To understand the weight of today’s Gospel, we must look at where Jesus chose to lead His disciples. He did not ask this decisive question in the quiet hills of Galilee or within the secure walls of the temple in Jerusalem. He brought the Twelve to Caesarea Philippi, a region dominated by a towering wall of rock carved with shrines to pagan deities, temples honoring Caesar as a god, and a deep spring known across the ancient world as the “Gates of Hades.” Standing in the literal shadow of worldly power, cultural noise, and false gods, Jesus turned to His followers to demand a verdict. He began with an easy inquiry: “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” It was comfortable for the Apostles to recite the opinions of the crowd—some said John the Baptist, others Elijah, Jeremiah, or one of the prophets. It is always safe to report on what other people believe. But Jesus immediately stripped away the comfort of second-hand opinions, looked them in the eye, and pierced straight to the heart: “But who do you say that I am?”

That single question forever altered the lives of the Apostles. Simon’s unhesitating confession—“You are the Christ, the Son of the living God”—was not a conclusion reached by human intellect or clever deduction, but a profound revelation of divine truth gifted directly by the Father. In that sacred moment, Simon’s entire identity and purpose were transformed. Jesus renamed him Peter, the Rock, declaring that upon this foundation He would build His Church, against which the dark gates of death and destruction would never prevail. For these simple fishermen and tax collectors, following Jesus was no longer just an inspiring journey with a wise teacher; it was the stewardship of the living Kingdom of God. Yet, Christ chose to place the keys of authority not into the hands of an untouchable, flawless man, but onto the shoulders of Peter—a man who doubted on the stormy seas, who would stumble in pride, and who would soon deny his Lord three times. Christ built His Church upon grace rather than human perfection, demonstrating that God does not call the equipped, but equips the called.

This ancient encounter speaks with urgent clarity to our lives today. We live in our own modern Caesarea Philippi, surrounded by the clamor of worldly status, political division, and endless competing voices trying to define who we ought to be. It is tempting to coast along on a borrowed faith—relying on the traditions of our parents, the opinions of commentators, or the casual assumption that Jesus is merely a kind historical figure. But a borrowed faith cannot sustain you when the storms of life arrive, and it cannot bring true hope to a broken world. The authority Christ gave to Peter was meant to unlock the doors of mercy, to bind up the brokenhearted, and to welcome weary pilgrims into the embrace of grace. If the Lord could take Simon Peter, with all his flaws and frailties, and make him a cornerstone of living faith, He can take our imperfect lives, our doubts, and our daily struggles to build something holy.

As you reflect on Christ standing before you today amidst all the noise of your daily life, who do you truly say that He is—and what concrete step will you take this week to move past a borrowed faith, allowing His grace to transform the way you love, serve, and open doors of hope for the people around you?

Y’all……..recently there was a congresswoman on television and during her interview she stated proudly that “We have Christian foundations as a nation,”  and she went on to reiterate that “the United States is a Christian nation.”  I don’t know for certain about you, but I, for one, am heartily tired of hearing this blatantly false and hypocritical garbage from people who should know better.  Flat out, our Founding Fathers made quite certain, in writing, more than once, that folks would know that the United States was not “a Christian nation.”  So before we go any further, let’s just get right to THAT point:

The U.S. Constitution is a wholly secular document. It contains no mention of Christianity or Jesus Christ. In fact, the Constitution refers to religion only twice in the First Amendment, which, one, bars laws “respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,” and two, in Article VI, which prohibits “religious tests” for public office. Both of these provisions are evidence that our country was not founded as officially Christian.

And then there is the Treaty of Tripoli. This Treaty is often cited, in discussions regarding the role of religion in United States government, for a clause in Article 11 of the English language American version which states unequivocally that “the Government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion.

So there’s that.

What, you might ask, has brought this diatribe of mine on?  The scriptures appointed for today.  From the Hebrew Scriptures we hear from the Prophet Isaiah:

Thus says the LORD:  Observe what is right, do what is just; for my salvation is about to come, my justice, about to be revealed.
The foreigners who join themselves to the LORD, ministering to him,
loving the name of the LORD, and becoming his servants—all who keep the sabbath free from profanation and hold to my covenant,
them I will bring to my holy mountain and make joyful in my house of prayer; their burnt offerings and sacrifices will be acceptable on my altar, for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.

