Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Reflecting on Isaiah 25: 6-10

Last week some friends invited me to a fundraiser for Bridging Hope, a nonprofit that provides assistance to indigent, ill, disadvantaged, and disabled women and children in Viet Nam.

I felt like I was on the mountaintop from the second I arrived. There was a dear friend in every corner of the room, and when I sat down I realized that eight other friends were sharing our table! Heaven.

Talk about your feast of juicy, rich food, and pure, choice wines. Beautiful Vietnamese teenagers, parishioners of the vibrant Vietnamese church in our archdiocese, came to our tables practically begging us to take all the fried egg rolls we could eat. Soon they returned, with large bowls overflowing with scented rice and vegetables, herb-crusted salmon, and beef with broth. I can’t remember ever eating a more abundant or delicious meal.

What overwhelmed me the most was the loving participation of SO many young people. The young Vietnamese dancers were jaw-dropping, and the colors filled the room so much that it seemed the sun had burst into a billion gorgeous prisms.

The music was, of course, spectacular. The Vietnamese are known for their musical artistry. As the Youth Choir sang, my friend turned to me and said, “We look at these beautiful young singers, and forget what happened in their homes over fifty years ago, and what it took for their grandparents to get here.”

And then I felt the veil that veils all people, the web that is woven over all nations, dissolve in front of me. Humans were never made to be at war, but to sing, and dance, and eat together at the banquet of eternal friendship and love.

When in your life have you felt the veil of separation and sadness lift?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Ordinary Time - Cycle A