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Posted by Kathleen Brewer de Pozos, PhD on May 10, 2025

My Sheep Hear My Voice

My grandparents lived in Idaho, about three hours away from where I grew up. We often visited them. One of their neighbors had several daughters and the two families had become close friends over the years. One of those daughters was about my age, and we spent many happy hours playing together.

As it happened, her grandparents lived in Ketchum, a town near Sun Valley, Idaho. The family had homesteaded there years before the resort became a tourist destination. When they invited us all to come visit, we loaded up our tent trailer, piled into the car, and headed off on a new exploration and adventure! (My folks loved to travel.)

We camped beside a small river and explored the area, including visiting a mine the family owned that had never really produced valuable minerals but had to be “worked” every year to maintain title to it. Dad found a beautiful big chunk of agate that he carried back down the mountain on the saddle of the horse he was riding! It still sits proudly in the garden at home.

Never ones to go back home the same way we had ventured out, we continued south through the Sawtooth Mountains into the high open plains of central Idaho. As we passed through, we saw a shepherd with his flock, traveling on foot across the dry lands. He had a wagon and his dogs and a very large flock, who moved at a very leisurely pace as they grazed happily. It was a big, open land. I’m sure there were plenty of predators who would happily have munched on his lambs and sheep. But he and the dogs were there, guiding them, keeping them from straying into danger, and helping them grow and thrive.

This experience often comes back to me as I hear the words of Scripture about sheep and shepherds and the One who is our shepherd.

The ancient Israelites, like the man we watched on that trip, were shepherds. They traveled with their flocks from Ur of the Chaldees, northwest into areas now part of Turkey (known today as Türkiye), then south into the land of Caanan, and even into Egypt and lands east of the Jordan River. Their religion and experience of the divine were shaped by their experience as shepherds who traveled with their sheep. Even as they settled into the land of Israel, built villages and cities, and had a Temple and royalty, their faith was expressed in terms of what they had experienced as traveling shepherds.

It is not surprising, then, that Jesus and his early followers would use the image of sheep and shepherds to describe the relationship of the divine with humanity. Jesus described the qualities of a good shepherd in his teachings. He spoke of himself as a shepherd. “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me… No one can take them out of my hand.” (Jn 10:27-30)

The Psalmist sings, “Know that the Lord is God; he made us, his we are; his people, the flock he tends … his kindness endures forever, and his faithfulness, to all generations.” This hymn has passed down through the generations. Jesus would have sung it. We sing it today. (Ps 100:1-2, 3, 5)

After the Resurrection, when it had become evident that salvation was not only for the Jews, Paul and Barnabas traveled through ancient lands that are now part of western Türkiye. They always visited the local synagogue to worship with their fellow Jews. As visitors, they would have been welcomed and conversations would strike up about who they were, from where they had come, the purpose of their travels, etc. They didn’t have an Internet to use to find out what was going on the world, or to learn about other lands. They had travelers – visitors from other lands – who would tell them of the great world around them.

What a story Paul and Barnabas had to tell. The Messiah had come. He had been rejected by the authorities and even crucified by the Romans, but that was not the end of the story! He had risen from the dead and shared the Spirit of the Most High with all of his followers. We, Paul and Barnabas, are coming to visit you to share this amazing, good news.

It was an engaging story, told by men who were staking their lives on its truth, and sharing it with people who lived far from their homeland. Many people wanted to hear more. They visited with Paul and Barnabas during the week and came in large groups to the synagogue the next week to hear more.

Now, we look at the story and might be critical of the leaders of the community for their actions in arguing forcefully and passionately against Paul and Barnabas. But we must not judge them too harshly. This was not the kind of messiah anyone had expected. People can so easily be manipulated, especially in hard times or when living under foreign occupation.

Paul and Barnabas were not deterred by the angry response of the authorities. They answered boldly, sharing their experience and the truth they had come to believe and to share. Furthermore, they let all know that this good news was not just for the Jews, the historical inheritors of the promise. The Holy One welcomes all. “So the Lord has commanded us, ‘I have made you a light to the Gentiles, that you may be an instrument of salvation to the ends of the earth.’”

The message was happily received by the non-Jewish residents of these cities. It was not well-received by the leaders of the community or the city. Paul and Barnabas were expelled from the territory and moved on, “filled with joy and the Holy Spirit.” (Acts 13:14, 43-52)

Later, as the community of believers were faced with the reality of persecution by major world powers, including Roman emperors, the image of the Lamb who had been sacrificed for all became a source of hope. The lambs sacrificed in the earliest days of Jewish history, the lambs whose blood marked the homes of the Israelites at the time of the Passover, the lamb eaten every year in remembrance of that gift of life and freedom, the lambs sacrificed at the temple through the time of Jesus, and the Lamb of God who gave his body and blood to his friends the night before he died – all of these examples of lambs giving their lives for the survival of others became a great source of hope for a community in peril because of their faithfulness to the Way of the Lamb.

In the vision of John in the Book of Revelation, the great multitude of people from all peoples and lands, faithful to the word they had received, stand before the throne of God. And “the Lamb who is in the center of the throne will shepherd them and lead them to springs of life-giving water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” (Rev 7:9, 14b-17)

The image of shepherd, from ancient times, portrays the role and calling of the one who is to lead the community. Not a king. Not a prince (or princess). Not a patriarch lording it over a family or community. A shepherd – one who cares for the sheep and the lambs, through thick and thin.

We are at a turning point in the history of our Roman Catholic Christian community again. Pope Francis has returned to the Lord. He spoke of the importance of shepherds who smell like their sheep. The importance of accompanying the poor and the marginalized. The rights of migrants and the imprisoned. And so many, many more examples.

We now have a new Pope, Leo XIV. This man too has a history of working with those who are powerless, opening doors to influence in the community for women and other lay people, reminding those in authority of their responsibility to work for the good of all people equally, and speaking of the importance of setting up structures to protect humanity from the potentially run-away power of new digital technologies, including artificial intelligence (AI).

It’s a new day, a new era for our community and our world. A new shepherd has been selected. The clothing he wears, the symbolic items he carries, the places he travels, even the foods he eats will be watched and discussed. Some will love what he says. Others will react angrily. Some will simply yawn and go about their lives.

Nevertheless, as the next days and years play out, we have a shepherd who will lead and care for the community. Some days will be hot and dusty, as were those we saw as children in that high desert land of Idaho. Others will be stormy and not always well sheltered from the elements.

This week, let’s pray for Pope Leo as he moves into this new leadership role. Let’s do our best to help by being kind and patient with each other. Let’s continue to reach out to help the poor, the immigrants, those being swept up unjustly in deportation raids, those who are in need of healthcare or specialized services, those whose lives are turned upside down by drought, floods, winds, or cold.

We are the sheep of the Lord. Do we hear his voice?

Posted by Kathleen Brewer de Pozos, PhD on May 4, 2025

Recognize the Lord and Tell Others

Class reunions are interesting experiences. We come together after many years of living away from the close communities of our childhood school days and find that people have changed in some ways and are fundamentally the same in other ways. I find it’s easier to recognize the women than the men. Men change in appearance more after age 18 than women do, in my experience.

It happened again recently when I chanced to be in the town where I grew up on a night when a group of my high school classmates were gathering at a local “pub” owned by another classmate. I got there a touch late, so sat at a side table where a few others were already sitting. I didn’t recognize the men, but I always find people interesting, so that was fine. As it turned out, the two men were guys with whom I had attended eight years of grammar school! I had last seen one of them at eighth grade graduation. I may have seen the other in high school, but I didn’t recognize him when I saw him that night. We had a good visit and I look forward to getting to know them both now as adults.