And from the Gospel of Matthew, we hear the often problematic and misunderstood episode of Jesus and the Canaanite woman: 

At that time, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. 
And behold, a Canaanite woman of that district came and called out, “Have pity on me, Lord, Son of David!  My daughter is tormented by a demon.” But Jesus did not say a word in answer to her. Jesus’ disciples came and asked him, “Send her away, for she keeps calling out after us.” He said in reply, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But the woman came and did Jesus homage, saying, “Lord, help me.” He said in reply, “It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters.” Then Jesus said to her in reply, “O woman, great is your faith!  Let it be done for you as you wish.” And the woman’s daughter was healed from that hour.

On the surface of it, it really sounds like Jesus is kind of a jerk, no?  I mean, this Jesus who is all about love ignores this woman, then is calling her a dog, right?  And refusing to help her at first, yes? 

Actually?  No.  And no, no, and no again.  So often in our reading of the scriptures the English language itself is the problem.  What is printed on the page is not exactly what is meant.  You’ll see that in a minute, and things like this are why it is so important to actually STUDY scripture rather than just reading it and taking it at face value, coz the meanings are often misconstrued. 

Jesus is not insulting the woman. When he speaks of the “children” and the “dogs,” he is using a gentle metaphor, not a slur, to show the order of his mission:  God sent him first to Israel, and then the blessings would expand to the rest of the world. The Greek word He uses refers to small household pets, not wild street dogs, showing the tone is not harsh. The exact word Jesus used here, in Greek, was kunarion, meaning “small dog” or “pet dog.” This is a completely different word from the term kuon, used to refer to unspiritual people or to an “unclean” animal.  See?  Ya gotta kinda dig in to it, in order to understand what’s going on here.  Jesus isn’t rejecting her; he is drawing out her faith in front of his disciples. If he intended to belittle her, he would have dismissed her entirely, but instead he engages her, listens to her, and ultimately praises her, saying, “Woman, you have great faith!” he immediately heals her daughter.

Now, a word about the disciples.  How did they feel about the woman?  What did they say?  Note how they don’t wanna be bothered:  “Send her away.”  Kinda sounds like “Deport her” doesn’t it?  But Jesus doesn’t do that.  This story shows that Jesus lifts her up, not tears her down.  It shows that we, like Jesus, should do likewise.  It shows that  God’s love should be shown to all, regardless of background or belief or ethnicity.  It shows that we, like Jesus, should show God’s love and mercy to all.

To wit:  When Jesus talks about him coming for the Jews, he never says that He came only to save the Jews. He came to save the whole world.  Everybody.  No exceptions.  When He says that He came FOR the Jews, he meant that he came to focus his teachings and his ministry on Israel so that they could be better prepared to then turn around and help the rest of the world.  It would be like if your managers at work had a meeting that you tried to barge in on. One of them might say, “This meeting is for managers only, and you need to leave.” Obviously that meeting is only for the managers so that those managers can better lead and guide you.

So what is being said here is that everyone, not just a select group of folks in this, or any country or group of people, who claim to have a monopoly on Christianity, on faith, or on Jesus, but everyone, is welcome at the table.  That Jesus and what he teaches is for us all, and our faith and ACTING in that faith, DEMONSTRATING that faith, are what is important.  We are challenged to welcome all people, to love all people, regardless of background, ethnicity, gender identity, socio-economic status, sexuality, political party, or anything else that would cause us to discriminate.

If we want to boast that the US is a Christian nation, then, in the words of the National Catholic Reporter, we should “work towards feeding the hungry and ensuring that every person has access to basic nutrition and safe housing.  We should practice radical hospitality toward immigrants, refugees, and the marginalized.  We should treat health care as a fundamental human right available to all people and prioritize the poor, orphans, and widows without demanding self-sufficiency as a condition for mercy.  We should seek mercy and rehabilitation and center legal and prison systems on restoration, truth, and healing rather than pure retribution.  We should practice non-violence by rejecting militarism, retaliation, and the urge to use state power to crush political enemies.  We should humble power and, above all else, acknowledge that the core message of the Gospel focuses on transformed individual hearts and spiritual truth rather than enforcing religious conformity via government mandate.” 

