Tuesday, July 14, 2026

Blessed are the pure in heart: they shall see God.
—Matthew 5:8

Richard Rohr explores Jesus’s metaphor, connecting the eyes and the heart:

In this beatitude, Jesus is saying, “When the heart is right, seeing will be right.” He ties together heart and sight. We might have heard the saying, “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder”—so is God. All we need to do is keep the lens clean and the heart pure. If our heart is cold, our vision is distorted. If we hold coldness and unforgiveness, the desire to do violence with words or actions, or avert our loving gaze so that another will feel our rejection, we will not be able to see clearly. Our heart is not pure. Jesus calls us to purity of heart with the promise that correct seeing will follow. [1]

The author and spiritual director Carl McColman reflects on what Jesus might have meant by “purity of heart,” calling it “the beatitude that points toward the goal of every restless heart—to see God”:  

Over the centuries, purity has been used for religious and political control. It can be a dangerous concept—used to justify genocide like the Shoah (Holocaust) as well as a code word for controlling people’s sexual behavior. But the word Jesus uses—­the Greek word katharoi— carries a different meaning. Katharoi is a root of the word catharsis. Catharsis, in the annals of Western mysticism, is the necessary first step on the journey toward union with God. Here pure not only suggests a freedom from contaminating elements; it also could simply be rendered as clean. We might rephrase the beatitude as “Blessed is a free and cleansed heart, for it shall see God.”

“Seeing God” doesn’t happen automatically. The God of love is gentle and not willing to force the divine presence on those who just don’t want it. Most of us are a paradox: we want it, and we don’t want it. We have mixed hearts, hearts that know the only true rest is in God but nevertheless remain invested in all sorts of other pleasures—­some perfectly benign and others not so good. With this reality in mind, it’s important to read Jesus’s beatitude as a challenge as well as an invitation—­not as an accusation or a shaming.

Jesus knows that no human being has a perfectly clean (pure) heart. But in his wisdom, he’s asking, “Are you willing to show up? Are you willing to do the work? Are you willing to clean up your mess?” To answer yes to these questions is to commit to the path…. There’s the cleansing right there. Are we willing to begin to let go of gratuitous cynicism, nursed resentments, dispiriting bitterness, and the kind of negativity that leaches away our energy and gives us nothing in return? Letting go of those kinds of afflictive thoughts launches us on the journey of catharsis, of inner cleansing, that prepares us to receive the presence of the One who is already there

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BZ with BZ on the 4th of July

Reflections On A Special Night with Bob Dylan

BRIAN ZAHND JUL 6

I spent the 4^th of July at Starlight Theatre in Kansas City, Missouri with another BZ—Bobby Zimmerman. Although sixty-four years ago the other BZ walked into the St. Louis County courthouse in Hibbing, Minnesota and legally changed his name to Bob Dylan. Once, when asked what influence Dylan Thomas had exerted on him to adopt the name of the Welsh poet, the erstwhile Robert Zimmerman merely quipped, “I’ve done more for Dylan Thomas than he ever did for me.” And that’s probably true.

As is well documented, I’ve been an ardent fan of Bob Dylan for over fifty years, and of course I’ve been to many a Bob Show, as I call them. But for the last few years quirks of schedule have caused me to miss the Dylan shows. Either I was out of the country when he would come to Kansas City or nearby, or I would just miss him by a few days for some date in Europe. Last year Peri and I had tickets to see Dylan at the Thunder Ridge Nature Arena near Branson, Missouri—a four-hour drive. We left right after church on a Sunday and arrived just in time for the show to be cancelled due to a thunderstorm that rolled through and wrecked a lot of equipment. Oh, well.

But then the stars finally aligned. Bob Dylan at Starlight Theatre on the 4^th of July—his most recent tour date in what has been popularly dubbed as the Never Ending Tour ever since Dylan began touring more-or-less nonstop in June of 1988. Over the past thirty-eight years Dylan has performed nearly four thousand shows—that’s over a hundred shows a year. That would be impressive for any artist, but for someone who is now halfway into their ninth decade it’s truly astounding. Bob Dylan is the truest and most traveled of all the troubadours. You don’t really have to go to Dylan—wait long enough and he’ll come to you.

Geographically that is. Artistically you come to Dylan on his terms. He’s not going to “play the hits,” he’s not going to try to ingratiate himself to the audience, he’s not going to endear you with lively repartee between songs. In fact he’s not going to speak a word. No, “Hello, Kansas City.” No, “Let me introduce the band.” Not even a single, “Thank you.” These days the songs do all the talking for him. And that’s just fine. At eighty-five I believe Dylan has finally become what he always wanted to be when he first left Hibbing at eighteen—a wizened old bard who has nothing to offer but his songs.

So meet the artist on his own terms. You can’t say you saw Shakespeare at the Globe Theatre, but you can say you saw Dylan at Starlight Theatre. Or at Mystic Lake Amphitheater in Shakopee, Minnesota if you go see him tonight. These days I always wonder if the latest leg of the Never Ending Tour will be Dylan’s finale. But just last night Dylan posted the first shows of a fall tour in Europe. The Never Ending Tour kicks off again in mid-October in Oslo and Bergen. So to all my newfound friends in these recently visited cities, do yourself a favor and go see Dylan when he shows up in your neighborhood.

One of the things that continues to amaze me about a Dylan show is how many young people attend. Not long ago I took a fourteen-year-old grandson to see ZZ Top, and I’m convinced he was the youngest person there by about fifty years. It was all old folk. Not so at a Dylan show. Young people continue to find the poet laureate of rock ‘n’ roll and want to see the legend in the flesh. Good for them. 

So I saw Dylan once again. This time on the 250^th birthday of America. To be honest that’s the most American thing (in a good way) that I can think of. The only way it could have been more American is if the ghost of Johnny Cash had joined his old friend on stage for a duet of “Girl from the North Country.” Lucinda Williams and the John Doe Folk Trio were the openers. Both were excellent, and both made cryptic and not so cryptic references to the difficult time America is passing through on a jubilee anniversary. Many in the crowd were there for the solace they knew they would find in the songs of the one who wrote,

They say that patriotism is the last refuge
To which a scoundrel clings
Steal a little and they throw you in jail
Steal a lot and they make you king

Then at about the time that “the evening shadows and the stars appear” the headliner took the stage. There was no introduction. The giant screens were turned off. Our phones were put away. (As we had been warned to do in no uncertain terms.) Dylan took his place behind a piano at the back of a nearly dark stage. He wore a hoodie pulled down low. Dylan wasn’t there to be seen. If he could get away with it, I think Dylan would perform behind a screen—like an Orthodox priest performing mysteries behind an iconostasis. The octogenarian minstrel from Minnesota didn’t want to be seen but he did want to sing us his songs. A stripped down four-piece band is all Dylan needs these days. (A shout-out to Chicago guitarist Joel Paterson who was playing just his fifth show with Dylan—he was brilliant!) The whole performance was magical and better than I could have hoped for.

