Look at me for a minute, church. Look me right in the eye. What did you bring through those double doors this morning? Because I know the baggage you’re carrying—I carry it right along with you. Some of you walked into St. Michael’s today completely wiped out. Beaten down by financial stress, staring at bills you don’t know how to pay, dealing with a brutal health diagnosis, or just carrying that quiet, exhausting guilt that you’re constantly falling short. The world tells you to pull yourself up by your bootstraps, grind harder, and run until you drop. It’s a lie, and it leaves us broken. But look at Zechariah today. Our King doesn’t roll in on a towering war chariot demanding more taxes, more sweat, and more labor. He comes in absolute humility, riding on a donkey, breaking the weapons of war and bringing supernatural peace. He comes to lift your load, not add to it.

This isn’t theory for me; it’s my life. Exactly six years ago this week, I stood at the altar and celebrated my very first Mass as an ordained priest. As Alma told you earlier—and she’s been right there by my side from that opening day until this very moment—when we stepped out onto that water, we didn’t have a map for every single twist and turn. We just had a Savior we trusted. Let me pull back the curtain for you: as your pastor, I carry deep burdens for this flock. I sweat over our parish finances, I worry about the well-being of our church home, and I carry your personal trials in my heart every single day. But if we try to run this parish, or live our lives, out of human strength, out of what Saint Paul calls the “flesh” in Romans 8—we will burn out and fail every single time. The priesthood, just like the Christian life, is impossible on our own power. When I put on this stole and chasuble, it isn’t a solo act. It’s laying my humanity down so Christ can carry the heavy end of the beam.

To understand how this works, look at what a yoke actually is. In the fields, a yoke is never built for one animal; it’s designed for a team. When Jesus says, “Take my yoke upon you,” He isn’t giving you a new chore or a heavier obligation. He is telling you to strap into the harness right next to Him. He’s saying, “Let Me take the heavy side of the load.” That is where our charismatic fire must come alive! We aren’t just barely surviving here. The exact same Holy Spirit that raised Jesus Christ from the dead lives actively inside of you. The Spirit is our advocate, our provider, and our strength. When we pray for the financial well-being and blessing of St. Michael’s, we aren’t begging a distant, detached deity; we are invoking the indwelling Spirit who loves to provide for His temple.

When you experience that radical relief—when Christ reaches down and lifts that crushing weight off your shoulders—your natural, uncontainable response is what we’re going to sing at Communion: “God, I’m just grateful.” But hear me on this: as sons and daughters of Saint Dominic, we don’t lock the truth away, and as charismatics, we don’t keep the fire contained within these four walls. We are saved to be sent! Our ultimate, driving mandate at St. Michael’s Parish is to throw open the gates, run out into the streets, and bring the broken, the lost, and the weary home to the Father. We are called to be an evangelical force that actively rescues souls and crowds the pews of eternity. As we prepare to bring our tithes, our gifts, and our heavy burdens to this altar, we must look honestly at our own lives and answer the ultimate missionary charge: When you stand before the throne of God and look back at the life you lived, who will be standing there next to you because you had the courage to help make heaven crowded?

My dearest brothers and sisters in Christ,

​Grace and peace to you.

​Today, we gather as the church to celebrate the Solemnity of Saint Peter and Paul, Apostles and unmatched giants of the Christian faith. Though they were vastly different in temperament, background, and ministry, they stand together as twin pillars of the Church, bound by a shared devotion to our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.

​Peter was a simple fisherman from Galilee, a man of fierce loyalty but also of human frailty, who famously faltered and who denied Christ three times. Yet, it was to this flawed, passionate disciple that Christ said, “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church.”

Paul, on the other hand, was an intellectual scholar, a Roman citizen, and a zealot who once fiercely persecuted the early Church. His dramatic encounter with the risen Lord on the road to Damascus transformed him from Christ’s greatest adversary into the Apostle to the Gentiles.

