God. I’m sure that may be familiar to some of you as well. I’ve found something helpful is checking in with my body – how I’m feeling, what my posture is. I find that it often mirrors what’s going on in my own heart and in my soul.

One thing that always strikes me when I hear this familiar parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector is that we are given details, not only of what is on their lips and in their hearts, but what they are doing with their bodies.

The Pharisee stands upright. We can imagine him with his shoulders back, chest up, chin square; his chiropractor would be proud. And what is on his lips and in his heart is upright and proud – he’s doing pretty well, fasting and tithing. Both good things. His error is in couching them in terms of competition, lording his own actions over others. It is as though this man has forgotten what, or rather who, allows him to stand upright.

The tax collector, meanwhile, is afar off, looking down. We might imagine him hunched over, feeling on his shoulders the weight of his sin. He confesses and asks God for mercy. Both good things. And his very posture captures something true and fundamental of our relationship with God – that it is by God’s grace and mercy that we can come through all that weighs us down, all the burdens that cling to us or that we drag behind us; that it is God, and not our own actions or achievements, that makes us worthy to stand upright.

The image I come back to again and again in prayer with this passage is from chapter 19 of John’s gospel, of Jesus on the cross seeing his mother and the beloved disciple standing nearby. Those of you on retreat with us this weekend will have seen this image several times, as it’s depicted on the icon currently in the Holy Spirit Chapel. I can’t imagine what strength would’ve been necessary to stand while one’s son and beloved friend was dying on a cross. I can only imagine that this strength had to have come from God.

I come back to this image, because while the parable of the Pharisee and tax collector is about right relationship before God and neighbor, and it’s about humility, it’s also about more than that. It’s about what the true source of our strength is when everything is going wrong, in our world and in our hearts. Our Collect today puts it this way: “O God, you know us to be set in the midst of so many and great dangers, that by reason of the frailty of our nature we cannot always stand upright.”[1]

How does your body feel today?

Do you feel tall and proud? Recognize how God’s grace is working in you, and ask how you might bear others up with that strength.

Or do you feel hunched over and withdrawn because of the weight of sin or the burden of anxiety? Hand it over to God, hand it all over to God, who will give you strength and courage and allow you to stand upright.

Amen.

[1] Weekday Eucharistic Propers 2015 (New York, 2017), 33.

Br. Geoffrey Tristram

The Third Sunday in Lent

John 4:5-42

“Give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty.” The story of Jesus and the woman of Samaria is one of my favorite Gospel stories. One of the great moments of my life was when, on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, I went to that same well where Jesus met with that woman of Samaria. Jacob’s well is now in the modern town of Nablus, near the Biblical site of Shechem. Archeologists affirm that the very same well has been there, and in daily use, for almost four thousand years, ever since the land had been purchased by Jacob. Having bought the land, the first task was to dig a well to find water. It must have been a Herculean task, for it was dug through bedrock, and it is 151 feet deep, which is the height of a 15-story building! Of all the places in the Holy Land, it is probably the one exact spot where we know that Jesus stood. I will never forget the overwhelming feeling that Jesus had actually stood right here, where I am now!

I was invited to drink some water from the well, and so I dropped a small bucket on a chain down the well shaft. It went down and down for several minutes, until far away I heard the bucket hit the water. And then slowly, I pulled the bucket up to the top again. It was full of water, and I put a cup into the bucket and drank. The water was very smooth, and cool, and delicious, especially as everything around me was barren and dry.

Having a well in that dry land was the difference between life and death. So this well became the center of the community. People would gather around the well, the source of life, to draw water, to drink, to cook, to water the animals, and just to chat and pass the time of day. Some of the great encounters in the Old Testament took place at a well or a spring or other source of water. Moses first saw his wife Zipporah as she drew water to feed her father’s sheep, in the land of Midian, and it was at a well in Haran that Jacob first sees his wife Rachel, as she watered her father’s sheep.

So, gradually, throughout the Old Testament, these places of water gushing up from the earth to give life, came to symbolize the life that God longs to give his people, and especially the life that the long-awaited Messiah would give. So, the Psalmist sings, “For with you is the well of life,” and the prophet Isaiah proclaims, “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.” God’s people were longing for the coming of the Messiah. And they would recognize him because he would, in some profound sense, be, himself, a source of life-giving water.

