“May we join our prayers with Julian in response to God’s creative, redeeming, and sustaining love, confident in her words that 'All shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.'” Br. Luke Ditewig celebrates Julian of Norwich on her feast day.

“As followers of Jesus, that remains our purpose, indeed it is the purpose of the Church, and the vocation of all the baptized: to be Christ’s witnesses.” Br. James Koester identifies the good news to be found in the Acts of the Apostles, and to be embodied in our lives.

“Lockdown is a disorienting experience. It’s easy to lose direction and to feel lost, or to head off in ways which are not life giving, or develop habits to soothe or numb us, but which ultimately make us feel worse. Like an unkept rose, we might feel like we have branches going off in every direction, but not really heading anywhere. When that happens with roses, the energy, the life force has been so dissipated, that when it comes to flowering season the fruit, the flowers, are small and stunted. We too can feel tired and listless, and unhappy. And if we are honest, not bearing much fruit.” Br. Geoffrey Tristram invites us to the challenging, courageous, hopeful work of pruning our lives with love.

“So what happened? When did Jesus’ sense of identity shift. Why did he come to understand himself as a shepherd, a good shepherd, and identify with the Good Shepherd? Why and how? We know some things for sure, and other influences we can conjecture. Just like for all the rest of us, many things influence us. A whole collage of things form, or deform, or reform the tapestry of our calling in life – our vocation. So it was for Jesus.” Br. Curtis Almquist considers Jesus' path as he came to own his identity as the "Good Shepherd," the one who will always find us, whenever we are lost.

“Until the day of Christ’s glorious appearing, suffering remains very real and present and we don’t remember it away, but we turn to hope that a power sufficient to transfigure our pain has be demonstrated in Christ.” On the Feast of the Martyrs of the 20th and 21st Centuries, Br. Todd Blackham confronts the horrors of martyrdom.

“As monastics, we may not think of ourselves as soldiers in the midst of combat, but who among us does not have to wage war with the demons, sometimes daily? The word God spoke to Joshua is also a word for us, as we like George, put on our battle gear, and enter the fray.” Br. James Koester considers what we – monastics or not – can learn from the witness of Saint George.

“Jesus is more than unleavened bread on the road, more than manna in the wilderness, and more than a meal for 5,000 from a few loaves and fish. Jesus is the living Word of God. Jesus offers himself as sustaining nourishment to be received and savored.” Br. Luke Ditewig invites us to take a step down the road we feel not prepared for, trusting in the provision of Jesus.

“In each of the three gospels that record resurrection appearances, the authors make it clear that although the Lord is nonetheless risen and glorified, he is still mutilated, still maimed. For these marks of death and loss are not elided or erased by God’s redeeming work. The signs of death appear right alongside the presence of promised resurrection life. Beauty and barbed wire. This is the miraculous promise of Easter—if we let our eyes adjust to the new light of renewed creation.” Br. Sean Glenn ponders the profound paradox of where life happens: in the space between suffering and gladness, beauty and barbed wire, death and resurrection.

“So often, the experience of the numinous, of God breaking into our lives, has actually been the beginning of life’s greatest adventure! As St Augustine famously put it, after his own numinous experience in that garden in Milan: 'To fall in love with God is the greatest of all romances. To seek him, the greatest adventure. To find him, the greatest human achievement.'” Br. Geoffrey Tristram marvels at those brushes with God – numinous experiences – that happen when God seeks us.

“I know exactly where I was. I was sitting in the quire of Canterbury Cathedral. It was 28 March 1976.

I know that it was the Fourth Sunday in Lent, because the gospel that day was this story of the boy with the five barley-loaves and the two, small fish. I remember to this day the experience of hearing, as if for the first time, the story of the young lad who shared his lunch. Now, every time I hear this passage, I find myself sitting in Canterbury’s quire.” Br. James Koester digs into a scriptural story with a deep personal resonance, as he ponders the miracle of one boy's offering, and what God can do with it to bless the feeding of the world.