Reflecting on Acts 6: 1-7

That first reading from Acts always makes me cringe. It’s at the very beginning of the section, where it says, “…the Hellenists complained against the Hebrews because their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution.”

That’s so evocative of the cultural blindness that continues to plague the Church and society. Can you imagine this? It’s just months, or a very few years, from the resurrection of Jesus. Communities of faith have joyfully sprung up all over Jerusalem and parts of Asia. They are so on fire with Jesus that they even share everything in common. Except, apparently, when the members of the community are Greek (not Jewish) women. Then it’s okay to ignore them at the distribution of food. I’ll bet it was less being ignored and more just not being seen at all.

Thank God for Rosa Parks, who sat in the “White’s Only” part of the bus until she was “seen.” Her courage and witness paid off fairly soon. It was exactly one year later that the Supreme Court ruled the law allowing racial segregation on buses to be unconstitutional.

I remember a sad scene from my years as an elementary school teacher. Taking my turn on lunch duty, one day a group of distraught little girls came to me and said, “Miss McGovern, Elliot is crying!” Sure enough, there was little Eliott, crying, while his “friends” were utterly oblivious, throwing their lunch bags around and doing the things fourth-grade boys do. It took the girls from a table across the cafeteria to see this poor child in his misery.

Good for those Greek husbands who stood up for their wives. Who should we “see” today?

Do you feel seen by everyone in your life?

Kathy McGovern ©2026 

Reflecting on Jn. 10: 1-10

I have come that you might have life and have it in abundance.  Who can resist the One who promises that to each of us? I can’t. I never have been able to resist Jesus, and that grace has brought me nothing but blessing every day of my life.

Imagine Jesus, using the language of sheep-tending, trying to draw the Pharisees into the new life that is their inheritance. He reminds them of the sheep-gate, and how the sheep won’t enter until the gate-keeper opens it. The Pharisees just stare at him. Okay, he says, let’s try this: the sheep will only follow the good shepherd. They know the voice of the shepherd who truly cares for their welfare, and they won’t follow the thieves and robbers. The Pharisees look dumbly ahead. They’re just not getting it.

LOOK, says an exasperated Jesus. I AM THE GATE. I AM YOUR LIFE, YOUR HOPE, YOUR SECURITY, YOUR PEACE. He can’t say it more clearly than that. But how can he be the long-awaited Messiah when he has no army, no generals to command, breaks the laws of the Sabbath, he let that adulteress go free, and he eats and drinks with sinners?

Oh, says Jesus, if today you would just hear my voice. I’m calling you―that’s YOU he’s talking to, by the way. Dig deep. Listen with all your heart. Tune out all soul-deadening clamor of the culture. If you seek me, says Jesus, you will find me. If you seek me with all of your heart I will let myself be found by you.

Abundant life? Oh, yeah. Call us by name, Good Shepherd. You’re coming in loud and clear.

In what ways are you tuning in to the voice of Jesus?

Kathy McGovern ©2026 

Reflecting on Luke 24: 13-35

My husband Cleopas and I decided to leave Jerusalem. We were heartbroken. We had hoped that Jesus, our beloved friend, would redeem Israel. But instead, the Romans crucified him. The Romans are beasts.

Our group spent the next hours huddled together, terrified of the soldiers. This morning, three of the disciples went to the tomb with spices to anoint his body. They came running back with the wildest tale! They were screaming that his body is gone, that he has been raised! And even Peter ran to the tomb and found the burial cloths just lying there in the empty tomb.

People are crying and laughing and screaming and singing, “He has been raised!” But we aren’t naïve. We won’t be taken in by wishful thinking. The Jerusalem group can keep their joy. We saw him crucified. He had no power over the Romans. He wasn’t the one we’d hoped for after all.

But here’s the thing. On the road back to Emmaus, a stranger appeared on the road. He asked us why we were weeping. How could he not know? We started from the beginning, from the day three years ago when we heard about Jesus, and came to find him, and fell so in love with him. We told him about the friends we had made, friends we thought we’d have forever. It felt good to tell the story. In fact, our hearts were burning within us, just remembering him.

That Stranger was a good listener. Ha! How did we not recognize him? It was Jesus! As usual, we thought we were running away from him, but he was running towards us the whole time.

How does remembering the Story bring Jesus nearer?

