Homily, November 8, 2020

 

Luke 7: 11-17   

By Sister Rebecca

 

This morning I would like to share some thoughts with you through the lens of poverty.  All the scriptural readings have this common thread: Poverty.  The readings present us with people who are hopeless, in despair, incredible distress, neediness, and dire want.  We hear of two widows losing their only sons, and the Jerusalem community suffering from lack of the basics for life.

The first story, from the Book of Kings, is about the Widow of Zarephath, whose son had just died. Incredible deprivation and despair characterize this poor woman. Just before the text we read this morning, this same woman and her son were described as being on the brink of starvation.  The prophet Elijah was on the run, fleeing for his life and living in exile. God provided him with food by means of a raven, and told him that this same woman would provide him with food.  We may recall that she was ready to give up: she expected that she and her son would have their last meal and die.  Thanks to Elijah, she was given a steady supply of food.

In today’s story we see in this bereaved mother a deeply challenging type of faith. She asks difficult questions regarding her understanding of sin, suffering, and death. She sharply challenges Elijah, accusing him that his presence is what has brought her sin to God’s attention, which is ultimately responsible for the death of her son.  This accusation leads Elijah to confront God: he actually chastises God for bringing calamity upon this poor mother.  In these stories of dire deprivation, we see a wonderful image of a God who in the previous section of the Book of Kings intervened in a precarious situation. Now, we see God listening to Elijah’s prayer for the dead son: “And the boy’s life returned to him, and he lived.”  Elijah gives the boy back to his mother.  The mother exclaims: You are a man of God. We need to keep in mind that Elijah himself is in an exceedingly desperate situation, leading a precarious existence, but he is still willing to act as God’s hands and feet on earth, even when he himself is in dire straits.

The widow’s doubt, and even the prophet’s struggle with this death, may also be our own in these desperate times of sickness and death. It is easy to spiral down into a belief in death-dealing powers, for this is what we witness in our world each day. 

Elijah’s revival of the widow’s son is echoed in today’s Gospel reading, in which Jesus revives another widow’s son. Jesus, like Elijah, shows us today an aspect of his life as a pilgrim, a man of God walking in our midst.  He is on the road again.  This time, with his followers in tow, he approaches the gate of a town while another group is crossing in the opposite direction outside the city.  This crowd surrounds a funeral procession of a widow’s young son on their way to the burial grounds.  Jesus, without being solicited to do anything, feels compassion, tells the widow “Do not weep,” and then puts his hand on the bier and says, “Young man, arise!”  The story couldn’t be simpler.  Yet, from the very depths of his being Jesus feels the wrenching suffering of the poor woman’s incredible grief. No words are needed from her.  Jesus sees, he feels, he acts—and he brings forth new life.  This is Jesus’ mission: “I have come to give life and to give it in abundance.”  Early in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus announces his vision and mission in life:  “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor;  he has sent me to heal the brokenhearted [literally, to those who are crushed], to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised.”

In all these scripture readings, we have also witnessed another thread: compassion: the feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering.

Whence comes compassion?  Is it not from love? Both eros and agape together? In Hebrew, the word “compassion” comes from the root “womb,” which enriches our image of God, who loves the world with a deep and abiding compassion.  In these texts, as in the others, love for the afflicted is manifested through this feminine image of nurture and gentle caring. It’s one image among many that we need to recapture and emphasize if we are to return to a more complete and rounded image of God. 

This compassion is manifested by Elijah in our first reading, by the Corinthian community in the second reading, and by Jesus, explicitly, in the third reading.  All have been profoundly moved to action: bringing new life from death-dealing circumstances.  In the second reading, Paul holds up the Macedonians as exemplars of loving generosity to meet the needs of the poor among the Jewish Christian community in Jerusalem.  The word “generosity” denotes a kind of love that acts out of single-minded giving without reserve, without strings attached.  It is all about koinonia: a community spirit of love.

In today’s Gospel, when we hear Jesus say, “Young man, rise up,” isn’t he also inviting us to experience this same reality? Rise up! Rise up from whatever holds you down, drains out your energy, your pain, your doubts, your griefs, worries, anxieties. Today, may his words resonate within us: the words I have spoken to you are Spirit, and they are life.   

