Y’all…..   So here’s a little riddle for ya!!!  What do a song by recording artist Lynn Anderson, a novel about nuns, and some of the words spoken by Jesus all have in common?  I’ll give you a minute.

Ya got nothing?  I didn’t figure.  So here are a few hints:

Way back, a hundred and ninety-‘leven years ago when I was a wee baby gay, Lynn Anderson sang the hit song, “I Never Promised You a Rose Garden.”

And from the Gospel Reading appointed for today:

Jesus said to his disciples:  “Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him.  Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; yet the word you hear is not mine but that of the Father who sent me.

“I have told you this while I am with you.  The Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything and remind you of all that I told you.  Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.  Not as the world gives do I give it to you.  Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid. 

And finally, from the first page of my very favorite, much beloved, read, and internalized novel, “In This House of Brede” by Rumer Godden, she writes:

The motto was “pax” but the word was set in a circle of thorns.  Pax:  Peace, but what a strange peace, made of unremitting toil and effort—seldom with a seen result:  subject to constant interruptions, unexpected demands, short sleep at nights, little comfort, sometimes scant food:  beset with disappointments and usually misunderstood, yet peace all the same, undeviating, filled with joy and gratitude, and love.  “it is my own peace I give unto you.’  Not, notice, the world’s peace.

So the answer to the riddle, is this:  It’s gonna be OK.

Do y’all remember what the deal was when Jesus was asleep in a boat on the sea  nd then it stormed???  Not just your average run of the mill storm, but a STORM…..at sea even.  Thunder.  BOOM!  Lightening.  FLASH!  Waves so high over the little boat that it was tossed about.  CRASH!  And to top it off, the boat started filling up with water.  SLOSH…..Sink?  And Jesus slept on.  And on.  And on.

And then it happened.  The disciples, those stalwart fishermen, panicked; so much so that they wanted Jesus to panic, too.  So, they woke him.

Now, I dunno about Jesus, and I’m pretty sure they didn’t have a Keurig on that boat, but anyone who knows me well, knows, that no matter what, one does NOT speak to the Bishop when he first wakes up until after his (at least) first cup of coffee.  Can you not see Jesus?  He throws the blanket off and says, WHAT?

Y’all….we’re in the midst of a storm now, even as I type.  Many of us are fearful and dismayed.  Many of us are angry.  Many of us are in turmoil.  And rightly so.  With so much uncertainty on the horizon, many of us feel that we are in danger of sinking.  And, I rather suspect, that many of us wonder if God is, indeed, sleeping, or if the Creator exists at all.

The disciples point out the storm, Jesus’s eyes focus, and then he gets it.  He understands what all the fuss is about…..and then, like so many of us, he says,

“Really?”

I can just imagine him rolling his eyes, and then saying to the storm, in much the way I talk to our cats, he says, “Stoppit!”  The storm quiets, Jesus  grumbles about nonbelieving disciples, and goes back to sleep…..and the (nonbelieving) disciples are tripped!

But ya know, I can assure you that God is very much awake, and involved, in our lives.  Or at least the Redeemer wants to be.  How, you ask? 

Remember that reading from the Gospel a minute ago?  Here: 

Jesus said to his disciples:  “Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him.  Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; yet the word you hear is not mine but that of the Father who sent me.

So that’s how.  By living through and with and in us.  By us showing forgiveness. Charity.  Good will.  Reaching out. Love.  By standing up for what is right and good and true.  By peacefully protesting.  By donating time and money to those who are less fortunate that we ourselves.  By examining what we believe, what we hold dear, and comparing that to what Jesus has taught us that we SHOULD hold dear and believe.  (For those of you who may be wondering what that is, focus on the Beatitudes and Matthew 25.  Oh, and the greatest commandment (hint:  it’s not one of the 10.))  Try:  Love one another.

This storm is far from over.  FAR from over.  Before this storm ends, hearts will have to change, attitudes will have to change, laws, rules, regulations, the government, will have to change, society will have to change.  And before any of that can happen, WE will have to change.  We will, ALL of us, have to examine ourselves carefully, and honestly, to find the roots of our prejudice, our fears of those who are ‘other’ than ourselves.  We will have to look with new eyes at all of those with whom we come into contact, ALL of them, EVERY ONE of them, and strive to find the Jesus in each of them.  The Jesus in us must reach out to the Jesus in our brothers and sisters, regardless of race, creed, color, gender, gender identity, sexual preference, ability or disability, political affiliation, or any of the other million and one things we use to denigrate, disgrace, and damn our brothers and sisters.