Kathy McGovern ©2026 

Reflecting on John 20: 19-31

This Divine Mercy Sunday gives us, once again, the touchingly familiar story of Thomas coming to faith through the invitation of the Risen Lord to touch his wounds. Put yourself in that room—probably the same room where they had gathered for the Last Supper, and the same room where Mary joined the apostles to wait for, and experience, the descent of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost.

Imagine that you are heartbroken Thomas, wanting so badly to believe the report of the others that the Risen One had appeared to them, but deeply afraid to find that the reports of his resurrection were just group hysteria.

And then, there he is, standing in your midst. “Peace be with you,” he says. Try to imagine that moment. Try to imagine your heart, bursting from your chest with joy. And then, because he knows YOUR wounds, he tenderly places your fingers in his hands, and your hand in his side.

He knows all the times you’ve been disappointed in life. He knows the times you’ve been betrayed, and the times you’ve been the betrayer. He knows the sicknesses you’ve suffered, and the times you’ve wept at the graves of your loved ones.

He holds you as you touch his wounds. He grabs you to keep from falling from astonishment, and joy.

Can you imagine the joy in that room? The One for whom they had grieved so hard, the One they had longed to see just one more time, was standing in their midst. And then, this: Thomas, you believe because you see me. But blessed are those who have not seen, yet believe.

That’s you. That’s me. Jesus, we trust in You.

What wounds will you let Jesus touch with his divine mercy?

Kathy McGovern ©2026 

Reflecting on John 20: 1-9

It’s Easter.  Can you feel it?  Here in Denver, we don’t feel as if we earned it, because it’s been deliciously warm all winter. Our friends back east, though, really worked for it this year. But, whether we deserve it or not, birds have suddenly found their way back to our back yard and are greeting us with Easter song.  Every spring it’s a delightful surprise when the perennials pop up on the south side of our driveway. You again!  We forgot all about you.  How sweet of you to keep popping up in our neglected yard, reminding us that Easter happens, ready or not.

How was your Lent?  Was your fast helpful in pulling you back from the things that are hurting you?  Are you more who you want to be, more determined to “not go back to that place of slavery” that keeps you dependent, or powerless?  That’s always my goal, and once again I didn’t achieve it.

But God brings Easter anyway, whether we had a successful Lent or not.  Our relentlessly loving God keeps sending flowers and rains, lilacs and lilies, baby chicks and baby humans.  An endless Lent is just not in God’s nature.  Easter is God’s nature, with its resurrections and Alleluias, its promise of new life, its memory of an empty tomb, and our Christ, whose triumph over the grave has opened the graves of all believers.

So once again I’ll shake off the ashes of failure, lift my face up to the sun, and hold my hands open wide.  It’s Easter, and the powers of hell cannot prevail against it.  Let the feast of the forgiven begin.

How will you celebrate this Fifty Day Feast?

Kathy McGovern c. 2026

Reflecting on John 6: 51-58

Last week I met the MOST beautiful couple. I had come to their house to pick up a book about the seminary in Juarez, which has been supported by many of you through the St. Jerome Mission, an outreach to Mexico which originated through many churches in Denver.

From the moment they opened the door they flooded me with kisses. He’s American, she’s from Juarez, but they both share that immense joy that should come when Catholics meet other Catholics. The president of the seminary in Juarez (and the author of the book I’d come to get) is a mutual friend of both or ours, and that’s all it took for them to keep hugging and kissing me.

And here! Here are the pictures of their Wedding Mass three years ago! And here are their Confirmations! And their new baby’s Baptism! And here, at the center  of the room, were two First Communion pictures, his from  a big church in Denver, hers from a small church in Juarez. Those two photos hold the place of honor in their home. The day of their First Communions remains the most important day of their lives.

Thinking about it now, I realize that’s true for me too. I’m sure that the couple I met would say the birth of their child is the most joyful day of their lives, but the day any of us met Jesus in his Consecrated Bread and Precious Blood was the most important day of our lives. We are what we eat and drink, and the more we eat and drink of the Eucharist, the more deeply we become one with Christ.

So Happy Feast Day, Church! Let the hugging and kissing begin.

How has the Eucharist caused you to become one with the heart and mind of Christ?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on John 3: 16-18

A lot of times, we have a sense that the things we do that make us feel good aren’t actually good for us. Isolation is one of those things that feels good for a while. There is something increasingly seductive about staying at home with a book, or with endless Netflix movies.

Today we can block any calls we don’t want. We have cameras to assure we never have to answer the door. Of course, the longer we isolate, the more we crave it. That, we secretly know, is not good for us.