After all, God has said that his “house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”  Amen.

Y’all……..did you know that it’s hurricane season?  Yep, we are smack dab in the middle of it. From 1 June to 30 November the good folks who study such things and are so very diligent in keeping us all abreast of current weather conditions have quite the time of it for these 6 months.  And thank goodness they are so dedicated to their jobs!  They keep us safe, or as safe as one can be during a catastrophic storm.  I know that many of you can remember Sandy, or Katrina, or Laura or Hugo.  Those were some of the biggest and caused millions and millions of dollars’ worth of damage and loss of life. 

And then, there are the smaller ones, the Cat 1 hurricanes.  In the last 50 years there have been hundreds of those.  I don’t wanna minimize how dreadful a Cat 1 hurricane can be, and while they can be scary, they’re also, at the same time, fascinating.  When Scott and I lived in Myrtle Beach, we were about 500 yards from the ocean.  We’d sit on our covered porch and listen to the waves.  In 2016 we sat on that porch some whilst Hurricane Matthew blew through.  Now, Matthew was a Cat 1, and whilst not terribly destructive in a major way, he was powerful.  Trees and tree limbs blew over and down, the rain was torrential, and he was certainly loud.  Very.  Very.  Loud.  Wind and thunder and rain and rain and thunder and wind. 

What struck me the most about experiencing a hurricane, though, was the aftermath.  Once Matthew blew himself out and moved on, and the sun came from behind the clouds, the silence was absolute.  And in that silence, in that calm, for a few minutes, we were able to just be.  To sit quietly and be thankful we had survived that storm.  To be amazed at the power of nature.  To be cognizant of just how powerless we can be. 

In the reading from the Hebrew Bible appointed for today, we find that the Prophet Elijah had a similar experience:

 At the mountain of God, Horeb, Elijah came to a cave where he took shelter.  Then the LORD said to him, “Go outside and stand on the mountain before the LORD; the LORD will be passing by.” A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the LORD—but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake—but the LORD was not in the earthquake. 
After the earthquake there was fire—but the LORD was not in the fire. After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went and stood at the entrance of the cave.

And in the Gospel appointed for today, we hear that oft told story of Jesus walking on the water and Peter making a valiant attempt to do so as well.  Since we have all of us heard that story over and over again, I wanna kinda focus on the “before” and “after.”  So here we go…..

After he had fed the people, Jesus made the disciples get into a boat
and precede him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. 
After doing so, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray. 
When it was evening, he was there alone. 

[Then Jesus decides he needs to be in the boat with the disciples and strolls on over to them, which freaked ‘em out, and Peter, being Peter, has to have some kind of proof and he starts walking on the water to Jesus, it storms, Peter starts to sink, and Jesus, as Jesus does so often with us when we’re going through our own storms, keeps him from drowning.]

After they got into the boat, the wind died down.  Those who were in the boat did him homage, saying, “Truly, you are the Son of God.”

Elijah was able to recognize God in the quiet after the storm.  The disciples were able to recognize Jesus as the son of God in the quiet after the storm.

How many of us who are going through our own storms stop for a minute or 30 and just be quiet, sit in silence, and just be still and wait and listen for God? 

There is a lot, and I mean a LOT of bad theology out there and a great deal of it is concerned with the “how can a loving God let thus and so happen” or “why did God CAUSE this to happen” or “if God loves me how can he make me go through this” kind of stuff.  Lemme clue ya in.  We are not puppets and God does not ‘give’ us the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things that happen in our lives.  Life happens.  Crap happens.  People make poor choices.  Natural disasters occur.  We get sick.  Nowhere does Holy Writ support the claim that any of these things is God’s doing.  What kind of God would we worship if he, indeed, sent us all the trials and tribulations and suffering and horror for which He is blamed?

But ya know what?  When all of those things happen, we can bet that if we are quiet, if we listen, God will give us the strength to get through it.  The psalmist tells us to “Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.” – Psalm 27:14 

With all the things going on in our country and throughout the world right now, many of us are distressed, resentful, and most decidedly unhappy.  But in all of the upheaval, if we but take a few minutes to just be quiet, to listen, we can find our calm, our strength, and recognize that God will get us through.