And so it was, that Jesus came to Jacob’s well. It was 12 noon, the hottest part of the day. Jesus is hot, tired, and thirsty, and so he makes for the well and sits down. But the well water was 151 feet down, and Jesus had no bucket. But just then, a Samaritan woman appears at the well, about to draw water. So Jesus asks her to draw him some water. But she hesitates. A man, and a Jewish man at that, even talking to a Samaritan woman was unheard of.

But now the real electricity happens! He says to her: “If only you knew what God is offering, and who it is who is saying to you, ‘Give me something to drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” Then, pointing to the well, Jesus says, “Whoever drinks this water will be thirsty again. But whoever drinks the water that I give will never be thirsty again. The water that I give will become in them a spring of water, welling up to eternal life.” What an amazing image. I like to think that at that moment Jesus gave her what she most longed for, the gift of eternal life.

It was a moment of transformation for her, a moment of conversion. She logs for the life Jesus is offering her. And she responds very simply and very directly, “Give me this water that I may never be thirsty.” I like to think that at that moment Jesus gave her what she longed for – the gift of eternal life.

Jesus offers us that same gift of living water, Jeus promises us that we too can taste of that water which will quench our deepest thirst forever, and which will well up in us for eternal life. Do you long for that kind of life? Perhaps this Lent you could ask Jesus for it, in the very words of the Samaritan woman: “Give me this water so that I may never be thirsty.” What a bold thing to ask. Jesus in the Gospels loves people to ask what they want, very specifically. To the blind man he asks, what do you want me to do for you? I think Jesus responded to her bold and clearly expressed desire: “Give me this water.” Jesus, I think, likes us to ask him exactly what we most yearn for. Lord, give me living water. Make me come alive. I often pray using the opening words of Psalm 42. It’s a wonderful psalm: “As the deer longs for the water brooks, so longs my soul for you O Lord. My soul is athirst for God, athirst for the living God.” Then I pray again and keep on asking. Don’t give up!

In my prayers, I have been imagining; imagining Jacob, and how he never gave up. He fought with the angel and would not let him go till he blessed him. I imagine Jacob buying this piece of land near Shechem. What he needed more than anything else was water. So, he and his men dug a well. They dug with faith. Surely God would not have provided this land if there was no water. And so, they dug, and dug, no water. They dug with primitive tools, and with faith. They longed for water. They cried out to God for water. They didn’t give up. They dug down, 151 feet (15 stories), into the bedrock. And finally, they struck water, smooth, cool, delicious water, welling up to eternal life. God honored their persistence, their faith, their trust, and blessed them with the gift of life-giving water.

And I believe God will do the same for us. If you long to be renewed in the Spirit, here are three things which may help. First, get in touch with your deepest desire, your deepest thirst. What is it that you long for in your very souls? But also notice the lesser desires which keep tempting us, and which try to lure us away from the one thing, the pearl of great price. We can recognize these lesser desires, because ultimately, they do not quench our thirst but leave us thirstier than ever. Rather, get in touch with that deepest of all desires which God himself has planted in our hearts – the desire for God. Focus on that desire, that thirst. And then secondly, like the Samaritan woman, express your deepest desire very directly to Jesus. She said, “Give me this water, so that I shall never be thirsty.” Tell Jesus, in clear, simple terms what it is you most desire. “What do you want me to do for you?” And then thirdly, like Jacob, don’t give up. Don’t give up digging the well. Keep on asking, keep on praying. If you want to experience new life, if you long to be filled afresh with the Spirit, don’t give up, keep asking, keep praying. Don’t let Jesus go till he blesses you!

These three things; firstly, what do you most desire? Then secondly, ask Jesus for it. Then thirdly, keep digging and don’t give up!

And then finally, take Jesus at his word; trust that great and magnificent promise that Jesus makes to us in John’s Gospel (7:38): “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me! Let anyone who believes in me drink! And out of your heart shall flow rivers of living water.”

