Fire. We dread it, we fear it, we need it.

We look for the arsonist’s sparks that precede it.

Who lit the match? Now the city’s ablaze.

Tongues as of fire light tongues filled with praise.

It’s fire! It’s roaring, it’s soaring, it’s spreading.

It looks like it might be quite rapidly heading

To Your street, to Your house, and to Your heart, now lighting

A joy and a power the Spirit’s igniting.

We know how we got here. We kept our hearts still.

We listened to scripture. We searched for God’s will.

It started with Mary, her wide-hearted YES,

And now every Christian must kneel and confess

That our Jesus is LORD. Let all the earth tremble.

Let war zones, and drought zones, begin to resemble

The City of Peace, where wide rivers flow.

O Spirit, come heal us, that all hearts should know

That YOU are the Comforted soul’s welcome guest.

YOU are our wisdom, Refreshment, and Rest.

Lord, send your Spirit, and give grace, I pray

To every dear person who reads this today.

How can the Spirit help you this year?

Kathy McGovern ©2025 

Okay, Church. It’s that time of year again. This is the week when the entire Church does a full-court novena. We celebrate Ascension Thursday today, on a Sunday, because it often goes unnoticed on the weekday, and it’s a tremendous solemnity. So, yes, technically, the novena started last Thursday. Still, all 14 million practicing Catholics worldwide observe Ascension today, which means we collectively begin our joyful wait for the coming of the Spirit in one week.

We do this in solidarity with those disciples—Mary, the mother of Jesus, being foremost among them (Acts 1:12)—who followed Jesus’ instruction not to leave Jerusalem until they received the Spirit (Lk. 24:48). Nine days later, a noise like a driving wind filled the house where they were staying, and the Holy Spirit descended.

So YES! We keep this Pentecost novena (seven days, really) as a worldwide Church, and we wait in joyful hope for the Spirit to come to us in mighty ways next Sunday on the great feast of the Holy Spirit, the birthday of the Church.

I entreat us all to storm heaven during this particularly potent week of prayer. I’m begging for an immediate ceasefire in Gaza, and for immediate food and medicine to be rushed to the millions of people who will die of famine without humanitarian aid.

Once again this year, I invite each of us to imagine someone in the world of our same gender, age, and name who needs our prayers this year. There are at least thirteen different global spellings of Kathleen. Google your name and randomly choose someone. They can thank you when they meet you in heaven.

What will be your novena prayer this year?

 Kathy McGovern ©2025 

Reflecting on Rev. 21: 10-14, 22-23

We’re getting close to the end of the Easter season, which means we’re getting close to the end of the Book of Revelation, which we only hear in the Easter season, except for the Feast of All Saints. What a mysterious and beautiful book it is. Sadly, many Christians waste their precious years poring over its more enigmatic sections, looking for codes to the day and the hour of the Second Coming. That’s not what it’s about, but people throughout time keep identifying the villains of their own day as the Anti-Christ.

Now, I’ve had my own suspicions of some figures in our time. Jeff Bezos, for example, gets my vote, because Amazon has so taken over our purchasing practices that if you don’t happen to have a computer, or the right credit card, you won’t be able to buy things nearly as easily as the rest of us. That evokes, in my brain, the many references in Revelation of those with the number 666 on their foreheads. These are the ones who have bent the knee to the Anti-Christ, and are the only ones who can buy or sell (Rev. 13:16-19).

I’m only half-serious, of course. The Anti-Christ referenced in Revelation was the Emperor Nero, and those with the number 666 were all the people—Christians among them—who reverenced him in order not to be murdered. Revelation isn’t a prophecy of a figure to come. It’s about the insane sociopath on the throne in Rome in the last years of the first century AD.

But, above all, it’s about our future with Christ. The Spirit and the Bride say, “Come!” We long for that day. Come, Lord Jesus.

What temptations in the modern world make it hard to hear the voice of Jesus? 

Kathy McGovern ©2025

Reflecting on Rev. 21: 1- 5a

Are you old enough to have memories of sitting by a crystal-clear lake? Do you remember swimming in a deep blue ocean, with a pristine beach? I even remember walking up Hollywood Boulevard, taking in the fragrant hibiscus, and walking in and out of sparkling clean shops. That’s how old I am.

These days, I long for that “new heaven and new earth” we are promised in today’s Revelation reading. I long to walk down a long, clean beach, and to jump into a warm, clear ocean. I long for a predictable climate of four seasons, each with its own small dramas, but nothing like the one-in-a-century storms we see every year now.