The apostles had a somewhat similar experience after the Resurrection. It had been a much shorter time than the 50+ years since we had all graduated, but they also didn’t recognize Jesus when they saw him.

Peter and the other apostles had returned to Galilee after the Resurrection. They didn’t know what they were going to do next in their lives, so they went fishing!

Today we typically go fishing during the day, maybe early morning or evening. But in those days, and probably still in some places, fishing as a way of earning a living was done at night. The first time Peter met Jesus, they had spent the night and not caught anything. They were returning, getting ready to go mend and fold the nets, then return home to rest. Jesus told them to try again. Despite their misgivings, the apostles tried again and this time the nets were filled to overflowing. When Jesus invited them to leave it all behind and follow him that first time, they did.

Now all had ended in what seemed like a disaster, but the women had come with word that he was risen and would meet them in Galilee. So, here they were, fishing again and catching nothing…

A man was watching them from the shore. He called out in a friendly way, asking if they had caught anything. They called back that they hadn’t. He responded with the suggestion to throw the net over the right side of the boat and they would find something. They did and the net was filled to overflowing. John, identified as the disciple whom Jesus loved, immediately realized who the fellow on the shore had to be and told Peter, “It is the Lord.” At that, Peter jumped overboard and swam to shore. The others came in with the boat.

They didn’t recognize him when they saw him. He looked different. But he welcomed them, had bread to share with them and some fish. He cooked some of the fish they had caught as well. They shared the meal. And though he didn’t look like the man they had known, they knew who he was because he broke the bread and fish and shared the food with them. Also, he had given them that huge catch of fish once again. The reason they didn’t ask who he was? John tells us it was because he had broken the bread and given it to them to share, just has he had done the night before he died.

The time by the lake didn’t end with just the meal, the breaking of the bread. Jesus spoke directly to Peter. Remember, Peter had denied knowing Jesus three times during the night before Jesus died. Three times, then, Jesus asked him, “Do you love me?” Three times, Peter responded that he did love Jesus. Jesus instructed Peter in response, “Feed my lambs.” “Tend my sheep.” “Feed my sheep.” He told Peter that he, Peter, would indeed follow in his master’s footsteps, even to his death. And then he once again called Peter, “Follow me.” (Jn 21:1-19)

They all returned to Jerusalem and met Jesus in different locations over a period of forty days. Then he was taken from their sight and they were told to go to Jerusalem and pray. Pentecost came, the Holy Spirit filled them with courage, and they began to tell the world about what they had seen and heard. The community of believers began to grow.

The authorities at the temple were not amused. In fact, they were quite angry with the apostles. They ordered them to stop preaching and teaching, but Peter and the others refused, “We must obey God rather than men.” The authorities were very angry but were persuaded not to over-react. They ordered them to be flogged and sent them on their way, in hopes that would teach them a lesson and they would just go home again. (Acts 5:27-32, 40b-41)

Of course, it did not stop them from sharing the wondrous news of the Resurrection. The community continued to grow and the word spread into all of the world. We today are among those who believe based on the testimony of those first men and women who saw the Lord after he rose and who shared their witness down through the generations.

The reading from the Book of Revelation that accompanies these accounts of the earliest days of the community of faith describes an important reality as well. What happens when believers are isolated from their community, not allowed to celebrate the breaking of the bread or prayer with their sisters and brothers in faith?

The author, John, tells of his mystical experience of witnessing countless numbers of other people and creatures who gathered together in praise of “the Lamb that was slain.” (Rev 5:11-14) John was in isolation on the island of Patmos, separated from his community. As he learned, it’s not necessary always to be physically with others in worship when in reality, our community extends beyond our day-to-day world. People from all ages and all parts of creation join us in our life of faith and praise of the Lord. We are not alone.

So, what does all this imply for us today?

We have lots of pictures and images of Jesus. None of them was drawn of him before his death and resurrection. We don’t know what he looked like, nor is it important that we do. As the early disciples discovered, he didn’t always look the same after he rose anyway.

Where will we find him today? What did he tell us? It wasn’t to look among powerful political leaders or wealthy people who had everything they could ever hope to need materially. It wasn’t to assume he would only be seen as a man. He spoke of those who are hungry, those who are thirsty, those who are un-housed, those who are in prison, those who are sick, the children, the helpless, the migrant, the refugee, the farmworkers, those who wait outside lumber yards and hardware stores, hoping for work and money to feed their families. These are where we find the Lord. “Whatever you did for one of these least brothers (and sisters) of mine, you did for me,” he tells us. (Mt 25:40)

As we go through our daily lives, as we hear the news and reflect on the things happening in our country and our world, we are called to pay attention and see where the Lord is present among the little ones. This is where we must be active too. How do we help? When disaster strikes in a life, who will share resources? Where will funds come to rebuild entire communities after a tornado or flood? How do we as members of a nation provide for the common good?

We each do our part in our corner of the world, but some needs are too great to be solved locally. How do we act as a larger community of believers to protect not just the unborn, but also those who have been born and are struggling to grow, to support their families, to age gracefully, and to pass into the next life in a dignified, well-supported community of loving caregivers? At all stages of our lives, we meet the Lord. In all those whom we meet along the way, we have the opportunity to meet and serve the Lord.

This week, may we keep our eyes open to see his presence in those around us. May we reach out in love and friendship to those in our communities who need a bit of extra help. May we encourage our leaders and representatives to provide for the common good, rather than to open more doors for only the well-to-do.

Working through the community of believers, the Lord reaches out. May we together be faithful sisters and brothers who recognize his presence, tell others about our experience of his love, and want to get to know him better through his brothers and sisters whom we meet each day.

Readings for the Third Sunday of Easter – Cycle C

Posted by Kathleen Brewer de Pozos, PhD on Apr 27, 2025

Powder, Powder, Pretty Baby

In the old black and white picture, a cute little baby girl is sitting on the floor in front of an open cabinet door. She is wearing only a diaper and is covered in white powder, as are the inside of the cupboard and the floor around her. Her face, hair, and entire body are covered with the powder as she innocently smiles and says, “Powder, powder, Pretty Baby.”

The image comes to mind this week as we reflect on the early experience of the apostles after the Resurrection. The apostles all ran away or denied Jesus during his arrest and trial. Only John stood by the cross with Jesus’ mother and the other women. Yet on the first night after he rose, he came to them, appearing inside a locked room. His first words to them were, “Peace be with you.” He didn’t scold them. He didn’t stand silently waiting for an apology. He didn’t even laugh at them. He simply offered them a greeting, “Peace.” All that had happened, all they had messed up, all the disgrace they felt, all was forgiven. “Powder” all over the floor, but no condemnation, no punishment.

To their amazement, Jesus didn’t stop with forgiving all of them. He breathed forth the Spirit on them, giving them the same power to forgive.

This ability to forgive after having been forgiven is worth thinking about in more detail.

When hard things have happened, when we have made mistakes in judgement, done things that are just plain wrong or hurtful, or been unwilling to do the right thing in difficult situations, we carry a burden within ourselves. Sometimes we describe it as a heavy heart. People of other cultures might describe it differently, but it’s there and it gets in the way of being open and joyfully allowing love and mercy to flow out into our relationships with other people and the world around us.

What Jesus did for the Apostles was to remove that burden of a guilty heart, replacing it with a heart that is gifted now to forgive others. Where there was a blocked channel, there is now an open stream or gully through which mercy and healing can flow.

