In the Lectionary

The people are hungry. Jesus' solution is even more improbable than the disciples' solution.

Six words of scripture always transport me to an amazing place: “The kingdom of heaven is like . . .”

We all see weeds, but we shouldn't make it our business to separate them.

Jesus' parable presents not differences between people but different kinds of terrain within each of us.

We learn to be Christian not when we succeed at perfection but when we realize that we will always fail.

Could Abraham know that God is testing him?

Jeremiah has great resolve—at least in retrospect.

Go and make disciples? More like wait and welcome converts.

We may experience division in our cries to God, hearing only what’s loud right next to us. But God hears us as one human family, crying out for blessing.

In many ways, the Ascension story is too literal for our postmodern sensibilities. We know that the space station is circling the globe just above the clouds.

Compared to other attributes we assign to God, cherishing has received little attention. It’s easily absorbed into the broader category of love. Yet cherishing is a specific kind of love—one the inspires deep commitment.

The recipients of 1 Peter lived far off the grid of Roman power. A people with no social standing, they were deemed unworthy of defending. And yet it is to these people that the letter proclaims lofty praise.

Luke’s report of the church’s economic sharing interrupts our reading of what might otherwise be an easy passage.

Our eyes drink in the world around us, but our brains develop filters. I imagine Cleopas and his friend sifting carefully through what they have seen.

Thomas discerns what neither Mary Magdalene nor the other disciples did: that Jesus is both “my Lord and my God.” I wonder if we need to explore more seriously Thomas’s approach to faith. We sing “We Walk by Faith and Not by Sight,” but what is wrong with walking by both?

This Colossians reading is one of those distilled, cryptic passages that draws us into so much more than we can imagine. Such verses expand our capacity to wonder and give praise. They invite us into God’s mystery.

How does a crowd turn from shouts of joy to cries of murder in such a short span?

God calls us out of the metaphorical tombs in which we are buried: addiction, hopelessness, guilt. But I believe God also calls us out of the tangible tombs of entrenched poverty, poor education, and limited opportunity.

Can someone be called and not know it?

Jesus chooses a circumstance of division, then instigates community.