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In the age of Covid-19, we find ourselves facing new, unfamiliar territory. We wonder if we – and our world – will be crushed like bugs underneath a giant pandemic.
We’re going to be on our feet a lot in the coming days and months. Outside. Marching. Standing in solidarity. Make ready. Resistance is personal. It is intimate and physical.
Jesus calls us to be part of unlikely flocks – and if we don’t have one, to form one, and to keep growing it.
If we understood that we only have one night – this one short life – to share faith’s treasures, to increase each other’s joy, we might happily talk straight through night till dawn.
If you are in the grips of grief today, remember the example of Abraham: you can grieve your own way. And as you encounter other people, know that they are all in grief.
How much longer until we will open ourselves to the pain, mourn the dead, lament the suffering, and open the way to healing and re-ordering?
There’s a very thin line – perhaps no line at all – between sporadically wishing harm happens to someone and being the type of person who finds reason to universally justify harm.
Church has never closed. It just moved into new and dispersed realms. And you know what? In many ways, this incarnation of Church is better than ever.
Sometimes I truly believe that if I just knew where things were heading, how things would all end up, I’d be fine. I would know about me and how I fit in with ‘it.’
Our actions bear fruit. In all that we do, we hold a basket of fruit into which we and the others around us make an offering. It is the spiritual food off of which we survive.