Thomas wasn’t there the first night. When he heard what had happened, it just made no sense at all to him. They must all be delusional! Not going to believe that nonsense about Jesus having risen and appeared to the others unless he sees it himself. They’re just overwrought!

What a surprise for him the next Sunday evening, when Jesus again showed up in the locked room with them. Downright embarrassing! Jesus knew what Thomas had said, so he called him to touch his wounds – hands and side – then told him to believe what he had been told. Thomas responded with a fervent prayer of faith – “My Lord and my God.”

We are also included in this scene. As we remember the encounter with Thomas and the other disciples, we are brought into the room with them. Jesus declares that though we have not physically seen his wounded, risen body, we are blessed because we too believe. We too have been forgiven. (Jn 20:19-31)

After the Pentecost experience, the Apostles told everyone they met about what they had seen and experienced of God’s coming in Jesus and his resurrection. They went to the Temple and spoke of Jesus there. Wondrous healings and other signs accompanied their witness. They didn’t even have to touch people to heal them. Simply passing by them on the streets, their shadows falling on people waiting by the side of the road, brought healing. (Acts 5:12-16)

When we open our hearts to receive forgiveness and healing, the power of love and healing we receive can continue to flow out into our world too. Jesus has come for all peoples at all times. His love flows through us, as we allow it to do so. If we refuse, he doesn’t blast his way through. He waits until we are willing to be healed and open the channel again. But make no mistake, he is waiting right there beside us, hoping we’ll open to allow his love to flow forth.

This Easter week we have experienced the loss of our dear Pope Francis. He has returned to the Father, a faithful servant who made mistakes in his life, learned from them, and received forgiveness. He lived and learned, coming to see the Lord’s presence among the poorest of the poor. He spoke and acted on behalf of children, immigrants, the elderly, prisoners, the frightened, and the sick. He challenged us to care for the Earth in ever more concrete ways, protecting this common home of ours as we grow in numbers and use of resources. He opened doors to leadership to those denied such opportunities for centuries. Women and lay people from around the world were given the opportunity to serve in ministry and offer their reflections on how the Spirit is calling all of us to move forward into this third millennium of Christianity. His influence will long remain in our Church and world community.

In the days and weeks to come, we will discover who will be the next Bishop of Rome and heir to the Chair of Peter, leader of the Roman Catholic community. We pray for the Lord’s guidance as our cardinals meet and make the choice, remembering that ultimately, it is Jesus who is in our midst, calling us to remember that he is the firstborn of the dead, alive now forever in triumph over death and all barriers to love. (Rev 1:9-11a, 12-13, 17-19)

That little girl, covered in powder, was picked up and loved by her mother. Her mother, grandmother and school-aged aunts and uncles laughed as they helped clean things up. The powder was washed off her. The floor was swept. The cupboard was cleaned out. And the powder found a safer place, higher up in the cabinet!

In the family picture album, the picture is proudly, fondly displayed, with the inscription in Mom’s handwriting: “Powder, Powder, Pretty Baby.” I don’t consciously remember the event, but as I grew up, I was always reassured when I saw that picture that no matter what I did, that Pretty Baby was loved and forgiven. Mercy and love were free to flow out into the world.

As we move through this next week, may we remember to be open channels for Divine mercy and love to flow into our world. There is so much anger, fear, and distrust flowing just now. The Lord needs each of us to open our hearts and let His love flow into the world too. It’s more powerful than anger or hatred. But it doesn’t force its way. It flows only when we are willing to be open and let it through.

Readings for the Second Sunday of Easter, Sunday of Divine Mercy – Cycle C

Posted by Kathleen Brewer de Pozos, PhD on Apr 13, 2025

My God, Why Have You Abandoned Me?

A haunting Psalm from thousands of years ago is running through my head as we enter into Holy Week, 2025.

Psalm 22 begins with a cry of anguish: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me, far from my prayer, from the words of my cry?” Jesus prayed this psalm as he was dying on the cross. It sounds like a cry of despair, a hopeless acknowledgement of a dream demolished and a promise betrayed by an impotent or uncaring divinity. But was it really so?

The one who first sang this prayer spoke of being mocked and abused. “All who see me scoff at me.. He relied on the Lord; let him deliver him… They have pierced my hands and my feet … they divide my garments among them…”

Yet the prayer continues: “O Lord, be not far from me; O my help, hasten to aid me.” The one who is suffering does not lose hope. “I will proclaim your name to my brethren; in the midst of the assembly I will praise you: ‘You who fear the Lord, praise him; all you descendants of Jocob, give glory…’” (Ps 22:8-9, 17-18, 19-20, 23-24).

Jesus prayed this psalm as he was dying on the cross – abandoned by many of his friends, mocked, stripped of his clothing, tortured, humiliated. We remember and mourn. Yet, knowing the “end of the story,” the Resurrection, we sometimes forget that as a human being, a carpenter from Nazareth, he didn’t know it would all end in triumph for him. He was dying. It was the end for him. His life as a regular guy, even as a teacher and prophet and miracle-worker, was ending. Still, he prayed a psalm of hope.

The other readings for Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion tell of his triumphal entry into Jerusalem a few days earlier, hailed as a prophet, the king coming in the name of the Lord, bringing peace in heaven and glory on high. In just a few short days, it all ended in pain and death – his friends and followers scattered and mourning. (Lk 19:28-40)

We hear St. Luke tell of the Last Supper and institution of the Eucharist. We hear of the time of prayer in the garden on the Mount of Olives, the arrest of Jesus, his trial, and his crucifixion and death. We even hear of the gift of a tomb from Joseph of Arimathea, a member of the council that had condemned him. (Lk 22:14—23:56)

We are reminded of the prophecy of Isaiah about the one who would come in the Lord’s name and endure opposition, beatings, the mocking words and actions of opponents, but who would continue in faithful proclamation of the Lord’s words to rouse the weary and give hope to the oppressed. (Is 50:4-7)

We hear the ancient hymn quoted by St. Paul in his letter to the Philippians, reminding all that Christ Jesus emptied himself to become totally one of us, following the will of the Father. Through this obedience, God exalted him and gave him “the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend … and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord…” (Phil 2:6-11)

Still, I continue to hear the haunting refrain. “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

I see the images in my mind of the men who were swept up recently by the immigration service and shipped, against the orders of the court, to a prison in El Salvador. There they are being treated as less than human, worse than we allow animals to be treated here. If they are crying, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” it is with reason. Why have they been abandoned. Why are they being treated this way? Why have they not been returned to this country – to be allowed their right to legal counsel and judgement? Why are those with permission to be in the United States not returned already? They are all human beings, regardless of their legal status. Made in the image and likeness of God. Jesus is there with them in their suffering, because that’s where he goes, whenever people are suffering. He is suffering with them.

I hear the cries of those losing visas and being deported because they spoke out about wars being waged in other countries; wars that are disproportionate to the initial actions that triggered them.

I know the fears of people whose access to basic human services, including health care, food, shelter, and education are being threatened or denied because of indiscriminate cuts in funding.

“My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

And what to do?

Writing letters, calling representatives, speaking among ourselves and sharing information are all important responses. Remember, we are the People of God, the ones called to reach out and help those who are in need or being harmed by the unjust actions of others.

It can seem overwhelming. What can one person do? How can I change national policy?

But there are things one person can do, and many of them involve finding and working with others who are trying to help.