Amen

Br. James Koester

Esther 14:1-6, 12-14

I’ll tell you a secret! This passage from Esther appears nowhere in the Hebrew scriptures. It is only found in the Greek Septuagint. That means it is not part of the Jewish canonical scriptures, and is only included in Christian scriptures as part of the Apocrypha. Because of that, this portion of Esther (indeed the whole of Esther) is only included in Scripture by Roman Catholics and Orthodox. As Anglicans we read it (and other parts of the Apocrypha) as an “example of life and instruction of manners, yet [we do] not apply them to establish doctrine.”[1]

Curiously, despite their negative regard for the Apocrypha, the Protestant Reformers loved Esther. She was frequently the subject of various forms of art during the Reformation period. This was because they admired, among other things, her determination and resistance to tyranny. They regarded her as a model for themselves as they struggled against the tyranny of Rome, and especially of the “Bishop of Rome and all his detestable enormities.”[2]  It was the example of her prayer, asking God to “put eloquent speech in my mouth before the lion, and turn [the king’s] heart to hate the man who is fighting against us, so that there may be an end of him and those who agree with him” (Esther 14:13). Her courage, indeed willingness to die if she must – “If I perish, I perish” (Esther 4:16) – also appealed to them. As tempting as her prayer for the destruction of her enemy may be, that’s not why we are reading this passage today. (Although, it seems to me to be a good reason!)

Paired with Jesus’ teaching on prayer in today’s gospel – “if you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask” (Matthew 7:11) – we begin to get a picture of what we might call real prayer.

We remind ourselves in our Rule of Life what this real prayer looks like:

“The life of prayer calls for the courage to bring into our communion with Christ the fullness of our humanity and the concrete realities of our daily existence, which he redeemed by his incarna­tion. . . . We are to bring [God] our sufferings and poverty, our passion and sexuality, our fears and resistances, our desires and our dreams, our losses and grief. We must spread before [God] our cares about the world and its peoples, our friends and families, our enemies and those from whom we are estranged. Our successes and failures, our gifts and shortcomings, are equally the stuff of our prayer.”[3]

This kind of prayer, the kind of prayer offered by Esther, expounded by Jesus, and taught in our Rule is far from polite. It is gritty. It is passionate. It is demanding. It is even, at times angry.

Different ages demand different kinds of prayer. In today’s world, Esther and her gritty, passionate, demanding, and even angry prayer, may be a model for us, as we spread before God our cares about the world and its peoples. It’s not polite, but it is certainly real, true, and honest.

[1] The Book of Common Prayer, 868.

[2] The Church of England, “Great Litany,” The Book of Common Prayer (1549), available online, http://justus.anglican.org/resources/bcp/1549/Litany_1549.htm, accessed February 26, 2026.

[3] The Rule of the Society of Saint John the Evangelist (Lanham, MD, 1997), 45.

Br. James Koester

Isaiah 58:9b-14

We used a pretty strong word this morning. In fact, we said it three times within a single prayer, and then, it appeared in our reading from Isaiah. We said, “We repent of the evil that enslaves us, the evil we have done, and the evil done on our behalf.”[1] Shortly after, we heard Isaiah say, “If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil . . .” (Isaiah 58:9b).

Few of us, I hope, would describe ourselves as evil, but we have just said that evil enslaves us, and that we do evil things. More boldly, we have admitted that others do evil on our behalf. So, while you and I may not be personally evil, evil surrounds us. We cannot escape it. The news, and our lives, are full of evil.

The unprovoked invasion of Ukraine by Russia, while the world watches seemingly helpless, is evil.

We repent of the evil that enslaves us, the evil we have done, and the evil done on our behalf.

The trafficking of minors to wealthy, powerful men, for the purposes of sex, is evil.

We repent of the evil that enslaves us, the evil we have done, and the evil done on our behalf.

The killing by government agents, of civilians engaged in legal protests, is evil.

We repent of the evil that enslaves us, the evil we have done, and the evil done on our behalf.

The use of political office primarily for personal gain, is evil.

We repent of the evil that enslaves us, the evil we have done, and the evil done on our behalf

When we speak of evil, we are not speaking of the convenient lies we tell to get ourselves out of an unwanted social obligation, we are talking about something much more primal.

“Now the serpent was more crafty than any other wild animal that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, ‘Did God say, “You shall not eat from any tree in the garden”?’ The woman said to the serpent, ‘We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, “You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.”’ But the serpent said to the woman, ‘You will not die, for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God.’” (Genesis 3:1-5)

It is this desire to be like God, which leads to evil. But the thing is, to be like God does not require us to act like petty tyrants, despots, or narcissists, and so do evil things. It requires us to behave as Isaiah would have us behave: “if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday” (Isaiah 58:10).