The first words we heard sung were, To be alone with you, just you and me . . . And it felt that way. On the third song the crowd sang along with “It Ain’t Me, Babe”—a song that Dylan was performing for the 1,153rd time since the first time he performed it in 1964. In “Tryin’ to Get to Heaven,” the fourth song, Dylan sang the line, There’s a rumbling in the skies—indeed there was. Starlight Theatre is located in Swope Park, and fireworks were booming overhead for the whole show. The “bombs bursting in air” provided a strange, but maybe these days an apropos, juxtaposition as Dylan softly sang,

Sitting on my terrace lost in the stars
Listenin’ to the sound of the sad guitars
Been thinking it over and I’ve thought it all through
I’ve made up my mind to give myself to you.

The highlights for me in the ninety-minute set were “When I Paint My Masterpiece,” “Crossing the Rubicon,” and “Under the Red Sky.” Lately Dylan has been closing with the achingly beautiful “Every Grain of Sand.” But on this night the eighty-five-year-old Noble Laureate closed with a gorgeous rendition of “I Shall Be Released.” In the late autumn of his life the lyrics take on a more poignant meaning than when they were written sixty years ago.

They say everything can be replaced
Yet every distance is not near
So I remember every face
Of every man who put me here
I see my light come shining
From the west down to the east
Any day now, any day now
I shall be released.

BZ

Sunday, July 12, 2026

Father Richard Rohr considers how the Beatitudes build on the wisdom of the Ten Commandments:

The Beatitudes are paradoxical “commandments.” They don’t tell Christians what to do; they tell them what they will be like if they are living in the kingdom: They will be poor in spirit, pure in heart, merciful and gentle peacemakers; they will thirst for what is right and be persecuted because of it, and they will mourn. Not a very happy prospect! And yet the Beatitudes call discipleship a happy life. Why? Because when we live in right relationship with God and one another, we are comforted, our hunger is satisfied, we are shown mercy, and we see God; and so, we are called God’s children, and we live under God’s reign!

The Beatitudes are as concerned about a new way of relating as the Ten Commandments were in the ancient days of Israel. The commandments spoke of showing honor to God and to one’s parents, of not killing, lying, stealing, cheating, or being jealous. The Beatitudes take nothing away from this revelation, but they do add something new. Instead of asking us to obey rules, they invite us to a lifestyle based on vulnerability, self-emptying, and cooperation.

Yet if we ask most Christians what it means to be moral, they think of the Ten Commandments, not the Beatitudes! They think in terms of legalistic morality. But to follow Jesus is to follow him out of the legality of systems and into living in a much larger truth. It’s to move to a more mature level of faith, where we discover God much more as lifegiver than lawgiver. [1]

The law makes us aware of problems. It gives a certain basic order to society and a framework within which people can live their lives. But what if people just obey the law and nothing more? Is there any law that requires you to make friends? Is there any law that compels you to fall in love? Is there any law that says you have to have agency, accomplish something, or be happy? Is there any law that states people have to care about you when you are suffering? Of course not! Almost everything that makes life enjoyable and satisfying comes from people going beyond the legal minimum. It’s going beyond the letter of the law that makes life worth living.

The same is true in our spiritual life. The framework of the commandments provides a basic and needed regularity in our spiritual life. We need such a “container” if we are ever to move beyond commandments and discover blessings. We can’t expect to be blessed with the happiness of living in the reign of God if we never obey God’s laws. Yet even God’s laws are not an end in themselves. Living within them simply frees us to hear the call of the Spirit to the more radical spiritual life of the Beatitudes. [2]

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Mercy Endures Forever

Monday, July 13, 2026

Blessed are the merciful: They shall have mercy shown them.
—Matthew 5:7

Father Richard teaches that mercy is the essence of who God is:

Mercy is like the mystery of forgiveness. By definition, mercy and forgiveness are unearned, undeserved, and not owed. If it isn’t all those three, it won’t be experienced as mercy. If we think mercy is mandatory, or that it must be earned, we lose the mystery of both mercy and forgiveness. I believe with all my heart that mercy and forgiveness are the whole gospel.

The experience of forgiveness or mercy is the experience of a magnanimous God who loves out of total gratuitousness. There’s no tit for tat with God, no buying or selling in the temple. We cannot buy or sell God’s love by worthiness or achievement. Salvation is God’s lovingkindness, a lovingkindness that is “forever.” Read Psalm 136 for an ecstatic description.

More than a description of something God does now and then, mercy is who God is. According to Jesus, “Mercy is what pleases me, not sacrifice” (Matthew 9:13; 12:7). The word mercy is hesed in Hebrew: “the steadfast, enduring love which is unbreakable.” Sometimes the word is translated as “lovingkindness” or “covenant love.” God has made a covenant with creation and will never break the divine side of the covenant. It’s only broken from our side. God’s love is steadfast. It is written in the divine image within us. We are the ones who instead clutch at our sins and punish ourselves instead of surrendering to the divine mercy. The refusal to be forgiven is a form of pride. It is saying, “I’m better than mercy. I’m only going to accept it when I’m worthy and can preserve my so-called self-esteem.” Only the humble person can live in and after mercy.

Clarence Jordan (1912–1969), an activist for racial and economic justice, considers the economic outcome of being immersed in God’s mercy:

The word translated “mercy” … isn’t a cold, condescending kind of mercy such as one in power might extend to his victim in return for gratitude or service. It is warm, compassionate, tender, and never seeks to barter. It is almost exactly the same word that Jesus uses later on in the Sermon in referring to “almsgiving.”… Jesus rescued that world from the mere act of proudly pitching a coin to a beggar and made it into a whole attitude of life.

By “the merciful” he means those who have an attitude of such compassion toward all [people] that they want to share gladly all that they have with one another and with the world…. To them, [people] are no longer beggars to whom one gives a part, but brothers [and sisters] with whom one shares all. This concept of charity, or mercy, led some of the early Christians to a state of voluntary poverty in which “All the believers were together and held all things in common” (Acts 2:44).

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Individual Reflection:
Where in your life right now are you clutching at law (earning, proving, achieving) instead of surrendering to mercy?

Group Discussion — choose one:

• What would change in how you treat others if you believed mercy was truly unearned and un-owed?
• Where do you resist Jesus’ math — that the kingdom belongs to the poor, the mourning, the persecuted?
• Is there a mercy you’ve been refusing to accept because you don’t feel worthy of it?

Friday, July 10, 2026

Reflecting on the many ways the Beatitudes have been understood, author Debie Thomas clarifies what she believes the Beatitudes are not:

People who know little else about Jesus know the Beatitudes. Some folks read them as lines of poetry. Some consider them a rule of life. Others find them naïve and impractical. Having grown up in the church, I’m familiar with the ways the Beatitudes are often misread and misused. I want to start there, by naming what they are not:

The Beatitudes are not sentiments. It’s easy in our consumerist culture to allow a word like “blessing” to become greeting card fodder, bland and meaningless. (“I’m so #Blessed.”) But the Beatitudes are not meant to settle and soothe us; they’re meant to startle us awake. Yes, they are pastoral, and yes, they give us hope. But Christian hope is not a sedative. Christian hope gets us up and out the door.

The Beatitudes are not to-do items. They are not suggestions, instructions, commandments, or quid pro quos. There is nothing transactional about them, nothing that smacks of a “should,” a “must,” or an “ought.” It is emphatically not the case that if I try very hard to be poorer, sadder, meeker, hungrier, thirstier, purer, more peaceable, and more persecuted than I am right now, God will like, love, reward, and appreciate me more than God already does.

