Reflecting on Luke 23: 35-43

Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.

Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.

These words, remembered in Luke’s gospel, might be the most cherished words of our faith. St. Dismas (the Penitent Thief) rebuked the other thief who was mocking Jesus from his cross. St. Dismas, in a moment of great faith, turned to Jesus and asked that he be remembered.

But it’s those words that Jesus speaks that fill our hearts with comfort every time we hear them. Today you will be with me in Paradise. Oh yes, Jesus, on this great feast of your kingship over all the earth, please grant that each of us will be with you in your kingdom.

Imagine today what Paradise will be. In my youth, I envisioned a hedonistic eternity, with every imaginable delicious dessert mine for the taking. But the years have softened my selfishness. These days, I pray for a Paradise that has somehow gathered even the worst of the worst into an eternity of deep repentance and astonishing forgiveness.

Paradise will restore us to our youthful bodies. There will be no illness, no sadness, no death. We will run and not grow weary, we will walk and not faint (Isaiah 40:31). There will be abundant food and water for all creation: I will open rivers on the bare heights, and fountains in the midst of the valleys. I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water” (Isaiah 41: 17-18).

Paradise will be where ALL creation experiences the eternal goodness of God.

Jesus, remember us.

How do you imagine Paradise?

Kathy McGovern ©2025

Reflecting on  Luke 21: 5-19

It’s sobering to stand at the Western Wall in Jerusalem. It is an ancient retaining wall on the hill known as the Temple Mount.  Visitors place prayers on tiny pieces of paper and press them into the crevices of the last remaining wall of King Herod’s Temple.

Even the great builder Herod couldn’t construct a complex strong enough to withstand the Roman assault on Jerusalem in 70AD. The Romans knew that destroying the Temple would break the Jewish will to fight. This was a devastating event for the Jewish people, leading to the scattering of survivors, and ending a key era in Judaism.

It’s precisely this terrifying event that Jesus is warning of in today’s gospel (Luke 21:5-19). “The days will come when there will not be left
a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.” Imagine standing there today and seeing these huge boulders, still broken and scattered from the terrible Roman-Jewish War of 70AD.

We know so little of what became of those disciples to whom Jesus spoke these eerily prophetic words. Tradition says that all but John were martyred, although scripture only tells of the deaths of the two men named James.

Was it troublesome to the early Church to witness the deaths of the eyewitnesses? Doesn’t Jesus promise that “not a hair on your head will be destroyed”? The earliest Christians knew that the Crucified One rose from the grave, and they understood that the martyrs would share the same victory.

No need to worry, though. This was all 2,000 years ago. Except that Jesus also says, “There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues from place to place.”

How do you live in joyful hope of the Kingdom of God?

Kathy McGovern ©2025

Reflecting on Jn. 2: 13-32

This is interesting. Last week, the Thirty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time was preempted by the beautiful Commemoration of All Souls. But this week, the Thirty-Second Sunday is preempted by a building? Ah, but it’s not just any building. Since the fourth century, the Church has reserved November 9th—even if it falls on a Sunday near the end of Ordinary Time—for the Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome.

I always thought there must have been a saint named John Lateran. Wrong. There’s a basilica built on the Lateran hill in Rome, named for Saint John. Taking some time to glance at today’s readings helps to make sense of why this church is considered so sacred. The scriptures are overflowing — like the life-giving river that flows from the Temple to the sea in Ezekiel’s vision today — with imagery of buildings. The Temple, in particular, is the most sacred of all buildings.

And yet, Jesus says that HE is the Temple. His listeners took him literally, of course, and didn’t understand until after the Resurrection that when he said, “Destroy this Temple and in three days I will raise it up,” he was talking about his own death and resurrection.

And here’s the thing. It’s not just Jesus who is the new Temple. St. Paul says, “The Temple of God, which you are, is holy.” This is why the remembrance of the dedication of this basilica is so precious that we interrupt Ordinary Time to commemorate it. This basilica is the “mother Church,” not just for the pope but for the whole world, and we are its living stones.

We are the foundation. Stand strong.

When in your week do you stand strong for your faith?

Kathy McGovern ©2025

Reflecting on Romans 5: 5-11

Hope does not disappoint. I believe this with all my heart. And St. Paul believed it, even as he wrote to the many Christians in Rome who longed for his visit. Those same Christians may have suffered the same martyrdom as Paul, who had been a prisoner in Caesaria before being taken in chains to Rome.

From whence do those who suffer from painful illnesses, or devastating losses, summon the faith and joy to say with confidence that hope does not disappoint? Their witness to this most basic tenet of faith fills us with hope, too, and then our witness strengthens those around us.

