La luz de la fe nos guía y nos sostiene a lo largo de las etapas de nuestra vida.
A mediados de junio de 2015, el querido Papa Francisco publicó su encíclica emblemática, «Laudato Si’». El documento, erudito y práctico, transmite la voz del Espíritu Santo. Más que informativo, es transformador en su capacidad de despertar, inspirar, cambiar y confirmar a quienes oran con él.
Al haberse publicado tan cerca del solsticio de junio, la carta también encarna la voz de la Tierra, que nos llama a hacer una pausa, reflexionar y elegir de manera informada y reverente. Toda la Creación sabe practicar esta pausa respetuosa. Lo hace cada año en sus retiros semestrales conocidos como «solsticio» y «equinoccio».
Hoy, solsticio de junio de 2026, nos invita a hacer lo mismo. Les ofrezco dos bendiciones para elegir, según su hemisferio. Que este día sagrado nos traiga a todos las bendiciones de amor que el Papa Francisco anhelaba con tanto fervor:
Todo el universo material habla del amor de Dios, de su cariño infinito por nosotros. La tierra, el agua, las montañas: todo es, por así decirlo, una caricia de Dios.
Laudatory Si’: 84
Music: Winter by Antonio Vivaldi (arr. Sergio Ercole)
In mid-June 2015, beloved Pope Francis published his landmark encyclical, “Laudato Si”. The document, erudite and practical, carries the voice of the Holy Spirit. More than informative, it is transformative in its power to awaken, inspire, change, and confirm those who pray with it.
Published so close to the June solstice, the letter also embodies Earth’s voice, calling us to pause, reflect, and choose in an informed and reverent manner. All Creation knows how to practice such a deferent pause. It does so every year in its semi-annual retreats known as “solstice” and “equinox”. Today, June Solstice 2026, invites us to do the same.
I offer you two blessings to choose from, depending on your hemisphere. May this sacred day bring all of us the blessings of love Pope Francis so earnestly hoped for:
“The entire material universe speaks of God’s love, his boundless affection for us. Soil, water, mountains: everything is, as it were, a caress of God.”
Laudato Si’: 84
Music: Summer by Vivaldi (Guitar) arr. Sergio Ercole
Like me, some of you may have thought that the Emancipation Proclamation was a “one-and-done” event. It wasn’t, and it isn’t. Like its companions in American history ( the Constitution,the Bill of Rights), the document – and its dynamism – is a complex living reality that, even now, continues to unfold among us.
The Emancipation Declaration was first issued on January 1, 1863, freeing enslaved African Americans in the Confederate States. There were many states, notably some in the North, to which the new law did not immediately apply (border states of Delaware and Kentucky). However, the 13th Amendment, ratified on December 6, 1865, made slavery universally unconstitutional throughout the United States.
During the intervening time period, enforcement of the new law rolled out slowly through the post-Confederate South, especially in far western regions like Galveston, Texas. It was not until June 19th, two years later, that freedom reached that resistant enclave:
On the morning of June 19, 1865, Union Major General Gordon Granger arrived on the island of Galveston to take command of the more than 2,000 federal troops recently landed in the department of Texas to enforce the emancipation of its enslaved population and oversee Reconstruction, nullifying all laws passed within Texas during the war by Confederate lawmakers. The order informed all Texans that, in accordance with a Proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all enslaved people were free. (Wikipedia)
Wanting to learn more about the Juneteenth holiday, I purchased a beautifully illustrated children’s book, Opal Lee and What It Means to Be Free. I wanted to share it with my grand-nephews and niece when they visit because this history belongs to all of us. We all need to learn from it.
Ms. Lee, who is approaching her 100th birthday in October, has suffered personally from racist terrorists. She grew up in Texas, where her family’s home was burned down by white rioters when she was twelve years old. Resilient and brave, she eventually pursued an extensive education and became a teacher, community leader, and activist. She lobbied particularly for the recognition of Juneteenth as a Holiday, believing it was crucial to the story of African American freedom.
President Joe Biden talks with Opal Lee after signing the Juneteenth National Independence Day Act Bill, Thursday, June 17, 2021, in the East Room of the White House. (Official White House Photo by Chandler West)
In June 2021, at the age of 94, her efforts succeeded as a bill to make Juneteenth a federal holiday was passed by Congress and signed into law by President Joe Biden. She was an honored guest at the bill signing ceremony, receiving the first of many pens the President used to sign the document. As she sat in the front row, she received a standing ovation, and President Biden got down on one knee to greet her. (Wikipedia)
Music: Lift Every Voice and Sing (The Black National Anthem) – sung by Wintley Phipps
In the Northern Hemisphere, many await the day with parched longing for sun-kissed skin, salt water, and cook-outs.
