Reflecting on Jeremiah 31: 7-9

A few years ago, I had the life-changing experience of taking a Justice Matters class on Migration. The worst part was that, unlike my nightly discipline of shielding my eyes and ears when footage of the migrant boats came on the news, we actually had to watch the videos. If I think about it, I’ll cry, and my tears will just add to the rivers of tears shed for the millions of migrants who suffer every day in order to escape the terrors of home.

Imagine, then, the image that Jeremiah offers today. God will gather ALL who migrated out of their homelands, either in the chains of victorious armies, or from the chains of drought and famine.

God will gather them from the ends of the earth. They departed in tears—terrible, throat-choking tears—but they will return wrapped in the comfort and mercy of God.

Those who prayed for water as they left their homes will find streams and streams of it, and on level roads, not on top of treacherous hills and mountains. Jeremiah had clearly traveled with those who migrated out of Jerusalem under the sword of Nebuchadnezzar. He knew about the terrors of traveling outside the safety of home.

But here’s the best part: the pace of the travel was measured by the pace of the blind, the elderly, and the disabled. However slowly they needed to move, that would be how the entire caravan moved, companioning them. Think of the grace of everyone moving to the pace of mercy. Think of yourself, today, moving to the pace of mercy. How does that change your schedule?

Pray for the peace of all the troubled homelands.

How are you following Catholic Social Teaching regarding migration?

Kathy McGovern ©2024

Reflecting on Mark 10: 35-45

Imagine this: it’s Thanksgiving dinner, and, at the table, you pour the wine for the toast. Each guest receives a portion commensurate with their age and status.

Uncle Jack brought his own alcohol to the party and is already on his fourth glass of wine. You pour him a small glass, knowing that he’ll come back, again and again.

On the other side of the table is your thirty-year-old son, recently out of rehab for his own alcohol problems. He’s been sober for four months. Weak with gratitude, he turns his glass over, indicating he will be declining alcohol. You smile and move on.

The kids, naturally, might get just a sip or two in their cups. It’s a delight for them to raise their cups with the grown-ups and offer a toast of thanks. The rest of the wine flows freely, filling the glasses of the adults, with, perhaps, the most generous serving going to the hosts who have provided the feast.

Jesus references this cultural situation when he asks the two brothers, James and John, if they can drink the cup that he will drink. Now this is a great honor, to drink from the largest portion, the cup of the Rabbi! Not only is it delicious, but it honors them above the others. Of course they can drink it!

And so it was. James was the first apostle to be martyred, in 44 AD.  John, after surviving several tortures, died of extreme old age in Ephesus. Their misunderstanding of what the “cup” meant was, after the resurrection, transformed into a radiant desire to share in Christ’s passion, so as to live with him in glory.

In what ways have you grown to desire to be “the least” in your life?

Kathy McGovern ©2024

Reflecting on Wisdom 7: 7-11

My husband Ben has been out in his Man Cave a lot lately, measuring, sawing, nailing, and sanding. He seems quite content. I’ve even caught him humming when he comes in the door. I’m trying not to take it too personally. He’s building my coffin.

Mm-hmm. Ten months ago, we resolved to buy our funeral plots, plan our funerals, and build our coffins. I’m not sure why Ben started on MY coffin first, but as my funny father-in-law asked, “This isn’t a rush job, is it?” I’m overjoyed that it isn’t.

At this moment, life seems long. It’s about as happy a life as can be experienced on this side of heaven. But we’re trying to have Wisdom. We’re trying to take the ancient writer’s words to heart, whose “splendor never yields to sleep.”  We’ve both lived long enough to know that “all good things together” come to us when we pray for Wisdom, and “countless riches are at her hands.”

And so we are consciously and, I hope, prayerfully preparing for that day when nothing matters but the riches we have acquired in heaven. And then we will fall on the mercy of God, for we have come up so short of the gospel command to sell all and give to the poor, and of the Wisdom advice to love God more than “health or comeliness.”

We prayed for Wisdom, and then began to plan our funerals. We have lots of beloved family, and endlessly kind and loving friends. But we’re planning our funerals anyway, because, as Jimmy Stewart reminds us, the only thing we take to heaven is all the love we gave to others in this Wonderful Life.

How are you using Wisdom to live your life?

Kathy McGovern ©2024

Reflecting on Gen. 2: 18-24

We get to talk about LOVE this week, my favorite topic. Genesis says that God even created woman from the rib of man so that the two might become one flesh. What a painful image! But we get the point.

Jesus stands by the Genesis account. When confronted with the issue of divorce, he reminds the Pharisees that God intends that women and men enjoy happy and fruitful lives together. Yes, today, divorce is everywhere, and no, I’ve never met a single person who had to endure a divorce who wasn’t ripped to shreds by it.