​Their independent missions eventually brought them both to Rome, the heart of the empire, where their earthly journeys culminated in the ultimate sacrifice. According to historical tradition, both Apostles met their martyrdom between 64 and 67 AD during the brutal persecutions under Emperor Nero. Peter was sentenced to crucifixion but insisted on being turned upside down, declaring himself unworthy to die in the same manner as his Saviour. Paul, granted a swifter execution due to his Roman citizenship, was beheaded outside the city walls.

​Their deaths were not a defeat, but the final, crowning testament to the truth of the Resurrection. They poured out their lives completely so that the Gospel might reach the ends of the earth. Their enduring legacy reminds us that Christ uses our imperfections, transforms our darkest pasts, and calls each of us to be steadfast, courageous witnesses in our own generation.

​Let us pray:

​Almighty God, whose blessed Apostles Peter and Paul glorified you by their martyrdom: Grant that your Church, instructed by their teaching and example, may ever remain faithful to the foundations of the faith. Strengthen us to witness to your truth with the same courage and love they displayed, through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.

​Amen.

 Y’all…those of you who are “of an age” may remember the television show, “Lost in Space” and the iconic robot that was a large part of the show.  There are a couple of things that the robot said that I distinctly remember.  One was, “Warning! Warning!  Danger Will Robinson!”  And the other is, “That does not compute.”  Now, this robot was, like most technology in the Science Fiction of the day, brilliant and knew most everything   For something to “not compute” whatever that something was really threw a wrench in the wringer and gave us a great deal of the plot of the show.  Today, the quote is used in everyday slang to express that a piece of information doesn’t make sense, is illogical, or flat-out contradicts the facts.

Those of us who try hard to live our lives as Jesus commanded us to live base our thoughts, actions, words, and deeds on the greatest commandments:  Love God with all that you are, and love people radically.  Sometimes, however, Jesus’s words  makes us scrunch up our brows and think, “That does not compute.”   Like the Gospel appointed for today:  Matthew 10:37-39 (NIV),  “Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.  Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me.  Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.

Say what?  Whatever does this mean?  You say to me, you say, “But Jesus taught us to love and respect and honor our parents!  It’s even one of the Ten Commandments!”  And I’d say right back to you, “Yep.”

Earlier, Jesus has warned His disciples that He had come to bring a sword of division to Israel. This wasn’t a reference to violence or revolution, but to the separations that the gospel can cause. Those who refuse to accept Christ and his message of love and acceptance will hate and persecute those who believe (John 15:18–21). The division will take place even between immediate family members. Fathers and sons will turn on each other, as well mothers and daughters. The issue will be belief in Jesus Himself. Is He the Messiah, the Son of God? Is what he says right and true and good?  Those who refuse to acknowledge Him will reject those of their own family, who put their faith in Jesus and begin to follow His ways (1 Peter 4:3–4).

Jesus is demanding His rightful place in the hearts of His people.  Us.   We must love Him more than all others and demonstrate that  this is true, especially if we are forced to make a choice. This does not change Scripture’s demand that children honor their parents (Ephesians 6:2) and that parents provide for their children (Ephesians 6:4; 1 Timothy 5:8). Jesus does not say “do not love” those other people—what He says is that we ought to love God more.  And in so loving God more, in following his path, will folks be willing to lose connection to their family members, friends,  or political party in order to continue to follow Jesus and acknowledge to others that He is the Christ? 

Loving others is the second greatest commandment, but it is behind the first: to love God with everything we have (Matthew 22:34–40). In making this statement, Jesus continues to make the claim that He is God. Love and obedience to Him must come before obedience to any other person or group (Acts 5:29).

And how do we show that love?  That willingness to sacrifice it all for Jesus?  Be merciful.  Be kind.  Show love.  It’s pretty much one of the key recurring factors of Jesus’s ministry.  Love God.  Love people.  Love God.  Love people.

Again, Jesus tells us in John 13:34-35, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.  By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”    How do we show that love?  Again, Jesus tell us, and again, very specifically in Matthew 25:35-45:   For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in,  I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’   “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?  When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?  When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’  “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’  And here’s the kicker, “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.  For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink,  I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’   “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

45 “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’

Makes ya think, huh?

