Brothers and Sisters in Christ, grace and peace be with you this Palm Sunday.

Today, as we enter into this most sacred week, our hearts are a whirlwind of emotions. We wave our palms, echoing the joyous cries of the crowds lining the road to Jerusalem: “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” We celebrate Jesus, our King, entering his city, seemingly in triumph.

But even as we lift these symbols of victory, a somber undercurrent runs through our celebration. We know the rest of the story. We know that the cheers of “Hosanna” will soon turn to the venomous cries of “Crucify him!” The palms of praise will give way to the crushing weight of the cross.

As a priest in the Order of Preachers, a Dominican, I am particularly drawn to reflect on the Word, on the truth that God reveals to us. And what does today’s Gospel reveal? It reveals the paradoxical nature of our Savior, the mystery of God’s love poured out in suffering.

Think with me for a moment about the readings we have just heard. From Isaiah, we hear the suffering servant, a figure who bears the sins of many, who is struck and afflicted, yet opens not his mouth. We see a foreshadowing of the silent endurance of Christ in his Passion.

Then, in Philippians, Saint Paul unveils the profound humility of Jesus: “though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” 

This, my brothers and sisters, is the heart of Palm Sunday and the Holy Week that unfolds before us. We acclaim a King, yes, but a King who reigns not from a throne of earthly power, but from the wood of the cross. A King who conquers not through armies and might, but through love, sacrifice, and ultimate obedience to the Father’s will.

As Dominicans, our vocation is to contemplate and to share the fruits of our contemplation. And what we contemplate today is this immense love of God, a love that embraces suffering, a love that seeks the salvation of all humanity, even those who would betray, deny, and condemn.

This week, we are called to walk with Jesus. Not just to remember the events of the past, but to enter into them with our hearts. To feel the betrayal of Judas, the fear of Peter, the abandonment of the disciples. And most importantly, to witness the unwavering love of Jesus in the face of such profound human frailty.

The palms we hold today are a reminder of our own fickle nature. How often do we offer praise and then turn away when things become difficult? How often do we shout “Hosanna” with our lips, but our hearts are far from the self-sacrificing love that Christ embodies?

This Holy Week is an invitation to examine our own lives. Where do we need to empty ourselves, as Christ did? Where do we need to be more obedient to God’s will, even when it is challenging? Where do we need to offer true compassion and forgiveness, even to those who have hurt us?

My dear parishioners, as we carry these palms home, let them be more than just decorations. Let them be a tangible reminder of the King we acclaim today, the King who loved us so much that he willingly embraced suffering and death for our sake. Let them be a symbol of our commitment to follow him, not just in moments of glory, but also in the shadows of the cross.

May this Holy Week be a time of deep reflection, profound conversion, and a renewed appreciation for the boundless love of our Savior, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Alright, family, let us dive into the profound depths of the Gospel you just heard, a passage that resonates deeply with my Dominican, calling to preach truth and extend mercy…

As your parish priest, and as a member of the Order of Preachers, I find this Gospel to be a mirror reflecting our own human frailties and the boundless, transformative power of God’s grace. We see the stark contrast between the self-righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees and the gentle, yet firm, compassion of our Lord.

They brought the woman, caught in adultery, into the light, not for justice, but to trap Jesus. They wielded the Law as a weapon, a stone ready to be hurled. How often, my friends, do we use our own understanding of righteousness to condemn, rather than to heal? How easily do we forget that we, too, are sinners in need of God’s mercy?

Jesus, in his infinite wisdom, doesn’t engage in their game. He bends down and writes on the ground. As a Dominican, a student and preacher of the Word, I find myself pondering what those words might have been. Perhaps, as tradition suggests, he wrote the sins of her accusers, forcing them to confront the darkness within their own hearts. This act, this silent, powerful gesture, speaks volumes about the power of truth to convict and to liberate.

“Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.”

These words, so simple, yet so devastating, expose the hypocrisy that lurks within us all. In our parish, in our community, how often do we cast judgment upon others, blind to the flaws within ourselves? How quick are we to condemn, and how slow are we forgive? As s Dominican parish, we are called to bring the light of truth, not the darkness of judgment.