In the swirl of that longing, we may forget the real meaning of the day, a day to honor and mourn lives given in military service. Originally titled “Decoration Day”, the memorial included the practice of strewing flowers, or “decorating”, the graves of fallen soldiers.
Immediately after the tragedy of the Civil War, there was an abundance of American graves to be so decorated, and a nation deeply wounded by its internal rivalries. A striking example is the Battle of Franklin, Tennessee, a quiet town of about 2000 residents in the late 1800s. But in November 1864, in the farmers’ fallow fields, 10,000 Americans were wounded by one another, and 2300 died. Even if every resident buried a soldier, there would not have been enough grave diggers!
Confederate soldiers killed in the Battle of Franklin were buried on a two-acre plot of land at the Carnton Plantation donated by the McGavock family. “Widow of the South” Carrie McGavock cared for the cemetery for the rest of her life. Photograph courtesy of the Battle of Franklin Trust
Practical healing was sorely needed. In that hope, Memorial Day was formalized by an order issued by Grand Army of the Republic Commander-in-Chief John A. Logan in 1868. It has been observed ever since to honor those sacrificed to our continuing obsession with war.
Despite the happiness of approaching summer, I find Memorial Day heartbreaking. How profoundly sad that men, women, and children die, even now, in the wreckage of war when the human mind is capable of designing peace.
Each evening, somewhere between the Nightly News and Jeopardy, ads pop up for organizations like Wounded Warriors or Second Chance. The images of young men and women – their broken bodies, minds, and dreams – overwhelm me with a turbulent mix of pity and anger.
Ask yourself: Where do they get the guns?
The human family can change this! To do so would be a truly reverent way to honor our fallen and wounded heroes. World leaders could initiate the dismantling of systems that feed war, and reinforce efforts to establish global agreements for sustained peace. It is each of our responsibilities to demand this of our leaders and of ourselves.
To begin, we must ask ourselves these questions, determining where we fit in the answers:
Who benefits from war?
Who enriches themselves by its machinery?
Who retains power and wealth by appeasing warmongers?
Who pays the greatest price for war, and why are we willing to dehumanize and sacrifice them?
How does the rhetoric of force, retribution, and domination feed the avaricious fears of tyrants and their sycophants? How does such language affect me?
How do my own language, advocacy, and voting patterns reflect my understanding of war and commitment to peace?
Each Memorial Day, each Veterans Day, I do indeed honor our heroes. There are beloved members of my family and friends among them who have been willing to stand in harm’s way for my sake. Still, at a deeper level, I pray that war may recede to an ancient memory and not another name be added to its lamentable honor rolls.
On this sacred day, let us pray with the encouragement offered by Pope Leo on the 2026 World Day of Peace:
Dear brothers and sisters, whether we have the gift of faith or feel we lack it, let us open ourselves to peace! Let us welcome it and recognize it, rather than believing it to be impossible and beyond our reach. Peace is more than just a goal; it is a presence and a journey. Even when it is endangered within us and around us, like a small flame threatened by a storm, we must protect it, never forgetting the names and stories of those who have borne witness to it. Peace is a principle that guides and defines our choices. Even in places where only rubble remains, and despair seems inevitable, we still find people who have not forgotten peace. Just as on the evening of Easter Jesus entered the place where his disciples were gathered in fear and discouragement, so too the peace of the risen Christ continues to pass through doors and barriers in the voices and faces of his witnesses. This gift enables us to remember goodness, to recognize it as victorious, to choose it again, and to do so together.
Music: Where Have All the Flowers Gone – Peter, Paul, and Mary
We expect things, don’t we? Things as simple as rain. Things as complex as babies. We expect to wake up tomorrow, to have a safe drive home from work, to complete the to-do lists stuffed in our pockets. We expect life. We even expect death. We expect much of the in-between.
But it is the things we don’t expect that profoundly change our lives. These things shatter our routine and make a passageway for extraordinary grace. You have had such moments. During them, you were like the ancient Jews standing at the fracture of the Red Sea. Your soul was in a battle between fear and awe.
These moments came to you in various disguises: tragedy, surprise, celebration, disappointment, betrayal, or forgiveness. From the vantage point of time, you may be able to see how these moments freed you, redeemed you. Or, now within such a moment, you may still be struggling to discover its Divine Potential.
The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb by Hans Holbein (c. 1522)
We are not unlike the disciples experiencing the Passover of Jesus’s life. They, even He, may not have expected the Thursday of Transubstantiation – the giving of his body into the eternal bread and wine. They did not expect the cleavage of their sacred world by an unholy crucifixion. They did not expect a dislodged stone to yield a golden resurrection.