And I long to see the new Jerusalem, healed of its trauma, stretching arms of peace and reconciliation. I long to see Gaza, sparkling like a diamond, filled with strong, happy, safe children, with porous borders that welcome friends from both sides as they come and go.

I long to see Ukraine, whole again, rebuilt better than before. I long to see all the war refugees streaming home, and, somehow, even the dead raised back to life, with their loved ones having no memory of their  tears. And I long to see the grieving Russian mothers and widows hugging their healthy, happy sons.

Behold, this is God’s dwelling, where the earth is healed, and our hearts are healed, and war is thrown into the Lake of Fire, forever. God will wipe every tear from our eyes. That’s the promise.

O, Risen Christ, may it be so. May we live to see this promise come true.

And may we offer our lives in service of helping this scripture be fulfilled.

What does a new heaven and a new earth mean to you?

Kathy McGovern ©2025 

Reflecting on John 10: 27-30

What does eternal life mean? Pope Francis left a beautiful testament, to be read after his death, saying, “I ask that my mortal remains rest awaiting the day of resurrection in the Papal Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore.” I haven’t heard many people speak about the resurrection of the body, but our dear Franciscus clearly believed that his body would rise on the last day.

Jesus, in today’s gospel from John 10, assures us when he says, speaking metaphorically about sheep, “I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish.” Can we possibly hope that we are counted in that number, that there is truly life after this life?

Let’s lean into Catholic teaching. At death, the immortal soul does not perish. Immediately after death, the soul undergoes a “particular judgment,” based on its life on earth. At the end of time, there will be a final resurrection where all souls will be reunited with their bodies, and the Last Judgment will take place. This is the moment that Pope Francis awaits.

Here’s a beautiful analogy, given to us by Rev. John McKenzie, SJ. When we are in the womb, we can’t know anything but the womb. This is where we get our food, oxygen, warmth, and safety. But if an embryo, already grown into a baby and birthed into a life outside the womb,  could talk to the pre-born embryo, think of the confidence she could give that embryo: “You’ll breathe! You’ll eat! You’ll dance! You’ll talk! I know you’re afraid of the unknown. But trust me, you want to be born.”

Trust me, says Jesus. I will give those who embrace me eternal life. You want to be born into that.

What fears do you harbor about being born into eternal life?

Kathy McGovern ©2025 

Reflecting on John 21: 1-19

I heard the Passion this year more than any other Lent. Or, maybe I just HEARD the Passion more—really heard it, really contemplated it, was really broken over it, more than ever before. In the same way, I resolve to read the Easter gospels with brand-new eyes this season as well.

And so, I have some questions. When Jesus visited his disciples at the Sea of Tiberias, we don’t know how much time had elapsed since he appeared to them (with Thomas) one week after Easter. We know that they’d returned to their occupation before being called to follow Christ. What were they thinking on that boat that day? Did we dream all of this? And yet, we all remember the Risen Jesus appearing to us in the room where we were hiding, and, the second time, Thomas even felt his wounds!

So, what did they think had happened to Jesus since he appeared to them? Weren’t they beside themselves, not knowing where he was, or what his resurrection meant for their futures? (I suspect Peter was PARTICULARLY interested in that question.) Apparently, they had reunited with their families in the Galilee, after traveling with Jesus for three years. They were back fishing, making a living.

The story has a familiar pattern, maybe in our own lives, too. A long night on frightening waters. Hunger. Uncertainty. Fear. And then, a familiar Voice, encouraging them to try another way.

Hear the voice of Pope Francis, calling us from heaven: Try another way.

My question, then, as I read this gospel: what new way is God showing  me? Do I have the faith to cast my net to the other side?

What behaviors have not been fruitful for you? How will you try another way?

Kathy McGovern ©2025

Reflecting on John 20: 19-31

If you watch enough of Dateline, you’ll never answer the phone or email again. Predators are everywhere, we’re told, and we will never be smarter than they are. It’s best to be suspicious of everyone.

I wonder if Thomas had heard reports that Jesus was alive, and his broken heart couldn’t take any more disappointment. It was best to keep his heart hard. Religious zealots were everywhere. Nobody was going to make a fool out of him.

And now his own brothers, the ones who had witnessed Jesus raise Lazarus, met him at the door, ecstatically shouting that they had seen the Lord!

But Thomas would not be fooled. No. “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nail marks, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

You can almost hear the catch in his voice. He’s fighting back tears. He wants to believe with everything in him. But he knows what the Romans did to Jesus. He can’t be alive. Can he?

And then, on the next Sunday night, Jesus appeared again! He went straight for the dumbfounded (and overjoyed!) Thomas. Can you imagine if Jesus took your fingers and placed them over his wounds, and put your hands in his side? You would fall to your knees, like Thomas, and cry, “My Lord and my God!”