To be like God does not require our reaching out toward unfettered power, privilege, and prestige, and so separate ourselves from God, as did our first parents. Rather to be like God is found in acts of humble service, on our knees, carrying jug, basin, and towel, as we will each do in a few short weeks following the example of the One who came to serve and not to be served.[2]

Evil enslaves us. We do evil. Evil is done on our behalf. And the antidote is not denial, but mercy. The antidote is not denial, but service.

If you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday and you will be like God.

[1] From the General Confession, Enriching Our Worship (New York, 1997), 56, as used at the Monastery during Lent.

[2] See Mark 10:45

Br. Curtis Almquist

Hilary of Poitiers

Luke 15:1-7

In the calendar of the church we remember today a fourth-century bishop named Hilary of Poitiers, what is now central France. Hilary was pilloried. That is, Bishop Hilary was rejected and betrayed by a good many people, including those closest to him. Bishop Hilary was convinced that Jesus’ love was to encompass everyone, including those who so meanly rejected Hilary.

In the church calendar, this is the season of Epiphany. The Greek word “epiphany” means manifestation, which is a clear revelation. The church’s observance of the season of Epiphany is inspired by the wise men from the east who visited the Christ Child.[1] They were foreigners, most likely not Jewish, and yet they were received, honored, and remembered. From the very start, Jesus consistently bequeathed dignity and showed the warmest welcome to the widest cast of people: not just to kindred spirits; not just to those with gold, frankincense, and myrrh; but also to those among the least, and the last, and the lost. Jesus was at home with everyone.

Momentarily we will be invited to pray what we call the Lord’s Prayer.[2] It is the prayer Jesus shared in response to his disciple’s question, “How shall we pray?” Jesus’ prayer is addressed in first person plural, not first person singular. Jesus did not say, “My Father in heaven.” Nor did Jesus pray, “Give me today my daily bread.” The prayer is addressed in the plural to “our Father” and is about “our daily bread.”

Jesus’ prayer signals that our relationship with God is very personal, but it is not private. Not that our own needs are insignificant, nor that they go unnoticed by God. Jesus’ point is that we pray for ourselves in the same way that we are pray for others. And the “others” are everyone. We pray for people whom we love. We counterbalance our lovely prayer list with our nasty list: to pray for those whom we may find abhorrent and do not love. We pray for those whom we tenderly carry in our hearts, and we pray for those for whom our hearts are hardened; those with whom we most disagree and want to forget, or condemn, or punish, and those whom we regard with disdain. We pray for them like we pray for ourselves, for the intervention of God’s love. In the words of Martin Luther King, Jr.: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”[3]

This is how Bishop Hilary understood Jesus, and how Hilary prayed and practiced his life. And he paid a considerable personal cost to his discipleship, which was stellar. May Hilary be a beacon for our inspiration and courage.

Blessed Hilary whom we remember today.

[1] Matthew 2:1-12.

[2] Matthew 6:5-15; Luke 11:1-13.

[3] Quoted from MLK, Jr.’s 1957 Christmas Day sermon, “Loving Your Enemies.”

Br. Curtis Almquist

1 John 3:1-6

The opening verb in our reading from the First Letter of John is revealing: “See.” “See,” also translated as “Behold,” which is to look, to notice, to pay attention, to remember![1] Remember! If we do not draw on memory from our past, we are vulnerable to living our lives superficially, simply reacting to the bombardment of media and advertisements and requests coming at us all the time. Living our lives reactively is whiplash to the soul.

Rather, living our lives reflectively, meditatively, responsively draws from a much deeper well. The English word “meditation” comes from the Latin, meditari, which is to rehearse one’s lines. “Meditation can be seen as a kind of rehearsal for the unknown future.” I’m drawing here on the insight of the Dominican, Simon Tugwell.[2]  Reserving space every day to meditate in God’s presence will make a world of difference. It’s to listen to, reflect on, consider, devise, rehearse one’s lines in the face of life, regardless of what stage on which we find ourselves. Make space every day, make some space however brief or long, to meditate in God’s presence to find your way.

So our reading from the First Epistle of John begins with, “See what love the Father has given us.” “See!” “See!” Notice God’s presence now. Of course, God’s presence is always present, even in our past. God is always now. God’s presence is always present. To meditate will mediate our life. Meditating on the gift of our life – which is remembering, retrieving, rehearsing God’s presence in our past and into our present – will help give us our lines and show us the way as we follow Christ into the future.[3]

[1] This Greek verb ἴδετε (“see” or “behold”) appears nine times in the New Testament.