The pandemic in our times has literally changed our world. With what attitude do I choose to face the unknown future? Facing poverty in all its facets: physical, psychological. and spiritual.  Do we need to examine our core values of conscience, which are greater than anything surrounding us, that threatens us, where we feel anxious, worried, or deprived?  We are now leaving Chronos time, and Kairos time is beckoning to us,  rising from within us.  We are being precipitated into liminal space, the space of unknowing, when we see the open wounds of our country.  At no other time in my life have I experienced such a need for God—not for a God who will just take away our problems, but God who will give us new wisdom, a vision to see when and how I need to allow his love to be embodied and acted upon in my life now.  It seems to me that God is calling us to abide in his love made visible in our times.  We are not meant to pull down the blinds and remain like a cocoon, in a hermetic self-sufficiency. But we are called to rise up and allow ourselves to be irradiated by Divine love and make proactive efforts to bear new life into this broken, suffering world of ours.

 

New Wine

Homily Preached by Sister Cecelia
October 18, 2020
Holy Wisdom Church

This morning, Saint Paul wrote to the church in Corinth that he felt so unbearably crushed that he was despairing of life. Paul realized he could not handle his afflictions, nor can we, without relying on God’s help. “My yoke is easy and my burden is light” was a quote we heard a few weeks ago. While the reflections that Sunday were all quite meaningful and helpful, I also thought of a saying I often remembered when life was bringing me much more than I could bear. It was that God never gives us more than we can handle. God never gives us more than we can handle when we trust that God is helping us. Our reliance on God and the prayers of the whole body of Christ enable us to carry whatever yoke is coming upon us, rather than relying on just our own strength.

The gospel this morning comes after the miracle of Jesus healing the paralytic who was lowered through the roof by his faith-filled friends. The people who witnessed the healing, and heard Jesus forgiving the man his sins as if he were God, were filled with amazement. No doubt the crowds would have told the tax collector, Levi, about it. When Jesus told Levi to follow him, Levi had every reason to rejoice that the wonder-worker had called him. He then gave a great banquet to celebrate and invited all his friends, as well as others like the Pharisees. These holy ones looked down on the friends of Levi, and they also questioned Jesus’ other followers who did not fast as the Pharisees thought they should.

Jesus defended his followers and compared life to a wedding feast. The first reading this morning from Isaiah tells us that the hand of God rested on the mountain where God had prepared a feast of rich food and wine for his people. Joy is a Christian characteristic when we trust that God is helping us. Far too many people think that Christianity compels us to do all the things we do not want to do and stops us from doing what gives us joy. Jesus was very much aware of the cross he was carrying, and of his approaching suffering and ignominious death, but knew the joy of the awareness of God.

Jesus was warning the Pharisees and us not to be rigid like old wineskins. Jesus was condemning the shut mind and pleading that we not reject new ideas. The Holy Spirit is always leading us into new truth. At times it is not even new truth but rather opening our minds to the truth that has always been. Think of Galileo condemned by the church for teaching that the earth moved around the sun. Think of Joseph Lister, who had to fight for using antiseptic techniques during surgical operations. The list of resistance to new truths is almost endless. Why be so afraid of the new? Let us take care and never shirk the adventure of thought.

The Pharisees’ trouble was that the whole religious outlook of Jesus was so startlingly new, they simply could not adjust to it. That seems to be the meaning of the phrase that the old wine is better. We have a tendency to prefer the old that we know rather than the new. Facing the new can be a fear-filled burden, but remember Jesus’ words: His yoke is easy and his burden light when we trust in our God. When the new wine matures, it will be better than the old.

Homily Sept. 20, 2020 Exaltation of the Holy Cross

 

By Sister Rebecca

This morning we are celebrating the eighth and final day of the Exaltation of the Holy  Cross.  It is amazing to me how many times during this feast of the Cross we have sung, recited, and prayed with the single word: Blessed.  This morning upon awakening, it suddenly dawned on me: the Beatitudes: one of the core teachings and path to holiness are the Beatitudes: Blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are those who mourn…who yearn for justice, who are merciful…who suffer persecution in Jesus’ name—that is, who suffer because of their choice to follow Christ, to live in any given situation as a follower, a disciple of Jesus.

The Cross has become a common external sign, a symbol of being a Christian.  It has become a piece of jewelry or a cross hung on a wall. It is frequently seen in precious metals, gold, silver, gorgeous shiny wood.  During this feast as well as on Good Friday, the chant is most moving and soul penetrating…at least for the moment.  Yet, I question myself: how does the meaning of this feast penetrate my own life?  