After his life-changing experience of the Risen One, Thomas set out to tell the world what he knew. He traveled all over the Middle East and Asia, and eventually died in India, where he is revered among the Indian Christians as the patron saint of India.

He preached the Divine Mercy of Jesus.

                                                                    Have you had an experience of the Risen Lord? 

Kathy McGovern ©2025 

Reflecting on John 20:1-9

There is a detail in John’s eloquent and symbol-laden Easter gospel that we must not miss: When Simon Peter arrived, he went into the tomb and saw the burial cloths there, and the cloth that had covered his head, not with the burial cloths but rolled up in a separate place. Then the other disciple also went in, the one who had arrived at the tomb first, and he saw and believed.

Well, that settles it. Jesus’ body was not stolen by grave robbers, perhaps hoping for a big ransom from his believers. No robber would politely remove the burial cloths, and then take the time to roll up the face mask. It appears that Jesus resurrected straight through his burial cloths.

Contrast that with the raising of Lazarus, relayed in the eleventh chapter of John: 44 The dead man came out, tied hand and foot with burial bands, and his face was wrapped in a cloth. So Jesus said to them, “Untie him and let him go.”

THIS is what convinced Peter. He was present at the raising of Lazarus. He witnessed the dead man coming out of the tomb, covered in the face cloth and burial cloths, which smelled so bad Jesus immediately ordered that they be taken off.

Peter witnessed a resuscitated Lazarus. In the tomb of Jesus, empty but for the burial cloths, he witnessed the resurrected Jesus.

But WHY is the face mask rolled up in a separate place? Recall Exodus 33:20-22: God told Moses, “You cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live.”

The Resurrected One leaves the face cloth behind because, when he goes to the Father, he can take the heat.

            Are you ready to see Jesus face to face?

Kathy McGovern c. 2025

The entire Passion account moves so quickly. It begins with a peaceful Passover meal, then moves to the Garden, where, after his Agony, the soldiers come with swords and torches. He asks why they put on such a big show when they could have arrested him at any time during the day. But, he says, “This is your hour, the time for the power of darkness.”

There are times when the power of darkness seems to take hold of previously good and reasonable people. Nazi Germany comes to mind. Looking at videos of those ghastly rallies, with thousands giving the Nazi salute, it’s impossible to imagine that darkness could take hold so quickly, but in less than six months the concentration camps were turned into extermination camps.

When we visited Yam Vashem, the museum in Jerusalem that remembers the Holocaust, our guides wondered that Germany could have been the locus of the viciousness against the Jews. It had, just before Hitler took power, been the image of democratic discourse.

Perhaps the most compelling moment of Luke’s account, though, remembers that there were two thieves crucified on either side of Jesus. One was belligerent until the end, while the other was profoundly moved by his encounter with Jesus.

I want to be the thief who is deeply touched and converted by Jesus. I want to release all my defensiveness and arrogance. I want all my sinfulness to melt at the feet of Jesus. I want to say, “I am guilty, after all. Please heal me, Jesus.”  

Are you ready to release all your unhealed wounds unto the foot of the Cross? Jesus, remember us when you come into your kingdom.

What bitterness are you willing to release this Palm Sunday?

Kathy McGovern ©2025 

Reflecting on John 8:1-11

That poor woman. How terrifying to be dragged in front of all those righteous men, so thrilled to finally have an actual, breathing sinner in front of them, and stones to boot! But I’ve always thought this event was a set-up. Yes, they may have known that a woman was consorting with a man not her husband. But perhaps this situation provided the perfect trap for Jesus, the Jew who preached compassion when faced with the rigors of the Law.

It must have been soul-deadening to walk around under the weight of those 619 laws.

I imagine those scribes and Pharisees had to have found the Law onerous as well. Had they noticed Jesus during the Festival, and assumed he’d be back in the Temple area the next day? Did they take advantage of the situation with the woman, and use her to force a confrontation with Jesus about compassion? The truth is, there isn’t a single known event of Jews stoning a woman caught in adultery.

I wonder if that proscription, coming all the way back in Leviticus 20:10, was something that bothered the Jews. Were they hoping Jesus would give them a way out of a terrible death penalty they would never have exacted anyway?

He did give them a way out, twice. The first was when he suggested that the one who was without sin throw the first stone. Whew! We’re all saved! We don’t have to pretend that we were actually going to kill her.

The second time Jesus offered a way out, of course, was on the Cross. That’s our way out from revenge, and violence. We should go, then, and not sin anymore.

How does your compassion offer a way out to people in your life?

Kathy  McGovern ©2025