The Beatitudes are not shame tactics. The point is not to read Jesus’s litany of blessings for the poor and the disenfranchised and walk away feeling like an overprivileged wretch. The takeaway Jesus intends for his listeners is neither shame nor self-condemnation. The last thing Jesus’s Beatitudes should do is defeat us.

The Beatitudes are not permission slips for passivity. To use Jesus’s teachings about sorrow, meekness, poverty, and persecution to keep oppressed people oppressed is to distort his words and intentions. There is nothing in the Beatitudes that excuses injustice, nothing that relativizes abuse, nothing that frees us to tell suffering people that their suffering is God-ordained and redemptive.

Through Jesus’s example, we learn that the Beatitudes are a vocation for our lives. Thomas points out:

Jesus acts. He doesn’t simply speak blessing; he lives it. Through his words, his hands, his feet, his life, he brings about the very blessings he promises. Insisting that pain in and of itself is neither holy nor redemptive in the Christian story, Jesus works to bring healing, abundance, liberation, and joy to everyone who crosses his path.

This is the vocation we are called to. The work of sharing the blessings we enjoy is not the work of a distant someday. It is the work we’re called to now. The Beatitudes remind us that blessing and justice are inextricably linked. If it’s blessing we want, then it’s justice we must pursue.

Reference:
Debie Thomas, Into the Mess and Other Jesus Stories: Reflections on the Life of Christ (Cascade Books, 2022), 120–121, 123–124.

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John Chaffee – Five On Friday, 7-10-2026

1.

“You can save lives by giving someone a hug.”

– Father Greg Boyle, Founder of Homeboy Industries

Every morning at Homeboy Industries, the largest gang rehabilitation program in the world, people gather to share updates, celebrate victories, and share a short reflection.

A recent reflection from their opening meeting included, “You can save lives by giving someone a hug.”

Without sounding too dark or morbid, there are people in this world for whom there was a lack of love shown.  This creates a very wounded individual, and that contributes to their overall unhealth.  And, from there, we all know that incredibly unhealthy people can do tragic acts in society.

It may very well be that showing kindness, giving loving attention, and a sincere hug may not just save the life of the person you are with, but also the lives of others whom they might harm if they did not receive love from you.  Think of mass shooters, people who commit violence with a knife or gun, or anything else that your imagination might bring to mind.

I understand this might seem rather intense to start with, but I find this quite hopeful.

We can save lives by giving people a simple hug.

2.

“We don’t actually fear death; we fear that no one will notice our absence, that we will disappear without a trace.”

– TS Eliot, 20th Century British Poet

One of my deep wounds is the belief that I will not be missed. 

I do not know where the thought originally came from, but there have been events in my life that have seemingly “confirmed” it to me.

Perhaps I am being melodramatic.  Perhaps my Enneagram 4 wing is particularly strong on some days.

One of the ways in which I combat this diabolical thought is by remembering the people who have actually told me they miss me,g and also remind myself that I am perpetually in the memory of God.  Sincere love is not to be taken for granted, and I am glad that my faith reminds me that I am not absent from God and that God is not absent from me.

3.

“Dispassion (apatheia) does not mean that the soul no longer feels the passions, but that it remains undisturbed when they attack.”

– Maximus the Confessor, 7th Century Syrian Monk

This past week, I finished Apatheia in the Christian Tradition: An Ancient Spirituality and Its Contemporary Relevance by Joseph Nguyen SJ.

It was a fascinating read.  In some ways, it is more of a biography of a concept, tracing its evolution as it was passed from one generation to the next.  Beginning with the Stoics, then Evagrius Ponticus, then John Cassian, then Maximus the Confessor, and finally Ignatius of Loyola, it traced how Christian spirituality used “apathy” as a spiritual discipline.

Apatheia is the practice of being appropriately detached from the strong emotions and passions that cause us and others pain and suffering.  Contrary to modern thought, the early church’s teaching on Apatheia is not about being completely unemotional but about being detached from immature emotions and replacing them with mature love, wisdom, and joy.

If you are the kind of person whose emotions sometimes get the better of you, I highly encourage you to check out Nguyen’s book.

4.

“It’s not about right belief; it’s about right practice.”

– Cynthia Bourgeault, Episcopal Priest

I mean, let’s be honest…

Here is a theological question for you…

According to how we think about God, how wrong is “too wrong”?

This singular question came to me about 15 years ago, and it changed the way I thought about many things.

Jesus himself did not seem to place the same emphasis on doctrine, orthodoxy, or belief as we do today.

Jesus seemed more interested in orthopraxy.  That is probably why he was able and willing to meet with people whom the religious elite of his day dared not associate with.

In The Parable of the Good Samaritan, the hero of the story is not the one with the “right orthodoxy” but the one with “right practice.”

Rather than trying to prove to ourselves, one another, or God of our own “orthodoxy,” perhaps we need to stop and look at our own lives and ask ourselves if we have the “right practice” of the Christian faith.

5.

“Love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared to love in dreams.”

– Fyodor Dostoyevsky in The Brothers Karamazov

According to my Kindle, I am 52% through my re-read of The Brothers Karamazov.

It took me almost a year to get through it the first time.

And, since then, I have failed at other re-reads, but this current one seems to be going well! 

It is a fascinating read, even if it is difficult.

The quote above summarizes several of the book’s plotlines.  Much of the story is about the love between brothers, sons and fathers, lovers and beloveds, God and humanity.  For Dostoyevsky, love is not a simple, easy, or sentimental thing alone.  Rather, it is the chief virtue that somehow holds the world together, forgives the world for being broken, and gives perpetual hope toward the rapscallions and ragamuffins.

Perhaps once I finish my re-read, I will share more about the book and what stood out to me this time around.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=1r6jInaS-zY%3Fsi%3DbYm_n9NozFRDn6WZ

Thursday, July 9, 2026

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice: They shall have their fill.
—Matthew 5:6

Father Richard connects righteousness with justice:

This beatitude is both spiritual and social. Most Bibles to this day soften this beatitude: “hunger and thirst for what is right” or “for righteousness” are the more common and, I would argue, faulty translations. But the word in Greek clearly means “justice.” Notice that the concept of justice is used halfway through the Beatitudes and again at the very end. It’s a couplet reiterating the point: To live a just life in this world is to have identified with the longings and hungers of the poor, the meek, and those who weep. This identification and solidarity are already a profound form of social justice. [1]

The peace activist John Dear, who has spent his life working for nonviolence, writes about this beatitude:

Righteousness is not just the private practice of doing good; it sums up the global responsibility of the human community to make sure every human being has what they need, that everyone pursues a fair sense of justice for every other human being, and that everyone lives in right relationship with one another, creation, and God….

Jesus instructs us to be passionate for social, economic, and racial justice. That’s the real meaning of the Hebrew word for justice and the Jewish insistence on it. Resist systemic, structured, institutionalized injustice with every bone in your body, with all your might, with your very soul, he teaches. Seek justice as if it were your food and drink, your bread and water, as if it were a matter of life and death, which it is…. Within our relationship to the God of justice and peace, those who give their lives to that struggle, Jesus promises, will be satisfied….