[2] S. Tugwell, OP, Prayer: Living with God (Springfield, IL, 1975).

[3] To meditate is to remember, recover, retrieve, rehearse our lives, e.g.: “Their delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law they meditate day and night” (Psalm 1:2); “when I think of you on my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night” (Psalm 63:6); “You shall put these words of mine in your heart and soul, and you shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and fix them as an emblem on your forehead. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise” (Deuteronomy 11:18-19); and “The Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you” (John 14:26).

Br. Jack Crowley

The Holy Innocents

Matthew 2:13-18

Today we observe the Feast of the Holy Innocents. We remember all the children slain by King Herod in his attempt to murder Jesus. I know to observe this feast in the midst of the twelve days of Christmas can feel like emotional whiplash, but in my experience, it is always healthy to remember and respect the blood that has been spilt for us to be here today.

In my own prayer life, every year on this feast, I take some to reflect on fear. I think it’s safe to say that King Herod was filled with fear. King Herod feared a baby. I know for a grown man, never mind a king, to fear a baby sounds ridiculous, but it is true. Herod feared that the baby Jesus would grow up and take away his power. King Herod acted on that fear, and the consequences were horrific and violent.

We all deal with the consequences of fear. We deal with the consequences of own fears and the fears of those in power. Fear coupled with power can result in violence. This violence has shaped the course of human history, and affects our own lives on a daily basis.

Every year on this day, I turn inward and try to find, confront, and heal the King Herod inside of myself. I ask myself when I have been so full of fear that my heart hardened and turned toward violence? When in my thoughts and my feelings have I been so full of fear that the chatter of my soul was violent? When I have acted like my own little tyrant, seeking to control everything and hold on to every ounce of power that I have?

You may have noticed in all these questions, God doesn’t appear a single time. That’s one of the worst, if not the worst, consequences of fear. In times of fear, we often forget about God and focus on ourselves. We need to be reminded to remember about God. That is the only way we can begin to heal from all this fear.

Every day in my own prayer life, I also take some time to pray for the leaders of the world, especially the ones I did not vote for. I pray that they be given the same opportunities for healing from fear that God has given me in my own life. I pray that whatever traumas they have endured, whatever fears they hold in their hearts, and whatever world view they have that may be warped by violence, that they all may be softened by the grace of God.

It’s important to remember that King Herod had the violent power of a first-century-CE army, but two thousand years later, our leaders have access to nuclear bombs. The potential for the violent consequences of fear mixed with power has never been higher. The importance of our prayer life and our continual turning toward peace and God have never been more important.

Above all else, remember that from the cradle to the crucifix, powerful people were bent on destroying Jesus. They all failed. The power of God is beyond us all. Thank God for that.

Br. Jack Crowley

Luke 14:1-6

I once had a therapist tell me that there will never be a perfect time to heal. That quote has always stuck with me. There will never be a perfect time to heal.

On one hand, it’s kind of a sad quote. It implies that if we keep waiting for the circumstances of our life to be perfect in order to heal, then we will spend the rest of our lives waiting.

On the other hand, the quote also implies a certain sense of freedom. If there will never be a perfect time to heal, then why wait? This day is just as good any other.

One of the many things that fascinates me about Jesus’ healings is how often Jesus was judged for healing people. People especially judged the timing of his healings. You would think that healing, of all actions, would be noncontroversial. You would think that healing, at any time, would be supported by all. Yet this is not the case.

I must confess I’m guilty of this in my own prayer life. Sometimes I guard my own wounds from healing as if they were treasures I am trying to protect. I cover myself up from God’s healing grace and say, “not now, this isn’t the right time.” I tell myself that at some future date when the time is right, I will truly open myself up to God and be healed, but not right now.

The problem is that we can spend the rest of our lives saying to God, “not right now, come back later.” We can spend the rest of our lives keeping God at a distance. The good news is we also have the freedom, at any given moment, to accept God’s unconditional love and open up our wounds to God’s healing grace.

As Jesus said in our Gospel today, if we had a loved one fall down a well, wouldn’t we immediately pull them out? We wouldn’t hesitate. Jesus feels that same loving urgency to heal us. So why not reach up your hand and take his?

The only thing we have to lose is our pride. That unfortunate habit of being more concerned about how we look versus how we feel. Why not choose the path of healing instead?

Br. David Vryhof

Ignatius of Loyola

Genesis 32:22-31

We have before us today three examples of what I would call “committed, determined, all-in discipleship.”