When I was a teenager and in the New Disciples youth choir at my church, we sang “A Quiet Place”, written by Ralph Carmichael.  It became, and still is, one of my fav songs, and it serves as a reminder to us to “be still and know that he is God.”

There is a quiet place
Far from the rapid pace
Where God can soothe my troubled mind

Sheltered by tree and flower
There in my quiet hour
With Him my cares are left behind

Whether a garden small
Or on a mountain tall
New strength and courage there I find

Then from this quiet place
I go prepared to face
A new day with love for all mankind

Whether a garden small
Or on a mountain tall
New strength and courage there I find

Then from this quiet place
I go prepared to face
A new day with love for all mankind

Then from this quiet place
I go prepared to face
A new day with love for all mankind

I wish you quiet. I wish you strength. I wish you peace.  Amen.

You know, if you’ve been coming to Mass for more than five minutes, you know this Gospel. Five loaves, two fish. We’ve heard fifty sermons on it. We get it—Jesus can multiply bread. It’s a classic story, right?

But if all we do is look at the food, we miss the whole point of the Man holding it.

Look at what happened right before that. Jesus just got the news that His cousin, John the Baptist, was murdered. Humanly speaking? He just wanted to get away. He gets on a boat to find a quiet place to grieve. But what do the crowds do? They run along the shore and they’re waiting for Him when the boat hits the sand.

Now think about that. If that were you or me, we’d be annoyed. We’d lock the door and say, “Give me a minute!” But Jesus steps off that boat, looks at the very people who just ruined His quiet time, and His heart breaks for them. He doesn’t walk away.

Last week, you heard me tell you to get off the fence. You can’t live this faith with one foot in the Kingdom and one foot in the world. And today, Saint Paul in Romans tells us why: How can you not be all-in for Jesus when He is 100% all-in on us?

Paul asks what can separate us from the love of Christ. Trouble? Hardship? Peril? The answer is nothing. But let’s be honest with ourselves today: Jesus never leaves us. We leave Him.

People in our lives will leave. Friends move on. Loved ones pass away. The one constant in this whole life is Jesus Christ.

I wonder in my own life how many times He’s just sat there with a grin on His face, shaking His head, knowing His plan was so much easier than the mess I was making. We’ve all been there! We pick and choose which words of Scripture we want to believe because we don’t want to hear it, we sure don’t want to do everything.

I know I wear Jesus out. We all do! We wear Him out when we lose our patience with our spouses or get frustrated with our kids or our bosses… or when somebody is driving ten miles an hour under the speed limit in front of us and we lose our Christian charity in three seconds flat!

We mess up. Constantly.

But the incredible thing about the Gospel is that after all our bad attitudes and stubbornness, Jesus is still sitting there on the shore, waiting for us. He looks at our mess and says, “You don’t have to go away.”

So, when you step up to this Altar today to receive His Body and Blood—where He physically shows us He will never walk away—I want you to ask yourself:

If Jesus is 100% all-in on you… how all-in are you on Him in your daily walk? And how are you going to show the people in your life who feel broken, defeated, or like they’ve messed up too many times, that Jesus hasn’t given up on them either?

Stop fence-sitting. Hand Him your mess, take His love out into a hungry world, and let Him turn your small, broken offering into a miracle.

My siblings in Christ, today we celebrate a unique and beautiful feast—not of a single isolated saint, but of a household. In honoring Saints Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, we are invited into the warmth of Bethany, a place that Jesus chose as a sanctuary from the demands and dangers of His public ministry. In their home, we discover a profound truth about Christian discipleship: Christ does not ask us to choose between service, contemplation, or vulnerability; He invites us to weave them together in love.

​For generations, Martha and Mary have often been set against one another in a false rivalry. Martha, the tireless worker, distracted by many things; Mary, the quiet contemplative, sitting at the Lord’s feet. But when we look closer, we see that their actions are two sides of the very same coin of devotion.