How do we hunger and thirst for justice? By making global justice a priority in our lives. This beatitude requires us to join a grassroots movement that fights one or two issues of injustice and to get deeply involved in the struggle. Since all issues of injustice are connected, fighting one injustice puts us squarely in the struggle against every injustice. As Martin Luther King Jr. said over and over again, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” Befriend the victims of systemic injustice, side with them, listen to their stories, let their pain break your heart, join the movements to end injustice, tithe your money to the cause, and commit yourself to the struggle….

While [it] may take a long time, our nonviolent persistence and truth-telling will eventually win out and bear the good fruit of justice. Truth is on our side; God is on the side of justice. “The arc of the moral universe is long,” Martin Luther King Jr. said famously, “but it bends toward justice.” [2]

References:
[1] Adapted from Richard Rohr, Jesus’ Alternative Plan: The Sermon on the Mount (Franciscan Media, 2022), 142–143.

[2] John Dear, The Beatitudes of Peace: Meditations on the Beatitudes, Peacemaking and the Spiritual Life (Twenty-Third Publications, 2016), 61–62, 66, 69.

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AI Resonse to the Prompt: “Short Devo On Justice of God”

Biblical justice goes far beyond legal fairness; it is the active pursuit of making things right, defending the vulnerable, and reflecting God’s unconditional love in our daily relationships. It requires a heart that is equally committed to grace and righteousness. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5]

Scripture

“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” — Micah 6:8

Reflection

When we think of “justice,” it’s easy to think of a courtroom, punishment, or getting even. Yet, the biblical concept of justice (often paired with righteousness) is profoundly relational. It is about how we treat our neighbors, especially those on the margins. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5]

True biblical justice is inextricably linked with mercy. We are not asked to simply point out where others fall short, but to step into the gap, carrying each other’s burdens, and demonstrating the grace we have so freely received. When we pursue justice God’s way, it ceases to be a harsh demand; it becomes a way of life defined by love, humility, and restoration. [1, 2, 3]

A Prayer for Today

Lord, help me to see the people around me through Your eyes. Give me the courage to stand up for what is right, the grace to show mercy, and the humility to walk beside You in everything I do. Let my actions reflect Your heart today. Amen. [1, 2]

Land for the Humble

Wednesday, July 8, 2026

Blessed are the gentle: They shall have the earth as their inheritance.
—Matthew 5:5

Father Richard explains why the third beatitude would have been simultaneously shocking and comforting to Jesus’s listeners:

The third beatitude is almost taken verbatim from Psalm 37:11: “The humble shall have the land for their own.” Some translate “gentle” as “the nonviolent,” but perhaps the most familiar translation is “the meek.” There’s an irony here. If there was one hated group in the Palestine of Jesus’s day, it was landlords—those who possessed the land. Nobody possessed land except by violence and oppression, by holding onto it and making all the powerless peasants pay a portion of their harvest. The landlords certainly weren’t meek or gentle, so Jesus is turning that around and saying, “No, it’s you, humble ones, who are finally going to possess the land.” [1]

Author Micha Boyett considers how Jesus’s listeners would have understood the paradox of the meek “inheriting the land”:   

[Jesus] says that those who have no power and those who choose to give up their power are the ones who inherit the earth, which could also be translated as “the land.” The people sitting before him … are certainly not landowners. They are most likely what we could consider today to be sharecroppers, working the land for a wealthy owner, who didn’t need to get his hands dirty….

“Makarioi [Greek for “happy”] are the powerless ones,” Jesus says. “They shall have the earth as an inheritance.” They will recognize that the earth has always been theirs. He is getting at something essential to the spiritual life: our ownership is temporal. According to the psalmist, human beings are like the leaves of grass, here for a moment and then, poof, gone. We’re all stewards here, and the land remains long after we’ve become the dust we came from. Only the divine one possesses it. In God’s dream for the world, possession is an illusion. When we humble ourselves, when we release our hands from all that we have tried to control and cling to, we discover that those who possess the land are the ones living under the illusion. But the ones who release their power and the ones who never had power to begin with inherit the really real….

This feels like the secret Jesus is letting his listeners in on: the power we’re born into and the power we gain throughout our lives is a mirage. In the really real, power can only be shared…. Meekness—the upside-down possibility that when we let go of the power we hoard, power grows wide enough to share. When the few in power release their hold on the land, everyone has space to spread out and flourish. Meekness is the way toward an earth where we live in peace, where resources are shared, where everyone has enough. [2]

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Sarah Young

Jesus Calling: July 8th

When you seek My Face, put aside thoughts of everything else. I am above all, as well as in all; your communion with Me transcends both time and circumstances. Be prepared to be blessed bountifully by My Presence, for I am the God of unlimited abundance. Open wide your heart and mind to receive more and more of Me. When your Joy in Me meets My Joy in you, there are fireworks of heavenly ecstasy. This is eternal life here and now; a tiny foretaste of what awaits you in the life to come. Now you see only a poor reflection as in a mirror, but then you will see face to Face.

RELATED SCRIPTURE:

John 15:11 (NLT)
11 I have told you these things so that you will be filled with my joy. Yes, your joy will overflow!

Additional insight regarding John 5:11: When things are going well, we feel elated. When hardships come, we sink into depression. But true joy transcends the rolling waves of circumstances. Joy comes from a consistent relationship with Jesus Christ. When our lives are intertwined with his, he will help us walk through adversity without sinking into debilitating lows and manage prosperity without moving into deceptive highs. The joy of living with Jesus Christ daily will keep us levelheaded, no matter how high or low our circumstances.

1st Corinthians 13:12 (NLT)
12 Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.

Additional insight regarding 1st Corinthians 13:12: When Paul wrote of “full understanding,” he was referring to when we must see Christ face to face. God gives believers spiritual gifts for their lives on earth to build up, serve, and strengthen fellow Christians. The spiritual gifts are for the church. In eternity, we will be made perfect and complete and will be in the very presence of God. We will no longer need spiritual gifts, so they will come to an end. Then, we will have a full understanding and appreciation for one another as unique expressions of God’s infinite creativity. We will use our differences as a reason to praise God! Based on that perspective, let us treat each other with the same love and unity we will one day share.

Tuesday, July 7, 2026

READ ON CAC.ORG

Blessed are those who mourn: They shall be comforted.
—Matthew 5:4

Father Richard reflects on the sacred nature of our ability to grieve—our own pain and that of the world:

In this beatitude, Jesus is describing the state of those who weep, those who have something to mourn about. They feel the pain of the world. Jesus is saying that those who can grieve, those who can cry, are those who will understand by coming closer to the heart of God.