All that they did not expect we now call “Easter” – a rebirth in the steadfast assurance that God’s life ever triumphs. May we all be broken and blessed by this astounding and unexpected grace!
Spend some time today considering your hopes. Look for the things yet hidden behind the stone of expectation. Are they worthy of the awesome soul God gave you, and the immense invitation within the Paschal Mystery? Are we looking into an empty tomb, expecting new life? Or, on this hollow and hallow Saturday, are we quietly listening for whatever unexpected grace Easter will offer us?
Music: Exsultet – setting by Ryan Clouse
(And yes, I was annoyed by what I thought was a misspelling of “Exultet”. However, I did some research and this is an acceptable, though archaic, version of the word. There is an unfortunate ad near rhe end. Hit “skip” in lower right to view end of video. It’s worth it.
The whole neighborhood remembered the day Pete Nichols finally came home from the war. He was five years late, lost in a mystery of silence even to his own family.
Like most 1950s neighborhoods, we had poured into the streets that Saturday morning to sweep pavements, scrub marble steps, and wash the one or two cars along the curb. Pete jumped off the number 5 trolley, carrying a tattered duffel bag. He stood looking up the sunlit street as if considering a purchase. Slowly, his identity dawned on the scattered neighbors like a cloudy sunrise. Finally, carried by an astonished buzz, it reached his mother whose back had been turned from his approach.
She didn’t erupt, as might have been expected. She turned and walked to him as if he had just returned from a short errand. Like lava across wilderness, they moved in the timeless motion toward redemption. They were two people standing on the empty blotter of the intervening years. With every step, the ink of her forgiveness poured into the void. Pete was a man coming home to the truth that he was loved.
Two such men sat at Jesus’s table on Holy Thursday night. One was also named Peter, the other Judas. It would take just a night, not years, for them to wander from their true home. In just one night, each would deny or betray Love. Each would face the void of having turned from God. One would be swallowed by it and one would repent.
The journey to self-forgiveness is long and treacherous, no matter the time it takes. Nothing frightens us more than our own fragile humanity, which can err and injure and pretend. But courage can help us face the cold precise truth of our vulnerability. It can still our souls to feel the enduring presence of love and forgiveness. It can turn our hearts to God’s knowing gaze that heals rather than shames.
The neighbors never learned where Pete had been in those lost years. We never heard his mother rehearse the magnanimity of her endurance. What we did learn from them was the courage to come home and the strength to forgive. What we learned from them was Easter.
Music: I’m Coming Home – Skylar Grey
Consider this adapted version of Scripture:
Then Jesus said, “There was once a widow who had just two children – grown twins. One said to his mother, ‘Mother, I demand what’s coming to me.’
“So the mother divided the property between them. It wasn’t long before the boy packed his bags and left for a distant country. There, undisciplined and reckless, he wasted everything he had. After he had gone through all his money, a severe famine swept that country, and he began to feel the hunger. He took a job with a local citizen who sent him into the fields to feed the pigs. He was so hungry he would have eaten the husks in the pig slop, but no one gave him anything.
“That brought him to his senses. He said, ‘All those hired workers of my mother have more than enough to eat, and here I am starving to death! I’m going back home. I’ll say to her, ‘Mother, I’ve sinned against God and against you; I don’t deserve to be called your son. Take me on as one of your hired hands.’ So he got up and went home to his mother.
“While he was still a long way off, his mother saw him. Her heart pounding, she ran to him, embraced him, and kissed him. The son began his speech: ‘Mother, I’ve sinned against God and against you; I don’t deserve to be called your son any longer.’ But the mother wasn’t listening. She was remembering the day he was born. She felt like he was being born again!
She called to the servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Then bring the fattened calf and prepare it. We’re going to celebrate with a feast! My son is here—he was as good as dead and is alive again! He was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate with great joy.
“Meanwhile, her daughter was in the dairy. When she came near the house, she heard music and dancing. She called one of the servants and asked what was happening. The servant told her, ‘Your brother has come home, and your mother has prepared a feast because he has returned safe and sound.’
“The young woman became angry and refused to go in. Her mother came out and pleaded with her, but she would not listen. She said, ‘All these years I’ve worked for you and never disobeyed you, yet you never gave me even a small celebration with my friends. But when this rascal of yours comes back—after wasting your money—now you throw a feast for him!’
“Taking her daughter’s face in her hands, the mother said, ‘My precious daughter, you are my image and my heart, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because your brother was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”
For Your Reflection:
What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ?
What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?