The least of these….who then, are ‘the least of these’ in today’s society?   Probably those who make many of us uncomfortable.  The homeless?  People who are of a different color?  Sexual orientation?  Gender identity? Ethnicity? Any of those who are “other”?  Who are “the least of these” to you? 

Throughout his ministry, Jesus showed that he did, indeed, love everyone, even to the point of dying for their sins, but you know,  he went out of his way to intentionally help specific groups of people — the alienated, mistreated, and those facing injustice. 

We as Christians must recognize that our society today is filled with numerous groups and communities facing systemic oppression, and we must act. We must be willing to admit and address the complex realities within our world that create such problems,  and avoid the spiritual laziness that tempts us to rely on generic excuses and solutions.  There’s another meme that I’ve seen that says something like, “At times being a good Christian meant being a bad Roman.”  Things to ponder, no?  Loving as Jesus loved us is hard.   Loving Jesus more than anything and anyone is harder.

Christians do a disservice to the gospel message by removing the cultural context from Jesus’s ministry and watering down his message to one of religious platitudes. We like to generalize the words of Jesus and transform his life into a one-size-fits-all model that can apply to all of humanity.  He intentionally, purposefully, and passionately addressed very specific causes. He radically addressed the diverse and complicated conflicts of the time and shattered the status quo.  Are we, as Christians, not called to do the same?  By addressing racism, immigration, gender equality, gender expression, and a litany of other issues, we are following in the steps of Jesus.

Justice.  Mercy.  Kindness.  Love God.  Love people.

Amen.

My dearest brothers and sisters =in=Christ,

Today, we as come together as the church to commemorate the birth of St John the Baptist, often known as the ‘Forerunner’.

John was the son of Zechariah and Elizabeth. In the Gospel of Luke, we are told that Zechariah was told beforehand about the birth, and that he was to be named John. The name John means “God is Gracious” (LK 1 :8=2:3).

John whilst still within his mother’s womb, instantly recognised the presence of Our Lord Jesus, who was also still in his mother’s womb, when Mary went to visit her cousin Elizabeth (LK 1 :41). John leapt for joy in Elizabeth’s womb as soon as Mary and Elizabeth met, and this is when John was cleansed of original sin. This came to pass just as the Angel Gabriel had previously promised Zechariah in LK 1 :15.

When John was older, he left the home of his parents and went to live his life in the desert. He wore only a garment made from camel skin and only had Locusts and wild honey to eat. John would preach in the desert (MK 1:6; Matt 3:4).

John went about preaching and proclaiming about the Kingdom of God and of a time of upcoming judgement. He invited those who wanted to repent, to allow him to baptise them as a sign of their repentance.

John, just like the  prophets, disturbed the comfortable and gave much comfort to the disturbed. The message of John soon spread far and wide. The Gospel of Mark tells us that all peoples of both Jerusalem and Judea travelled to him to confess their sins as John baptised them in the river Jordan (MK 1:5).

John shows his humility clearly to us because he never wanted any attention for himself, he always directed people to Jesus. Some wondered if John was the Messiah, but John reassured them that indeed he wasn’t the messiah, and he declared that his ministry was merely a preparation for the coming of the Messiah. John said, “I have baptised you with water, but He will baptise you with the Holy Spirit.” (MK 1:8)

Then Jesus himself came to John to be baptised and John immediately recognised Jesus as the Messiah and he declared, “This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world”. (JN 1 :29). This statement from John is still used in Mass prayer today, when the Priest holds up the sacred Host as we prepare for the Holy Eucharist, as the Priest says, “This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world…”.

It was after being baptised by John, that our Lord Jesus began his Earthly ministry. When John had been baptised by John, John again showed his humility as again, he turned his attention to Jesus, declaring, “He must increase, I must decrease”(JN 3:30).

St John the Baptist is an excellent example that we as Christians should take much notice of within our lives of faith. Just as John always showed his humility by turning his attention away from himself and towards our Lord Jesus, we too, also need to show this same humility if we are truly to serve and follow the Lord. We also, must turn attention away from ourselves and towards Jesus. Just as John himself declared, “He must increase, I must decrease”.