Jesus praises the weeping class, those who can enter into solidarity with the pain of the world and not try to extract themselves from it. Weeping over our sin and the sin of the world is an entirely different mode than self-hatred or hatred of others. The weeping mode, if I can call it that, allows us to bear the pain of the world without looking for perpetrators or victims. Instead, we recognize the tragic reality in which both sides are trapped. Tears from God are always for everybody, for our universal exile from home. [1]

New Testament scholar Amy-Jill Levine describes how Jesus’s listeners would have heard echoes of the Hebrew prophet Isaiah’s message of consolation:

The beatitude has a particular resonance for Jesus’s followers that also draws from the Jewish tradition…. The passage Jesus partially cites as part of his address to the Nazareth synagogue in Luke 4, reads,

The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me …; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners … ; to comfort all who mourn; to provide for those who mourn in Zion—to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit…. [Isaiah 61:1–3]

[Isaiah] comforts the mourners in Zion by telling them that theirs is not the last generation, that what they may not see to fruition, their children and their children’s children will. To mourn in Israel means that we are not alone; we have not only our friends and relatives but also the previous generations and the generations to come. And we take comfort in that. [2]

Father Richard recognizes mourning as a quality that connects the Ten Commandments and the Beatitudes:

Mourning might be thought of as the prophetic “way of tears,” a letting down of our defenses, in stark contrast to our more common ways of heroic willpower, commandment, obedience, force, anger, and legitimated violence. It takes an initial tender vulnerability (“wounding”) to defeat our ego and to open us to full consciousness—which must include the scary unconscious! It is a movement, frankly, from the Ten Commandments to the eight Beatitudes. A movement that the prophets illustrated for us twenty-five hundred years ago, and that we need—out of desire and desperation—to recover today.

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Sacred Storytelling

All the world’s a stage…and the church is too.

BRIAN ZAHND JUN 30

All the world’s a stage.
–William Shakespeare

We humans are story-crafting, storytelling, story-loving creatures. What we do best with the gift of human language is to tell a story. And this storytelling appears to be something of a miracle. I say a miracle, because the origin of the human capacity for complex language is a mystery that continues to baffle philologists, philosophers, and anthropologists, leading some thinkers in the field to claim that the reality of complex human language cannot be explained as a gradual, emergent phenomenon. Increasingly it appears that life, mind, and language did not and cannot arise from a purely materialist cause; rather it is a gift from elsewhere. In All Things Are Full of Gods David Bentley Hart writes, 

No anthropologist, no matter how diligent, has ever discovered some intermediary form of communication . . . no philologist, no matter how clever, has ever been able to fabricate a plausible pre-linguistic system of signification, or even a primitive form of language lacking the essential features of fully developed tongues.

In other words, language doesn’t seem to evolve from the ground up, it seems to be bestowed from above. In whatever way it came into being, the capacity for complex human language is unquestionably central to what it means to be human. We humans are the storytellers. While other animals are capable of communicating basic information about danger, food, courtship, and the like, the human animal is composing the Iliad, Hamlet, and Moby Dick.

We spend an enormous amount of our life telling, reading, hearing, and watching stories—from grand fantasy epics like The Lord of the Rings to the mildly interesting anecdote told to co-workers at the office. All we have to do is hear or read the words “Once upon a time” and our interest is piqued with the hope that we can once again be enchanted by some captivating tale. We’re always game for a good story. That’s why at this very moment all over the world hundreds of millions of stories are being disseminated and consumed—a bit of embellished family folklore repeated by grandma for the umpteenth time, a young girl in her bedroom reading A Wrinkle in Time, a commuter on a subway listening to a Harry Potter audiobook, the twelve movies showing at the local cineplex, the masses scrolling through Netflix trying to decide what story will entertain them tonight. This is what we do.

There is a reason why Homer, Shakespeare, J.R.R. Tolkien, and J.K. Rowling are some of the most famous people in history: they rank among our greatest storytellers. Why are Tom Hanks, Morgan Freeman, and Meryl Streep so well-known, so beloved, and so well-compensated? Because they are so gifted and skilled at playing roles in some of our favorite stories. We have an innate love of stories and a remarkable ability to remember stories. If we hear the names Romeo and Juliet or Bonnie and Clyde, an unbidden narrative immediately arises in our imagination. To remember something all we need to do is hear it in the form of a story. From forty-thousand-year-old paleolithic cave art to the Theatre of Dionysus in ancient Athens to the flat screen television in your living room, storytelling has always occupied a central place in the human experience.

All of this indicates that our love for story comes from a deeper place than a fleeting desire for a bit of entertaining diversion. Our love of story is rooted in our search for meaning. Having been summoned out of the dread void of nonbeing we find ourselves hurled into the astounding phenomenon of existence. We have come to be. We are here. We exist. But what does is it all mean? Is there a purpose to it all? To avoid the despair that Søren Kierkegaard called the sickness unto death, we need to believe that our life is more than an absurd and meaningless cosmic accident tumbling out of a random assortment of atoms. We have our physical senses by which we experience the world around us; we have our self-consciousness through which we can contemplate on a deep level our own existence; but what do we make of this? Coherence requires some sort of narrative structure. To prevent life from being just one damn thing after another we need a story. Story is the essence of meaning. 

We want our life to have a narrative, and we want our story to be part of something beyond our own atomized existence. We want to belong, to have our part in some bigger story. Absent a metanarrative to interpret our reason for existing and our place within history, the yawning abyss of nihilism awaits. In Fyodor Dostoevsky’s dark novel Demons the nihilistic Alexi Kirillov is constantly asserting that nothing matters, and nothing makes any difference. So we are not surprised when Kirillov kills himself. 

Most of us would rather cling to any story, even a tragedy, than to fall into the black hole of meaninglessness where suicide takes on its own logic. In The Lord of the Rings the reason the ever-optimistic Samwise Gamgee doesn’t succumb to despair even in the dark depths of Mordor is because he can muse, “I wonder what sort of tale we’ve fallen into?” Sam can bear up under most any burden as long as he knows he’s part of a story worth telling. Storytellers aren’t mere entertainers, they are evangelists.

This is why post-Enlightenment Christians in the postmodern West need to be reminded of the true nature of the gospel: It’s a story! The gospel is not a set of spiritual laws or abstract theological principles or debated atonement theories. No. The gospel is the story of Jesus Christ. In its most abbreviated form it’s the story of Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection. A fuller telling of the story takes us from a manger in Bethlehem to an empty tomb in Jerusalem. The biblical Gospels are the gospel. The director’s cut edition is the big story the whole Bible tells—the story that takes us from Genesis to Revelation, from paradise lost to paradise regained, from the alpha of creation to the omega of new creation. To tell the story of Jesus is to preach the gospel.

What we do in church on Sunday morning is not just singing songs, praying prayers, and preaching sermons; rather we are telling a sacred story that others are invited to participate in. There is a sense in which church is a theater for our sacred story—but a theater where everyone is invited to join the performance. Evangelism at its best is akin to the art of storytelling. The possibility of faith arises as we tell the beautiful story of Jesus Christ. We don’t need to cajole or threaten, we just need to tell the story. 

The gospel story itself carries with it the capacity to evoke faith. “So faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes through the word of Christ.” (Rom 10:17) A good sermon is not a didactic lecture but a well-told story where Jesus is the hero. And because the gospel is the best and greatest of all stories, the church should seek to excel at storytelling—storytelling in sacrament, sermon, liturgy, and even architecture.

