Today the Church gives us one of the most beautiful and necessary commemorations of the Paschal season, the Sunday of the Holy Myrrhbearers. We remember the women who came to the tomb at dawn carrying spices and myrrh, ready to honor the body of the Lord. We remember Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, who showed courage when many others hid. But today, above all, we look upon those faithful women whose love proved stronger than fear.

The Convergent Catholic Communion does not claim to recreate the Church. It claims to stand within it. Our Constitution is clear. We confess the Nicene and Apostles’ Creeds. We uphold the sacraments. We recognize apostolic succession. That is not Protestant identity. That is catholic identity in the historic sense. We are not borrowing Eastern forms because they look beautiful. We are receiving them as part of the inheritance of the Church. There’s a difference between imita

Today the Church keeps Thomas Sunday. We remember the moment Christ returns to his disciples, and this time Thomas is there. He does not stand at a distance. He steps forward. He touches the wounds. And he speaks words the Church still holds onto.

Palm Sunday always unsettles me, because it begins with celebration, yet we already know how quickly the mood will change. The crowds gather. They wave branches. They shout Hosanna. They welcome Jesus as king. Within days, everything shifts. The same city that welcomes him will reject him. The same voices that praise him will condemn him. The same crowd that shouts Hosanna will cry Crucify. Palm Sunday forces us to sit in that tension. This is not only their story. This is th

Today we come to the Fourth Sunday of Lent, the Sunday of the Ladder. In the Christian East, this Sunday is tied to Saint John of the Ladder, the abbot of Sinai who wrote about the spiritual life as a kind of ascent toward God. That image has stayed with the Church because it tells the truth. The life of faith is not static. We are either being drawn upward into the life of God, or we are settling back into the old patterns that keep us bound. Lent puts that plainly before us

Lessons: Sir 24:23-34; Ps 95; Ro 1:16-32; Jn 4:5-26 The Third Sunday in Lent is often called the Sunday of the Living Water. The Gospel reading brings us to the well in Samaria, where Jesus meets the Samaritan woman. At first glance the story seems simple. Jesus arrives at Jacob’s well. A woman comes to draw water. They speak. But this is one of those passages where it helps to read the Bible within the life of the wider Church. The Samaritan woman is not simply an unnamed fi

Many of us prefer religion to rebirth. Religion gives structure. Rebirth demands surrender. Abram had to die to the security of his father’s house. Nicodemus had to die to the security of his religious status. Lent is about dying before Easter. Not emotionally. Not theatrically. Practically.

Last week we remembered Adam and Eve cast out of paradise. Humanity exiled. Creation fractured. We are born into a world bent away from God. Not personal blame for Adam’s act, but a shared wound. We feel it in our habits. We feel it in our desires. We feel it in the way we repeat what we swore we would never repeat.

Lessons: Joel 2:2-20; Ps 103; Romans 13:11-14:4; Mt 6:14-21 Forgiveness Sunday is not sentimental. It is not soft. It is not about being polite. It is surgical. We stand at the edge of Great Lent, and the Church will not let us walk in carrying poison. Listen to Jesus again. “If you forgive others the wrongs they have done to you, your Father in heaven will forgive you. But if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive you.” There is no theological loophole t

This is the Sunday of the Last Judgment. That title alone is enough to make people uneasy. The lectionary does not soften the blow. It confronts us.

The Church is wise in how she prepares us for Lent. She does not begin with ashes. She does not begin with fasting rules. She does not begin with denial. She begins with stories. Stories that disarm us. Stories that refuse to let us remain at a safe distance. Stories that force us to ask where we are standing. On Prodigal Sunday, the Church gives us one of the most dangerous stories Jesus ever told. Dangerous not because it is unfamiliar, but because it is. Most of u

Today the Church places before us the Sunday of the Publican and the Pharisee. A publican, for those who may not know, is simply an old-fashioned word for a tax collector. This is one of the Sundays that prepares us for Lent. We call this season Pre-Lent, or Proetoimasía. It is a winding up. A season that already carries the emphases of Lent itself: humility, repentance, fasting, and honest self-examination. Before the great fast begins, the Church gives us time to get our

The Church does something wise before Lent begins. It slows us down. It refuses to rush toward discipline, fasting, or repentance without first tending to desire. In the Eastern tradition, this threshold season is called Proetoimasia. Preparation. Readiness of the heart.

Today we commemorate the Theophany. The word itself sounds distant, maybe even technical, but it is simple in meaning. A theophany is a divine manifestation. It names those moments when God does not remain hidden, when God presses into history and makes himself known. While this feast technically occurred a few days ago, the Church in her wisdom gives us time to sit with it. To notice what it is really saying to us. In our tradition, Theophany centers on the baptism of Christ

Christ is born into the world and into our lives not to leave things untouched, but to draw us back together. To gather what was scattered. To heal what was worn thin. To turn mourning into joy without denying the truth of grief.   We do not rush past this mystery. We stay long enough to be changed. We walk long enough to be gathered. We trust long enough to find our way home.

John tells us Jesus is the Word. The Word who always was. The Word who comes from the Father. The Word through whom creation itself comes into being. This is not poetry for poetry’s sake. John places Christ at the center of all reality. Genesis echoes in every line. Wisdom literature hums beneath the text. Early Christians heard this and recognized something bold. The Word who spoke to the prophets. The Word who wrestled Jacob. The Word who met Moses on Sinai. The Word who st

Lessons: Isaiah 7:10-16; Psalm 24; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-25 This is the last Sunday of Advent. And by now, most of us are tired of waiting. Not the gentle waiting we romanticize in church language. Not the kind where candles glow softly and everything smells like pine and cinnamon. The waiting most people carry into this season is heavier than that. It is the waiting of people who have done everything they know how to do and still do not know what comes next. Waiting for

Lessons: Isaiah 35:1-10; Psalm 146; James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-11 Advent is a season of waiting. Not passive waiting, not distraction or delay, but a waiting that asks something of us. Advent waiting requires patience, and patience is never neutral. It is shaped by where we stand and what we are carrying. Today’s reading from James speaks directly into that space. “Be patient, then, my friends, until the Lord comes.” This is not gentle advice offered to people living comforta

Lessons: Isaiah 11:1-10; Psalm 72:1-15; Romans 15:4-13; Matthew 3:1-12   We enter this fifth week of Advent with a theme that feels almost tailor-made for the moment we’re living in. This is the week shaped by the ancient cry of the Church for the One who opens what is closed, who frees what is bound, who breaks through the places that feel sealed shut. Every reading today is speaking to hearts that feel stuck, strained, or carried to the edge.   And I don’t know that there h

This Advent reflection invites readers into three movements: wake, watch, and walk. Fr. Columba calls the church to break out of spiritual numbness, stay alert to God’s presence, and resist the pull of routine. He urges vigilance in a world marked by uncertainty and suffering, not with fear but with hope rooted in Christ’s promise to restore creation. Finally, he reminds us that the Christian walk is imperfect but always possible through grace. Advent becomes a season of smal