And then, there is the woman. Standing before Jesus, exposed and vulnerable, she faces the weight of her sin. Yet, in the presence of divine love, she finds not condemnation, but grace. “Neither do I condemn you,” Jesus says. “Go now and leave your life of sin.”

This, brothers and sisters, is the heart of our Gospel, the heart of our Dominican preaching: a message of forgiveness, redemption, and new beginnings. Jesus, the Word made flesh, does not condone sin, but he offers a path to transformation. He extends his hand to the broken, the lost, and the marginalized, offering them a chance to start anew…

As your parish priest, and as a Dominican, I urge you to reflect on these lessons:

The danger of hypocrisy: We must examine our own hearts before we judge others. We must be preachers of truth, starting with ourselves.

The power of forgiveness: God’s mercy is greater than any sin. We are called to be instruments of that mercy, extending grace to those in need.

The call to transformation: Jesus invites us to turn away from sin and embrace a new life. We are called to preach this transformative message, to lead others to Christ.

Let us, therefore, strive to emulate the compassion of Christ. Let us extend mercy to those who have fallen and let us remember that we are all in need of God’s grace. May we walk in the light of his love, and may we be instruments of his peace in our parish and in the world.

Amen.

Today, we find ourselves drawn into one of the most profound and moving stories our Lord ever told: the Parable of the Prodigal Son. It is a tale that, though ancient, resonates with the deepest currents of our human experience. We begin by noting that Jesus was being criticized for eating with tax collectors and sinners. The Pharisees and scribes grumbled, and Jesus responded with the parable. This setting is important. It shows us that Jesus’s heart is always oriented toward the lost.

“Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, ‘This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.’” (Luke 15:1-2)  

Think about that. Who do we grumble about? Who do we exclude? Who do we judge? Jesus shows us, we must welcome all.

Then we hear the story, a story of two sons, and a father. It is a story of rebellion, repentance, and above all, boundless, unconditional love.

The younger son, restless and foolish, demands his inheritance, as if to say, “Father, I wish you were already gone.” He takes his share and squanders it in a distant land, sinking into the depths of despair. He finds himself in a pigsty, a place of utter degradation.

But then, a glimmer of hope: “When he came to himself.” (Luke 15:17)

This is the moment of grace, the moment of recognition. He realizes the folly of his ways, and he turns his heart towards home. He prepares his plea, a plea of unworthiness, yet a plea, nonetheless.

And what does he find? A father, who has been watching, waiting, longing. A father who, upon seeing his son in the distance, runs to him, embraces him, and kisses him. The father does not wait for the son’s rehearsed speech; he interrupts it with the overwhelming outpouring of his love.

The father clothes him, restores his dignity, and throws a feast, a celebration of homecoming. This is not a reward for good behavior; it is a testament to the father’s immeasurable grace.

Then we have the older son, who stands outside, resentful and bitter. He represents those of us who, in our self-righteousness, forget the depth of our own need for mercy. He complains about justice, but he misses the point of love.

The father goes out to him as well, pleading, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” (Luke 15:31-32)  

Folks, this parable is not just a story; it is a mirror. In which son do we see ourselves? Are we the prodigal, lost and found? Or are we the elder brother, consumed by resentment?

The Father in this story is God. God’s love is not something that is earned, it is freely given. Like the father in the story, God waits for us, longs for us, and runs to embrace us when we return.

As Dominicans, we are called to preach this message of mercy, this Gospel of grace. We are called to be instruments of reconciliation, to bring the lost back to the Father’s embrace. Let us, therefore, open our hearts to the boundless love of God, and let us extend that same love to all those who are lost and searching. Amen.

Today, on this third Sunday of Lent, we stand at a pivotal point in our Lenten journey. We have already walked through the wilderness of temptation, and we are now faced with the stark reality of God’s unwavering call to repentance. Our readings today, particularly the Gospel of Luke, illuminate the urgent need for conversion and the consequences of ignoring God’s persistent invitation to change.

In the Gospel, Jesus speaks of two tragic events: the Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices, and the eighteen people upon whom the tower in Siloam fell. These events, though seemingly random, serve as a powerful reminder of our mortality and the unpredictable nature of life. Jesus’ response to these tragedies is not to offer philosophical explanations for suffering, but rather to issue a direct and uncompromising challenge: “Unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”

This is not a threat, but a loving warning. It is a call to recognize that our lives are fragile, and that time is precious. Jesus is urging us to examine our hearts, to acknowledge our sins, and to turn away from the paths that lead us away from God. He uses these shocking examples to penetrate our complacency and shake us from our spiritual slumber.