Let us pray:

O glorious St John the Baptist, greatest prophet among those born of woman, although you were sanctified in your mother’s womb and lived a most innocent life, nevertheless, it was your will to live in the wilderness of the desert, there to devote yourself to the practice of austerity, penance and humility;

Obtain for us by your intercession, the grace of the Lord to be wholly detached within our hearts, from earthly goods and self attention. Increasing our humility and service, by making ourselves far lesser and in the never ending increasing, to be ever greater within our hearts and lives.

Amen.

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, followers, and friends of St. Michael’s Catholic Parish and the Unified Old Catholic Church: Welcome. As we gather for this Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, the sacred liturgy brings us into a profound encounter with the very heart of God. In our first reading from the Book of Exodus, we hear the beautiful, comforting reminder of how the Lord delivered His people, declaring that He bore them up on eagles’ wings to bring them safely to Himself. This is not a distant, historical memory; it is the reality of our lives today. How many times has the Lord carried us through the storms, lifted us when our own strength failed, and brought us to the safety of His sanctuary? He does this because He has chosen us to be a holy nation set apart to reflect His light in a world that so desperately needs it.

Yet, as we turn to the Gospel of Matthew, we see that the grace we receive is never meant to be kept to ourselves. We are told that as Jesus looked out at the crowds, He was moved with profound compassion for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd. The Greek word used here for compassion indicates a deep, visceral pulling of the heart. Christ did not look at the brokenness of humanity with judgment, frustration, or indifference; He looked at them with an agonizing love that demanded action. He saw their hidden wounds, their anxieties, and their search for truth. Turning to His disciples, He uttered those words that echo across the centuries to us today: “The harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.”

As a Dominican priest, a son of Saint Dominic, my life is rooted in the charism to praise, to bless, and to preach the Truth—Veritas. But this Gospel reminds us that the call to be a laborer in the vineyard belongs to every single one of us by virtue of our baptism. Jesus did not just leave the crowd in their weariness; He called His apostles, gave them authority, and sent them out to heal, to comfort, and to proclaim that the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. He told them, “Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give.” This is the exact mission of our parish community. St. Michael’s must always be a place broad enough to provide shade, safety, and a spiritual home for anyone seeking refuge. The harvest is not somewhere far away; it is right outside our church doors, in the streets of San Antonio, and in the everyday corners of our lives where people are hurting, lonely, and searching for a shepherd.

We cannot do this work through mere human strategy or our own limited strength. As we prayed in our Collect today, without God, our mortal frailty can do nothing. We must rely daily on His grace to transform our hearts so that we can look at our neighbors with the exact same compassion that Christ has shown to us. Every small act of mercy, every word of truth spoken in love, and every moment of authentic hospitality we extend is a seed planted in the harvest. We give freely because we have received everything from a God whose love knows no bounds.

As we look forward to the ultimate end of our earthly pilgrimage—that glorious day when we hope to see heaven face to face and rest eternally in the presence of the Almighty—we must examine how we are living today. Reflecting on this Gospel and the urgent call of the Master, what is one concrete step you can take this week to move from being a mere bystander in the crowd to becoming a true laborer in the harvest, bringing Christ’s healing compassion to someone who is weary and searching for a way home?

Dearly beloved brothers and sisters=in=Christ, when we contemplate the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, we are not merely reflecting on a traditional symbol, but are gazing into the very depths of God’s limitless and transformative love for all of humanity. This devotion calls us to move beyond an a mere understanding of faith and to enter into a living, personal relationship with a Saviour whose heart beats with profound compassion for each and every single one of us. It is a mystery that invites us to move from the periphery of religious duty into the very core of divine intimacy, where we are fully known and unconditionally loved.

​In the imagery of the Sacred Heart, we see a heart encircled by thorns, pierced by a lance, and surmounted by a cross, yet radiating intense light and surrounded by flames. This striking visual reminds us that Christ’s love is inherently sacrificial; it is a love that did not shrink from suffering, but instead absorbed the brokenness, sins, and sorrows of the world to offer us redemption. The open wound in His side is an eternal invitation—a sanctuary where the weary, the burdened, and the forgotten can always find refuge and renewal. The flames represent an unquenchable fire of mercy that refuses to be extinguished by human indifference, constantly seeking to ignite our own cold hearts with the warmth of His grace.