Check your local faith community. What is being done to help migrants, refugees, and asylum seekers? What are organizations such as Catholic Charities doing? How can you help/join these groups in their mission? Do they have the “red cards” that contain information about the rights of everyone present in this country – in both English and Spanish? If so, get some and share them where you go. Are there non-institutional groups of folks who are helping “new neighbors?” Find or start one, then offer concrete help.

Remember, always keep the identities of those with whom you are working protected. Many who have followed all the rules for seeking asylum are finding that’s not enough. You don’t want to be the one whose actions call attention to them and cause them to be harmed.

Raise money to pay lawyers. Getting asylum and work permits involves filling out legal documents and getting favorable judgements in immigration court. Those who come fleeing persecution, wars, or gangs that are threatening their lives don’t always have a lot of education or money with which to hire lawyers. Many don’t speak English.

Share food. If you have garden space, grow vegetables and share them with those who don’t know where their next meal will come from. If there are local groups who collect and share food, get involved and help out. Most of them will even help you harvest fruit from trees in your yard that otherwise would go to waste.

Be a friend to those you meet. Offer a smile, a friendly face, a hand when needed. Help them find places to live, school for their children, clothing, and healthcare.

Voices of the suffering are still calling to us this Holy Week. The Lord is calling us to respond to their cries, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” The Lord responds, “I haven’t abandoned you. I am reaching out to you through my sister (insert your name here) and my brother (your turn here, Guys!)”

May we be faithful friends of Jesus this week and through the weeks to come. Walking with our sisters and brothers, through these difficult days. Helping in the way best suited to the gifts we have.

Let us pray for those in need, those in danger, and those who feel content and secure in their opinions of the righteousness of the detentions. May we come to see, respect, and share in the Lord’s work of serving and comforting all in need.

Holy Week blessings be with you.

Readings for Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion – Cycle C

Posted by Kathleen Brewer de Pozos, PhD on Apr 6, 2025

“See, I Am Doing Something New”

“Unprecedented!” “New and improved!” “Today and today only!” “Once in a lifetime chance…”

We hear these kinds of exclamations and invitations routinely in our lives. Print, digital, audio, even word-of-mouth sources invite us, even seduce us, to look at products and ideas whose promoters typically hope to profit in some way by coaxing us to endorse or purchase them. Part of becoming an adult is to learn that these invitations are generally not all they claim to be. Very few things are totally new or available only once in a lifetime.

Still, when we hear the Lord say, “See, I am doing something new!” we should probably pay attention!

Isaiah, speaking in the Lord’s name, begins his instruction with a reminder of the defeat of the Egyptian army at the crossing of the Red Sea. Then comes the surprising statement, “Remember not the events of the past…” Why not? Because, “I am doing something new!”

What is this new action? New paths are opening in the desert, rivers are flowing in the desert wastelands for the people and animals who live in or pass through them. This is happening now, pay attention. I am doing it for you, a people I have chosen to be my own.

Rivers in the desert? Pathways opening? A way is being prepared for the people to return home to their ancestral lands. As this happens, new ways of living and being open up. Transformations occur. Those who hear the Lord’s words here are not the same as those who found themselves taken into exile in another land. Something new is happening. It’s time for praise of the One who has cared for them while in exile and now opens new possibilities for them. (Is 43:16-21)

Jesus too brought a new approach in his interactions with those who came to him. St. John tells us about the time some of the religious authorities tried to trap him with an “either or” type of situation. They brought a woman before him, probably quite disheveled and frightened. She and a man had been caught in the act of adultery. Only the woman had been brought to Jesus, though both had broken the Law. Those who dragged her before Jesus for judgement asked him what they should do, since the Law called for her to be stoned to death.

If he said to follow the Law’s instructions, he would be judging her and condemning her for her actions. If he said she should be forgiven, he could be accused of disregarding the Law and thereby breaking it himself. It was a no-win situation.

Jesus responded by doing “something new.” He didn’t respond. He simply bent down and began writing something on the ground. The accusers persisted. Finally, he gave them his response. “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” Wow! That put everybody on the spot. Who would or could claim to be without any history of breaking the Law, of not always choosing the right way, of sinning?

One by one the accusers walked away. Finally, only Jesus and the woman remained. He asked, “Has no one condemned you?” She responded, “No one, sir.” Jesus didn’t condemn her either, but he instructed her to begin anew and leave behind the life that led her to sin.

“See, I am doing something new…” Not condemnation but instead, second chances. (Jn 8:1-11)

Many years later, St. Paul, writing to the Philippians, reflected on his spiritual journey, “I consider everything as a loss because of the supreme good of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” Paul left behind a life of security and honor. He was respected by his peers and entrusted with responsibility to arrest and punish those who were followers of the way of Jesus. And then he met the risen Lord and all changed. Power, prestige, security – all were gone. But in their place, he received the gift of faith in Christ and a righteousness that comes only from God. He lived a life that included a lot of physical pain, rejection, and suffering. But he received them as a way of sharing in the life of Jesus and the hope of resurrection from the dead. All that he had known and lived before was gone, like trash. Now his life was directed to something new – the new way of life and hope opened by Jesus, calling him forward toward God’s calling. (Phil 3:8-14)

Two thousand years later, we too are invited to notice the Lord’s statement. “See, I am doing something new.” This statement applies to each of us in our lives today as well, because it is timeless. Remember, there’s no time in eternity. God’s present has no beginning and no end. Only the Now.

What is it that we are to see now? What is this new thing the Lord is doing? How are paths being opened in the wilderness? Where are new rivers flowing in the desert? Which of us is hearing the Lord’s voice refusing to condemn us? What have we left behind to follow our Lord and share in the promise of the resurrection?

Look around. What do we see? Uncertainty, fear, worry, hopelessness, distrust of strangers? Do we also see people offering support and a helping hand for low income people, the sick, the very young or the old, those with mental or physical illness that makes earning a living impossible, those who come seeking refuge? Are they, are we, setting up programs to provide options and opportunity – working for the common good?

When institutions begin to break down or when they are dismantled before our very eyes, how do we reach out and help those in need? How do we live with hope that leads us ever onward?

One step at a time. One person at a time. The drop of water falling into a pond sends out rings of energy that continue through the entire body of water. Each time one of us refuses to condemn another, offers a smile, a word of encouragement, a helping hand, a listening heart, the energy of love will radiate outward like that drop in the puddle.

These days are not unprecedented, but they are certainly a new experience in the lifetimes of most of us. How we respond in community and outreach in support of those we meet will matter. The Lord is continuing to do “something new.” That Something New is not a return to judgementalism, condemnation of those whose lives are different or frightening, or exclusion of newcomers. The Something New is to continue being welcoming and supportive of others as the Lord is welcoming. It will require us to listen to each other with open hearts and ears, hearing the hopes and fears that so often keep us separated from those whom we don’t know or haven’t yet met. It is making paths through the wilderness of fear and exclusion so that people can travel forward together, returning to a land of shared humanity. It is making rivers of the waters of love and acceptance flow in our communities.

As we enter into these last two weeks of Lent, may our ears be open to hear the Lord’s invitation to enter into this new way he is opening. May we hold on to love and to hope. May we reach out in love and service to those who are hurting or frightened. May we continue to trust in the Lord’s love for each of us. May we know hope and peace and share them in joyful service with all we meet.