The parable of the fig tree further emphasizes this theme. The owner of the vineyard, frustrated by the barren fig tree, orders it to be cut down. But the gardener, standing for Jesus, pleads for mercy and offers a chance for renewal. He promises to cultivate the soil, to fertilize the tree, and to give it one more year to bear fruit.

This parable is a powerful image of God’s patience and mercy. He does not wish the death of the sinner, but rather that we turn to Him and live. He gives us time, he gives us opportunities, he gives us grace. But this time is not infinite. We must respond to his love and cultivate the soil of our hearts, removing the weeds of sin and allowing the seeds of faith to flourish.

What does it mean to repent? It is not simply about feeling sorry for our sins. It is about a fundamental change of heart, a turning away from sin and a turning towards God. It is about acknowledging our need for his forgiveness and embracing his grace.

First, it means acknowledging our sins. We must be honest with ourselves and with God about the ways in which we have fallen short. We must examine our consciences and find the areas of our lives where we need to change.

Second, it means turning away from sin. This requires a conscious effort to avoid the temptations that lead us astray. It means making choices that are consistent with our faith and our commitment to Christ.

Third, it means turning towards God. This involves seeking his forgiveness through the sacrament of reconciliation, praying for his guidance, and striving to live a life that is pleasing to him.

Lent is a time of grace, a time of renewal. It is a time to cultivate the soil of our hearts, to remove the obstacles that prevent us from bearing fruit for God. Let us heed Jesus’ call to repentance and embrace the opportunity to turn to him with renewed faith and love.

Let us ask ourselves:

Are we listening to God’s call to repentance?

Are we taking advantage of the time he has given us?

Are we using the sacraments, prayer, and fasting to grow closer to God?

May this Lent be a time of true conversion for each of us, a time when we allow God to transform our hearts and make us fruitful branches in his vineyard. Amen.

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

Today, we come together as the Church to commemorate St. Joseph, the Spouse of The Blessed Virgin Mary, and the foster Father of our Lord and Saviour,Jesus, when he became one of us here upon the Earth.

In the same way in which God, our Heavenly Father, who gives each of us as his children, unconditional love, care, stability and who sets us the standard with which we should strive to live our lives with his holy word in the scriptures, a true Father to each and every single one of us, who only ever wants the very best for all his children.  St. Joseph follows our Father’s example, as both husband and foster father.  He gives us examples which men should follow in their lives. Joseph cared for and provided for the Holy Household. There are many qualities that Joseph had which we could use to be the role model for Christian husbands and fathers. Joseph was a very compassionate man.  We can see an example of this when he suspected his wife of infidelity; he planned to divorce her quietly rather than denounce her publicly and expose her to public shame and penalty.

Joseph was always obedient to God and did what he knew was God’s will without thought or hesitation.  Examples of this are that he kept Mary as his wife; he protected and provided for his family when they had to flee to foreign lands to protect them from danger.

Joseph led a life of deep prayer and was in communion with God, and would always seek out that which was God’s will. God often told Joseph his will using dreams.

Joseph was a provider of care, When Jesus’s life was threatened, Joseph would take them out of danger. He took his family to Egypt and only returned when it was safe to do so, and when Jesus went missing at aged twelve, Joseph went searching for him because obviously, both parents were obviously extremely worried about Jesus’s safety.

Joseph also brought much more to Jesus’s life, he taught him his trade which Jesus worked in for about twenty years, he gave Jesus the love and stability he as any child needs, and was his earthly male role model, which was and still is vitally important for a good father to give any child.

He was a man with a firm faith in God coupled with a resilient personality, who did not complain and was not appalled nor distressed in the midst of trials and tribulations, St. Joseph knew how to face, carry and solve the burden of his vocation, of life’s difficulties and responsibilities with serenity, with complete faith and love, entrusting himself totally and unconditionally to God’s plans.