But yesterday I heard about my friend Ginny (96) from some of her family members. After her beloved husband died, we all held our breath, wondering how she would ever live without him. The adjustment was painful, but made bearable by the warm love of the many, many friends she and Bill cultivated through their long marriage.

Ginny could have withdrawn, I guess. But instead, she responded to the grace of family and friends. Every night, she hosts “happy hour” with a different set of friends. Ginny knows what we all secretly know inside: it is not good for us to be alone.

Today’s feast is actually a mandate for all of us: Just as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit exist in relationship, we exist in relationship with each other. When we talk to that stranger on the plane, or make that phone call we’ve put off, or get over to the school and volunteer to read to the kids, we are acting as agents of the Holy Trinity.

Warm relationships are a big jigsaw puzzle. Are you the missing piece? Let the Holy Trinity show the way.

What relationships do you miss? How will you restore them?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Acts 2: 1-11

They were all gathered that day in one place,

Peter, and Andrew, and She Full of Grace.

Like a mighty wind, just then the Spirit descended,

The Age of LIFE started, the Age of Law ended.

The Age of Grace poured out, in tongues as of fire.

And so filled, whatever their Christ would require

Became their great joy, their mission, their Moment,

With power they named our Despair their Opponent.

Our sadness, our shame, our losses, addictions,

Our too-tiny tremblings of too-small convictions,

They roared with the Spirit, we still hear their voices!

In memory of them the earth still rejoices.

 For God is not tiny, not helpless, not buried.

The Resurrected One was the Christ who they carried

Out to the world, to its remotest parts,

To hold us, to heal us, to DWELL in our hearts.

How do you live in Pentecost strength?         

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Last week we resolved to begin our Pentecost novena either last Thursday, or today. Imagine that all the readers of this column around the country are praying together, right now. Our prayer is that we would be ready to give a reason for our HOPE.

It’s hard to find HOPE at times, I know. As I read back on last year’s novena, I see heartfelt prayers for a swift end to Russia’s war in Ukraine. We prayed that Vladimir Putin would have a conversion experience. We prayed that those who were trapped in Ukraine would find a safe way out.

We prayed this novena for nine days, right up to Pentecost of last year. I’m going to pray it again this year, and for as long as it takes. But I want to suggest another novena that’s closer to home this year.

It was so inspiring—so HOPEFUL—to see the lines of cars lined up last month in our parish parking lot. They had come to surrender any weapons from their homes. We recovered 58 guns, several of which were assault weapons. It’s a drop in the bucket, of course, but there’s no stopping a moment whose time has come. And so, I offer this Novena Prayer:

O God of peace, we couldn’t have imagined that the Second Amendment would serve as a shield for mass murderers.

But here we are, God, the land of the free and home of the brave, dying every day of terrible mass shootings and mass murders because of our RIGHTS.  This is the reason for our HOPE: hearts can be changed, if not amendments. Change our hearts this day. We pray in Jesus’ Name. AMEN.

Who will you talk to about how easy it is to surrender a firearm?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on 1Peter 3: 15-18

Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope.

That line from the second reading today (1 Peter 3: 15) has been trending powerfully the last several years. I think it’s an exhortation from evangelists who are witnessing the sad reality that fewer and fewer Christians can explain what they believe, and why they believe it.

Are you ready to give an explanation for the reason for your hope, or are you, like me, timid and insecure around those who have actively rejected the faith? As we get closer to Pentecost, these two weeks might provide a fruitful time of reflection. What is the reason for your hope?

I’ll start. The reason for my hope is that I see, clearly, that God has been faithful in my past, and is faithful in the present. This lifelong awareness of the nearness of God, and the providential goodness of God in my life, stirs a solid hope in me that God will be faithful in the future as well.

Psalm 71:5 has been, I realize now, the signature scripture of my life: For you, O Lord, are my hope, my trust, O Lord, from my youth. I think about this often, the many ways my Catholic childhood, nurtured in the Catholic schools, rewarded with glow-in-the-dark medals, submerged in beautiful music and beautiful liturgy, forged a DNA of hope and trust from my youth.

This Thursday our Pentecost novena begins. For nine days before our great FEAST, let’s do a full-court press of prayer. Let’s ask God to stir in us the reasons for our hope. And may that hope renew the face of the earth.

Are you ready to give a reason for your hope?

Kathy McGovern ©2023