Frightened disciples—cowering behind a bolted door—emerged from hiding as fearless and fierce followers. What changed them was the conviction that their crucified friend was alive.
Easter | Second Sunday of Easter (Year B)
Acts 4:32-35; Psalm 133; 1 John 1:1-2:2; John 20:19-31
Monastic vows sound familiar to anyone who's been to a wedding. In both marriage and celibacy, we promise to be faithful.
Reconciliation requires relocation. To see the effects of our food choices, we have to get close to the land.
It’s the second movement of Leonard Bernstein’s choral work, Chichester Psalms. A boy soprano (or a countertenor), in the “role” of the shepherd boy, David, sings in Hebrew the opening verses of Psalm 23. He is accompanied–sparingly, fittingly–by the harp. The first several measures are tender but not tentative; filled with sentiment, but without sentimentality (this per Bernstein’s instructions). When the women’s voices take over the text at גַּם כִּי־אֵלֵךְ בְּגֵיא צַלְמָוֶת . . . (Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . .) there’s an ethereal echo-canon effect. This part of the movement, when executed well, is something sublime.