Sadly not all children are brought up in such a way today, but husbands and fathers truly should seek to follow this sincere man of God in the way they run their lives. Are you married? Do you give all the love, trust and respect to your spouse? Or with stresses and strains do you always argue or not truly make time for each other? If you have children, do you know where they are and if they are safe, or who they might be talking to online? Do you give emotional stability, patience and unconditional love? Do your children see you as the role model they need in a Father?  We should always strive to be as our heavenly Father is to each of us, whether that be to our spouses, to our children, and in fact to all as our brothers and sisters.

While the Gospels do not shed much light on St. Joseph’s life, it is believed that he died before Jesus’ public ministry.

St. Joseph is the patron of fathers, spouses, priests and seminarians. But also, St. Joseph teaches  us so much by his silent example of his life, and just how we should love God faithfully and obediently.

Let us pray:

Blessed St. Joseph, Spouse of The Blessed Virgin Mary,

be with us this day.

You protected and cherished the Virgin;

loving the Child Jesus as your Son,

you rescued Him from the danger of death.

Defend the Church,

the household of God,

purchased by the Blood of Christ.

Guardian of the Holy Family,

be with us in our trials.

May your prayers obtain for us

the strength to flee from error

and wrestle with the powers of corruption

so that in life we may grow in holiness

and in death rejoice in the crown of victory.

Amen.

In John Le Carré’s novel, The Secret Pilgrim, a young intelligence officer visits East Germany to meet a spy. Anxiously, he carries cards with spy network details, which go missing after the visit, likely having fallen out of his pocket. Shortly afterwards, the spy network is discovered, resulting in torture and loss of life. This leads to the young man having a mental crisis and confessing to his superior in the intelligence services what he had done. The superior in question is the narrator, and in the novel, there are these words about the narrator’s reaction to what he had just heard: “Then the appalling triviality of what the young man had told me got through to me: that you could lose a [spy] network as easily as you could lose a bunch of keys.”

Although sin involves free choice and decision, it often resembles careless, unthinking behavior, much like losing keys due to a lack of thought and care. World history is filled with sins that are significant, systematic, and destructive.

Sin renders us blind and insensitive; sin stops us from being truly free. When sin gets into the system, when our whole way of thinking is touched by it, we can find ourselves almost sleepwalking into sin, shoring up the patterns of sin. We can find ourselves almost sleepwalking into hurting others and hurting ourselves, thoughtlessly, committing all those acts of petty cruelty and betrayal, that despite their banality and carelessness leave a trail of hurt and damage in their wake.

People often focus on significant wrongdoings such as cruelty, tyranny, and hate. However, the origins of these issues might lie in smaller actions that infiltrate systems subtly, diminishing awareness and leading to destructive outcomes. This can occur quite easily due to desires for physical satisfaction, power, or psychological complexity, where individuals play mind games and seek quick gratification. In the desert, Jesus is tempted in these ways, revealing the nature of temptation.

While many of the temptations we encounter are likely to be relatively minor, it is crucial not to exaggerate their significance. It is also important to acknowledge that our desires often aim for things that are genuinely beneficial. We should strive to avoid excessive scrupulosity and anxiety, as these can have negative effects. Conversely, we must guard against complacency, which can also be detrimental, as it might lead us to inadvertently engage in actions that harm ourselves and others.

Christ being tempted by Satan shows us hope and true happiness. Jesus resists turning stones into bread, yet he also eats and drinks with his disciples. Perhaps one lesson to draw from this is that it is only the one who can eat his food with self-control and without greed who can enjoy it fully. Greedy people are too busy thinking about what they do not have to enjoy, what they already possess.

Sin is a complex business that stops us from living as we ought, and so Lent is a wonderful opportunity to ask ourselves hard but realistic questions about true human happiness, questions that involve reflecting on the role of sin in our lives. To take up this opportunity is to ask if we have been sleepwalking through life, sleepwalking into patterns of sin and destruction, perhaps not so much out of active malice or greed, but almost carelessly, unthinkingly, almost like losing a bunch of keys through lack of thought and care.

Lent serves as an opportunity to open our eyes and, through the grace of God, embrace life and love—precious gifts offered by God that are never acknowledged by Satan.

