My Dad was a pastor. He began his ministry in the early 50’s, when mainline churches were growing like weeds and a clerical collar would elicit a discount at the local department store and a complementary membership in the country club. Not so for my son, who has also worked a pastor. He paid full price for his coffee at Starbucks, where he led discussions with Millennials who wouldn’t dream of darkening the door of his grandfather’s church.
Season after Pentecost | 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B)
Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22; Psalm 124; (Numbers 11:4-6, 10-16, 24-29; Psalm 19:7-14;) James 5:13-20; Mark 9:38-50
Sometimes I wish the Gospels told a story in which Jesus slumps in the shade of a tree and can't make himself face another crowd or meet one more plea for help.