Reflecting on Romans 11: 33-46

We’re never gonna figure it out.  Several years ago, actress Meryl Streep spoke with an interviewer about her own quest to know God.  She searches for a closer embrace of God, but is sure she’s never going to figure out God completely. Who will?  For who has known the mind of God? Even we who have had the grace of the sacraments search for closer communion, and that search fills our lives with beauty and meaning.

We catch a glimmer of the divine, and the electricity from that encounter keeps us going for the rest of our lives.  St. Paul’s encounter with Jesus on that fateful Damascus road lasts just a few seconds; the remaining thirty years of his life are spent looking forward to the day when he will meet Jesus again in eternity.

Fourth of July fireworks interfere with migratory patterns and thousands of birds fall from the sky, birds we never noticed, birds we never knew were there.  And they are just the tiniest fraction of the birds of the air―one hundred billion— that our Heavenly Father feeds every day.  Oh, the depth of the riches of God. 

The human heart is restless, yet deeply touched and comforted by a random call from a friend, a rainbow over the highway at rush hour, a persistent intuition that we are never alone. Oh, the depth of the knowledge of God.

Who do you say I am? Jesus asks.  Search your heart for your answer.  It’s the only thing you ever really need to figure out.

In what ways do you experience the depth of the riches of God?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Matthew 15: 21-28

Every three years when this gospel comes around, I cringe at Jesus’ initial dismissal of the desperate Canaanite mother.  I agree with Fr. Richard Rohr, though, that it’s a set-up. Yes, Jesus is making her beg him, over and over. Jesus does not require, or even want us to beg for what we need. But he requires it of her because he wants to show her rich and fierce faith to his lukewarm disciples.

We can imagine him saying to them, Do you SEE the faith of this Canaanite woman? She’s never heard of Moses, never set foot in a synagogue, never had ANY of the opportunities to study the Torah  that you have had. Yet look at how great is her faith! Of course I can restore her daughter! Her faith has set loose the power of God to heal.

And then I imagine the two of them sharing the biggest laugh, because she responded to the invitation to proclaim her faith in Jesus, and that faith opened up his power to save her and her daughter.

Now then. Yes, every three years I  cringe. But this time around I found a whole new, and disturbing, reason: Jesus’ disciples came and asked him, “Send her away, for she keeps calling out after us.”

AARGH. Doesn’t that remind you of every long wait in the ER, trying to get medical help for the underserved, or the  very LONG lines waiting with those who need help filling out forms for food or housing? Send them away. They keep calling out after us.

C’mon, disciples. RESPOND to those who are calling out after you. What Master did you THINK you were following?

How has  your lifelong faith brought healing?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on 1 Kings 19: 9a, 11-13a

Every once in a while the author of the scripture text likes to have a little fun with the neighbors. That might be what’s going on in that first reading from 1 Kings. Let’s notice what happened just before this 19^th chapter.

The prophet Elijah has the ultimate showdown with 450 priests of Baal, the god of the Canaanites, on Mt. Carmel. When it’s over, all the priests are slain, Elijah makes fire out of rain-drenched wood, and brings a deluge out of a three-year drought.

But Jezebel, the pagan queen of Israel who worshipped Baal, put out a hit on Elijah, sending him racing all the way down to Horeb (Sinai) in the desert, in fear of her and her armies.

And this is where the teasing comes in. Waiting desperately for a word from the Lord, Elijah looked for God in the strong and heavy wind that came up—but nope, not in the wind. Then an earthquake! Nope, not in the earthquake. Finally, fire started up! But the Lord wasn’t in the fire either.

The ancient Hebrew audience would have chuckled at all this, because they knew that the Canaanites had gods for wind, earthquake, and fire. Elijah looked for the true god in all three of these, but, sure enough,  there was no god there!

Apparently there was no Canaanite god of still, small voices, for that’s where the true God was found. When he discerned this voice as God’s, Elijah went and stood at the entrance to the cave, ready to do as God instructed.

This story today hints that insurance companies have things backward, since they call earthquake and fire “acts of God”!

When has that still, small voice spoken to you?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Matthew 17: 1-9

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about “daddy hunger”, the term for whole generations of young men and women who grew up without their fathers in the home.  Prisons are full of them―men who had no father to love them, and so seek that “daddy love” from participation in gangs, and women who buy guns for felons, and take enormous risks for dangerous men who give them the attention they crave.

I know hundreds of fabulous fathers, but incarcerated people often know the detached, violent, or demeaning father whose unloving presence serves as the backdrop for their lives. Scratch the surface of a chronically depressed male of any age, and often (but certainly not always) you’ll find his emotionally unavailable father at the center of his wounds.