Like the disciples, we will be afraid.  Sometimes we may even panic.  But I can assure you that, like the disciples, we can go to Jesus.  And when we do, he will say to us, “Peace.  Be still.”  And in the calm and quiet that results from our trust in Him, we will be able, with full hearts, to grow, and to learn to love our neighbors as ourselves.

Christopher West used the words of St Francis to write this hymn:

Make me a channel of your peace.

Where there is hatred let me bring your love.

Where there is injury, your pardon, Lord

And where there’s doubt, true faith in you.

Make me a channel of your peace

Where there’s despair in life, let me bring hope

Where there is darkness, only light

And where there’s sadness, ever joy.

Oh, Master grant that I may never seek

So much to be consoled as to console

To be understood as to understand

To be loved as to love with all my soul.

Make me a channel of your peace

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned

In giving to all men that we receive

And in dying that we’re born to eternal life.

Oh, Master grant that I may never seek

So much to be consoled as to console

To be understood as to understand

To be loved as to love with all my soul.

Make me a channel of your peace

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned

In giving to all men that we receive

And in dying that we’re born to eternal life.

Peace.  It’s up to us. 

Amen.

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, grace and peace be with you on this glorious Second Sunday of Easter, a day we have come to know and love as Divine Mercy Sunday.

Today, as we gather in the radiant light of the Resurrection, our Gospel reading from John (20:19-31) draws us back to those pivotal first days after Christ’s triumph over death. As Dominicans, we are called to contemplate the Truth and to share it with you, and this passage is overflowing with truths that speak directly to our hearts, especially on this day dedicated to God’s boundless mercy.

Imagine, if you will, the scene in the Upper Room on that first Easter night. The Apostles, the very men chosen by Christ to be the pillars of His Church, are huddled together, their hearts gripped by fear. The shadow of Good Friday still looms large. Their Lord, their hope, had been brutally crucified. Now, whispers and rumors of an empty tomb, of fleeting appearances, must have filled them with a mixture of confusion and trepidation. They were likely wrestling with their own failures – the flight, the denial – a heavy burden of guilt weighing upon them.

And then, in the midst of their fear and uncertainty, Jesus appears. He stands among them, and His first words are a balm to their wounded souls: “Peace be with you” – Shalom. But this is no mere greeting, my brothers and sisters. This is the peace that only Christ can give, a peace born of profound reconciliation, a settling of the ultimate debt, the forgiveness of sins won through His sacrifice. This is the dawn of a new era, and He, the risen Lord, is entrusting its beginnings to these very men who had faltered.

And what does He do next? He breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven then; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” In these powerful words, the Church has long recognized the institution of the Sacrament of Confession, the very sacrament through which we, even today, can encounter that same reconciling and merciful peace offered by the risen Christ. It is a tangible way for us to experience the forgiveness that flows from His wounded side.  

But the story doesn’t end there. John then introduces us to Thomas, who was absent during this first encounter. Thomas, a man of honesty and perhaps a touch of stubbornness, voices his doubt with stark clarity. He needs physical proof. He needs to touch the wounds. His skepticism, while seemingly a challenge to faith, also underscores the reality of the Resurrection. This was not a ghost; this was the same Jesus, bearing the marks of His suffering, now gloriously alive.

And so, the Lord, in His infinite patience and mercy, appears again eight days later, on that first Sunday after the Resurrection – the very day we now celebrate as Divine Mercy Sunday. The doors are open, and Thomas is present. Jesus directly addresses his doubt, inviting him to touch His wounds. And in that moment, Thomas’ heart is transformed. His doubt gives way to a powerful profession of faith: “My Lord and my God!”

This exclamation, “My Lord and my God!” is the very heart of Easter faith. It is the recognition of Jesus not just as a man, but as the divine Son of God, the victor over sin and death. And Jesus’ gentle words to Thomas, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed,” speak directly to us, to the countless generations who have come to faith not through direct encounter, but through the witness of the Apostles, the Church, and the power of the Holy Spirit.

My dear St. Michael’s family, this Gospel is a profound testament to the divine mercy that flows from the heart of the risen Christ. Just as He met the fearful and doubting Apostles in the Upper Room, He meets us in our own moments of fear, doubt, and guilt. Through the Sacrament of Reconciliation, He offers us that same peace, that same forgiveness, that same new beginning.