Readings for the Fifth Sunday of Lent – Cycle C

Posted by Kathleen Brewer de Pozos, PhD on Mar 30, 2025

Reconciliation Takes Two

Conflict between people, communities, nations – we are familiar with all of these. We have seen them play out throughout our lives. Sometimes the conflicts are over minor things: who cleaned out the dishwasher last might be the focus of a battle in a family kitchen. Other times they are definitely major issues: who has the right to control access to the resources of an individual or nation, for example.

The way we handle these conflicts, great and small, will largely determine how likely we are to reach a mutually satisfactory resolution. When solutions are imposed top-down from a powerful authority or country, against the will and to the detriment of those on whom they have been imposed, the less powerful will not be happy with the outcome. They will not accept those solutions and they will find ways large and small to resist. On the other hand, when the solution is reached through communication, mutual respect, and a good faith desire to resolve a problem, both sides will be committed to making it work. Both sides will have to sacrifice something and both sides will get something that really works well to address the challenge they have together faced.

As we look at the relationship between God and humans, we might expect a dynamic similar to the first scenario to play out. God makes a demand. Humans try and fail to comply. God punishes. Humans repent. God relents and again blesses the humans. Humans try and fail again. “Lather, rinse, repeat!” Sometimes in reading Scripture and looking at the history of the relationship between God and humans, we get the impression that this is all there is to it. Some might even take that perception and decide they don’t need that kind of vengeful, unforgiving deity and turn away from faith at all.

The understanding of the picture changes dramatically when we realize that the relationship is not equal, but that reconciliation between God and humans is really God’s preferred option. In fact, God is always coming into the conversation with compassion and readiness to work together for the good of all. We may not realize this, however, because we are used to the human way of holding onto past disappointments and hurts and allowing them to color our futures.

Reconciliation does not require two equals in a relationship. It does require at least one who is compassionate and willing to go however far it takes in humility to reach the heart of the other.

When the Hebrew people left Egypt, they traveled around the Sinai Peninsula and the lands east of the Jordan River for forty years. An entire generation passed before they entered the Promised Land, the land west of the Jordan from which Jacob and his sons had traveled to Egypt so many, many years earlier. It’s an amazing story, well worth reading, about how the waters of the Jordan River parted and allowed the people to cross into the new land. The experience reminded the people of the crossing of the Red Sea as their parents and grandparents left Egypt and gained their freedom.

When they arrived in this new land, the people renewed their covenant with the Lord. One of the signs of the Covenant was that men (and boys) were circumcised. They were dedicated to the Lord through this action. It represented a cutting away of impurity and the intent to dedicate the life of this person to the Lord. This practice was set at the beginning of the Lord’s relationship with Abram (whose name came to be Abraham). In Egypt and in the desert, the practice had not been continued, but here as they entered their new land, it was re-established. All men and boys were circumcised as a sign of their acceptance of the covenant.

Once the Covenant had been renewed in this physical way, it was also renewed symbolically and spiritually with the celebration of the Passover. While they were traveling in the desert, celebration of this foundational event was impossible. Now that they were in their new land, it was the first order of business. The Lord had brought them out of Egypt and to a new land. A renewal of the Covenant included remembering the blessings they had received, the freedom they had gained, the new hopes and possibilities for the future. As men and women have remarked for centuries following that time, “Our ancestors crossed the Red Sea and our feet are wet!” This time of reconciliation and rebirth of a people in relationship with the Most High was brought about by the Lord, in response to the pleas of those who were in bondage. (Jos 5:9a, 10-12)

Two parties – one common goal – Reconciliation.

So, does this mean that all was well between God and humans from that day on? Of course not. But did God abandon the relationship? Of course not!

Jesus told a story to his followers about the love of a father. We generally call it the Parable of the Prodigal Son, but really, it’s a story of a father’s tender love.

A father had two sons. One of them, the younger one, wanted to live life to the full, to enjoy a busy social life, travel, see the world, and never have to worry about how to pay for these adventures. So, he asked his father to give him the share of the family wealth that would typically not be his until after his father’s death. This was an extraordinarily bold and genuinely foolish thing to do. Children have been disinherited for less. However, his father loved him and agreed to the splitting of the property. The younger son took off happily to enjoy his life.

The older son stayed on the family farm. He helped with the work of caring for animals and raising the crops to feed them and support the household. He was a model son and his father loved him too.

The younger son, as might be expected, blew through the money quickly. He had to find work. He expected that would be easy, but it wasn’t. Times were hard. Jobs were scarce. Eventually, he ended up taking care of pigs in a foreign country and wishing someone would offer him some of the food that was going to feed the pigs. (Pigs were considered to be “unclean,” ritually impure, and to be avoided in his culture. A huge “Ick!”)

Jesus told his listeners that the young man realized he would be better off as a servant on his father’s farm than where he had ended up on his own and decided to return home. The young man was prepared to beg his father’s forgiveness and ask for a job doing whatever was needed. He had no expectation of ever being welcomed back into the life of the family as more than a servant.

But the father was prodigal in his love. He gave freely of the abundance of that love, watching all the time for the possibility of his son returning. When he saw the boy coming down the road from far away, this father ran down the road to meet his son. He didn’t let the boy get his words of apology and submission out before he embraced him and started pulling him along the road, back to their home.

A great celebration occurred that night, with feasting and sharing joy with family and friends. A new beginning for the lost son, welcomed by his father.

The other son was not so happy. He was angry and resentful. After all, he had worked for years and it seemed no one appreciated his loyal service. He was not able to see any reason for his father to welcome this ungrateful, selfish brother of his.

Jesus tells us the father was saddened by the older son’s reaction. “My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again, he was lost and has been found.” (Lk 15:1-3, 11-32)

The reconciliation between father and son required two people, but one held all the power to welcome and forgive the other in the encounter. The love and forgiveness had to be given freely to repair the relationship, and so they were.

The early followers of Jesus recognized his passion, death, and resurrection as the way God reconciled all of humanity with himself and welcomed us all back into the family home. God became one of us, in Jesus, and lived a fully human life. This wasn’t a case of a charade in which someone pretends to be someone they aren’t. Jesus was as truly human as any other human being. He remains human, even after his resurrection. He is a brother to all of us. And yet, the community came to understand that his coming as the Christ opened the door to reconciliation with our common Father.

St. Paul spoke often of this mystery of reconciliation with the Father through the life and death of Jesus. “Whoever is in Christ is a new creation… All of this is from God, who has reconciled us to himself through Christ and given us the ministry of reconciliation…” The Father is counting on us to pass on this message, the good news of reconciliation. (2 Cor 5:17-21)

We are not the ones who have to take the first step. The first step, the second step, the ultimate step, all have been taken by our loving Father. He became one of us so that he could totally understand what it is to be human and transform us, breaking down the barriers that divide human from divine, offering himself totally so we can share in His life, the life of Love.

In our very divided world and lives today, how do we respond to such an outreach? How do we respond to unconditional love? How do we reach out to share that news of reconciliation through our own lives?

Are we willing and ready to listen to the hopes, the dreams, the fears, the concerns, the pain and the joy of others? How do we deal with divisions in our own families? How do we protect those who will be hurt unjustly by policy changes that overturn the rules by which they have lived? Will we offer a gentle response to those whose words are insulting or hurtful? If someone makes an honest mistake, will we be willing to give them a second chance to correct it? Will we continue to serve the vulnerable and those who seek protection and safety among us? Will we be true to our calling to welcome all and share with those needing help? Will we be willing and ready to continue doing this at the same time that we work towards reconciliation with those who do not support our actions?

