Reflecting on Isaiah 25: 6-10

Last week some friends invited me to a fundraiser for Bridging Hope, a nonprofit that provides assistance to indigent, ill, disadvantaged, and disabled women and children in Viet Nam.

I felt like I was on the mountaintop from the second I arrived. There was a dear friend in every corner of the room, and when I sat down I realized that eight other friends were sharing our table! Heaven.

Talk about your feast of juicy, rich food, and pure, choice wines. Beautiful Vietnamese teenagers, parishioners of the vibrant Vietnamese church in our archdiocese, came to our tables practically begging us to take all the fried egg rolls we could eat. Soon they returned, with large bowls overflowing with scented rice and vegetables, herb-crusted salmon, and beef with broth. I can’t remember ever eating a more abundant or delicious meal.

What overwhelmed me the most was the loving participation of SO many young people. The young Vietnamese dancers were jaw-dropping, and the colors filled the room so much that it seemed the sun had burst into a billion gorgeous prisms.

The music was, of course, spectacular. The Vietnamese are known for their musical artistry. As the Youth Choir sang, my friend turned to me and said, “We look at these beautiful young singers, and forget what happened in their homes over fifty years ago, and what it took for their grandparents to get here.”

And then I felt the veil that veils all people, the web that is woven over all nations, dissolve in front of me. Humans were never made to be at war, but to sing, and dance, and eat together at the banquet of eternal friendship and love.

When in your life have you felt the veil of separation and sadness lift?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Phil 4: 6-9

Ah. Every three years or so we get to reflect on that gorgeous section from Philippians. Let’s leave the vineyards of Isaiah and Matthew, and rest in that lovely prayer of St. Paul.

Whatever is true. It’s getting hard, isn’t it, to really know truth from fiction? But we can search our own hearts and find the ways in which we are not being true to who we are, and who we can be.

Whatever is honorable. This is something that we recognize when we see it, and when we live it. I’m thinking of parents who hear their childrens’ cry in the night and, God bless them, rouse themselves from sleep and attend to their needs.

Whatever is just. It’s so easy to skirt this one, especially at tax time. The just person pays their way, and looks out for those who can’t.

Whatever is pure. Webster’s says “pure” means “free from contamination”. You know when someone’s friendship, or work, or love, is free from the shortcuts that end up destroying everything.

Whatever is lovely. We know when we see, or experience, something truly lovely. This time of year pretty much gets the prize for lovely.

Whatever is gracious. I think this is my favorite. I LOVE being in the presence of gracious people. These are the people who make you feel utterly welcome, utterly loved, utterly at home.

This is what makes being alive so wonderful, the encounter with people who live these adjectives.

Do you long for a richer life? Think on these things.

Which of the above adjectives best describes you?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Philippians 2: 1-11

I have so many questions about what Jesus knew, and when he knew it. Did he and the other members of the Trinity talk it over, and decide to offer up Jesus to the world? Though he was in the form of God, did Jesus truly count the cost before he gave up the bliss of heaven to become one with us? He had the fullness of everything that ever was or ever will be, and yet he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave.

Imagine a multi-billionaire like Bill Gates deciding that he couldn’t truly help the world unless he became like the poorest of the poor. Imagine him giving up his dazzling estates around the planet, not just for a noble experiment that had an exit strategy, but for the rest of his life. Imagine him giving up his health care and dental plan. In fact, imagine him sacrificing the health care he’d had all his life, and going out into the world with unchecked high blood pressure, and rotting teeth.

Those who actually do live with these health deficits will likely die earlier than those of us who gratefully see our dentists and health care providers as needed, if not twice a year. But imagine having those advantages, and giving them up, so as to truly live as much of the world lives.

We might be able to stretch our imaginations that far, but until we enjoy the Beatific Vision ourselves (by God’s grace), we will never grasp what Jesus gave up in order to be God with us. That’s love beyond all telling. That’s the most amazing grace.

I can only imagine.

In what ways is Jesus Christ the Lord of your life?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Matthew 20: 1-16a

We were celebrating my husband Ben’s birthday last month when I was delighted to hear this story about him from his childhood. Only Ben! Said his sister Lynda. Only Ben would go around the table when we were kids, show us all his hand, and then teach us what cards to play to beat him.

It’s a family trait. Our three little nieces used to squeal in delight at whatever gift their brother was receiving on his birthday. They never counted the presents under the tree. It was all delight, all joy, all grace.

But would they have been as gracious if, twenty years later, they labored all day in the hot Mediterranean sun, only to find that the ones who worked the last hour of the day received the same wages as they? Doubtful.