One of the prayers during this feast has made a deep impression on me: “O God, as we reflect on this mystery of the Exaltation of the precious cross, ...impress on our feeble minds how much we need to embrace the cross, in whose rough surface we see ourselves as we really are.”

So, this cross, surrounded with beautiful, colorful flowers today, is in reality challenging me, us, to see it as a mirror reflecting the “rough surfaces” of our outer and inner lives.

Over these past 6 months, the rough surface of the cross, not the flowers, reflects the present tragedies” the pandemic, the fires, the outcome of hurricanes, suffering, pain, mourning loved ones, and the list goes on.   Even though we, in our area, have been spared most the horrendous outcomes of these calamities, still our lives have been sorely challenged.  But this is only one side of the mirror of the cross. The flip side is what is mirrored within ourselves, our ego selves. No one is spared feelings of powerlessness to change the situations that we are facing: each one of us personally and globally.

At matins yesterday we heard a reading that resonated in me: “The well-prepared mind forgets the suffering inflicted from without to the guidance to what has been contemplated within.” I’d like to unpack this sentence. The first part, “suffering inflicted from without,” tells us that if our minds stay on the surface, we will be inclined to indulge in anxiety, worry, blaming, accusing, explaining, trying to make logical sense of our personal and global plights. We tend perhaps to go to our heads.  However, if we allow ourselves to go deeper to the second part of the reading, looking at suffering from “what has been contemplated within,” we will see with clarity how our ego selves are trying to control what is not in our control.  What is going on in my mind when I come into contact with what upsets my planning, with what bruises me, with what challenges me in my daily life?

An example: the other day as I was on my way to a doctor’s appointment, I found myself behind a very slow tractor going 15 miles an hour in a 45-miles-per-hour zone.  I was not alone; there were others ahead of me and behind.  There was no way to pass the tractor. What was going on within me?  Of course, like most in such a situation, there are thoughts, like: how come he doesn’t pull over…there was a spot where he could have…I am going to be late…my cell phone will surely be out of range…feelings of impatience, frustration.  All this going on within seconds. Then, ok! This is small stuff, peanuts! There is nothing I can do to change this, so just breathe in and stay in the present moment, notice what is in front of me, and for the first time I saw some of the awesome beauty of the hillsides, especially seen in the light of the rising sun… Eventually the farmer took a side dirt road—and then, of course, feelings of relief.

I mention such a small apparently banal situation because this kind of thing is typical. Red lights are another example; they are one of a multitude of situations where we are not in control of life. And our ego reactions are mirrored to us when we cannot do what we want or need to do in any given situation. 

I personally find that paying attention to the small gritty sides of my life makes me aware of willfulness rather than willingness to face life’s crosses consciously, intentionally, in the light of Christ’s presence, which never leaves us. When I find myself succumbing to irritation or any other negative reaction, it is not God who is absent, it is my mind that is absent, my “unprepared mind,” as the saying above expresses.  Unprepared mind: it is staying on the surface of my attention and especially when glued into my ego-mind.

The cross is most often not one we choose but the ones that are thrust on us through life’s circumstances.  When we look beneath the veneer of our attitudes, we quickly see a kind of ego-self-centeredness that persistently puts our personal needs and agendas before the well-being of others or even the so-called lowly creatures of God.

Austrian neurologist, psychiatrist, and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl once said, "When we are no longer able to change a situation... we are challenged to change ourselves."

This attitude of putting our agenda ahead of others is perhaps one of the biggest obstacles to the manner of seeing and hearing the word of God within us, to really listen to our soul consciousness. Practicing soul consciousness allows us to see blessedness around us; the cross cuts through the blindness of egocentricity to see what is most precious in life, to notice the subtle sensitivity around us, to feel connected with myself, with others and creation. Paradox of paradoxes: what is felt as death-dealing is in fact life-giving. Isn’t this why we surround the cross with flowers during this feast? The cross viewed in this light is blessedness in the deepest sense of the word.  It is the path to the deep-seated learning to live in the spirit of the beatitudes. 

Before the Divine Liturgy today, we went outdoors for the procession and blessing of the Cross to the four corners of the earth.  May these blessings go out to the entire world, reminding us that we are all connected during these challenging times. May all people who suffer receive strength, consolation, and gratitude–especially the front-line workers, those who tirelessly dedicate themselves to the well-being of all humanity.

