Twenty-first Sunday of Ordinary Time
Growing up, we were blessed with next-door neighbors who remained lifelong friends. When our family recently attended Mrs. Rosen’s funeral at the Synagogue, my brother commented fondly about his memory of attending their sons’ Bar Mitzvahs. Through the years, my mother was never reluctant to enter the Synagogue and always spoke in the most positive way of these dear friends and their Jewish faith: “They are so faithful. They practice their faith so beautifully. They believe so deeply in God.” Her words were binding me to respect and loosening me from prejudice.
My grandson, 12-year-old Freddy, speaks to grace, "Even when we don't see God, we know he is there."
Nineteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time
The first night away from his parents was turbulent for sixteen-month-old Johnny, with wave after wave of pleading for, “Mama” “Dada.” Rocking, standing, swaying, patting, and humming had no affect on him. Desperate for relief, I prayed over and over: “Please Lord, help Johnny sleep.” Finally, during the fourth watch of the night, Johnny succumbed to exhaustion and we each managed a few hours rest. In the morning, Johnny returned to his sweet nature by smiling, giggling, and repeating, “Mimi.” I was thankful Jesus had crossed us to the other side of daybreak.
The blog on this page presents reflections on the Sunday readings through the lens of a parent/grandparent, aiding leaders of the domestic church in their vital task as “first heralds” or “first preachers” of the Good News in the home.