At that time, Jesus spoke this parable to His disciples: The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field; he who finds it hides it, and in his joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls. When he finds a single pearl of great price, he goes and sells all that he has and buys it. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net cast into the sea that gathered in fish of every kind. When it was filled, they hauled it out, and sitting down on the beach, they gathered the good fish into vessels, but threw away the bad. So will it be at the end of the world. The angels will go out and separate the wicked from among the just, and will cast them into the furnace of fire, where there will be the weeping, and the gnashing of teeth. Have you understood all these things? They said to Him, Yes. And He said to them, So then, every Scribe instructed in the kingdom of heaven is like a householder who brings forth from his storeroom things new and old.

Mathew 13:44-52

Is the Kingdom worth everything?

Is the Kingdom worth changing your philosophy, worth walking away from relationships, from jobs, from the way we believe we need to do things?

When faced with a challenge, sometimes its easy to carry on with the status quo, even if it means living with blinders on. But the Kingdom is filled with graces, filled with peace and a concept of time we are unfamiliar with. The Kingdom does not mean we do not experience pain, suffering, or are free from temptations. The Kingdom is with us at every moment, at every choice, big or small. The Kingdom is something potential in all of us that, through choices, we need to actualize.

At that time, the Pharisees came to Jesus and one of them, a doctor of the Law, putting Him to the test, asked Him, Master, which is the greatest commandment in the Law? Jesus said to him, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with your whole heart and with your whole soul, and your whole mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And the second is like it, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments depend the whole Law and the Prophets. Now while the Pharisees were gathered together, Jesus questioned them, saying, What do you think of the Christ? Whose son is He? They said to Him, David’s. He said to them, How then does David in the Spirit call Him Lord, saying, ‘The Lord said to my Lord: Sit at My right hand, till I make Your enemies Your footstool’? If David, therefore, calls Him ‘Lord.’ how is He his son? And no one could answer Him a word; neither did anyone dare from that day forth to ask Him any more questions.

Mathew 22:34-46

We are very often familiar with the first part of this passage of scripture, but are often forgetful that Christ was once again challenged. When I read this passage, I couldn’t help but think of the time when Jesus was in the desert fasting, and was tempted by Satan. Each temptation was at least not hidden in intention: it takes a human being to think that questions like this could be disguised as mere questions when they were intended to be tests to ‘unseat’ Christ.

Yet Christ knew this. And He in turn asked a question that could be answered, and yet was not, because to do so the would need to admit that Jesus was the Christ. And doing that would upend the status quo in such a way as to unseat those in power–not just unseat, but unmask the sins of those in power.

There’s also the way to look at “You shall love your neighbour as yourself”, not as a commandment, but as a statement of fact. We treat our neighbours as we treat ourselves. If we despise our neighbours, if we despise those with differences, we are facing an uncomfortable reality that we are despising some aspect of ourselves. The key is to have the fortitude to enter that cave, face that dragon, and slay it. Luckily for us, Christ and the saints are with us in this fights. We are only alone if we choose to be, and even in that choice, the enemy is always prowling near by looking for an opportunity to seize.

I prayed, and prudence was given me; I pleaded, and the spirit of Wisdom came to me. I preferred her to scepter and throne, and deemed riches nothing in comparison with her. Nor did I liken any priceless gem to her; because all gold, in view of her, is a little sand, and before her, silver is to be accounted mire. Beyond health and comeliness I loved her, and I chose to have her rather than the light, because the splendor of her never yields to sleep. Yet all good things together came to me in her company, and countless riches at her hands; and I rejoiced in them all, because Wisdom is their leader, though I had not known that she is the mother of these. Simply I learned about her, and ungrudgingly do I share – her riches I do not hide away; for to men she is an unfailing treasure; those who gain this treasure win the friendship of God, to Whom the gifts they have from discipline commend them.

Wis 7:7-14.

Thus says the Lord God: If you remove from your midst oppression, false accusation and malicious speech; if you bestow your bread on the hungry and satisfy the afflicted; then light shall rise for you in the darkness, and the gloom shall become for you like midday; then the Lord will guide you always and give you plenty even on the parched land. He will renew your strength, and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring whose water never fails. The ancient ruins shall be rebuilt for your sake, and the foundations from ages past you shall raise up; ‘Repairer of the breach,’ they shall call you, ‘Restorer of ruined homesteads.’ If you hold back your foot on the Sabbath from following your own pursuits on My holy day, if you call the Sabbath a delight, and the Lord’s holy day honorable; if you honor it by not following your ways, seeking your own interests, or speaking with malice – then you shall delight in the Lord, and I will make you ride on the heights of the earth; I will nourish you with the heritage of Jacob, your father, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.