 

 

Birth of the Theotokos, September 8th (6th), 2020 Is 8:16-18, Heb 3:1-6, Lk 11: 27-32

As preached by Sister Cecelia
Holy Wisdom Church


The birthday of the Theotokos is the first feast we celebrate in the Liturgical calendar for the New Year. I just this year noticed that the Feasts in the Liturgical calendar begin with her birth and end on August 15 with her death: the Dormition. The rest of the church feasts are not in such a chronological order, the Exaltation of the Cross being the next feast.

You notice that there is not much in our bible about Mary’s life. There was a lot written, but those writings did not warrant including in our Canonical scripture. Some are far-fetched, so it is a good thing they were not. Many that we do commemorate now have come down through tradition.

What we do observe of Mary’s life is certainly worth our celebrating. What can we learn from her example? In the gospel read this morning, a woman praised Jesus’ mother for bearing and nursing him. Jesus replied that rather she was blessed for hearing the word of God and saying yes.

We learn from tradition that Anna promised Mary from a young age to serve in the temple. Perhaps she learned while there of the promises and hopes for a Messiah. When the shepherds came to see for themselves, and when Simeon and Anna foretold of the pain and joy to come concerning Jesus, Mary said yes. Did she know that her son was the Messiah even then? In caring for Jesus in all the ups and downs throughout their lives, Mary said yes, again and again.

Von Baltazar observed that Mary’s fiat, her yes, is not a once for all consent at the moment of conception but an openness to the work of the Spirit for the duration of her life. She says yes when Jesus all but refuses to obey her at Cana; she must say yes when he is taken into custody and tortured; she must say yes as he slips away on the cross. Even after giving birth to Jesus, Mary never ceases to give birth to Christ within.

The same is true of us – we are blessed when we hear the word of God and say yes to what God is asking of us.

This trusting receptivity becomes the womb from which we too birth Christ in the world; …we too listen to the silent Word spoken in our hearts, urging our consent to birth Christ in the world.

We need to spend our time well. Be careful to not confuse our wants with our needs. Be willing to let our lives change. Recognize our connectedness with everything and everyone. Be willing to labor for Truth against oppression and violence. (as we are directed by truth.)

Jesus said he was the Way, the Truth, and the Life. (John 14:6) It is the attractiveness of the way we live rather than the words we speak that leads others to turn from confusion toward Truth. A test of whether we are praying truly is if we become willing to place our lives unreservedly in God’s hands, as Mary did. We learn to grow in truth and peacefulness, affection and joy. We learn to pray by participating in the lives of other people who pray.

We are not delivered from life’s labors, physical or psychological, nor from life’s problems. A new way of life becomes possible not only because we have turned to God but because we have also turned to other persons around us and have let their lives become part of ours. Our relationship to God parallels our relationship to others.

It is not only humankind but the whole of creation that shares in the life of God. God works in human history only with human co-operation freely given. Let us learn to say yes to God as Mary did, and trust that God gives us what we need.--

August 6th 1 Kings 19:9-14, 2 Peter 1:10-18, Matthew 17:1-8

As preached by Sister Cecelia
Holy Wisdom Church

Jesus had been warning his followers that he had to go to Jerusalem, where he would suffer and be put to death. His followers would not hear of it because the Messiah was supposed to free his chosen people, not die. What was this message Jesus was trying to foist upon them?

Scripture says that Jesus took just these three—Peter, James, and John—up a mountain, we can presume to pray. Was Jesus himself not sure that going to Jerusalem, and all that meant, was what God wanted him to do? It is possible that God sent Moses and Elijah to assure Jesus the path he saw for himself was indeed what needed to be done.  Jesus, being human, needed strength to carry out his mission, so he prayed often. This possible uncertainty happened earlier in Jesus’ public ministry. Towards the end, He was still praying in Gethsemani that his suffering and death could pass. It is a mystery that he would not know for sure what was being asked. How much more so it is for us: to not be sure if our own choices in day-to-day living are the best. 

Pray and listen.

It is possible Moses and Elijah were sent for the disciples’ benefit. The law, symbolized by Moses, and Elijah, symbolizing the prophets who so often spoke for God, prepared the way for Jesus. Being transfigured and then hearing God’s words to listen to, Jesus should leave no doubt in the three men, in spite of their incredulity, that their beliefs were being fulfilled.  Think how difficult, how terrifying, to realize one’s beliefs might not be true.