Today let us pray that just as the Father has run out to meet us on the road as we return from our forays into the world of self-serving activities and neglect of others, we may accept and forgive and welcome back those who ask us for forgiveness. May we use this season of Lent mindfully, to look at our own lives and see what areas might need forgiveness or more time to grow and heal. And then reach out in loving service to those in our communities, family, and world who need to know they are loved unconditionally.

Readings for the Fourth Sunday of Lent – Cycle C

Posted by Kathleen Brewer de Pozos, PhD on Mar 23, 2025

May I Ask Who’s Calling?

Long ago, in the olden days when I was a girl, and the dinosaurs were really, really big, if the telephone would ring, there was no way to know who was calling. Call-waiting didn’t exist. No caller ID was available. Only one telephone per household was the general rule. Some households didn’t have phones at all.

In those days, if a caller asked to speak with a particular person in the household or business, the correct and expected response was, “May I ask who’s calling?” or “Who may I say is calling?” The caller would normally respond with a name and the person who answered would respond, “I will tell him/her (them).”

I thought of this when reflecting on the reading from the book of Exodus. As you will recall, Moses had grown up in Egypt, under the protection of one of Pharaoh’s family, though he was an Israelite boy who should have been killed shortly after his birth. As a young man, he had killed a man who was abusing an Israelite slave and had to flee the country. He ended up in the land of Midian, married to the daughter of a priest of the land, and became a simple shepherd.

One day, as he was tending the sheep, he saw an amazing sight. A bush was burning. Bushes burn in dry lands, usually pretty quickly, with potentially disastrous results. This bush, however, was not a danger to the surrounding landscape. The bush was not burning up. It was not being consumed by the flames. It was just sitting there burning.

Moses went closer and a voice came from the bush, calling his name, “Moses! Moses!” Moses responded, “Here I am.” As he prepared to come closer to the bush, the voice told him to wait, to remove his sandals first. This ground was holy, because the God of the fathers of Moses’ people was present there. “The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob.”

Moses hid his face, knowing that to see God would be dangerous. But the Lord told him why he had come. “I have witnessed the affliction of my people in Egypt and have heard their cry of complaint… Therefore, I have come down to rescue them…”

Wait! What? Rescue the Hebrew people from Egypt? OK. How? On whose orders?

So, Moses wondered, “when I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,” what do I tell them your name is? (Name in this context refers to power and authority as well as what a person is called.) This is a pretty bold thing to say to God, but the bush was burning and a voice coming from it, so it’s all pretty unusual anyway. “God replied, “I am who am.” But you can simply tell them, “I AM sent me to you.” (Ex 3:1-8a, 13-15)

“Who may I say is calling?”

“I Am … The Lord, the God of your fathers.” He “has sent me to you.”

We remember the story yet today and tell it each year. Our Jewish sisters and brothers also remember it and celebrate the Exodus and all that led to it at Passover. Muslims too revere Moses and remember his encounter with the Lord and all that resulted.

As the Hebrew people went out into the desert on their way to the Promised Land, many surprises awaited them. It was a hard time, with shortage of food and water at times and a longing to return to stability and order, even if that meant hard, forced labor in Egypt. They grumbled. They complained. They despaired and created a Golden Calf to worship. They doubted God’s promises. It took forty years in the desert before their children and grandchildren were allowed to enter the land from which their ancestors had come during the time of the great famine in the days of Jacob and Joseph. The Lord was with them, but earlier, they were not ready as a people to enter the new land and way of living.

St. Paul, in his first letter to the people of Corinth, spoke of those years in the desert. Although all had traveled with the cloud to guide them, crossed through the sea together, eaten the same food from heaven, and received water to drink from the stone, they still grumbled and disobeyed. Their journey and its delays and the consequences of their disbelief and disobedience are an example to us of how NOT to behave. We have seen the coming of the savior. The end times are upon us. The kingdom is here and coming ever more fully into being. Like the Hebrews, when we hear the Lord calling, we must answer. Who’s calling? The Lord, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob. We are children of Abraham too. We are also to listen to his call and respond. (1 Cor 10:1-6, 10-12)

Sometimes we think that Israel, including the northern area known as Galilee, was a peaceful place in the time of Jesus. After all, the Romans had conquered the area. There were no more wars with neighboring countries. Sure, there were soldiers everywhere who could make unreasonable demands and act like bullies, but there was no war going on…

In reality, rebellions occurred. A group of people in Galilee had rebelled and been killed by Pilate, the Roman official who governed the area. When people told Jesus about this, he responded that it is important to realize that suffering such as that experienced by those killed on Pilate’s orders was not because they were great sinners. Everyone sins. The critical thing is to repent, to recognize that we as humans are not perfect. We all mess up. We all make wrong choices. We all sin.

Jesus told a story about a fig tree. This tree had grown in an orchard and been expected to bear fruit when it reached maturity. But the tree produced no fruit. The owner of the orchard noticed that the tree was old enough, but there were no figs. After three years of fruitless harvest times, the owner told the gardener to cut it down, presumably so another tree could be planted and grow in its place to produce fruit.

But the gardener cared about the tree and begged for a second chance for it. “Sir, leave it for this year also, and I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future.” However, this would not go on forever. If the tree remained barren in the coming year, “you can cut it down.” Lk 13:1-9)

In the Gospel of Luke, the story ends there. We don’t hear what happened to the tree. Jesus didn’t tell us, but rather, left us to ponder what that might mean for us, especially in light of his reminders that bad things happen to everyone, whether as consequences of their actions or not. The important thing is to try each time we fail to change our behavior and do better the next time around.

“Who may I say is calling?”

Is ours a strong, demanding, vengeful god who delights in punishing sinners? The Psalmist provides the answer in Psalm 103. “Merciful and gracious is the Lord, slow to anger and abounding in kindness.” “He pardons all your iniquities, heals all your ills.” “The Lord secures justice and the rights of all the oppressed.” (Ps 103: 1-2, 3-4, 6-7, 8, 11)

Who is calling you today? Who is calling me?

This same God, the merciful, the kind, the protector of the “little ones” who need extra care, the one who sends help in time of trial, this God is the one who came to Moses in the burning bush. This God is the one who heard the cries of the poor and sent a messenger to rescue them. This God is the one who gives the fig tree and the sinner another chance. This God is the one who expects those who have blessings of security, power, education, health, and the respect of the peoples of the world to behave with kindness and compassion, sharing the gifts we have received. This God does not condemn those whose ways of living, whose customs, whose sense of themselves are different from those of the dominant culture or the culture of ancient peoples who first met him.

As a people, we must today ask ourselves, if the Lord calls and asks for you or for me, will we respond quickly and faithfully. Will we speak out against abuses of the poor, the immigrant, those whose lands have been invaded by neighbors who wish to control them? Will we work for justice? Will we remember those who work hard but still cannot afford health care or education without help from the larger community? Will we demand that those who wield power in our governments follow the laws that have governed us for two hundred fifty years?

God does not come from the heavens with avenging angels on thunderous clouds. But when peoples and individuals do not remember the source of the gifts received, the freedoms offered, and the importance of sharing them freely, the consequences will fall heavily on all.

I pray that as we enter the third week of Lent, we listen deeply and carefully to the warnings of our ancestors. When the answer to the question, “Who may I say is calling?” is, “The Lord our God,” may we be open to receive his presence and become channels of his love to everyone we meet and with whom we share this beautiful world.

