Good Friday — the day we commemorate the execution of Jesus. This year our commemoration reminds me of a quote from Meister Eckert about Christmas. In essence, Eckert asked what good it is for us that Jesus was born 2,000 years ago if he is not also born in us each day — for the Son of God always needs to be born.
In Horizons, younger sisters reflect on their lives, ministries, spirituality and the future of religious life.
I venture to say Wilson, a migrant from Guatemala, knows the Passion story in his bones. While the rhetoric in our country would condemn him as a criminal, I see that he is Jesus.
Horizons - For over a thousand years, millions of pilgrims have walked across Spain to the Catedral de Santiago (Cathedral of St. James). During Holy Week, I will become one of those pilgrims.
One cold day in January, I woke up and realized I was in a new relationship. As it happens, so are you. No matter who we voted for in the November presidential election or what our personal opinions are about the health and integrity of our electoral process, we have a new man in our lives: Donald J. Trump, the person sworn in as president of these United States on Jan. 20, 2017.
Twice last weekend, I found myself somewhere I haven't been in a long time: the back pew of church.
I suppose being tossed from one side of the emotional spectrum to the other shouldn't really come as a "spiritual surprise," since it seems to have happened even to the disciples as they journeyed with Jesus.
I'm what you might call a cradle Catholic. I grew up in the "Catholic ghetto" on the south side of Indianapolis. Everyone I knew, aside from a few Asians and adopted kids at my school, was white and Catholic. My senior year of high school, I experienced a significant holy disruption to the bubble of white privilege in which I lived — a holy disruption that continues to shape my journey today.
Lent is about to start, and I'm thinking about what I'll be getting this year. Yes, I know I sound more like a child on Christmas Eve than an adult preparing for a season of repentance and conversion. And while conventional wisdom tells me I should be choosing what I'll give up, I'm not. This Lent, here is what I'm getting and how I hope it'll help me encounter God.
I wonder when U.S. Christians began to lose touch with Jesus. The thought has crossed my mind from time to time in recent years, but lately it surfaces daily. My heart sinks as Christians in the news and on my Facebook feed rally behind building a wall on our southern border and denying Muslims from war-torn countries entry to ours. I'm baffled as Christians brazenly proclaim, "America first!" while professing to follow the Nazorean carpenter who declared more than once, "The last shall be first, and the first will be last."
I am gripping ski poles through fleece-lined mittens, my feet secured to cross-country skis. My arms and legs slide back and forth, propelling me forward along the trail. I have only been in these woods on this bright Saturday morning for about 10 minutes, but my warm breath is already fogging up my thick glasses.