This is the scripture to take to the cemeteries today as we remember our beloved dead. As you drive around, take in all the love of those who buried their precious loves there. We assent to St. Paul’s exhortation, and believe that all these believers found their hope realized, in ways they could never have imagined.

The souls of the just are in the hand of God. Imagine being held, carefully and lovingly, in the hand of God. And cast that vision over the cemetery, over all the graves, many of them hundreds of years old. Pray for each person there, and announce Paul’s words: Hope does not disappoint.

We don’t have to wait until death to experience hope satisfied. There is some tiny glimmer of hope for peace in the Middle East. There are victories over headaches, severe colds, and even once-fatal diseases. There are restored relationships that once seemed terminal. In each of these, we have reason to hope.

Hold fast to hope. It’s your entrée into the heart of God.

In what area of your life do you need the grace to hope?

Kathy McGovern ©2025

Reflecting on Luke 18:9-14

There’s something so freeing about facing our deep character flaws. Don’t we all relate to the publican, hesitating outside the Temple doors? Isn’t it healing to be filled with shame sometimes? There’s nothing more painful than seeing ourselves as others see us, but isn’t that where true conversion occurs?

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart—these, O God, you will not despise (Psalm 51:17).

I think that the Pharisee was putting on a show, pretending that his outward acts of piety put him on a higher rung than that of the filthy tax collector. I think he knew, in that hard place where truth lingers, that the humble publican was closer to the heart of God than he was.

How exhausting to keep up that pretense, and for whom? Certainly not the Almighty, who spoke through Isaiah to say, This is the one I will esteem: the one who is humble and contrite in spirit, who trembles at my word (66:2).

I recently attended the most beautiful reunion of friends who ministered in the same parish years ago. Going from table to table, I was utterly uplifted to realize that these giants of my younger years haven’t let up one inch. Their lives still overflow with daily acts of kindness, and lifetime commitments to the good work they did so prodigiously over thirty years ago.

But you won’t hear any of that from them. It took listening to others talk about them to get the real picture. Ask any of them to tell you about the goodness of their lives, and they’ll be the first to tell you that they are unworthy servants.

What connections do you see between true humility and greatness?

Kathy McGovern ©2025

Reflecting on Luke 18: 1-8

One of the great delights of having lifelong friends is that, if we’re paying attention, they will surprise us. Just when we think we know them through and through, they say or do something that makes us look at them with brand new eyes.

The parables are like that. The widow and the judge are in our DNA. We know the hard-hearted judge (and may even have some people in our lives who remind us of him), and, of course, the widow is us, begging God every day for the things that we need, and begging God for peace on earth.

But a song, The Widow and the Judge, by Colleen Fullmer, (animated by Sr. Martha Ann Kirk, CCVI), shocked me into a new way of looking at this iconic story, and I’ve never seen it the same since. What if the needy widow isn’t us, begging God to give us what we need, but God? What if God is the widow, knocking on the doors of OUR hearts, and we’re the judge, withholding the good things needed for true peace on earth?

What if WE’RE not the ones seeking justice, but God, begging US to do justice? That then begs the question: if we hear the widow (God) knocking, do we finally give in and do real justice? Justice, justice shall you seek, says Deuteronomy 16:20

And let’s not domesticate that widow. Abraham Heschel writes that “God is raging in the prophets’ words.” It’s impossible not to hear her.

And that last line of today’s gospel section really hits home. WILL God find faith on earth when Christ returns? There are reports of an invigorated younger generation of Catholics. May it ever be so. 

Kathy McGovern ©2025 

Reflecting on Luke 17: 11-19

What must that have been like, to have met Jesus, and beg him for healing, and then, lo and behold, to be healed! These ten lepers set off to show themselves to the priests, and on the way to see them, one of them realized he was healed. Can you imagine his joy?

Healing almost never happens like that. It’s slow, it’s painful, and sometimes it gets worse before it gets better. But for this man suffering the pain and loneliness of leprosy, the healing occurred not when he arrived at the Temple, but on his way.

In fact, this man never even made it to the Temple; halfway there, he realized that the true Physician was Jesus, and he rushed back to find him and thank him.

Think of the last bad cold you had. How long after it was gone did you finally realize you were better? We hardly ever realize  healing when it happens. Or think of a prayer that was answered. Did it occur to you to recognize at the time that this was, in fact, answered prayer? The best example is the healings that occur in our hearts over time. One day, if we’re paying attention, we sit up and say, “Wait. When did I stop being resentful? I can’t even remember why I was.” Healing works in us when we don’t even notice.

That’s why this man who noticed he was healed on the road is so exceptional.  We, too, should pay closer attention. And, for us, too, it’s never too late to notice that we’ve been healed, and to turn back to find Jesus, to thank him.