Jesus’ words of comfort “Do not be afraid” are meant for us as well.

In these troubled times, are we afraid? Hopefully we have been inspired to pray and reflect on the meaning of our lives, since for some, it has been drastically difficult. It is so encouraging to hear of people going out of their way to help others in so many different ways. It is distressing to hear of the many ways, too, of harm being done to the other.  

Being quiet, being still, and listening for God to speak to us is a benefit that can come from this pandemic to help us in our metanoia. This morning’s first reading told us that God was not in the strong wind, or the earthquake, or the fire; but in the silence, Elijah did experience God. Do not be afraid of the silence.

Be open to the ways God is inviting you to grow. Recognize the goodness of the person God has created us to be. First find God within yourself. Then we can more easily find God everywhere else.

 Do not be afraid of studying scripture, to attempt to understand what Jesus was trying to teach us.  Study life itself to find God in all things. We can find God in the whirlwind, in fire, in earthquakes, and in all of creation, even this pandemic. How much more can we find God in humans, who are made in God’s image and likeness.

First, we have to find God within ourselves. Then we can more easily find God everywhere else.

 God is in our midst!

 

 

Homily July 19, 2020: 2 Kings 4:25–37/ Matthew 9:18–26

by Sr. Rebecca

 

Two of today’s scripture readings are about new life given to two persons – one the son of the Shunammite woman, the other a daughter of a local synagogue officer. Both died and were brought back to life.  The Gospel also recounts the healing of a third person: the woman suffering for 12 years of hemorrhaging.

I feel drawn to center our attention on those three living persons who manifested extraordinary love, faith, and trust in God in the midst of these incredible afflictions: the Shunammite woman, the bleeding woman, and the officer of the synagogue. All of them engaged themselves in pursuing life in the midst of a crisis, of heart-breaking losses. 

            Whence does this trust, this passion for life arise in them? In all three there is great suffering. Did they succumb to self-pity or wallow in their pain? No! Their pain generated energy.  They all engaged in doing something: to bring life into chaos!

            The Shunammite woman wasted no time to get on a donkey and take off to see the prophet Elisha. In those days, for a woman to travel such a distance and alone was certainly dangerous. But nothing was going to deter her. She was determined to move the prophet’s heart to come to her home and bring her son back to life. She was not going to take no for an answer. 

We see a similar passion in the woman who also took the risk of being crushed by the crowd following Jesus, or by being shunned because of her condition as a woman and, to boot, a bleeding one. she was determined to touch Jesus’ garment—her last chance to be healed. The third, the officer of the synagogue, was taking a huge risk of being ridiculed and demoted from his position in the synagogue by the powers that be—the synagogue authorities—the enemies of Jesus.

All three readings deal with the gap between suffering, death, and then new life. We hear of the gap of time between these events. The gap was 12 years for the woman with the flow of blood.  When we read or hear the stories in the Scripture like those today, we go so quickly from the suffering and loss to the experience of new life that we barely pause to realize what people go through in the middle—the gap between what was, and when, after a certain length of time, the healing or new life is experienced. Within the gap there is immense suffering, grief, pain, even anger and bitterness of heart and mind. The past 5 months in our own lives have been filled with gaps—disturbing ones, to say the least. We don’t need to search for them in our own lives; we all experience them. 

Gaps: in these past months and now, our lives are filled with gaps. The daily news breaks our hearts. We see fear. We see death. We see protests. We see anger and violence in the streets. We see prejudice and racism. We see arrogance and self-serving privilege. We see unemployment, incredible poverty, and economic hardship. All of these are gaps—the open wounds of our country—and we are hemorrhaging. We are bleeding, and some cannot breathe. 

One of the biggest gaps we face in this pandemic is uncertainty.

            There remains much uncertainty about the bigger picture, which is far from easy to deal with. Where is the COVID-19 pandemic taking us? Will there be an effective treatment and a vaccine? Will it be with us like the flu? How long must we suffer social isolation—some for whom the virus might mean a death sentence? Thoughts like these are certainly emerging one after another like a runaway train.