I will keep my covenant with you … to be your God and the God of your descendants after you. Genesis 17:7
Understanding is a Gift of the Holy Spirit which allows us to grasp, at least in a limited way, the essence of the truths of our faith. Through understanding, we gain a trust in God that moves beyond circumstances, enabling us to find meaning and peace in our lives.
The fifth week of Lent is filled with high drama. Impossible things happen at the hand of God: Lazarus comes back from the dead; both innocent Suzanna and the adulterous woman are saved; three men pass unharmed through Nebuchadnezzar’s fire; and Jesus proclaims he is the Son of God. It is a week when the truth of God’s power confronts the security of human conventions. From what symbolic graves is God asking me to rise?
(This story is a repeat for those of you who are familiar with the blog. But I choose to include it again because I love it so much. These two individuals were very precious to me and taught me so much. I hope I have been able to share some of that learning with you, my readers.)
The golden morning had broken bright and warm through the hospital windows. With its breaking, the attending physician and chaplain had received a page. Dorothy had taken an unexpected turn. She was struggling both to live and to die. As they attended and comforted her, Dorothy managed to whisper,” … wait for Henry.” Henry, her husband of fifty-eight years, had arrived promptly at 7:00 a.m. daily for all the weeks of Dorothy’s hospitalization. Glancing at her watch, the chaplain saw that it was just 6:50 AM.
When, after ten prolonged minutes, Henry appeared at the door, he carried a small bouquet of yellow roses from their beloved garden. Quickly comprehending the changed situation, he laid the roses aside and hurried to hold Dorothy for the last few minutes of her life. In the loving, covenanted presence Dorothy had waited for, she finally embraced a peaceful death.
It had not been easy for Dorothy to die nor, from then on, had it been easy for Henry to live. Still, through many bereavement visits, the chaplain watched their long, honest love arise to heal Henry. Through prayer and the benediction of memories, Henry understood that their love, like the roses still blooming in their garden, was both fragile and perpetual. In this week’s readings, God again calls us to such a love.
As God brought Lazarus, Suzanna and Shadrack out of darkness and death, so God promises to bring us. “I will keep my covenant with you,” God says. “Whoever keeps my word will never die.”
Accompanying Jesus, as he nears Jerusalem, let us trust and cherish these promises in our own darknesses and bereavements.
Music: Surrexit Dominus
Latin Lyrics & English Translation: Latin: Surrexit Dominus vere, Alleluia, alleluia. Victimae paschali laudes, Immolent Christiani.
Mors et vita duello, Conflixere mirando: Dux vitae mortuus, Regnat vivus.
Surrexit Christus spes mea, Praecedet vos in Galilaeam. Credamus cum Maria, Et gaudeamus cum Ecclesia.
English: The Lord is truly risen, Alleluia, alleluia. To the Paschal Victim, let Christians offer praise.
Death and life contended In wondrous conflict: The Prince of Life, once slain, Now lives and reigns.
Christ, my hope, has risen, He goes before you into Galilee. Let us believe with Mary, And rejoice with the Church.
What does it mean to hunger and thirst for justice? The Greek word translated here as “justice” is dikaiosune, a term that refers to personal righteousness as well as to social justice. Those who hunger and thirst for dikaiosune have a deep yearning for things to be right in their individual lives and in society. This will happen when God’s kingdom comes completely and creation is restored to God’s original intention. ~ from the website theologyofwork.org
In our readings during this second week of Lent, we are encouraged to let go of guilt, to “remember not the things of the past”. We hear the story of Joseph, who was sold by his brothers, only to “redeem” them by his forgiveness. We are challenged to change the “season” of our hearts and embrace the full life of the Paschal Mystery. Our hunger for justice is truly the deep desire, not for any kind of reprisal, but for right balance in our lives with God and with all Creation, as seen in this story.
“Can you let this not be about you?” the chaplain asked, as Jane tried to explain her resistance and guilt. Evening darkened the small office just outside the tumultuous ER. There had been a building collapse, and Jane’s mother had been nearly crushed. Jane was the only relative, a long-alienated daughter. “But I’ve wanted to be reconciled”, she wept. “I just never had the courage to face her. Now it may be too late.”
Over several hours, the chaplain patiently encouraged Jane along a path of self-awareness, helping her realize that it was herself she needed to face. Her mother’s situation, while tragic, offered Jane a catalyst to confront the years of excuses and denials that had paralyzed her. Slowly, the hope of reconciliation washed over her.
When her mother finally stabilized, Jane leaned close to her battered face. Her mother summoned the strength to whisper, “I have never stopped loving you.” That forgiving whisper breathed a vital courage into both women. Each would survive a particular kind of death that day.