But not Jesus.  From the moment of his baptism at the Jordan to this transfiguring moment on Mount Tabor, the Father tells Jesus who he is:  My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.

Wouldn’t this world be a different place if children, boys in particular, heard this from their fathers on a regular basis?  Yes, this is my beloved son.  He makes me proud every day.  The miracle, the Paschal Mystery, is that today SO many wounded men are consciously parenting differently from the way their fathers parented them.

That’s the piece of heaven we learn about first in the gospels:  Jesus is the beloved Son of a heavenly Father who claims him, and names him, and is well pleased with him.  It’s that deep knowledge of being eternally loved that strengthens Jesus to go back down Tabor and face Jerusalem and his destiny.

In what ways do you witness “daddy hunger” in the world?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on 1 Kgs. 3: 5, 7-12

What WOULD I request if God offered to give me my deepest desires? I admit that an understanding heart might be way down the list.

In retrospect, of course, I see how wise Solomon really was. An understanding heart can go a long way when attempting to rule a huge, unruly kingdom!

An understanding heart can see through the pain of illness and injury. Compassion and tender care from those in your life—and even NOT in  your life—can heal your heart, even as your physical wounds remain.

It’s inspiring that Solomon didn’t go the way of his father David, and ask for revenge on all his enemies. Nor did he ask to become the wealthiest man who ever lived, which is certainly what happened: “So King Solomon surpassed all the kings of the earth in riches and wisdom” (2 Chr. 9:22).

This story of Solomon might be helpful to us as we look back on the endless blessings of our lives. One blessing—say, a supportive teacher in grade school—leads to another blessing, maybe an award, which leads to a new school, and new friends who share our same interests.

Years down the road we may look back and wonder why God never blessed us as Solomon was blessed. The answer is that God did, through many channels. At least I pray that’s how God has worked in your life. In Solomon’s day (and even in our own!) it was assumed that financial prosperity followed the person whom God blessed.

But those who have received an understanding heart would never expect any other riches, for they’ve been given the greatest treasure of all.

How has the wisdom of an understanding heart blessed you?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Mt. 13: 24-33

Here’s a fun fact. Did you know that the chances of that one sperm, among hundreds of millions over a lifetime, fertilizing that one egg that created UNIQUELY YOU, are greater than you winning the Powerball every day of your long life?

So, somewhere in the weeds of those millions of denied opportunities for implantation, YOU were created. You are the flower growing up in spite of all those odds. Thank God.

As John Kavanaugh, SJ said so beautifully, “Creation is like that, a great lotto of life, a sea of rushing graces and missed chances.” When I consider the immense beauty and blessing of every friend and family member I have, and all the good that flows from each of them, I’m so grateful they beat the odds.

The community garden in our back yard, begun twelve years ago with a single shovelful of dirt, is stressed. The harvest is plenty, but laborers are few. As a result, an entire quarter of our yard, once used for delicious tomatoes and onions, has gone to weed.

And not just little, vexating weeds, but huge, high-flying weeds, trying to choke off the seeds of fruits and vegetables. My husband Ben and I quote today’s gospel from Matthew as we survey the ruins: An enemy has done this (13:28).

But the gardeners planted rye in a big chunk of our yard this year. Rye is good for healing and rejuvenating ground that has been heavily farmed. So, this year is about letting the ground renew, looking ahead to beautiful crops next year.

So often, it’s the teeny things—tiny seeds, tiny sperm—that create fruit that lasts. Our task is to trust that God will continue to rush the graces that bring and sustain life.

What great things have you done because someone had a small seed of faith in you?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Mt. 13: 1-23

My funny friend was telling me the other day about a book she found at the library. At first, the captivating title and first few chapters kept her glued. “What an interesting book,” she said. “You might like to get it from the library.” But a few more days, and chapters, later: “What a trashy book. I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. If my mom were here she’d say, ‘You march that book straight back to the library, and then go to confession on your way home.’”

It sounds as if the book, like the seed that fell on rocky soil, had a strong start, but only because it was built on unstable and unsafe ground. It probably had lots of trending language, lots of hip references, but no solid ground on which to build a really great book. When the heat of critical eyes penetrated its raunchy language and slim storyline, the book’s spine started to melt. We need more “mom’s voices” in our heads these days, reprimanding us for falling prey to books and movies built on the rocky soil of violence and the culture of death.

Many of us remember the Legion of Decency, and the vow our parents took on December 31^st of every year to  “not attend immoral films and protest any protest any movies that offend public decency.” Maybe the time has come for Catholics to take another, life-saving vow: a vow of nonviolence. Such a vow requires us to respect ourselves and others, to listen, to forgive, and to challenge violence and support justice.