​The Two Sides of Devotion:

​Martha’s Holy Ministry: Martha’s hospitality was not mere social convention; it was an act of profound diakonia—the same service Christ models for us. It was Martha who, upon Lazarus’s death, ran out to meet Jesus while He was still on the road. Her grief did not paralyze her; it drove her to theological heights. It is Martha who utters one of the most magnificent confessions of faith in the entire Gospel: “Yes, Lord; I have believed that you are the Christ, the Son of God, he who comes into the world.” * Mary’s Sacred Presence: Mary reminds us of the anchor for all Christian action. Without sitting at the feet of the Master, our service risks becoming bitter, hollow, or self-centered. Her act of anointing Jesus’s feet with costly perfume was an outpouring of unconditional love—a recognition of His impending sacrifice that the rest of the disciples failed to grasp.

​Lazarus’s Silent Witness: And what of Lazarus? He speaks no words in the Gospel narrative, yet his very life is a sermon. Brought forth from the tomb, bound in linen, he is the living proof of Christ’s power over death. Lazarus represents the vulnerability we all share, and the restorative grace that calls us out of our dark, isolated tombs into the light of community.

​The Lesson of Bethany:

​In the household of Bethany, Jesus found a place where He could truly be Himself. He wept for Lazarus, He gently counselled Martha, and He received the devotion of Mary.

​As we reflect on this holy triad, let us ask ourselves: is our parish, our home, and indeed our inner life a “Bethany” for Christ?

​We are called to have the hands of Martha to serve a hurting world, the heart of Mary to listen deeply to the Spirit, and the humility of Lazarus to allow ourselves to be loved, redeemed, and called forth from darkness.

​May we never separate service from prayer, nor hide our vulnerability from the One who comes to share our life. Amen.

​Let us pray:

​O God, Who didst call Saints Martha, Mary, and Lazarus to serve Thy Blessed Son in the intimacy of their home, and didst bless their household with His presence and friendship:

​Grant, we beseech Thee, that by their examples and intercession, we may find our true identity in Thee.

​Give us the zeal of Saint Martha, that we may serve our neighbours with unflagging charity and confess Thy truth with boldness.

​Give us the devotion of Saint Mary, that we may ever sit at the feet of Thy Word, listening to His wisdom and offering Him the perfume of our adoration.

​Give us the hope of Saint Lazarus, that when we are bound by the shadows of sin and despair, we may hear Thy life-giving voice calling us out into the light.

​Make our hearts a sanctuary of peace and a dwelling place for Thy Holy Spirit, that we may one day be brought with them to the heavenly banquet, where Christ liveth and reigneth with Thee and the Holy Ghost, ever one God, world without end.

​Amen.

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, today the Lord is putting a very direct question right in front of our faces: What are you actually chasing in this life, and what are you willing to walk away from to get it? In the Gospel, Jesus doesn’t complicate things. He talks about a guy working in a field who stumbles on a hidden treasure, and a merchant who finally tracks down the perfect pearl. And look at what they do. They don’t drag their feet, they don’t complain about the price tag, and they don’t look back. Out of pure, absolute joy, they go and sell every single thing they own just to lock it down. Now, the world looks at that and thinks it’s a massive sacrifice. But when you’ve spent a lifetime seeing what passes for “treasure” in this world, you know better. When you realize that the living Christ and the fire of the Holy Spirit are the ultimate prize, walking away from the temporary, fleeting distractions of this world isn’t a painful loss at all. It’s just a smart, joyful trade.

To see that clearly, you need real spiritual wisdom—the exact kind of gut-level discernment King Solomon begged God for in our first reading. Remember, Solomon was a young leader stepping into a massive responsibility, and God told him he could have anything he wanted. He didn’t ask for wealth, fame, or the destruction of his enemies. He looked at his calling, realized his own limitations, and asked for an understanding heart to know right from wrong and to lead his people with integrity. That is where we must take a hard look in the mirror. Look at how much time we waste chasing counterfeit treasures, running after status, material comfort, or looking for something to calm the anxieties and the storms inside our own chests. But the truth is, the world can’t give you that peace. In a few moments at the Offertory, we’re going to sing a line that says it all: “You are the voice that calms the storm inside me… It’s always been You.” That’s the breakthrough right there. True wisdom is realizing that the answer to your restlessness isn’t found in the next worldly distraction; it’s always been Christ. He is the ultimate treasure, and He’s already right here, present in the Word and waiting for you at this altar in the Holy Eucharist.