Readings for the Third Sunday of Lent – Cycle C

Posted by Kathleen Brewer de Pozos, PhD on Mar 12, 2025

Geological Time Includes the Present

Darkness had long since fallen as we made our way along a winding road beside a lake. We were on our way home from a wonderful wedding celebration and the driver was watching closely for animals, as well as for rocks that might have fallen onto the road from the steep hills along the road. He remarked as he drove that one of his children had told him of a geology professor who had advised his class always to remember that “Geological time includes the present.”

Reflecting on this insight, I realized that God’s time is like geological time in that respect – or maybe it’s vice versa? It includes the present.

As we begin these weeks of Lent, it’s good to remember that God is in this for the long-haul. We tend to think of times and seasons in our lives as having a beginning, a middle, and an end. But really, our lives are a long story, with parts and themes that weave in and out of the narration. The same is true for the history of God and humanity.

Moses and the Israelites traveled through the desert for forty years. Their release from captivity in Egypt had been totally unexpected. Granted, they had begged the Lord for relief from the forced labor and other conditions that had been imposed on them by the rulers of Egypt, but something as dramatic as the Passover and their release into the Sinai Peninsula was totally unexpected.

Who were they now? Where were they going? Who would be in charge? How did the Lord figure into it all? Moses had gone up to the mountain, into the cloud, and spoken with the Lord. His appearance was transformed by that experience. But what did that mean for everyday life?

Moses gathered the people as a group as their time in the desert together was drawing to an end and reminded them of the history of the Lord’s intervention that had led to their freedom. He again spoke to them of the Lord’s instructions for how they were to live. The ancient covenant with Abraham was still in effect. The narrative was ongoing. Their present time was part of God’s time and plan.

As they entered into their new land, planting crops, raising their flocks, they were not to forget the Lord’s care for them. They must remember to give thanks always for his care. So, as the first fruits of the land matured, they must be offered to the Lord as a thanksgiving gift at harvest time. They had received much from the Lord. The story of the Lord’s love and care for them was continuing, in a different setting and with different “props,” but the same Lord was providing for them still and yet.

Now, having set their gifts before the Lord, their God, they were to “bow down in his presence.” The story of their lives continued uninterrupted. (Deut 26:4-10)

Jesus too passed through many phases and seasons of life. His birth was unplanned by his parents. He had lived as a child, grown up revering the Lord, become a good Jewish man, learned a trade, become a regular fellow who was respectable and trusted as an adult. It was a relatively normal life, once he got past the first surprising beginning.

And then something unexpected happened, much like finding a big rock on the road by the lake or having an elk step out onto the road on a dark night. A prophet, who happened to be his cousin, began preaching along the Jordan River. This river stretches from the Sea of Galilee in the north to the Dead Sea in the south. The people had crossed the Jordan River when they first entered their land. It was the eastern border.

Jesus went down to the Jordan along with many other people. He listened to his cousin John speak of the coming of the Anointed One, the one long promised, who would restore the relationship with God and bring a new kingdom into being. Folks expected it to be a kingdom with rulers like those who would be replaced – the hated Roman conquerors.

Many prophets through the years had promised the coming of the Anointed One, the Messiah. Who would he be? When would he come? Would it still be many years in the future or would it be now?

Jesus entered into the water to be baptized and both he and John got a big surprise. The heavens opened, the Spirit of the Lord came upon him like a dove, and a voice said, “This is my beloved Son.”

What a dramatic turn in the life-story of a carpenter from a small town in Galilee! Wisely, Jesus didn’t just head home. Instead, he went out into desert lands to pray, to fast, and to begin to process what that all might have meant.

Forty days, he remained in the desert. He was thirsty and hungry. A voice, a tempter, whispered into his ear, “Command this stone to become bread.” Try it out, see what kind of powers you have now. You’re hungry, maybe you should do something about it…

But Jesus understood that was not the route he was to take. There’s more to life than bread.

Then the tempter offered him power – power over mighty kingdoms. Only one string attached, “I shall give to you all this power and glory … All this will be yours , if you worship me.” Again, Jesus didn’t take the bait, though many a person in history has, even in our days.

Finally, since Jesus kept responding that only God is in charge of such things, the tempter took him to a high point on the temple and suggested that God would protect him if he simply jumped off – angels would catch him. When Jesus again rejected the idea of putting God to the test, the tempter left him “for a time.” Not forever, just for the time-being. (Lk 4:1-13)

Jesus’ life-story took some very unexpected turns. He learned a lot in the process. Yet he remained faithful to the experience of discovering the Father’s love for him and the mission to share that wonderful news.

As the story of God’s presence and care for humanity continued to unfold, many came to hear and believe the good news of that love. They shared the joy and the challenges of sharing the story. The story turned out to be bigger than initially thought. It wasn’t like one rock sliding down a hillside. It was more like a hillside sliding down into the sea, reshaping a coastline.

St. Paul wrote to the people of Rome, reminding them of God’s presence throughout history and the ever-widening ripples of that presence. Not only is the Lord come for the Jews, he has come for all peoples. He is not an earthly ruler. Much more deeply, the Lord, the Word, is very near – in the heart and in the mouth. Words of faith are spoken and works of love are shared. In this we find salvation. “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” (Rom 10:8-13)

We receive this word today as a promise given, received, and on-going. God’s time and Geological time include the present.

How do we live this in our lives today? Where are we called to love? Whom are we to respect and care for? How do we welcome people from other nations, the poor, the sick, the homeless? How do we respect each other and value the talents of each? Where will our legacy be found?

May we remember the Lord’s loving presence, the faithfulness of the One who loves us, and reach out in love to all the peoples of the world as we enter into and move through this season of Lent. God doesn’t love us just because we are perfect or powerful. We are loved at all times. We simply need to remember to be the stones on the hillside which he needs as he shapes and reshapes the world into a Kingdom of Love.

Readings for the First Sunday of Lent – Cycle C

Posted by Kathleen Brewer de Pozos, PhD on Mar 2, 2025

From the Fullness of the Heart

“Think before you speak!” “You have two ears and one mouth.” “Listen carefully before speaking.” “Out of the mouths of babes …” “Stop, look, and listen.”

We have many expressions that describe the relationship between our thoughts and our words, between what we perceive and the objective reality of what is happening around us. When we blurt out our first response to something unexpected, we often discover that our reaction does not take into account the total reality of the situation. There can be many factors we haven’t noticed that played a part in the way the situation developed and reached its climax.

Wisdom lies in quieting the inner and outer tongues that speak our thoughts, often before we have time to consider them carefully. “Think first, then speak,” is advice well suited to the complexity of our personal and public lives.

Around 200 years before the birth of Jesus, a man named Jesus, ben Eleazar, ben Sirach collected wisdom sayings from his community. Wisdom tales are told around the world, passing on to younger members of the family or village the traditions and common-sense approaches to the challenges of life we have come to understand. We still tell these stories ourselves, because they offer practical examples for dealing with complex realities. For example, “a watched pot never boils” reminds us to be patient as things work their way to a conclusion for which we have every reason to hope. Ben Sirach’s words are remembered today, though their fullest meanings are not always clear to us.

The first verse we hear today speaks of a sieve being shaken, which results in the appearance of husks. This is paired with a reminder that our faults too appear when we speak. What do our words have to do with grain and husks? Not something most of us would suggest, but something obvious in his times. There were no “combines” in those days, the big harvesters which could cut the grain, thresh it, and separate the grains from the chaff as they moved through the fields. In those days, oxen walked across the cut grain, breaking up the heads of wheat or other crops after they had been cut and placed together for threshing. The grain would fall out on the threshing floor. Later, everything on the floor would be scooped up and run through a sieve to separate out the grain from the chaff and excrement of the animals used for threshing the crop. When the time came to complete the harvest, the grain, chaff, and anything else on the threshing floor would be tossed into the air using a sieve. This allowed the smaller grains to pass through and keep the waste from contaminating the harvest. In many places even today, grain is threshed and prepared for use in this same basic way. Ben Sirach reminds us that “… one’s faults (appear) when one speaks.”