Now THERE’S seed that’s sown in good soil, and will only take root and grow.

In what ways has good seed grown in your life?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Mt. 11: 25-30

I’ve been to a lot of funerals lately. Each has been beautiful in its own way. Each broke open the mystery of the life of the deceased in unique and touching ways. But the thing that each of these gatherings had in common was the bringing together of diverse and loving friends from all parts of the globe to remember and honor their beloved.

Many of these friends has left the Church of their childhood, and yet I felt a great longing from them of the love and security they knew as children. Watching them watch the videos of the First Communion, Marriage, and life of faith that the deceased lived, with the hundreds of friends who companioned them in that life, I thought I felt a wistfulness for that which they left behind.

I thought I felt a kind of surprise, like that of adults looking at where their life might have gone if they had chosen a different route, and realizing that leaving “childish” things behind meant that they left far more than they realized.

Might joining the ranks of the “wise and learned” have given them comfort for a time, but being back with their childhood friends, and memories of their Catholic childhood, bring them to the shocking awareness that they were smarter, and happier, on the day of their First Communion than they are today? Might it actually be true that God had revealed the beauty of faith to them as “little ones”?

It must be said, of course, that for MANY, leaving is what has given them peace, and they have no regrets. The “childish” things were what drove them away, and they have been much happier.

What a relief it is to lay it all down, all the burdens of trying to remain in a Church that brings you no life. Funerals can really be a lens through which we realize the good and the bad of our childhood faith. But a life without a daily relationship with Christ is what is mourned. What a relief to once again take up the easy yoke of faith.

What burdens of being wise and learned are you ready to give back to God?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Reflecting on Mt. 10: 37-42

I love showering the people I love with love. That’s why this gospel pericope (extract from the text) REALLY bothers me. Jesus challenges tribal identity when he tells his apostles they must love him more than they love their parents, or even their children.

When I drive by the hundreds of encampments of chronically unhoused people in our city, it’s clear that the bonds that hold families together aren’t strong enough to combat, as our mayor said, “a nationwide drug crisis, mental health crisis, and continued fallout from the pandemic on our most vulnerable residents and communities.”

Many people living on the street are disabled, or escaping domestic violence. And a preponderance of young, emaciated men are living on the street because of addictions.

I really wonder if there were encampments in Jesus’ day. Were there hundreds of thousands of people living out in the elements, not because they were pilgrims, but  because their families couldn’t help them anymore, or because their particular situations forced them to reject the help? 

As I think of all this now, I see the wisdom in this hard saying of Jesus. That’s why we need to love Jesus MORE than our families. Wars, pandemics, shocking cultural tsunamis have all changed the way we live. Our family bonds have become fragmented and do not seem to have the strength to support us.

What has held us together through it all is our fidelity to, and love of Jesus. Jesus was inviting a love of God that compels us to build communities of love, which reach out and protect and help those whose familial bonds have shattered. That’s the love that may save the whole human family someday.

What ways have you witnessed the love of Jesus poured out on the most vulnerable?

Kathy McGovern ©2023

Two friends whose lives are dedicated to these issues—Rita Niblack and Ann Zimmer—made this essay much better.

Reflecting on Jer. 20: 10-13

Poor Jeremiah. He was a young man, called from his mother’s womb to speak what God was saying to the inhabitants of Jerusalem and neighboring towns. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be stung by the ridicule of his peers.

I hear the whisperings of many: “Terror on every side! Denounce! let us denounce him!”

I don’t think there is anyone who can comfortably continue to say unpopular things while his or her own peers are rolling their eyes, and agreeing among themselves that some people are just not evolved enough to understand the more mature way of looking at things.

And how much more wrenching for a young man, living in an honor and shame culture. He suspects that his “friends” are talking about him behind his back:

All those who were my friends are on the watch for any misstep of mine. ‘Perhaps he will be trapped; then we can prevail, and take our vengeance on him.’

Why couldn’t he relax and enjoy the soothing comforts of the palace prophets, on the payroll to keep the populace from panicking about the rumblings coming from Babylon?

He was a vexation, with his frightening predictions of Nebuchadnezzar’s armies coming to destroy Jerusalem by fire, sword, and famine. No! said the false prophets. Nebuchadnezzar will soon lose interest in us and set his sights elsewhere! We are, after all, the Chosen People.

Jeremiah’s reply? If you are, indeed, the Chosen People, then stop worshiping idols, stop burning your children in sacrifice, and return to your original covenant with God.

But the strong pull of culture held sway. Jeremiah lived, the kings and most of the populace died. Have mercy on us, Lord.

What would Jeremiah say to us today?

Kathy McGovern ©2023