​In our daily lives, we often encounter moments of isolation, doubt, and spiritual dryness. The Sacred Heart stands as a powerful antidote to the coldness of the world, reminding us that we are never abandoned, even when our faith wavers or our burdens feel too heavy to bear. It challenges us to look within our own souls and ask how we might respond to such an overwhelming gift. Christ does not ask for perfection; He asks for our surrender. By placing our trust in His Sacred Heart, we allow His grace to reshape our desires, soften our judgements, and heal our hidden wounds, so that we may become conduits of His peace to a world in desperate need of hope.

​As we seek to deepen this devotion, we must also recognise that the Sacred Heart is the ultimate model of pastoral care and spiritual accompaniment. It teaches us to look upon our neighbours not with the critical eye of the world, but with the profound empathy and understanding of the Good Shepherd. To truly honour the Sacred Heart is to extend that same unconditional love, patience, and mercy to everyone we encounter, particularly those who are broken-hearted, marginalised, or searching for meaning in the dark. Our ministries and our lives must become extensions of that open wound, providing a safe space where others can encounter the healing touch of Christ.

​Furthermore, this devotion calls us to a life of reparation—not in a spirit of fearful guilt, but as a loving response to love rejected. When we witness injustice, cruelty, or apathy in our world, we are called to stand in the breach, offering our prayers, our sacrifices, and our daily acts of kindness to console the heart of Jesus. In doing so, we participate in His redemptive mission, helping to bind up the wounds of a broken humanity and drawing all souls closer to the source of everlasting life.

​Let us pray:

​O Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, source of all life and holiness, I come before You today with a heart full of gratitude and adoration. You have loved me with an everlasting love, and in return, I desire to consecrate my entire being to You—my thoughts, my words, my actions, and my sufferings. I surrender into Your hands my past with all its regrets, my present with all its struggles, and my future with all its uncertainties, trusting completely in Your perfect providence.

​Wash away my faults, increase my faith, and enkindle within me a burning desire to please You in all things. Form my heart after the likeness of Your own, making it meek, humble, patient, and steadfast in the face of every trial. Grant me the grace to see You in others, that I may serve You with a pure and joyful spirit.

​Lord Jesus, I place into Your hands all those whom I love, all who are suffering in body or spirit, and all who have not yet known the comfort of Your mercy. Be our protection in times of temptation, our solace in moments of grief, and our guiding light through the shadows of this earthly life. May I live always in the light of Your presence, grow daily in Your love, and rest securely in Your Sacred Heart for all eternity. Amen.

June is Pride Month, in which we celebrate/honor/continue the fight for the rights of LGBTQ folks and the victories associated therewith.  And, like virtually ALL of my LGBTQ sisters and brothers, we have heard the “Why do they need a month?  Why not celebrate veterans?  It should be the traditional family that is celebrated!” comments ad nauseum.  The “Traditional Family/Straight Pride” is celebrated every damned day, and Military Appreciation Month is in May and Veterans Month is in November, and if these folks were truly concerned about those things, then they would celebrate them and shut up. 

But I digress.  Anyway……  What folks don’t understand or simply refuse to accept is that we are who we are.  It’s been repeated far too many times by people who should know better that being LGBTQ is a choice….which is, of course, utter BS. 

Sadly, it’s our Trans siblings who are bearing the brunt of the condemnation and hostilities at this moment in time.  We hear folks who vilify them saying dreadful things to them.  I think one of the most hateful/ignorant/stupid/hypocritical accusations thrown at Trans folk is the “God made you a man (or woman) and to want to change that is an affront to God because God made you the way you’re supposed to be!”  Yeah.  OK.  So by that logic, if one is born with a heart defect God made you that way and for you to want to get it “fixed” is an affront to God.  If you were born with brown hair and you want to go blonde, that is an affront to God.  If you have poor eyesight/crooked teeth then to want to “fix” it, that is an affront to God.  The logistical twists and turns of bigoted thinking drive me to distraction.  The truth of the matter is that we are all of us, unique, different, and that all of God’s people, ALL of God’s people, make up the Body of Christ.

