The Gospel Life

If you were going to tell the story of Jesus Christ, where would you begin? In an extended series that begins today we will be observing how the evangelist Mark tells the story. This is intended to be a kind of Lectio Divina in action, as the story unfolds.

The power of imperial Rome must have been an awesome thing. In today’s gospel passage we see that power stand in the presence of a power so great that even in its meekest expression, Rome appears as its subject. 

Today I deviate from my normal style of podcast to comment on the issue of COVID vaccine mandates. This is a matter that touches upon the liberty of the human conscience and I feel compelled to address it.

“Learn a lesson from the fig tree,” Jesus said. “When its branch becomes tender and sprouts leaves, you know that summer is near. In the same way, when you see these things happening, know that the Son of Man is near, at the gates.” 

In what way can a widow be blessed? In today’s passages, two widows are shown to exemplify the first of the Beatitudes. How can that be?

What kind of physician – or what kind of Rabbi - would spit on their patient's wounds in the process of healing them? The Healing of a Blind Man, in Mark Chapter 7, prompts us to ask this question.  Let’s take a closer look.

Wouldn’t it be rather scandalous if Jesus were to be seen mis-quoting the Bible? Well, that’s what happens in today’s Gospel passage. Or so it seems. Let's take a closer look.

What would you say to Jesus if he called you into his presence and stood there ready to listen to you? Today we hear the story of a man who received such a grace. This is the journey of a soul to God.

So I spent three years living in a monastery and I wrote a book about it. One of the questions people ask me is: Monks are supposed to be the experts at prayer, right? How do monks pray? What did you learn about prayer from the monks? Well, I would say this: you don't have to be a monk to learn from and practice their method of prayer, Lectio Divina. These thoughts carve out a path for those who are interested in learning from this wise tradition.

Normally, I reflect on the readings of Sunday’s liturgy, but today a different reading has grabbed my attention. Isaiah Chapter 40. This might be my favorite chapter in all of the Old Testament. If you have never read it, from first verse to last, I invited you to schedule 10 minutes this week to do so. It’s a treasure that will reward you many times over. 

If you found yourself standing in the presence of a mighty prince, ready to give you a place in his kingdom, would you choose the fiefdom you already know? This is the basic drama that plays out in today’s reading from the book of Mark. Chapter 10:17-30.

We’re all aware that Jesus calls some people into ministry or, as the Catholics would say, into religious life. But have you ever considered how Jesus looked upon married life? Actually, his vision of marriage is magnificent. Let’s dig into this question. In particular, we will reflect upon the term homo-ousios as it relates to a deeper understanding of marriage.

I started by saying to myself: I’m just going to make a book for me and see what I think of it.By day 4 of that process, as I dove into the images, re-crafted the copy, unearthed on apple music some chants from the monasteries where I lived, I was in a real sense transported back in time. Knees on the tile floor, ears wide open, eyes riveted on the altar, heart stilled. I was back there in the monastery – back in spirit. It was like time travel.I now saw that the work that began there, some 26 years earlier – I’m not talking about the work on the book, I’m talking about the work in my heart – I now saw that that work had never stopped. There was a plumb line of the heart that ran from Paris to Curriere en Chartreuse, France to Monte Corona, Italy, to Boston, to Washington DC, and all the way back to Loveland, Ohio. It snapped taught and I could see the straight line. The message of the monks was not locked back in time, in some dusty trunk of my past life. It was outside of time. It ran beneath time, like an underground river. I just hadn’t dug deep enough to re-discover it. Until now. “I have to do this,” I said to myself by Day 4. “I have to finish this.”