Thomas’ journey reminds us that it is okay to question, to seek understanding. But ultimately, faith is a gift, a grace that allows us to believe even when we cannot see. And Jesus’ words to those who believe without seeing are a powerful encouragement to us all.

On this Divine Mercy Sunday, let us open our hearts to the boundless mercy of God, a mercy that reached its zenith on the Cross and burst forth in the glory of the Resurrection. Let us embrace the peace that Christ offers, a peace that reconciles and restores. And let us, like Thomas, proclaim with unwavering faith: “My Lord and my God!”

May the mercy of our Risen Lord Jesus Christ fill your hearts and guide you always. Amen.

Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.

I like this parable from Ephesians 2/19-22. It shows the importance of being a part of the church, a part of the living congregation. It is true that we are saved by grace through our faith in Jesus Christ. But in order to grow we need to be a part of the church. Jesus does not need the church, but we are those who need it. We need the church in order to be stronger in our faith. If we imagine the church as a material building. In that building Jesus himself is the foundation. Then all the members of the church are like stones and all of us have our role to play. Some might be smaller stones, some might be bigger. Some might be ugly stones built somewhere in the middle away from the visible surface. Some stones might be on the front surface, visible, beautifully designed with decorations. What is important is emphasis that all stones matter. In Ephesians is also written that Jesus is a cornerstone. Builders of the house of God (the church) or believers must not throw away any of stones belonging to this temple. We may be wondering what it means. It means that the church might look like the real temple.

There are people who shine. They are front stones full of decoration. They are pious, they pray every day many times, they are considered to be the “best” Christians. There are stones – people who are barely visible. Inner stones. They come to the church once a month or occasionally. Sometimes more often, sometimes more rarely. There are people who are struggling with some temptation of various type. People who are not as shinny as those standing on the front wall. But what would happen with the church if the church lets only the most beautiful stones standing. If we start throwing away stone by stone for this reason and that reason. The entire building would be destroyed to dust. My message today, based on Ephesians chapter that we quote is love one another as a true family. Accept one another with all strength and weaknesses. Respect the differences between each other. And bear of mind that even though we are all different stones, we all have one foundation and that is Jesus. And we all build the perfect body of Christ.

In the Name of Almighty God: ✠ Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 

Amen.

There is an old monastic joke that goes as follows–: 

“There are only three things that God doesn’t know: 

1. How many Franciscan Friars there are;

2. What in the world the Jesuits are doing; 

And 3. What a Dominican Friar is saying when they’re preaching”.

And as for most Dominicans on the day of the Annunciation, (or the day after, in this case) it is hard to not fall into this stereotype, as we are often quick to get excited whenever we have an opportunity to preach on the Blessed Virgin Mary. Afterall, our habits are white to represent our protection under the mantle of our Blessed Mother, (and also because it was the cheapest material at the time), but we don’t lead with that. 

We also carry a 15-decade rosary on the left side of our cincture to remind us to take up prayer instead of a sword. And if you didn’t already know, the modern rosary prayed by many today is believed to come from a Marian visitation to St. Dominic in his petition for peace during a time of death and despair. This 5-decade rosary is an abbreviated version inspired by the original 150 beaded Marian psalter given to St. Dominic. 

But we aren’t the only monastics to wear a rosary as part of our habit. The Franciscans share this practice, as do many nuns, brothers, and monks of various other orders as well. Although this is usually due to a shared desire to represent our cinctured obedience to almighty God in our vocation(s). 

Likewise, you’ll note that the Canticle of Mary or the Magnificat also has its roots in early monasticism. When we pray “my soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my savior” during evening prayer, we join the voices of the benedictine monks in the monastery who have chanted it during evening vespers since the 6th century.

The veneration of Mary the God bearer as influenced by early monasticism is an integral part of our history as Christians, and we know it to begin as early as the story of the Annunciation. Where, an Angel of God visits our mother and says “hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women”. 

But aside from the angelic imagery of this breathtaking event, what personally strikes me the most is Mary’s faithful consent to God in her special vocation. She says “behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it done unto me according to thy word”.

Imagine a world where we all said yes to our callings from God. And even better yet, imagine a world where we supported everyone and their special calls. And no, not necessarily a call to be a monk or a nun, but rather our call to be a brother, a sister, a friend, mother, a beloved child of God. Our call to take up our cross, our call to be imitators of the Word made flesh that dwelt among us. 