The first is the image of Jacob wrestling with “a man” along the River Jabbok.  Jacob is on his way to meet Esau, his elder brother, the same brother he deceived by stealing his birthright. He is afraid, justifiably. Jacob helps his family to cross the river, then returns alone to the other side to pray and prepare for his encounter with Esau. There he confronts a mysterious stranger and the two engage in a wrestling match. The man bestows on Jacob a new name – “Israel” – signifying a new role and purpose in his life, but he refuses to reveal his own name. Jacob refuses to give up, wrestling with the stranger through the night, insisting on receiving a blessing from him. Finally, as day breaks, the man relents and grants Jacob’s request.

The man reveals to Jacob that he has, in fact, been wrestling with God and Jacob expresses wonder that he has been able to see God and live. The story raises a number of questions: Who was this man and what prompts him to fight with Jacob? Who actually prevails in the struggle? What is the blessing that Jacob so desperately wants from the man? Why does the man leave Jacob with a hip injury?

Regardless of the unknowns, the image of Jacob engaged in an all-night, all-out struggle with God is a powerful one. We admire his determination, his commitment, his clinging to God until he receives the blessing he is seeking. The image of whole-hearted engagement in the struggle can be a powerful inspiration for us.

A second example comes from our Gospel text, where Jesus encounters three would-be disciples, all of whom are eager to proclaim their devotion to him but none of whom follow through and actually follow him. Each has an excuse for turning away, and they are not unreasonable excuses, but they fall short of what Jesus expects of them.

As is often the case, Jesus is using hyperbole to exaggerate his point. The story makes clear that he is seeking disciples who will devote themselves whole-heartedly to the life and work of the Kingdom, without considering the cost to themselves. Whole-hearted discipleship is costly.

The third example comes from St. Ignatius of Loyola, whom we remember today. Ignatius was a soldier – proud, vain and totally consumed with himself – when he met Jesus. That encounter changed his life and led him to devote himself whole-heartedly to the cause of Christ. His utter devotion is captured in the prayer you have in your hands. It is called the “Suscipe” – from the Latin word meaning “receive” – and invites us to likewise consider offering God our all.

Let’s pray it together:

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding and my entire will; all that I have and call my own. You have given it all to me. To you, Lord, I return it. Everything is yours; do with it what you will. Give me only your love and your grace; that is enough for me. Amen.

Retreatants, brothers, friends: Take Ignatius’ prayer to heart. Learn it, ponder it, embrace it. Allow it to challenge and inspire you. Let it be for you a summons to whole-hearted devotion and commitment, which is what Jesus asks of each of us.

Br. Jack Crowley

Matthew 13:36-43

One challenge of modern-day life is knowing when to be serious. There is the challenge of knowing when to be serious, the challenge of how serious you should be, and the challenge of communicating how serious you are about something.

There is also the challenge of how to be serious with God. The challenge of knowing how we should speak to God when we really need to know something. How do we approach God in such a forward manner while still being respectful? How do we break through our day-to-day pleasantries with God and boldly ask for the truth?

In our Gospel tonight, we heard the wonderful story of the Disciples approaching Jesus directly. The context here is important. Jesus had just left a crowd of people after teaching them through a series of parables. Jesus is finally alone and inside a home after being surrounded by people.

I think we all know that feeling of coming home after a long event full of people. There’s that mixture of lingering excitement with fatigue setting in. There’s also this feeling of intimacy now that everyone has gone home. So the Disciples approach Jesus in this very specific context and ask very directly what he meant by his parable. They want the truth, the real deal, or maybe even they think there is something extra Jesus will tell them alone.

Like the Disciples, we must find the time and the mood to approach Jesus with a mix or urgency and intimacy. That serious desire for knowing must bubble up from deep within us and lead us to seek out Jesus wherever we can. We must also have a mixture of humility and boldness as we approach Jesus. We can be humble in our attitude towards the Son of Man but also be bold and authentic in our desire to know more through him and with him.

The point I’m trying to make is it is ok to get real Jesus. Not only is it ok, but maybe Jesus is also eager to meet you at that level of seriousness. What if Jesus is already there? Even after a long day, what if Jesus is waiting for you to approach him with your whole authentic being?

Try speaking to Jesus face-to-face in your own way with your own words. If you feel embarrassed to do so, ask yourself what do you have to lose? Amen.