Despite our best hopes and intentions, life can collapse around us. Broken promises, unfulfilled dreams and soured relationships can litter our landscapes. We may even lose God in the rubble. This week, Isaiah offers us God’s forgiving invitation, “Come now, let us set things right”, says the Lord. “Though your sins be like scarlet, they will become white as snow.”
God will never stop loving us. God longs to embrace our repentant hearts. Let us listen to and believe God’s whisper.
Music: Remember Not the Things of the Past – Bob Hurd
Supplication is a humble and earnest prayer that asks God for specific spiritual or material aid.
They stood quietly by a sunlit window. “I have forgotten how to have fun,” Anne said, gazing wistfully toward the wintering trees.
Her friend knew the statement to be true and did not argue. Recently retired, Anne had managed a heavy career by rigorously systematizing her life. She was dependable and predictable – like a trusted clock. But somehow, her joy had been caught in the gears.
Sometimes, change is as simple as confronting unexamined routines. At other times, it requires a profound turning. In this week’s readings, we hear the language of such radical transformation: “be reconciled, be holy, ask, repent, forgive” – words commanding a ruthless examination of our attitudes. They suggest that, in order to renew our hearts, we must let something in us die.
Paul begins the week reminding us that our sinful world is redeemable through the gracious gift of Jesus Christ. Believing this, we will have the courage for true transformation. Such faith frees us of our blindness to the unholy in our lives.
Throughout the week, Esther, Jonah, the God of Moses, and Jesus himself encourage us. We make this Lenten journey in the company Holy Ones who radicalized their lives in faith, awareness, action and joy.
Unless, like Anne, we discover some discomfort in our souls, we will not seek change. Such discovery requires that we pray at the windows of our souls. Have we forgotten the spring-like beauty of a life lived deeply in God? Have we never known it in the first place? This week, we are invited to seek God’s Mercy, to return to joy, or maybe to find it for the first time!
Music: Miserere Mei – Mozart
Suggested Reading:
Psalm 51, interpreted by Rev. Christine Robinson
Have mercy on me, O God, For I’ve messed up again Sinned against You in thought, word and deed, and in what I have left undone. Been–all too human.
Can you make me a new heart, O God? and a right spirit? Can you break my willful plundering of all that is Yours? If I got it together again, others would follow— I could teach, guide, help—and I would!
O Lord, open my lips, that I may praise you. I know you don’t want ritual sacrifice were I to give a burnt offering you’d be exasperated. What you want is that new heart and right spirit. For this, I pray.
For Your Reflection:
What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ?
What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?
Contrition is an act of the will, not just an emotion, involving grief for past sins and a desire to regain God’s friendship. There are two types: perfect contrition, motivated by a love for God, and imperfect contrition, motivated by a fear of punishment or hatred of sin.
“Even now,” declares the LORD, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning.” Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the LORD your God Who is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, Who relents from overwhelming us.
Joel 2:12-13
“Even now…” – two of the most powerful words in scripture. Picture yourself saying them to a long-lost friend, or that friend to you. Even now – after all these years, after all you took for granted, after all your ingratitude, forgetfulness, pretense, indifference. Even now, I love and forgive you.
With the touch of sacred ashes, God reiterates that assurance to us … Even now, God waits and wants to restore us to wholeness, as in this story where you might even find yourself.
She had arranged to visit with an old college friend. They had been separated too long by the distancing choices that life often demands. She wanted to reconnect to that rare experience of shared transparency found just once or twice in a lifetime – the gift of a real friend.
They sat on a porch overlooking a gentle pond. The day was bright, the coffee hot, the chairs comfortable. But the magic was gone. Only half her friend had arrived for the cherished conversation. The other half – joy, adventure and the excess of youthful hope – had been lost. Somewhere in the intervening years, her friend had suffered a wound she did not share. This one afternoon would be too short a time to give that wound a name.
The ministry of healing requires time, whether it is to our own soul or to another’s that we bring the sweet ointment of restoration. It requires the quiet listening of a loving spirit. It requires the honest naming of wounds and the ardent desire to be made new.
As we begin our Lenten experience, God is waiting to receive us. God already knows the wounds we will bring to the conversation, already sees where our heart’s light has dimmed. God holds our half-heartedness next to his own heart and yearns to heal us.
Can we hear God’s unique invitation to us in this Lenten season? Can we confidently expose to the Divine gaze the depth of our need for grace and transformation? Can we journey with Christ, through his passion and death, to the wholeness we are called to?
Music: Parce Domine – 6th-century Latin antiphony sung here by A Capella Catholic Choir
Lavish Mercy 