Isaias 58:9-14

Snow is gently falling outside my window as I write this today. We’ve had a lot of snow. In fact, the branches of the spruce tree in the back yard are bending from the weight of it all. It is going to be a long, long thaw before we see green in our lives again. But it didn’t stop me from seeding vegetables inside, or ordering seeds from my favorite supplier. And there are catalogues for bulbs coming. I’m also thinking about how to reboot my vegetable garden.

But first the snow has to melt. That will take time, and it’s out of my control. Patience and hope.

The way we interact with others is often like winter. Over time, snows fall on our hearts because of pain, because of the way we may have been treated in our past. We may have become accustomed to the way in which we view others, or the way we justify our own actions. We may even have fooled ourselves into thinking we are living our best summer when, in fact, the branches of our trees are bending under the weight of our delusion.

Grace comes when we allow the sunshine of Our Lord to our hearts and lives–but it only transforms us when we allow it to melt the snows of our hearts. Tears come. Tears dry up. Sadness or anger comes. But it also passes, leaving us with bare, warm, fertile ground that we can begin to seed with charity, with hope, with compassion, with an open mind and heart. Then will come the flowers of our faith. Then will we know the beauty of clover that grows to the height of a man, filled with happy bees. Then will we know the brightness of canola, jumping randomly from between blades of grass, smiling brightly to the sun. We will still need to tend, to prune, to cut a path for us to journey on–but the flowers will smile on us. The birds, the insects, the creatures that creep in the warm, loamy, fertile soil will enjoin with us. We will know our closeness with God because God Grows around us, sustains us, gives us rest. For Thou hast settled (us) in hope.

Happy the man found without fault, who turns not aside after gain, nor puts his trust in money nor in treasures! Who is he, that we may praise him? For he has done wonders in his life. He has been tested by gold and come off safe, and this remains his glory forever; he could have sinned but did not, could have done evil but would not, so that his possessions are secure in the Lord, and the assembly of the Saints shall recount his alms.

-Sir. 31:8-11

At that time, when it was late, the ship was in the midst of the sea, and Jesus alone on the land. And seeing His disciples straining at the oars, for the wind was against them, about the fourth watch of the night He came to them, walking upon the sea, and He would have passed by them. But they, seeing Him walking upon the sea, thought it was a ghost, and cried out. For they all saw Him, and were troubled. Then He immediately spoke to them, and said to them, Take courage; it is I, do not be afraid. And He got into the boat with them, and the wind fell. And they were utterly beside themselves with astonishment, for they had not understood about the loaves, because their heart was blinded. And crossing over, they came to the land of Genesareth and moored the boat. And when they had gotten out of the boat, the people at once recognized Him; and they hurried through the whole country, and began to bring the sick on their pallets, wherever they heard He was. And wherever He went, into village or hamlet or town, they laid the sick in the market places, and entreated Him to let them touch but the tassel of His cloak; and as many as touched Him were saved.

-Mark 6:47-56

In our comfort, when something big enters into our sphere and creates a shock, we focus directly on that rather than if it is a good thing or a bad thing. It’s a change, and it’s in the way of our comfort, and that’s all there is to it! We don’t see the bigger picture for our fear. It’s not until we take a breath and assess the actual change in front of us that we see it for what it is. A great wave, or a ghost, ends up being something significantly better! Not just for us, but for others who end up encountering it later.

And often, as the reading tells us, these changes sometimes would go unnoticed if we weren’t looking out for them.

Which means we choose to keep watch for the threat, or what we perceive to be the threat.

We don’t see the big picture this way. It’s not easy to open our minds, especially if we are fixed in our comforts!

Lent calls us to break from our comforts, break from the barriers that keep us safe, and see the opportunity for growth beyond our limitations. It seems somewhat counter intuitive seeing that we are giving up, fasting, denying ourselves.

Denying ourselves the indulgence of panic allows us to see the beauty of change. It’s difficult! But it gets easier every time we do it.

At that time, when Jesus had entered Capharnaum, there came to Him a centurion, who entreated Him, saying, Lord, my servant is lying sick in the house, paralyzed, and is grievously afflicted. Jesus said to him, I will come and cure him. But in answer the centurion said, Lord, I am not worthy that You should come under my roof; but only say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man subject to authority, and have soldiers subject to me; and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes; and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it. And when Jesus heard this, He marveled, and said to those who were following Him, Amen I say to you, I have not found such great faith in Israel. And I tell you that many will come from the east and from the west, and will feast with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, but the children of the kingdom will be put forth into the darkness outside; there will be the weeping, and the gnashing of teeth. Then Jesus said to the centurion, Go your way; as you have believed, so be it done to you. And the servant was healed in that hour.

-Mathew 8:5-13

Whenever I read this passage, I often wonder what tone the centurion spoke to Our Lord in. Rather than panicked, there’s almost a sense of calm about them, alongside a sense of humility. Scholars now are thinking that this man, rather than a servant, was the centurion’s lover. For context, see here.