Y’all…..today is Ash Wednesday, and you’re prolly gonna see a bunch of folks running around with dirty foreheads today.  Reckon wonder what’s that all about?  Since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell ya!

Today, Ash Wednesday, marks the first day of Lent.  You know, that season where “What are you giving up for Lent?” is an incredibly common question.  It’s when we’re expected to give up something as a sacrifice, for us to use that sacrifice to remember what Jesus sacrificed for us.  For most of us, Lent is the time of sometimes painful self-examination, during which we scrutinize our habits, our spiritual practice, and our very lives – hoping to make ourselves better, trying to make ourselves worthy of the love of God.  We “step up” our prayer, fasting, and self-denial in order to remove worldly distractions from our lives.  

On Ash Wednesday, we wear ashes, and not because we forgot to wash our faces.  The spiritual practice of applying ashes on oneself as a sign of sincere repentance goes back thousands of years. Frequently in the days of the Old and the New Testament, when someone had sinned, he clothed his body with sackcloth and covered himself with ashes. [Jer. 6:26]  The sacramental that we are observing today arises from that custom, the spiritual practice of observing public penitence.  Church history tells us that the liturgical practice of applying ashes on one’s forehead during the Lenten Season goes back as far as the eighth century. This was accompanied by different forms of fasting, prayer, sacrifices, charity towards others, etc… The writings of St. Leo, around 461 A.D., tell us that during the Lenten Season, he exhorted the faithful to abstain from certain food to fulfill with their fasts the Apostolic institution of forty days.  In the days of the Old Testament, many tore their clothing as a sign of repentance.

Today, we use the ashes as a reminder of who we are.  The Bible tells us that we came from the dust and to the dust we shall return.  The first human was formed out of the dust of the earth by God and then God breathed life into that dust.  That is a powerful image.  One that is meant to remind us that without the breath or Spirit of God moving in us, we are just like these ashes: lifeless – worthless.

So….what are you giving up for Lent?  I have a suggestion or three.  Instead of giving up chocolate, or sweets, or cola, or whatever other dear little thing we may indulge in, what about doing something that will actually make a difference, not only in your life, but in the lives of those around you?  In this day and age, isn’t it time that we, as Christians, start putting Christ first, start putting his people first?  Isn’t it time that we as true followers of the Jesus that we proclaim learn to treasure what we have been given?   Work for justice.  Work for peace.  Work for understanding.  Work to love the unlovable, the least, the lost, the forgotten. 

Fred Kaan, the lyricist, has written a hymn that is especially meaningful for today:

Put peace into each other’s hand and like a treasure hold it;

protect it like a candle flame, with tenderness enfold it.

Put peace into each other’s hand with loving expectation;

be gentle in your words and ways, in touch with God’s creation.

Put peace into each other’s hand like bread we break for sharing;

look people warmly in the eye:  Our life is meant for caring.

Give thanks for strong yet tender hands, held out in trust and blessing.

Where words fall short, let hands speak out, the heights of love expressing.

Put peace into each other’s hand he is love’s deepest measure;

in love make peace, give peace a chance and share it like a treasure. 

Let us pray:

God, we pray that Your Spirit may rule over all things.  May Your Spirit rule over kings and presidents, over prime ministers and generals, over CEOs and party bosses, over the legislatures and over the bureaucrats, over all citizens.  May Your Spirit guide us on the way of peace on the way of honest dialogue on the way of reconciliation between peoples, on the way of disarmament and justice, on the way of freedom and life for all.

May Your Spirit lead us on the journey of blessings shared with all on the journey of educational  opportunity for all our children on the adventure of research and study that helps all men and women, on the road to meaningful work for all people, on the path of solidarity and love between all our brothers and sisters.

May Your Spirit help us to speak up with courage to share what we have and what we are to challenge the powers that be to offer a message of liberation and life. May your Spirit help us to have a holy and meaningful Lent.  We make this prayer through Christ, our Lord.   Amen.

Y’all…..

Do y’all get as tired as I do of the back and forth between conservative and liberal, Democrat and Republican, right vs. left, this religious denomination vs. that religious denomination back and forth, my way or the highway babble that goes on and on and on and on, ad infinitum? 