Today is a great Feast Day in the life of the Liturgical Churches throughout Christendom:  The Solemnity of Corpus Christi.  This day is celebrated in recognition of the Eucharist, the Body of Christ, and everything the Eucharist is and means.   We all know that the Eucharist was instituted by Christ at the Last Supper.  We all know that Catholics believe that the bread and the wine become the actual body and blood of Our Lord.  We all know that our Protestant brothers and sisters believe that the bread and the wine are symbolic of the body and blood of our Lord.  We all know that Anglicans and Episcopalians believe that the bread and the wine are still bread and wine, but are super special and are indeed the body and blood of Christ, but not really.  We all know that wars have been fought over these two basic, yet entirely different, beliefs.  We also know that from many, if not most, of the liturgical pulpits in the world, today the Word will be proclaimed concerning the Eucharist. 

Today, however, I would like to put a different spin on Corpus Christi.  I would like for us to leave the upper room of Christ and the disciples, and jump ahead a few years to Corinth, and to listen to what the Apostle Paul had to say about “the body of Christ” in Chapter 12, verses 12-14, of his First Letter to the Corinthians:

12 For as the body is one and has many members, but all the members of that one body, being many, are one body, so also is Christ. 13 For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—whether Jews or Greeks, whether slaves or free—and have all been made to drink into one Spirit. 14 For in fact the body is not one member but many. 

We, the Church, we, the people of God, we, those of us who confess Christ as our Lord, puny imperfect people that we are, WE are the body of Christ.  Some of us dress funny.  Some of us talk funny.  Some of us have emotional issues.  Some of us just have issues.  But we, ALL of us, together, make up the body of Christ.  Warts and all.  Some of us are wildly and multiply talented.  Some of us are incredibly intelligent.  Some of us have been blessed with physical beauty.  Some of us have been blessed with spiritual beauty.  Some of us have none of those things.    But we, ALL of us together, make up the body of Christ. ALL of us. We ALL belong.

My point, here, folks, if I haven’t made it already is simply this:  WE, all of us, make up the body of Christ.  What one person brings to the table may not be of particular interest or value to another person, but there is someone at that table who needs just that.  Perhaps we feel that this person or that person isn’t quite what we would like to see in our church, or in our family, or in our lives, but to someone, somewhere, that person is exactly who is needed.  The very person whom we consider to be “less than worthy” to represent Christ and His church may just be the exact one who is needed in certain situations.

Can you imagine Jesus saying to anyone, “You’re not a member of the club.  You don’t belong here.” 

So, that drag queen you’re hating on?  That transman or transwoman?  That politician?  That bigot down the street?  That news anchor?  Those immigrants?  Yep.  God loves ‘em.  They are part of the body of Christ.  Those gay folks?  Those brown skinned folks?  Those unhoused folks?  Yep.  Loved by God.  How dare we decide who God loves, who is worthy of God’s love?  Sometimes we need a stark reminder that Romans 3:23 says:  “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”  ALL have sinned.  Every darned one of us, so Pot, meet Kettle.  And we, our puny, different, unique selves are loved by God and make up the Body of Christ.

The music artist, John Michael Talbot, sums it up nicely:

One bread, one body, one Lord of all, one cup of blessing which we bless.

And we, though many, throughout the earth, we are one body in this one Lord.

Gentile or Jew, woman or man, no more.   Many the gifts, many the works, one in the Lord of all.

Grain for the fields, scattered and grown, gathered to one, for all.

One bread, one body, one Lord of all, one cup of blessing which we bless.  And we, though many, throughout the earth, we are one body in this one Lord.

So….who are you excluding?  Should you be?  Would Jesus tell ‘em no?

As we go about our daily lives, let us remember the lessons of today, this Feast of Corpus Christi, that we all of us make up the One Bread, the One Body, the One Cup, that is the Body of Christ.  Amen.