Wake Up Dead Man is the third film in the Knives Out detective mystery series. It’s a brilliant dark comedy that surprisingly carries a profound and beautiful Christian message. At a crucial point in the film, the private detective Benoit Blanc meets the young priest Father Judd Duplenticy for the first time. The meeting takes place in the sanctuary of a neo-Gothic Catholic church in upstate New York. As Benoit Blanc admires the architecture, Father Judd asks what he senses in the sanctuary. The agnostic detective demurs in his southern drawl, “It’s like someone has shown a story at me that I do not believe.” Rather than be defensive about Blanc’s critical observation, Father Judd responds like this:

You’re right. It’s storytelling. And this church is not medieval. We’re in New York. Neo-Gothic nineteenth century. Has more in common with Disneyland than Notre Dame, the rites and rituals and costumes, all of it. It’s storytelling. You’re right. I guess the question is, do these stories convince us of a lie? Or do they resonate with something deep inside of us that’s profoundly true? That we can’t express any other way . . . except storytelling.

Wake Up Dead Man writer and director Rian Johnson places in Father Judd’s mouth the perfect answer to a world skeptical of the Christian gospel. Of course, it’s storytelling. But what does it convince us of? A lie or profound truth? Everyone has to decide that question for themselves. The gospel story can bring us to the precipice of decision, but the leap of faith remains within the realm of our own freedom. 

C.S. Lewis as a scholar of literature recognized the mythic qualities in the Christian gospel, but he eventually crossed the chasm of his own skepticism by understanding the gospel as true myth. Alan Jacobs says of Lewis, “He became a Christian not through accepting a particular set of arguments but through learning to read a story the right way. And maybe others could move closer to Christian belief by the same path.”

To preach the gospel is to tell the story of Jesus—not to explain it, but simply to tell it. The magic of The Lord of the Rings or any other great epic is not found in literary analysis, but in the story itself! The same is true of the gospel. Rather than explaining the gospel or making it “practical” or telling hearers how to “apply” it to their life, the primary task of evangelism is to simply tell the evangel as the compelling story that it really is. We don’t need to fully understand the gospel to be drawn into its beautiful mystery. The gospel is not an axiom, it’s an epic—the adventure of God joining humanity in Christ. 

After a lifetime of hearing, reading, and studying the gospel I can’t explain all of it, but I love the story and I believe it. And most important of all, the gospel story has been and is being woven deeply into my own story, which is another way of saying I am being saved.

BZ

Sunday, July 5, 2026

Over the next two weeks, the Daily Meditations will reflect on the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:1–16), Jesus’s core teachings from the Sermon on the Mount. CAC teacher Brian McLaren sets the scene:

Imagine yourself in Galilee, on a windswept hillside near a little fishing town called Capernaum. Flocks of birds circle and land…. The Sea of Galilee glistens blue below us, reflecting the clear midday sky above.

A small group of disciples circles around a young man who appears to be about thirty. He is sitting, as rabbis in this time and culture normally do. Huge crowds extend beyond the inner circle of disciples, in a sense eavesdropping on what he is teaching them. This is the day they’ve been waiting for. This is the day Jesus is going to pass on to them the heart of his message.

Jesus begins in a fascinating way. He uses the term blessed to address the question of identity, the question of who we want to be. In Jesus’s day, to say, “Blessed are these people” is to say “Pay attention: these are the people you should aspire to be like….” It’s the opposite of saying “Woe to those people” or “Cursed are those people,” which means, “Take note: you definitely don’t want to be like those people….” His words no doubt surprise everyone, because we normally play by these rules of the game:

Do everything you can to be rich and powerful.
Toughen up and harden yourself against all feelings of loss.
Measure your success by how much of the time you are thinking only of yourself and your own happiness.
Be independent and aggressive, hungry and thirsty for higher status in the social pecking order.
Strike back quickly when others strike you, and guard your image so you’ll always be popular.

But Jesus defines success and well-being in a profoundly different way…. He advocates an identity characterized by solidarity, sensitivity, and nonviolence. He celebrates those who long for justice, embody compassion, and manifest integrity and nonduplicity. He creates a new kind of hero: not warriors, corporate executives, or politicians, but brave and determined activists for preemptive peace, willing to suffer with him in the prophetic tradition of justice….

It’s hot in the Galilean sunshine. Still the crowds are hanging on Jesus’s every word. They can tell something profound and life-changing is happening within them and among them. Jesus is not simply trying to restore their religion to some ideal state in the past. Nor is he agitating unrest…. He spurs his hearers into reflection about who they are, who they want to be, what kind of people they will become, what they want to make of their lives.

As we consider Jesus’s message today, we join those people on that hillside, grappling with the question of who we are now and who we want to become in the future…. As we listen to Jesus, each of us knows, deep inside: If I accept this new identity, everything will change for me. Everything will change.

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How Do We Become Poor in Spirit?

Monday, July 6, 2026

How blessed are the poor in spirit: the kingdom of God is theirs.
—Matthew 5:3

Father Richard Rohr explores the first beatitude as a call to interior freedom, a key to participating in the kingdom of God:

What an opening line! It’s crucial, a key to everything Jesus is teaching, or it wouldn’t be the opener. It’s hard to imagine that a saying so radical should become so familiar, so normalized. Matthew may have chosen to soften it from the original phrase that we see in Luke and the noncanonical Gospel of Thomas. Luke’s Gospel is for the poor, so he leaves the hard words of Jesus as many scholars believe they were originally spoken: “Blessed are you who are poor” (Luke 6:20).

Matthew, however, was addressing a more stable, even middle-class Jewish community, so he says, “Happy are the poor in spirit.” The truth is still there—poor in spirit means to live without a need for our own righteousness. It’s inner emptiness without a need to bolster our own reputation. For middle class folks, if we’re poor in spirit, we may eventually become poor in fact. In other words, we won’t waste the rest of our lives trying to get rich, because we’ll know better.

Christian Scripture scholars point out that the Greek word usually used for the peasant class is tapeinoi, but that is not the word Matthew and Luke use here. They use the word ptochoi, which literally means “the very empty ones, those who are crouching.” They are the beggars, the nobodies of this world who have nothing left. Jesus is saying, “Happy are you, you’re the freest of them all.”

The higher up we are in the system, the more trapped we are. The more we are outside the system, the freer we are. When we are high up in anything, we are expected to represent it, hold it together, and affirm it. The price of the truth can be very great, so we say what is needed to survive and to be liked inside the group, and to hold the group in unity.

“How blessed are the poor in spirit” (Matthew 5:3), the ones who don’t have to play any of these games. Jesus is recommending a social reordering here, quite different from common practice. Notice how he also uses present tense: “The kingdom of God is theirs” (Matthew 5:3). He doesn’t say “will be theirs.” That tells us that the kingdom of God isn’t later. It’s present tense: We are the free ones now, if we remain without anything to protect or anything we need to prove or defend.

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Individual Reflection

What are you still protecting?

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Group Discussion — choose one:

1. Where in your life are you “high up in the system” — expected to represent, defend, or hold something together?
2. Rohr says the kingdom is present tense, not future — that we’re free now if we have nothing left to prove. Do you believe that, or does it feel like something you’re still earning?
3. What would it cost you to actually become poor in fact, not just in spirit?

Who Do You Say

We Are?

