Inspired by Scholastica

I recently picked up a book entitled The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson. It tells the epic story of America's great migration from the first half of the 20th century. It was history I never learned in school, mostly because I was living through part of it. It had not yet been written and I did not live in the South to see it.  Today, it might be on the list of forbidden books for some schools and libraries, since it tells the moving story of the period of slavery in the U.S. through the lives of some actual Black Americans growing up in the South. It takes you to the cotton fields of Mississippi, describes the Jim Crow laws, the Whites only signs, the segregated schools, sharecropping, and more. I had heard of some of it, but the reality never struck me so vividly.  Students today need to be exposed to this dark period of our history, to understand how our Black brothers and sisters were treated in the South and why they might still have the residue of hatred and injusti

It cannot be denied that some of us are wounded in some way. It may be from the kind of home we grew up in, from treatment in school, from neighborhood experiences, or other issues. We may have tried to heal these wounds through therapy or counseling or through the love of friends or spouses. We may try to hide our scars, but that's hard to do when they are still festering. Sometimes we try to forget and put on a happy face, but those who know us well can usually see through that.  We need to find ways to heal, but we also can use our woundedness to comfort others. Wounds can make us very compassionate people who are able to understand others that are hurting. So many people need someone just to listen, to reassure those who are lonely or feel like no one cares. Because we have been in a similar place, we can reach out with words or actions that aided us.  Often wounded people feel like they are unable to help others because they themselves are scarred. Yet it is that very reason t

  Jesus, what did you see on that ominous Friday when all your friends disappeared, except a handful of women? As your nerves throbbed, your muscles wrenched, your stomach contorted, did you see sneers, hatred, disdain? How were you able to forgive the soldiers who pressed a crown of thorns on your head, drove the nails into your hands and feet, who spat upon you, jeered and ridiculed you? Did you feel like you had failed, that all your words were in vain, all your love for naught? Did you think maybe you should have done something differently, been more patient, had more time, never chosen Judas?   Sometimes I forget your humanness, how alone and anguished, grieved at your mother’s suffering, dying like a common criminal, feeling forsaken even by your Father.   What would I have done had I been there? Would I have run too, or remained steadfast? Lord, give me courage to be true to you as you pour out your love for me.

Soon we will commemorate Holy Week, and remember the long, agonizing walk of Jesus to Calvary. With his head still crushed with the crown of thorns and his back still stinging with the whip lashes, he pulls the heavy wooden cross along the path. He sees his mother and the women crying, longing to help him with his burden. Finally Simon comes to assist him. How do we react to this devastating memory, this experience of Jesus enduring such excruciating pain? I'm sure the people of Ukraine are walking with Jesus, begging for relief from their agony and the inhumane treatment by the Russians.  We condemn the Russians and strive to mitigate their evil. But Richard Rohr reminds us, "we are all complicit. We're all cooperative in the stupidity of human history. No one can stand up and say, 'I didn't do anything wrong.' As Paul says so clearly: 'All have sinned,' (Rom.3:2 ) so we all bear the burden of sin." All are called to connect with the Ukrainians in

A short item in the Kansas City Star caught my attention recently. It was titled: "Hubble detects 'Earendel,' most distant star ever seen." This star was part of a galaxy forming billions of years ago when everything in the world was brand new. This new star burned through space for billions of years before becoming visible through the Hubble Space Telescope. This amazed me, that among the myriads of stars visible at night, a new star could be found. It shown with blue light and astronomers have found that it is 50 to 100 times larger than our sun, and about one million times brighter, with its light traveling 12.9 billion years to become visible to the telescope. I am not a scientific-minded person usually, but this opened my eyes to look at the night sky a little more intently. I know I cannot see Earendel with the naked eye, but just to know it is beaming at us earthlings through so much space and time is comforting. It was a kind of God-moment, a realizatio