I urge you to take a moment to think about: what is God calling you to? What experiences, both good and bad, have placed you here– right where you need to be? 

And, how can you say “yes!”? Lent is a phenomenal time to discern our own special vocations and deepen our relationship with God: where we fast from our own will to make room for God’s. 

How are you called to share your special gifts and talents to help make it on earth as it is in heaven? Are you called to be a teacher, a healer, or a musician? Has God asked you to leverage your career in healthcare, law, hospitality, or leadership to help love your neighbors? Are you an artist? Do you cook? What are you really good at doing, and how can you use it to help bring peace, comfort, or joy to others? 

Lent is a time to embrace our callings from God not in spite of our flaws, but partly because of them. Whatever God is calling you to, know that he is calling you in the fullness of who you are now, with the vision of who you will become. 

Through the intercession of our Blessed Virgin Mary , Mother of God, may you come to hear your call and find confidence to say “yes”, and may our Loving Father help you bring it to fruition.

Many of us, at one time or another, dream of leaving everything behind. All the ties and responsibilities that nail us down, all the daily drudge, our half-heartedness about our work or our families, the weight of our past and our failures, all the things which define us.

It would be so simple to simply dump all the baggage of life, disappear, and start again in another place with a new passport and a Swiss bank account. In our fantasies, running away from everything would free us to start again as a new person, to become someone else more intelligent, more successful, popular or better looking.

In the Gospel, four fishermen leave everything behind, all the ties and bonds of work and family, to follow Jesus. But they leave everything in response to a call:

“Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” (“Follow Me and I Will Make You | bibleteacher.org”)

Jesus doesn’t offer them a career, as carpenters, soldiers or tax collectors. He isn’t offering them exciting new love affairs, or friendships unencumbered by the weight of failure and misunderstanding.

The call to discipleship isn’t an attempt to recreate a new set of ties and bonds of love and responsibility, to escape all that defines and supplies identity. It is a call to discover that God given identity in a new way, in the crimson dawn of salvation in the words and actions of Jesus. I will make you fishers of men.

The call to follow establishes a relationship between what the disciples are now, and what they are to become. Their ordinary work, drawing sustenance from the darkness of the sea, becomes a sign of a deeper reality, drawing men and women from the darkness of sin and death, into the torrent of wind and flame manifested at Pentecost.

That which defines them now is not bypassed or ignored but becomes the scene of an urgent call to a deeper self-understanding, the call of grace. So, the disciples don’t leave fishing nets and boats upon the shore so that they can escape the daily struggle to make a living. Nor do James and John leave their dad sitting in the boat because they’ve grown tired of him or can’t afford a retirement home.

Grace does not take us from one identity to another but opens out a new and surprising depth of identity in the life of God. The disciples then leave everything behind not to escape, but to discover the true depths of the Spirit’s call. This Spirit, pouring from the Risen Christ, doesn’t replace our natural desires and hopes. Sharing in the Divine life does not mean that we are not called to live a fully human life.

Grace, then, begins to manifest itself in the reality of our lives, in those things which define us, make us who we are: but within these things it sounds an urgent call, a call to discover how much more we are, to understand ourselves in the gracious newness breaking into the world in the risen body of Jesus. For some, like the disciples in the Gospel, this call will require a leaving behind. In religious life, Christian men and women do not go in search of a fantasy life, but a life defined by the bonds and responsibilities of grace, of the new human community of the church formed at Pentecost.

But for most people, the call will not require a complete leaving behind, but an expanded vision of who we are, and our value in God’s plan. The call of Jesus to repent, because the kingdom of heaven is close at hand, is a call not to allow sin, and all the failures of life, to define us. For from our baptism, we have been caught up, hooked into this new age of grace, where we may swim freely.

The urge to escape who we are often weighs very heavily upon us. But there are no real clean slates in this life: who we are is intimately bound up with those we live with, those who have cared for us or hurt us, with the ways of making a living and passing the time we have settled for.

The call of God’s grace doesn’t offer us a new identity, the fantasy life we have always longed for. The call to be a disciple is a call to move to an even deeper understanding of who we are, who we are called to be, in the self-giving of God in the cross of Jesus, and the hurricane of glory which finally transformed simple fishermen into fishers of men.