Friday, July 3, 2026

For the theologian Diana L. Hayes, the question “Who am I?” is a central question for people of faith:

Who am I? I am a child of God, whether black, brown, yellow, red, or white, because race does not exist in God. Nor do other divisions exist in God, not those of Muslim, Jew, Christian, Hindu, or other, because God is God for all of humanity, however God is named…. We are all created in God’s own image and likeness, a creation that God declared to be good without caveats. Why am I here on this earth at this time and place? To help bring about God’s kin-dom by recognizing and, more importantly, by affirming my co-createdness with all of humanity and thus the presence of God in all with whom I come into contact. I am called, as all are called, to contribute to the rebuilding of … a community in which all are welcome.

Hayes reflects on what we can learn about love from those who have not experienced belovedness in our families, cultures, and churches:

Those who are the least among us already know the answer to this most critical spiritual question for our time: “Who do you, God, say that I, humanity, am?” This is not because their lives are so simple and childlike … but because they, like Job, have been tested and survived. Their everyday lives are such a constant struggle simply to survive … that they are drawn ever closer to God, who is the answer to all of our longings….

Is it not time for us to learn from the example of those who have suffered the most and yet have a rich, nurturing life of the spirit that enables them to persevere in their daily struggle?….

We are all our brothers’ and sisters’ keeper. God has placed upon all of us the responsibility of following in God’s own footsteps, of loving all people as God loves us, of seeking their greater good rather than our own individual success. We can only do this by letting go of the “isms” that continue to plague humanity—negativisms based on race, ethnicity, gender, class, sexual orientation, and religious creed. We must begin to remove the blinders we have placed on ourselves that restrict our vision, blinding us to the light of God shining through the face of all God’s people. We must come together as one, seeking to build a community of the faithful that rejects a narrow, dualistic perception of life.

“Who do you, God, say that we are?” We are your children, lost and wandering in a confusing and confused world, but never abandoned, never forsaken, never alone. We are your chosen ones, given knowledge of life and death, and the ability through your grace to use that knowledge to choose life in all of its diversity and to transform this world into your reign. This is our challenge for the coming century and perhaps for the new millennium. May we continue to be blessed with the wisdom and love of God in order to reclaim our full life in the Spirit and be transformed.

Reference:
Diana L. Hayes, No Crystal Stair: Womanist Spirituality (Orbis Books, 2016), 77, 78–79.

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You Are My Beloved – An “original” devotional from Claude AI that pairs with the Hayes reading

Friday, July 3, 2026

Before Jesus does anything—before a single sermon, a single miracle, a single act of healing—he is baptized. And as he comes up out of the water, a voice speaks from heaven: “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased” (Mark 1:11).

Notice what has not happened yet. Jesus has not proven himself. He has not fed a crowd or raised the dead or said a wise word. The word beloved arrives before the résumé. Belovedness is not a reward for accomplishment; it is the ground he stands on before he does anything at all.

This is the same truth Diana Hayes points to when she writes that we are “created in God’s own image and likeness, a creation that God declared to be good without caveats.” No caveats. Not good, if. Not beloved, once. Just good. Just beloved.

Most of us live as though the opposite were true—as though love were a wage we earn through usefulness, attractiveness, achievement, or belonging to the right group. We spend our lives trying to prove what was already true of us in the water.

The voice at the Jordan did not speak only to Jesus. It speaks over every person who has ever wondered whether they are enough, whether they belong, whether the divisions others have placed on them are the final word. They are not. Before you had done anything to deserve it or ruin it, the word was already spoken over you: beloved.

The question is not whether God says this over us. The question is whether we will believe it long enough to say it over one another.

Five On Friday – John Chaffee

1. “It seems easier to change our facts than to change our schema.” – Dr. Jerome Wagner, Psychologist and Enneagram Author   This is probably why, several years ago, the term “alternative facts” entered the public lexicon.   When we are presented with new information that challenges our long-held schemas or worldviews, we are more likely to discredit it and seek “alternative” information that reconfirms our original schemas or worldviews.   This is exactly why it is so difficult for us to change our minds.   The fascinating thing, though, is that the New Testament word for “repent” is metanoia, which actually means to “change your mind.”   Deep within the Christian tradition is a commitment, not to alternative facts that bolster our preconceptions and opinions, but to a perpetual openness to new information and to trying to see the world with more and more clarity.   And guess what? This is just trivia.   Metanoia is Jesus’ literal first word of public ministry in Matthew 4:17. 2. “What if we ceased to pledge our allegiance to the bottom line and stood, instead, with those who line the bottom?” – Father Greg Boyle, SJ, Founder of Homeboy Industries   Our commitment to money, to gaining more and more, to the acquisition of material possessions comes at the cost of devaluing other Image-Bearers.   In any capitalist society, there are “winners,” and there are “losers.”  For someone to be at “the top,” there must inherently be a “bottom” to step on.   Throughout the Gospels, Jesus has a “preferential option for the poor.”  It is not the rich that he spends the most time with; it is those whom we might consider not worthy of receiving help.   In church tradition, we know the names of the two criminals crucified alongside Jesus, Dismas and Gestas.  The innocent and righteous God-man, Jesus of Nazareth, in whom, through whom, and by whom all things were created and sustained, became incarnate and consented to being crucified between two criminals.  This shows us two things: the humility of God and the willingness to identify with those whom society has discarded and, therefore, are treated inhumanely.   It boggles the mind if we think about it.   Below is a painting I found called “The Last Sigh of Christ” by Julien Michel Gue.   3. “Those who cannot see Christ in the poor are atheists indeed.” – Dorothy Day, Founder of the Catholic Worker   I like this one.   Dorothy Day had a way with words.   This one is a punch right to the gut.   It reminds me of what Richard Rohr says: the mature Christian sees Christ in everyone and everything. 4. “With words preach virtue and with your work, proclaim it.” – Neilos the Ascetic, 5th Century Syrian Theologian   About two years ago, I found myself reading the Philokalia.  In Greek, “Philokalia” means “love of the good/beautiful.”   You have probably heard of “philosophy” or the “love of wisdom.”   The Philokalia, however, is the name that Eastern Orthodoxy gives to its collection of ancient sayings and writings of its best saints, mystics, holy fools, theologians, etc.  It compiles the best writings from faithful Christians from the 4th to the 15th centuries.   Neilos the Ascetic is included in that collection.   I’ll be honest, it isn’t an easy read.  It does not exactly flow, and there is not a narative structure to the Philokalia.  It reads more like an anthology or an appendix that can be read alongside the Bible.  In many ways, it can feel like reading the book of Proverbs straight through.   All that said, it is interesting to see how much they wrote about the need to consciously choose virtue over vice, the true necessity of each of us to discipline ourselves towards the Good, the True, the Beautiful, and the Loving.   The older I get, the more I see how lives are ruined, and there are reverberations that expand out from us when we choose vices over virtues.  Sin not only affects us individually but also everyone and everything around us.   I did not expect this commentary to become something of a slight exposition on hamartiology, but it is what it is! 5. “Prayer is a long, loving look at the Real.” – Walter Burghart, SJ, Jesuit Theologian   This one is hard for me.   Often, Reality is too harsh, raw, and repulsive for me to give it a “long, loving look.”   There are things that happen in the world that are beyond my comprehension, and that I consider completely outside the bounds of what should be acceptable or allowed.   And yet, prayer is giving a “long, loving look” at all of those things I wish I could shut my eyes to, etch out of my field of view, and not have to consider again.