Not knowing: are we not in the dark regarding this and many other things in our lives? Uncertainty and unknowing are basic ingredients of our human condition and are especially acute today. This dark unknowing today, and the consequences in our daily living, affect many people with what feels like depression. Yet, for those I hear about and with whom I personally am in contact, it is not clinical depression but the effects of life being turned upside down and inside out.

We are in this crisis, this chasm of dark unknowing. But it does have a flip side, a positive value, because when we hit rock bottom and there is nowhere to go, it invites us to trust in God. The 14th-century Sufi poet and mystic Rumi wrote, “Return to the root of the root of yourself.” His words remind me that I often live on the periphery or circumference of life, disconnected from the root of my being and existence. To “return to the root of the root” of myself ultimately means returning to God. For me, that returning necessarily involves intentional silence and solitude. 

This is a time for going inward, to face these uncertainties, setting aside the ideas that fill our minds. We need to be still and quiet before God. This is a time to recognize that something greater than ourselves is at work here. It seems that it is always in the midst of crises, of messy times, that Light pierces the hearts of people: that is, when they face the suffering, allowing themselves to feel the passions of anger, eros, and of deep sadness and take them to God—for example, by meditating and praying the psalms, and not acting until a clear call is felt—along with knowing that their own lives are at stake. It is within THIS GAP that the energies of the passions are transformed. It happened to the prophets, to Jesus, and to multitudes of others, right up to our present times, as in the very recent news of the death of John Lewis.

God is everywhere present and filling ALL things! Perhaps ending with a poem from Mary Oliver may inspire us. Was it written, when, like so many people today, she found it hard to go into that “gap” and pray alone?

 

The Summer Day

“I don't know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” —Mary Oliver

 

Note: I am deeply grateful to Fr. Michael Marsh for his own shared thoughts that have inspired me as I was preparing this homily.  He helped me find words for some my own innermost feelings and especially to perceiving God’s Spirit at work in me and in all of us during these most disrupting and painful times.

  

June 28th, 2020 Sir 13:1-11, Rom 3:284:8, MT 7:1-11

As preached by Sister Cecelia

Holy Wisdom Church

The image of the beam in a person’s eye wanting to remove the speck in the neighbor’s eye is quite a visual picture. Picture it!  It gives us an idea of just how far off our judgments of another can be. How accurate can our view of the other be if such a large object is blocking our view? There are times when we see actions of the other which annoy us. It is frequently our own disliked behavior we are projecting onto the other.

So how do we go about preventing ourselves from making these erroneous judgements?

 Following this picture of bad judging Jesus tells us to ask and we will receive: to Seek and we will find. We are encouraged to ask for everything from the fulfillment of quite lofty ideals to the very humdrum of everyday tasks. When asking, we can be very specific, even to the smallest things. At the end of every request we make, though, pray that “your will be done, not mine” as you know, Lord, what will bring about the good for me and for whomever I am also asking.

Getting back to erroneous judgments, we see what we see but we must remember we cannot know the motivation behind another’s behavior.  In St Paul’s epistle this morning the law to be upheld is the law to love our neighbor as ourselves, one of the Ten Commandments. We would all like our neighbor to give us the benefit of a doubt in our actions.

Perhaps wanting to remove the speck from another’s eye indicates a desire to help, to serve others. To serve others well we need to know what shortcomings in ourselves need to be worked on. To be able to face ourselves, to know ourselves, is what we need in the here and now. We can’t do that without God’s help. Again, ask and you shall receive, seek and you will find. Pray always and know yourself!

Spend time pondering this mystery of God being everywhere. Asking and seeking for this understanding leads us inexorably to the wonder of God’s creation. It leads us to experience the joy of seeing the sunrise or a sunset, the beauty of a flower, the exuberance of the dogs running in both the snow and fields of weeds. Seeing the faltering first steps of a puppy learning to walk can bring us to gratitude to the God who made all things.

How often pain and suffering have also caused us to turn our minds to God. While physical pain can be extremely difficult, the psychological pain of no longer experiencing the presence of God is more so. It takes faith to be able to wait patiently for God.

Peter and Paul, whose feast we celebrate today, surely had their share of both the joys and sorrows of serving their God. Peter needed a special vision to realize nothing created was profane. Paul needed a special vision to know he was persecuting Christ when he was persecuting the followers of Christ.

We need faith to believe that God is in all things created. God is not far away, being also within us, we can commune instantly. Much quicker than email.

Our time on earth is given us to get to know God even if only a little at a time.