What have you forgotten to thank God for lately?

Kathy McGovern ©2025 

Reflecting on Habakkuk 1:2-3, 2: 2-4

That Habakkuk reading today is too close to home. The prophet writes, “How long, O LORD?  I cry for help, but you do not listen!”

I heard the cry of those brave Evergreen High School students who said, “My whole life, my whole childhood, was devoted to keeping me safe from a school shooter. And he came for us anyway.” And, of course, the horrific shooting during the first school Mass of the year at Annunciation grade school in Minneapolis is too terrible to recount, too tragic to remember.

How many of us, though, as we watched in horror, silently said to God, “I cry out to you, ‘Violence!’  but you do not intervene. Why do you let me see ruin;  why must I look at misery?”

Habakkuk has a front row seat to the impending misery about to be visited upon Israel. He can see the Babylonian army marching towards Israel. He dreads the violence, the bloodshed, the loss of life that surely marches into Israel with King Nebuchadnezzar.

He demands that God give him an answer. WHY do you allow such violence, especially at the hands of evildoers? In fact, a third of the population died by the sword, a third by fire, and the last third was taken into exile. God tells Habakkuk to wait, that the vision written on the tablet will surely come. Seventy years later, long after Habakkuk’s death, the vision was realized. The captives came home.

But will it take seventy years for the vision of a nation where schools are havens of safety and learning to be realized? We can do better. That, I think, is what’s written on the tablet.

In what ways are you advocating for gun safety?

Kathy McGovern ©2025

Reflecting on Luke 16:19-31

Has there ever been a time in our lifetimes when the words of today’s gospel were more desperately needed, or more thoughtlessly unheeded? The Church has written so many encyclicals about the right use of wealth, and today those words are about as popular as the Ten Commandments, of Amos’ railing against the corrupt rich in his day, or of the story of Lazarus and Dives.

We all have our theories of how bitter lies are somehow taken for truths, especially lies about those who are poor, and how they got that way.

When St. John Paul II defended the primacy of labor in his encyclical “Laborem Exercens” (1981), he was derided by a columnist in Fortune magazine for being “wedded to socialist economics and increasingly a sucker for Third World anti-imperialist rhetoric.”

As John McKenzie, SJ wrote, reflecting on St. John Paul II’s prophetic voice, “They saw him as a benighted Pole who failed to understand the sanctifying grace of consumerism.”

Are we guilty of the crimes that Amos attributed to his own people: self-indulgence, frivolous distraction, willful ignorance, and cruel neglect of the poor?

Paul’s first letter to Timothy—that beautiful second reading today—reveals the kind of persons we might be: people of integrity, kindness, piety, steadfastness, and love, people who fight the good fight of faith, people of true nobility.

Conservative commentator and Orthodox Jew Ben Shapiro asked atheist Bill Maher this question: “Why do you and I agree on morality like 87.5%? We both grew up in Western society, which has thousands of years of Biblical morality behind it.”

We are the inheritors of this morality. Dives is not the hero of this story.

In what ways are you taking care of Lazarus at your door?

Kathy McGovern ©2025 

Reflecting on Luke 16:1-13

Ah, football season. Is there anything more exciting? Is there any assembly more joyous than the community of believers who gather at the altar of football, wearing the liturgical robes bearing their team’s logos?

Did you hear the fight song the nearly 70,000 Philadelphia Eagles fans sang, somehow all on pitch, (thanks to the recording playing to keep everyone together) at the season opener? The unity and fervor of that huge audience shook the stadium. Now THIS is the shared faith, almost worth dying for, that unites all believers..

Huh. How is it that the singing at Sunday Mass isn’t as robust, as heartfelt, as joyous as the cheers and songs routinely chanted at NFL games? Why does a text like Lift high the cross, the love of Christ proclaim! not inspire the same ear-piercing singing as Hit ‘em low, hit’em high, and watch our Eagles fight!—which, by the way, is pitched five notes higher than the average hymn?

I think the answer lies in today’s curious parable. The secular world has found delightful ways to build community, and Jesus applauds the unjust steward for recognizing what works out there in the world, and using it to his advantage.

This wily servant bets on the (corrupt) financial savvy of the Master’s debtors.  They know he’s cooking the books in their favor, and, by siding with them, he’s betting that they will be good to him after the Master dismisses him. Now that’s using your talent to ensure your retirement plan!

Like so many, my heart soars when I hear huge crowds singing and chanting for their team. How can we capture that joy when singing the texts of our faith?

What successful secular strategies can you adapt for growing your spiritual life?

Kathy McGovern ©2025