It’s the Original Sin, the Original Suspicion. Somebody is getting a better deal than we are. Somebody is more loved than we are. Somebody has access to more of God’s grace than we do.

Just watch a baby with her adoring parents. She has all the love a parent can possibly shower on her, but let the parent’s gaze leave her for just a moment, ESPECIALLY if the gaze should wander over to another beloved child, and she will guide the parent’s gaze back to her.

WH Auden wrote: The error bred in the bone…craves what it cannot have. Not universal love, but to be loved alone.

But that’s where we’re wrong. Love is not a nonrenewable resource. The love that we receive? That’s the love that goes right back into the world, to every vineyard worker, no matter what time he clocked in.

In what ways do you delight when others succeed?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Matthew 18:21-35

Last year around Thanksgiving I read a story that’s stuck with me all year. The author was writing about her father, who estranged himself from his family when his kids were young. He was a no-show at their birthdays and graduations. He did ask to attend her wedding, but expected nothing, and sat by himself in the back, grateful to be invited.

Several years went by. He began sending cards and gifts for her birthday. She ignored them. He left cheery notes on her phone. She deleted them. But here’s the thing: he never stopped. Over the course of many years, he never stopped showing her, in countless thoughtful ways, that he loved her and wanted to be in her life.

It would have been easy to just let him go on, never hearing from her, never receiving any acknowledgement from her. It would have been a satisfying revenge for a childhood spent yearning for him.

But the author did an astonishing thing. She called him and invited him to Thanksgiving dinner with her family (which included her mother, whom he had hurt so dearly all those years ago). He  tearfully accepted. He arrived with gifts for the table and for her. Her mother allowed a short hug. The tense dinner began, and within a few minutes the conversation turned to sports and the weather.

Thus began a reconciliation that took just a year or two to thaw her cold heart. Her mother had long ago forgiven her father, and that seemed to give her permission to do the same. God willing, they’ll all be at Thanksgiving dinner again this year.

Forgiveness. The most delicious feast at any meal.

What experience do you have of forgiveness?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Matthew 18: 15-20

A friend of mine, the mother of two young adults, once said: I think my kids loved to watch “Friends” because the characters in that television show openly confronted each other (hilariously, of course) and didn’t have any hidden resentments. 

But in real life nobody really relates that way, and so my kids leave all kinds of things unsaid, even with each other.  They were so much closer when they were kids, before they learned to hide their feelings.

It’s true, isn’t it?  The challenges of social interactions are so great that many conversations never happen, and decades-long resentments are never voiced, which means true intimacy is never approached.

Jesus knows a thing or two about intimacy, and gives us this bold suggestion: just open your mouth and say what’s on your mind.  Now, this is very risky.  Chances are great that the person whom you want to be closer to, but can’t because of whatever it is that’s bothering you, will listen respectfully, thank you for your “feedback”, and then check you off their list of their most intimate friends because they are inwardly seething.

There is an epidemic of estrangement going on in families today. For what appears to be no reason at all, young people are closing themselves off from their parents, and taking the beloved grandchildren with them. And, in many cases, the pleading of their parents for reconciliation is falling on deaf ears.

If only both parties had been able to be honest from the start.  Honesty is agonizing, but no great marriage or family ever thrived without it.

Have you ever had the grace to let a friend tell you their honest feelings about you?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Jeremiah 20:7-9

In the forty years I’ve known Mary, I doubt we’ve ever had a single conversation that didn’t center around her intense love for her two sons, just babies when we met.

She built a deep awareness of God into their DNA. She read bible stories at bedtime. She reminded them that their prodigious sports, musical, and academic achievements reflected the glory of God, alive in them.

Their baptisms, First Communions, and Confirmations were beautifully celebrated, with big parties after each one. Their baptismal candles were saved, and lit on their anniversary days.

Jason, in particular, was a sensitive child. With a genius IQ, even the top schools had trouble keeping him engaged. He finally settled on Medical and Law degrees from Harvard. The celebration of his wedding Mass to beautiful, joyful Melanie was one of the most glorious occasions I can remember.

He was an expert and experienced hiker. He and Melanie hiked mountains all over the U.S. and Europe. But last week, at a height of fifty feet at Devil’s Lake Park in Wisconsin, Mary’s kind, brilliant son fell to his death after slipping on a wet rock. Life will never be the same.

Mary and Dave did everything right. Their boys grew up with lots of sunshine, lots of exercise, lots of music, lots of healthy, nutritious food. Immediately, my thoughts turned to Jeremiah: You duped me, O Lord, and I let myself be duped.