Loved to Love Others

Thursday, July 2, 2026

Father Richard writes about the transformative power of accepting our own belovedness:

We can only transform people to the degree that we have been transformed. We can only lead others as far as we have gone. We have no ability to affirm or to communicate to another person that they are good or special until we know it strongly ourselves. Once we get our own “narcissistic fix,” as I call it, then we can stop worrying about being on center stage, and we have plenty of time and energy to promote other people’s empowerment and specialness. And if you want more fun you could also try a sportylaylaa virtual girlfriend online.

If we do not understand election as inclusive election (chosenness is for the sake of communicating the same to others), religion almost always becomes an exclusionary system against the “non-elect,” “unworthy,” or “impure.” It becomes “my belonging system” instead of any good news for the world, which is exactly what Jesus did not do. In any kind of exclusive election, the “chosen one” does not see their experience as a gift for others, but merely a gift for themselves. This creates a very smug and self-satisfied religion.

I would encourage you to take your time and read through both Deuteronomy 7:7–9 and Romans 11. There, you’ll see how both Moses and Paul beautifully teach about chosenness and election. It’s not to make people think they are better than others or to create a society of the superior ones. If anything, in fact, it is the gathering of the weak and the wounded, to show how God transforms and heals.

Jesus knew who his best audiovisual aids were for his transformative message: “I did not come for the healthy, but for the sick” (see Luke 5:31–32). The lives of saints and mystics never point to themselves, but always and forever beyond themselves to the One who chooses them, uses them, and loves them. They become models for us. [1] 

To allow ourselves to be God’s beloved is to be God’s beloved. To allow ourselves to be chosen is to be chosen. To allow ourselves to be blessed is to be blessed. It is so hard to accept being accepted, especially from God. It takes a certain kind of humility to surrender to it, and even more to persist in believing it. Any persons used by God know this to be true: God chooses and then uses whom God chooses, and their usability comes from their willingness to allow themselves to be chosen in the first place. What a paradox!  

God’s love is constant and irrevocable; our part is to be open to it and let it transform us. There is absolutely nothing we can do to make God love us more than God already does, and there is absolutely nothing we can do to make God love us less. We are stuck with it! The only difference is between those who allow it and those who don’t. They are both equally and objectively the beloved, but one just enjoys it and draws ever-new life from that realization. [2]

References:
[1] Adapted from Richard Rohr, Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality (Franciscan Media, 2022), 44–45.

[2] Adapted from Rohr, Things Hidden, 182.

Life of the Beloved Quotes

Life of the Beloved Quotes 

“Aren’t you, like me, hoping that some person, thing, or event will come along to give you that final feeling of inner well-being you desire? Don’t you often hope: ‘May this book, idea, course, trip, job, country or relationship fulfill my deepest desire.’ But as long as you are waiting for that mysterious moment you will go on running helter-skelter, always anxious and restless, always lustful and angry, never fully satisfied. You know that this is the compulsiveness that keeps us going and busy, but at the same time makes us wonder whether we are getting anywhere in the long run. This is the way to spiritual exhaustion and burn-out. This is the way to spiritual death.”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World

“the real “work” of prayer is to become silent and listen to the voice that says good things about me.

To gently push aside and silence the many voices that question my goodness and to trust that I will hear the voice of blessing– that demands real effort. ”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World

“First of all, you have to keep unmasking the world about you for what it is: manipulative, controlling, power-hungry, and, in the long run, destructive. The world tells you many lies about who you are, and you simply have to be realistic enough to remind yourself of this. Every time you feel hurt, offended, or rejected, you have to dare to say to yourself: ‘These feelings, strong as they may be, are not telling me the truth about myself. The truth, even though I cannot feel it right now, is that I am the chosen child of God, precious in God’s eyes, called the Beloved from all eternity, and held safe in an everlasting belief.”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World

“Our humanity comes to its fullest bloom in giving. We become beautiful people when we give whatever we can give: a smile, a handshake, a kiss, an embrace, a word of love, a present, a part of our life…all of our life.”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World

Jesus Came for Everyone

Wednesday, July 1, 2026

I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.
—Genesis 12:1–4

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.
—John 3:16

Brian McLaren reflects on how God’s promise to Abraham in Genesis 12:1–4 softened the exclusive way his evangelical tradition interpreted John 3:16:

The brilliant British missiologist Lesslie Newbigin said these words [in Genesis 12:1–4] addressed the greatest heresy (or dangerous idea) in the history of monotheism. Many people understand being blessed by God as an exclusive matter, Newbigin said, as if God blesses some to the exclusion of others.

But no, Newbigin says. From the very beginning in the creation story in Genesis 1, when God blesses all creation—both day and night, both land and sea, both plant and animal, both animal and human—God’s blessings have been universal, because that is who God is and how God lives, an overflowing fountain of blessing. When God calls Abraham (then known as Abram), God doesn’t bless Abram and his descendants to the exclusion of others, but for the benefit of others.

God’s blessings are not exclusive, but rather instrumental.

McLaren summarizes the way that John 3:16 has often been taught, and contrasts it with the biblical message of blessing, which is always to love and bless others:

That is the way many people [have been] taught John 3:16. All you have to do is raise your hand, say yes to the privileges promised to those who are chosen, and you will be pronounced as a “born again Christian,” which means you would have a free ticket to safety, security, and enjoyment in heaven for yourself and yourself alone, forever.

But that is not what Genesis 12 or John 3:16 are actually about, contrary to a very popular belief. God chooses Abram, not for elite and exclusive privilege for his descendants alone, but for deep responsibility and service for all the nations of the world. God chooses Abram not to the exclusion of others, but to the benefit and blessing of others. As Lesslie Newbigin said, you can’t claim God’s blessings for yourself, your race, your culture, or your religion, and leave out and “in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”…

God’s desire, Jesus says, is not to condemn everyone or anyone, but to save everyone. In other words, divine blessing is not exclusive; it is instrumental. We are not blessed to the exclusion of others; we are blessed to be a blessing to others, so that through us, others can be included in the generous circle of divine blessing.

Reference:
Adapted from Brian D. McLaren, “Seeing the World in Radically New Ways,” The Cottage, Substack, February 28, 2026. Used with permission.

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Jesus Calling: 

    Thank Me for the conditions that are requiring you to be still. Do not spoil these quiet hours by wishing them away, waiting impatiently to be active again. Some of the greatest works in My kingdom have been done from sick beds and prison cells. Instead of resenting the limitations of a weakened body, search for My way in the midst of these very circumstances. Limitations can be liberating when your strongest desire is living close to Me.

    Quietness and trust enhance your awareness of My Presence into you. Do not despise these simple ways of serving Me. Although you feel cut off from the activity of the world, your quiet trust makes a powerful statement in spiritual realms. My Strength and Power show themselves most effective in weakness. 

RELATED SCRIPTURE: 

Zechariah 2:13 NLT

13 Be silent before the Lord, all humanity, for he is springing into action from his holy dwelling.”

Isaiah 30:15 NLT

15 This is what the Sovereign Lord,

    the Holy One of Israel, says:

“Only in returning to me

    and resting in me will you be saved.

In quietness and confidence is your strength.

    But you would have none of it.

2nd Corinthians 12:9 NLT

9 Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.