Now, as a parish family at St. Michael’s, we love to worship. We let the Holy Spirit move dynamically, and we stand firm on the solid truth of our Dominican roots. But let me be perfectly straight with you: we do not come here just to get comfortable, sing our praises, and keep the fire to ourselves inside these four walls. The grace we receive at this altar is meant to draw a line in the dirt. So, I am challenging every single one of you today. Don’t just leave here today saying it was a nice Mass. Take a hard look at your life this week and ask yourself: How am I going to take this treasure and use it to better the Kingdom of God—not just in the quiet routine of my own personal prayers, but out there in the lives of the people who need it most? I challenge you to identify the lesser things you’re still clinging to, lay them down, and actively bring the raw, authentic light of Christ into your homes, your workplaces, and your neighborhoods. Stop holding back, start leading by example, and let’s go out there and build the Kingdom together.

Dominus vobiscum.

† Frank Bellino, PhD, OPI

The Feast of Saint James the Apostle calls us to reflect on the profound transformation of a disciple from a man of ambitious thunder to a witness of sacrificial love. In the Gospels, James and his brother John are famously nicknamed the “Sons of Thunder” (Boanerges). They were men of fiery passion, intense zeal, and, at times, misguided ambition. We see this clearly when they, along with their mother, approached Jesus to ask for the ultimate seats of honour in His kingdom—one at His right hand and one at His left.

​Jesus responded with a question that pierces through all human ambition: “Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?” Without fully understanding the weight of their words, they answered, “We are able.” —

​From Ambition to Alignment

​James’s initial understanding of Christ’s kingdom was likely wrapped up in earthly glory, power, and the overthrow of oppression. Yet, walking with Jesus transformed his thunderous zeal into a holy, enduring devotion. He came to realise that the right hand and the left hand of Jesus would not be flanked by golden thrones, but by two crosses on Calvary. The “cup” Jesus spoke of was not a chalice of earthly triumph, but the cup of suffering, surrender, and ultimate sacrifice.

​To truly follow Christ is to move past our own desires for recognition and position. James teaches us that alignment with God’s will requires a stripping away of self-interest.

​The First of the Twelve

​James did indeed drink from that cup. As recorded in the Book of Acts, he became the first of the twelve apostles to suffer martyrdom, put to death by the sword under King Herod Agrippa. The man who once sought the highest place of honour found it in the highest form of service—laying down his life for the Gospel.

​His journey from a fisherman on the Sea of Galilee to the first apostolic martyr reminds us of several vital truths for our own ministries and lives:

​Transformation is a process: Christ does not call the perfect; He calls the willing and shapes them through fellowship, correction, and grace.

​Zeal must be channeled: Our natural passion and energy are gifts from God, but they must be disciplined and directed toward the cross, not our own advancement.

​The cost of discipleship: True leadership in the kingdom of God is always measured by our willingness to serve and to sacrifice.

​As we honour Saint James, let us examine our own hearts. Are we seeking the crowns of this world, or are we willing to drink the cup of Christ? May we, like James, leave behind our nets, our ambitions, and our thunder, so that we may be filled with the quiet, powerful strength of the Holy Spirit.

​A Prayer of Commemoration and Dedication

​Almighty and everlasting God, we offer You heartfelt thanks and praise for the life and witness of Your holy apostle, Saint James. As he was prompt to leave his father and all that he had to answer the call of Your Son Jesus Christ, grant that we, too, may evermore be ready to forsake all worldly and selfish ambitions to follow You.

​Lord, we confess that like the Sons of Thunder, we often seek our own glory and desire the places of honour in this life. Cleanse our hearts of all pride and self-seeking. Teach us the true meaning of the cup of suffering and service, that we may walk in the path of humility and love.

​We pray for all who shepherd Your flock and counsel Your people. Grant them the courage of James to stand firm in the face of adversity, the wisdom to guide with pastoral grace, and the zeal to proclaim the Gospel with boldness.

​Strengthen us to drink the cup You place before us, trusting that Your grace is sufficient for every trial. Bring us at last, with Saint James and all Your saints, into the fullness of Your eternal joy, where we may behold Your glory face to face.

​Through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.

​Amen.