Of course, marriage in Jesus’ day bore little resemblance to our own. It was an economic arrangement, usually between members of the same clan, to provide progeny and, depending on the wealth of the bride’s father, financial profit for the groom, his father, and his brothers.

But St. Paul says an extraordinary thing in Ephesians 5:25: Husbands, love your wives. What? Was there love involved in the contract? There has to have been. Yes, the marriages were arranged, but even today, the arranged marriages that still take place around the world yield not only children but, often, enduring love. St. Paul understood that for the social contract to be successful, the two people had to look beyond the aggravations of day-to-day life and see the Divine in their union.

Speaking of the Divine, my favorite activity is watching parents with their kids. Is there any love like that? It perfectly images God’s love for us—unconditional and wildly out of proportion to what we can ever deserve. But this outrageous love keeps going on in every age. Such is the fruit of the Trinity becoming ONE FLESH with us.

Name some different things you’ve learned about love from the different relationships in your life.

Kathy McGovern ©2024

Reflecting on James 5: 1-6

One of the hardest things to do in this ridiculous political climate is to actually listen to the opposing party with as open a mind as you can muster. I admit there have been a few moments in the debates when I thought the other side made a good point. I don’t dare say that out loud, though, for fear I’ll be torn to pieces by those who know better, who don’t tolerate fools, who hold the key to my acceptance into the cool club.

Isn’t that terrible, that even at this stage in my life, I can’t say out loud that I think the Spirit might be working in someone other than The Good Guys? But Eldad and Medad offer the Old Testament example—and there are many, come to think of it—of the Spirit flowing from two who weren’t at the Tent of Meeting, weren’t at the designated “holy place” at the designated time, just didn’t fit with the way we’ve told God to behave. And God behaved anyway!

That leads us to our last exposure to James’s letter for the next three years. WHEW. For five weeks, we’ve once again heard those powerful cries of the poor from James. We won’t hear from him again for three years. What will be different in our approach to how we live these next three years? Will it be business as usual, with our successful accumulation of wealth, being unwilling to hear the Spirit calling from the broken parts of our economy that exclude those who are poor?

Give us ears, oh God, to hear your Spirit, even where we least want it.

Who are the people in your life who unwittingly speak for the Spirit?

Kathy McGovern ©2024

Reflecting on James 3:16-4:3

Ah, desire. We know what that feels like. And it’s captured beautifully in the third chapter of the letter to James. Jealousy, selfish ambition, covetousness, envy…who hasn’t suffered these disordered desires? Envy, the book of Genesis makes clear, is the Original Sin. Cain was so envious of his brother Abel’s favorable offering to God that he murdered him! We get no explanation for WHY Abel’s sacrifice was found acceptable. Still, we can certainly hear today’s Wisdom passage in Cain’s murderous act: The wicked say: Let us beset the just one, because he is obnoxious to us.

Our first parents suffered envy so terribly that they willingly ate the forbidden fruit—probably imagined as a pomegranate, by the way, not the apple we often see in religious art—because they believed the Tempter’s Lie that it would make them like gods. They didn’t realize that they already lived like gods. Now, (the author of Genesis believed), we can all thank them as we wrestle with those relentless weeds in our gardens.

But here’s the good news, for you younger readers. It gets SO MUCH BETTER with age. As we get older, many of the envies that tormented us when we were young are long gone.  Life has sorted itself out, and, at least in my observance, elderly people are not still pining for their teenage heartthrob. At least I HOPE not!

But here’s where it gets really good. The Jewish faith believes that the heart is where we make our choices. We can CHOOSE against envy by CHOOSING not to want what the advertisers so passionately NEED us to want. This is a good thing to remember as we enter these pre-Christmas months.

How has desire made you unwise? How has wisdom calmed the desire for more?

(Thank you, Alice Camille, for these great questions from God’s Word is Alive) Kathy McGovern ©2024

We had another class reunion last week. We’re all so close we can’t stop getting together. In attendance were our brilliant and humble valedictorian, our beautiful cheerleader-school principal-grandma, and a heartbroken mother whose son had just died from cancer. He was going to give her his kidney, to save her from three days a week of dialysis.

Each of us sat with her, holding her hand, listening as she described the many terrible deaths in her family in recent years. And then we moved on. There were so many people to see, so many photos to pull up on our phones. But one classmate, who has never been attracted to religious observance, said to our grieving friend, “You will never go to one more dialysis appointment by yourself. I will pick you up at 5:30 am and stay with you through every appointment. Don’t even think about going through this alone.” Works without faith is such a powerful witness.