Ben Sirach notes that trees bear fruit when they receive the proper care and offers an important piece of advice for us today too. “Praise no one before he speaks, for it is then that people are tested.” In other words, “don’t judge a book by its cover.” (Sir 27:4-7)

Jesus offers similar advice as he finishes the Sermon on the Plain. He points out that when “the blind are leading the blind,” both can land in a pit. Through a series of examples, he cautions against judging others, lest we fail to notice our own weakness and sinfulness as we point out that of others. Those who are good will bear good fruit. Their goodness will become apparent through their choices and their actions. “A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good…” When the heart is filled with negative emotions, a different scenario emerges and we see evil spreading. Words matter and reflect the beauty or ugliness of the heart when they are spoken. “… From the fullness of the heart, the mouth speaks.” (Lk 6:39-45)

As we move through life, we find times that are discouraging and hard to get through. Sometimes it seems that evil will triumph. We may feel like everything we try will end in failure. “Life is hard and then you die,” goes the saying today. People in ancient times experienced the same thing. St. Paul explains that a time will come in which the pattern of death and failure will end. “Death is swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory! Where … is your sting?” We have gained the upper hand, the victory, through Jesus. Our response of loving service will not be in vain. (1 Cor 15:54-58)

We are living through a time of great turmoil today. Wars are raging. Leaders of countries are meeting, but not always peacefully or respectfully. The fate of nations is hanging in a balance that is not at all certain to end well for anyone. In our personal lives, we are called to make choices and offer a hand or an ear to others we meet.

As we move forward, holding on with all our might to hope in the Lord’s help in the great work of protecting the vulnerable, caring for the young, the very old, and those who can’t care for themselves, seeking justice for those who face persecution or discrimination, safeguarding the vision of hope and liberty for all which we received from our parents and grandparents, may we remember the wisdom from of old. Wait and hear that what people say or do is wise and just before following their lead or obeying their commands. Be sensitive to our own faults before condemning others. In what ways do we try to correct in others the faults of which we ourselves are more guilty?

May our words be kind and merciful, flowing from a heart that has known forgiveness and acceptance. From the fullness of this experience of being loved and forgiven, may our mouths speak to those we meet each day.

Readings for the Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

Posted by Kathleen Brewer de Pozos, PhD on Feb 23, 2025

The Weight of a Snowflake

Each year a conference takes place in Southern California, for the Archdiocese of Los Angeles which is attended by people from all over the country and the world. Formally known as the Los Angeles Religious Education Congress, most folks simply call it LA Congress. This program first started in 1956 in Los Angeles, but quickly grew large enough that it was moved to Anaheim. This year was no exception. Blessedly, the organizers have taken advantage of today’s technology and live streaming has brought the arena sessions to those of us who can’t be there in person.

One of my favorite speakers each year is the Rev. Terry Hershey. Terry writes a regular column, “Sabbath Moment.” His great insight and mission is to share the importance of taking time for reflection and stillness in our busy lives. This year he shared a story near the end of his presentation that expressed a vision of hope for these very difficult times in which we live today.

It seems there was a small bird, a coalmouse or coal tit, that was talking with a dove. Somehow the subject of the weight of a snowflake came up. The dove said that snowflakes were so light that they really make no difference at all in the world. The coalmouse boldly told the dove that in fact the weight of a snowflake matters. One afternoon, the coalmouse had nothing better to do, so he sat on the branch of a tree and began to count the snowflakes that were falling. Finally, the total reached 3,741,952 snowflakes that had fallen on the branch where the coalmouse was sitting. And then, one more snowflake fell on the branch – number 3,741,953. When that snowflake landed on the branch, the branch broke. That last snowflake was too much for the branch. It was too heavy.

There are times when everything going on in the world around seems too much to bear. Everything seems to be crashing. People are losing their livelihoods. Institutions are being broken down. No one knows when it will end. Where will it all end? Has anything like this ever happened before?

In point of fact, turmoil, upheaval, pain, suffering, fear, dismay – so much can and has happened so quickly and more than once in the history of the world. Like one snowflake on the branch of a tree, all can come crashing down.

Long, long ago, when Saul was king of Israel and Samuel was the Lord’s prophet, Saul ceased to follow the will of the Lord. He began to look out for himself and his cronies first, rather than caring for the people he had been selected to lead and care for. David had been anointed by Samuel to be the next king of Israel. Saul was not happy about this and took an army of 3,000 men out to find and kill David.

One night, while Saul and his men were sleeping, David and a few of his men entered the camp. They found Saul and some of his men in a tent. David’s friend offered to use Saul’s spear to kill the sleeping king, but David refused the offer. “Do not harm him, for who can lay hands on the Lord’s anointed and remain unpunished?” David and his men left the camp, taking Saul’s spear and water jug with them. From a far hill, David called out to Saul and his army, “Here is the king’s spear. … Today the Lord delivered you into my grasp, I would not harm the Lord’s anointed.” (1 Sam 26:2, 7-9, 12-13, 22-23)

Eventually David became king, but it took many years before peace returned to the land.

Jesus lived in a time when his nation had been conquered and people were very aware of who their enemies were. In his teaching, he clearly stated a series of rules for living that were contrary to what humans typically do. “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. … Do to others as you would have them do to you. … Love your enemies and do good to them.”

These words of Jesus are not what we hear every day. But they are the fundamental ground rules for our lives as followers of Jesus. He promises, “Forgive and you will be forgiven. … the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you.” (Lk 6:27-38)

These words speak deeply to anyone who will hear. They offer hope for a future in which we together offer love and help to those who are in need, to those who seek a safe place to live, to those whose bodies don’t reflect their sense of who they are in the depths of their being, to those who simply need a place to call home and a family to love them.

St. Paul spoke of the first Adam and the last Adam. The first “became a living being, the last Adam a life-giving spirit.” Jesus is the last Adam in this teaching. He brought the earthly and heavenly realms together, so that “as we have borne the image of the earthly one, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly one.” (1 Cor 15:45-49)

Terry told another story right after the story of the coalmouse. This story was of a boy on an ocean beach. A bunch of sea stars (aka, starfish) had been washed up onto the beach. The boy was picking them up, one at a time, and tossing them back into the water, so they wouldn’t die on the beach. An old man asked the boy what he was doing and explained to the boy that there were lots of starfish in the ocean. It wouldn’t make a huge difference overall if these on the beach didn’t make it back into the water. The boy picked up another sea star and tossed it into the water, saying, “It made a difference for that one.”

Today we are called to live in hope in the face of upheaval and injustice. We are to act with love and respect both for those whom we seek to help and those who are responsible for causing great harm to others. The weight of one snowflake can cause a branch to break. One action can lead to healing the heart of another person. One action can stop a chain of harm from continuing. One starfish thrown back into the ocean makes a difference. One snowflake of mercy and compassion, when joined with others, can lead to healing of a nation and a world.

What starfish will we be called to help this week? When will the snowflake of our refusal to go along with orders to harm others begin to bear fruit in changing those orders? How will our light shine into the darkness and give hope?

We live in hope.

Readings for the Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C