But this is what faithful, heartbroken Mary says: Do I feel duped? Never. God has blessed me all my life. This was a tragic accident. Christ was comforting Jason during those last, terrible moments.

During his lifetime, the prophet Jeremiah never knew the indwelling presence of Christ. But it’s that presence that hold us tight today.

How has your faith strengthened you during terrible loss?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Romans 11: 33-46

We’re never gonna figure it out.  Several years ago, actress Meryl Streep spoke with an interviewer about her own quest to know God.  She searches for a closer embrace of God, but is sure she’s never going to figure out God completely. Who will?  For who has known the mind of God? Even we who have had the grace of the sacraments search for closer communion, and that search fills our lives with beauty and meaning.

We catch a glimmer of the divine, and the electricity from that encounter keeps us going for the rest of our lives.  St. Paul’s encounter with Jesus on that fateful Damascus road lasts just a few seconds; the remaining thirty years of his life are spent looking forward to the day when he will meet Jesus again in eternity.

Fourth of July fireworks interfere with migratory patterns and thousands of birds fall from the sky, birds we never noticed, birds we never knew were there.  And they are just the tiniest fraction of the birds of the air―one hundred billion— that our Heavenly Father feeds every day.  Oh, the depth of the riches of God. 

The human heart is restless, yet deeply touched and comforted by a random call from a friend, a rainbow over the highway at rush hour, a persistent intuition that we are never alone. Oh, the depth of the knowledge of God.

Who do you say I am? Jesus asks.  Search your heart for your answer.  It’s the only thing you ever really need to figure out.

In what ways do you experience the depth of the riches of God?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Matthew 15: 21-28

Every three years when this gospel comes around, I cringe at Jesus’ initial dismissal of the desperate Canaanite mother.  I agree with Fr. Richard Rohr, though, that it’s a set-up. Yes, Jesus is making her beg him, over and over. Jesus does not require, or even want us to beg for what we need. But he requires it of her because he wants to show her rich and fierce faith to his lukewarm disciples.

We can imagine him saying to them, Do you SEE the faith of this Canaanite woman? She’s never heard of Moses, never set foot in a synagogue, never had ANY of the opportunities to study the Torah  that you have had. Yet look at how great is her faith! Of course I can restore her daughter! Her faith has set loose the power of God to heal.

And then I imagine the two of them sharing the biggest laugh, because she responded to the invitation to proclaim her faith in Jesus, and that faith opened up his power to save her and her daughter.

Now then. Yes, every three years I  cringe. But this time around I found a whole new, and disturbing, reason: Jesus’ disciples came and asked him, “Send her away, for she keeps calling out after us.”

AARGH. Doesn’t that remind you of every long wait in the ER, trying to get medical help for the underserved, or the  very LONG lines waiting with those who need help filling out forms for food or housing? Send them away. They keep calling out after us.

C’mon, disciples. RESPOND to those who are calling out after you. What Master did you THINK you were following?

How has  your lifelong faith brought healing?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on 1 Kings 19: 9a, 11-13a

Every once in a while the author of the scripture text likes to have a little fun with the neighbors. That might be what’s going on in that first reading from 1 Kings. Let’s notice what happened just before this 19^th chapter.

The prophet Elijah has the ultimate showdown with 450 priests of Baal, the god of the Canaanites, on Mt. Carmel. When it’s over, all the priests are slain, Elijah makes fire out of rain-drenched wood, and brings a deluge out of a three-year drought.

But Jezebel, the pagan queen of Israel who worshipped Baal, put out a hit on Elijah, sending him racing all the way down to Horeb (Sinai) in the desert, in fear of her and her armies.

And this is where the teasing comes in. Waiting desperately for a word from the Lord, Elijah looked for God in the strong and heavy wind that came up—but nope, not in the wind. Then an earthquake! Nope, not in the earthquake. Finally, fire started up! But the Lord wasn’t in the fire either.

The ancient Hebrew audience would have chuckled at all this, because they knew that the Canaanites had gods for wind, earthquake, and fire. Elijah looked for the true god in all three of these, but, sure enough,  there was no god there!

Apparently there was no Canaanite god of still, small voices, for that’s where the true God was found. When he discerned this voice as God’s, Elijah went and stood at the entrance to the cave, ready to do as God instructed.

This story today hints that insurance companies have things backward, since they call earthquake and fire “acts of God”!

When has that still, small voice spoken to you?

Kathy McGovern ©2023