And I always preface this next story by saying, “That’s who I went to high school with.” One bitterly cold January afternoon I was attempting to navigate the icy ramp out of the grocery store, my cart slipping to the left and right. A beautiful young lady, maybe fourteen years old, was just coming out of the store. “Can I help you?” Relief flooded through me. “Yes! I’m in trouble here. Please help me.” She immediately and easily took my cart down the ramp and to my car. While unloading the groceries, her grandma looked at me in surprise and said, “Oh, hi, Kathy.” We hadn’t seen each other since our last reunion.

Don’t you love seeing “works” at work in the world?

What good works are you extending these days?

Kathy McGovern ©2024

Reflecting on Is. 35: 4-7a

Two weeks ago, I had an unforgettable experience. August 23^rd, the feast day of St. Rose of Lima,  set off a weekend of joyful reunions at St. Rose of Lima Catholic Church in Denver. The parish celebrated its one-hundredth-year anniversary. The little church with the big heart, sitting snugly in the Platte River Valley, has been home to various ethnic groups—-from its German founders to its present, vibrant Hispanic community—and hundreds of “legacy families” that filled the pews for generations.

The word “grace” means “undeserved kindness.” During the 1980s, I had the grace to serve on the staff at this uniquely loving parish. Coming back after several decades, I was nearly lifted into the air by the stunning congregational singing at the joyous anniversary Mass. But why was I crying so uncontrollably, that evening and well into the next day? It was because the scales fell off my eyes, and my deaf ears were opened. I saw and heard all the loving family and friends, many deceased, many still alive, who had been so present to me during those years.

I saw every dear choir member who gave up so many precious evenings in order to learn music for the beautiful Sundays we shared at St. Rose. I saw those gorgeous “sock hops” we had in the gym, colors swirling through the room, the live band keeping hundreds of dancers going ‘til the late hours.

I saw the beloved bishop of our Archdiocese, coming home from the chancery and checking in with each of the housekeeper’s kids. I saw a great cloud of witnesses to those one hundred years. I hear their voices even now.

Close your eyes and see the ancestors who built your parish. Say, thank you.

Kathy McGovern ©2024

Reflecting on Mark 7: 1-8, 14-15, 21-23

Be doers of the word and not hearers only, deluding yourselves. Oh, boy. Leave it to the letter of James to hit you straight in the heart. I’ve decided that my generation is the Education Generation. We came of age at Vatican Council 11. The Catholic Biblical School was bursting with adult students, eager to spend hours a week at the feet of their teachers, and then in study before the next class. Everywhere you turned, there were fascinating classes to take. There still are, and I’m signed up for every one of them.

Even though I’m now a mini-expert on racial equity, migration issues, eco-spirituality, and all the other human rights under the Respect Life banner, I confess to you that I am more successful at learning about Catholic Social Teaching than I am at carrying it out.

It’s taken me YEARS to remember to bring my own silverware and dish to a potluck so I’m not adding more plastic to the landfill. Yes, I carry my own coffee mug with me. No, I don’t remember to bring it into whatever marvelous class I’m taking. Pass the Styrofoam cups, please.

At present, I know of a single mom and three kids who are living on the street because they don’t speak the language and don’t have anyone to interpret for them. A community of families has taken in 600 migrants just like them. I love reading and learning about them, from afar. Their commitment terrifies me.

We live in an era of Catholic Information Explosion. But can I do a better job of ACTING on all that I know? It’s challenging to HEAR the Word. It’s more challenging to DO it.

In what ways are you DOING the Word you’ve heard?

Kathy McGovern ©2024

Reflecting on John 6:60-69

The bells are ringing, calling the pilgrims who have traveled to the Martyrs’ Shrine in Midland, Ontario to prayer. The Jesuits came here to New France in the 1630s, to freeze and starve, to paddle canoes over thousands of miles of treacherous waterways, and to live and die in the camps of the Hurons. Eight Jesuits―six priests and two donnés, or lay helpers―were martyred here and in upstate New York.

We Americans know St. Isaac Jogues the best of the eight because he was killed by an Iroquois tomahawk in New York, and he left the most unbelievably vivid and brilliant journal of his life as a missionary to the Mohawks.

But here in Canada, St. Jean de Brébeuf is the most beloved of all those martyrs. He was a large, generous, extraordinarily loving man who lived with the Huron/Wendat for nearly twenty years. It is his name that the native converts called when they were sick and dying. And when the village where he was giving a mission was raided by the Iroquois one terrible night in 1649, instead of fleeing from the fires they said, “Come, let us die with him.”

And so they became eyewitnesses to the destruction, through hours of torture, of the body of the man who had baptized them, comforted them, nursed them through illness, and brought them to Jesus. Because of them, we know that, in the end, his tormentors cut out his heart and consumed it so that they might have, in their own bodies, his strength and power.

Unless you eat my Body and drink my Blood you shall not have life within you.

I think I get it now.

In what ways does your reception of the Eucharist give you Jesus’ strength and power?

Kathy McGovern c. 2024