Sometimes I just wanna scream STOP It!  Other times it’s a quiet “Why can’t we all just get along?”  More recently, my thoughts have been, “What the hell is wrong with you?”  I find it exhausting, this push and pull and continuous descension, and I find myself wondering, “What if?  Why?   How can we stop this madness?”

Well, Imma tell ya.  We can’t.  We simply can’t stop folks from doing what they’re gonna do and being who they’ve shown to us they actually are.  But, as he so often did, Jesus gives us a bit of direction that we can apply here.  In Matthew 10, often called “The Great Commission,”  Jesus is telling the twelve disciples what’s up, just how they’re supposed to proceed with the “actually being disciples thing,” and what they can expect.  And in the middle of this oral handbook he’s delivering, he includes this little zinger:  “Whoever will not receive you or listen to your words—go outside that house or town and shake the dust from your feet.”  To put a more modern spin on it, in the film “Frozen,” Elsa sings, “Let It Go.”

Along those lines, a dear friend of mine sent me an article this week in which the “Let Them” theory is explained.  He summed it up like this: 

I used to tolerate a lot because I didn’t want to lose people.  But I learned the hard way if they were really my people, they would never treat me poorly.  Don’t make the mistake of being so understanding and forgiving that you overlook the fact that you’re being repeatedly disrespected.  Let them be upset. Let them judge you. Let them misunderstand you. Let them gossip about you, let them ignore you. Let them be “right.” Let them doubt you. Let them not like you. Let them not speak to you. Let them run your name in the ground. Let them make you out to be the villain.  Whatever it is that people want to say about you, let them! Kindly step aside and LET THEM.  You can still be kind. You can even still love them deeply. But do it from the distance they created with their words and actions. Access to you is a privilege they have proven they can’t be trusted with. Let them go.

Now, having said all that, what are we left with?  In the Gospel reading for today, Jesus tells us to make sure that we are the folks who need to “Let them go,” rather than being the folks who are let go:  Jesus told his disciples a parable.

“Can a blind person guide a blind person?  Will not both fall into a pit?  No disciple is superior to the teacher;  but when fully trained,  every disciple will be like his teacher.  Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?  How can you say to your brother,  ‘Brother, let me remove that splinter in your eye,’  when you do not even notice the wooden beam in your own eye?  You hypocrite!  Remove the wooden beam from your eye first;  then you will see clearly  to remove the splinter in your brother’s eye.  “A good tree does not bear rotten fruit,  nor does a rotten tree bear good fruit.  For every tree is known by its own fruit.  For people do not pick figs from thornbushes,  nor do they gather grapes from brambles.  A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good,  but an evil person out of a store of evil produces evil;  for from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.”

So the bottom line here is, much like Glenda asking Dorothy, “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”    Are you letting go, or are you being let go?  What kind of fruit are we bearing?  Are we being Jesus for folks?  Are we acting in love?  Coz love is what Jesus teaches us we are supposed to do.  Again from Matthew:  When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne.  All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.  He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world.  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.’

“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?’

 “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.’

 “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”

Notice there is no mention of race, gender identity, sexuality, citizenship or immigrant, religious preference or lack thereof, gender expression, or anything else that we today use to separate us into an “us versus them” mentality.  Nothing except acting in love.   There it is.  Are you gonna be ‘let go’ like a goat, or loved like a sheep? 

John Bell has written the hymn, “The Summons.”

Will you come and follow me if I but call your name?

Will you go where you don’t know and never be the same?

Will you let my love be shown? Will you let my Name be known?

Will you let my life be grown in you and you in me?

Will you leave your self behind if I but call your name?

Will you care for cruel and kind and never be the same?

Will you risk the hostile stare should your life attract or scare?

Will you let me answer prayer in you and you in me?

Will you let the blinded see if I but call your name?

Will you set the prisoner free and never be the same?

Will you kiss the leper clean, and do such as this unseen?

And admit to what I mean in you and you in me?

Will you love the ‘You’ you hide if I but call your name?

Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same?

Will you use the faith you’ve found to reshape the world around

through my sight and touch and sound in you and you in me?

Christ, your summons echoes true when you but call my name.

Let me turn and follow you and never be the same.

In your company I’ll go where your love and footsteps show,

thus I’ll move and live and grow in you and you in me?

Love God.  Love people.  Act accordingly.  Amen.