In this passage, we are not witnesses to the servant, or the lover. We are told he was healed, that is all. We are told that the centurion’s faith was great. “I believe, Lord, that You can heal him. I believe You can do this by will alone.

The centurion kneels by the side of the bed of the servant, his lover. He is afraid because he knows the illness is serious; the love this man feels is strong enough that he approaches one he’s heard has worked miracles among the Jews.

Recognize that this was faith that allowed the centurion to step from one world into another. To approach Jesus in this way required not only faith, but humility and courage.

Do we have that kind of courage, that kind of humility, that kind of faith?

How often do we enter the Mass, and only accept a piece of bread and perhaps a sip of wine? That requires no courage at all. But not only that, in just taking a piece of bread and a sip of wine, we are not stepping out of our world into the world the centurion stepped into, the Liturgical World, the Liturgical Time.

The Eucharist is a doorway for us to enter into direct connection with the Divine: unlike prayer, the Eucharist is a physical touch, a Hand that heals, a Breath on our forehead.

Approach the Eucharist, therefore, with the same courage as the centurion: have faith, that, although you are not worthy for Him to enter into your house, simply let the Word be said that you may be healed, that you may be touched.

Lent is again upon us.

Social media has been a challenging thing for me over the past few weeks, so part of my lent fast will be to remove myself from social media.

Before I disappear for the next 40 days, I wanted to let you know I still intend on writing a post for each day of lent. This has been a transformative experience for me in the past, and I’m looking forward to it again this year.

I hope you’ll join me in this journey! Check hermitgardener.com daily.

God love you!

Why does it matter what someone else thinks?

More to the point, why do some of us put so much value in the opinions of others? Is it healthy or reasonable?

People are allowed to have their opinions. One of the things that I’m low key always aware about is that being a priest and queer–engaged to be married this summer queer–raises some eyebrows with some people. There are words which are like post-it notes that stick in my brain.

“That’s not Catholic.”

A couple of days ago, I had a wild dream in which someone dressed as a priest came into my chapel and attempted to break into the tabernacle to look at what was there. I defended the space, saying that it was the Eucharist. He continued to fight, breaking open the door. I was able to grab the ciborium from him and protect it, but he came back at me that what I was doing was no different than the worship of santa muerte.

When I woke up, I was bothered.

Follow up to yesterday, and man who is on my Facebook feed has posted a second video, attempting to poke holes in the Christian faith. And I’m hurt, and the immediate reaction is to defend my beliefs, to justify Christian belief.

And that is the mistake that I think a lot of us, including me, make.

It is very easy to get into an argument about belief, or why it is either rational or irrational to believe something. It’s not so easy to argue with actions if those actions are charitable, loving, compassionate, and kind.

The mistake I’ve been making is getting involved with an invitation to a narrative that is just a waste of time.

Writing this, I’m remembering all the times that I said people should be less concerned about validity of orders–the validity of belief, and more concerned with that belief in action.

Specifically, knowing we are Christian by what we do, not by our verbal professions. Arguments like the one I was invited to take part in are designed to be distractions from charity, distractions from love, distractions from acts of kindness and compassion. These are the strikes that we should turn the other cheek for.

Let them argue.

I’ll continue to strive to see God in everyone I encounter, especially those who are beyond the margins of society. I will continue to let them teach me, to let them show me my vulnerabilities and weaknesses. I will continue to serve.

You continue to argue about if the tomb was empty or not.

I’ve moved past the need for that argument. There are more important things to do. Like sharing love.

The last few days, praying the chapel, I’ve had the overwhelming urge to lay on the floor prostrate in front of the altar.

There has been so much death. The last four months I’ve prayed the Office of the Dead more than in the last few years. A friend in Sierra Leone, a friend’s relatives that died one after the other, the anniversary of one of my godmother’s death.

I come home from work and rest my head on the altar, so happy to be back in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament; its as if I’ve been away from home for weeks, and suddenly I find myself able to rest on the doorstep of my home.

Saying Mass is a relieving moment–I’ve never felt liturgical time take control more than since Christmas Eve moving forward.

But I am aware of pain around me, within me.

I am aware of those who reach out in suffering, in sadness, in grief, in confusion.

Throwing the pandemic on top of it makes it simply more complicated. It’s low grade exhaustion (or just exhaustion).

In the mix of all this, getting a guest list ready for the upcoming wedding, the potential of spring and new plans for the yard, the beauty of a chapel–being lucky enough to have a chapel, a dedicated space for the Blessed Sacrament–and the very near reality of regular broadcasts of Mass from this space.

In the midst of the suffering, that blessing has helped to carry me through. Having a sacred hour at the end of each day, being able to say Mass free of interruptions, to have silence.

Quiet.

Peace.