#Cornerstone Community Church

[tmarshconnors]

"In our efforts to not be offensive to people, we can be very offensive to God."

Francis Chan is an American Protestant author, teacher, and preacher. He is the former teaching pastor of the nondenominational Cornerstone Community Church, an Evangelical church in Simi Valley, California founded by Chan in 1994.

Born: 31 August 1967 (age 56 years), San Francisco, California, United States.

Author and Speaker: Francis Chan is a prominent Christian author and speaker known for his impactful books, including "Crazy Love," "Forgotten God," and "Erasing Hell." His writings often challenge readers to deepen their faith and live more devoted lives.

Founder of Cornerstone Community Church: Chan founded Cornerstone Community Church in Simi Valley, California, in 1994. Under his leadership, the church grew significantly, emphasizing simplicity, discipleship, and outreach.

Emphasis on Radical Living: Chan is well-known for his emphasis on living a radical Christian life. He advocates for sacrificial living, intense commitment to following Jesus, and serving others, often questioning comfortable or complacent Christianity.

Humble Living: Despite his success, Chan is known for his humble lifestyle. He and his family have made significant financial sacrifices, including giving away much of his book royalties and reducing their standard of living to support charitable causes and missions.

House Church Movement: In recent years, Chan has been involved in promoting and participating in the house church movement. He left Cornerstone Community Church to focus on a simpler, more organic form of church that meets in homes and emphasizes intimate community and discipleship. He has been working on this vision through his involvement with We Are Church, a network of house churches in San Francisco.

[discworldwitches]

This decision was preceded by a "round table" with Russian officials and collaborators from the temporarily occupied territories, where supposedly the experience of countries in which private hospitals "voluntarily refused" to perform abortions was reviewed.

Quote: "The private clinics’ heads were asked to contribute to the demographic situation improvement by refusing to perform abortions. The colleagues positively evaluated this initiative, and today all private clinics in Crimea have officially informed the Crimean Ministry of Health of their voluntary refusal to provide abortion services," Skorupsky noted.

Officials in Russia-annexed Crimea say private clinics have stopped providing abortions

Over his more than two decades in power, Putin has forged a powerful alliance with the Russian Orthodox Church and has put “traditional family values,” as well as boosting the country's declining population, at the cornerstone of his policies.

As part of the effort, authorities in several Russian regions in recent months sought to convince private clinics to stop terminating pregnancies. In Tatarstan in central Russia, officials said about a third have agreed to stop offering abortions; in the Chelyabinsk region in the Ural mountains, several clinics did as well. In the westernmost region of Kaliningrad, local legislators said they were mulling a ban for private clinics.

A nationwide ban is also something lawmakers and Russia's Health Ministry are contemplating, alleging that private clinics frequently violate existing regulations restricting access to abortion.

State statistics show that private clinics in Russia, where free, state-funded health care is available to all citizens, accounted for about 20% of all abortions in recent years. Some women who shared their experiences in pro-abortion online communities said they preferred private clinics where they could get an appointment faster, conditions were better and doctors did not pressure them to continue the pregnancy.

Crimea's Russian-installed health minister, Konstantin Skorupsky, said in an online statement that private clinics on the peninsula some time ago "offered to contribute to improving the demographic situation by giving up providing abortions,” and as of Thursday, all of them had done so.

His statement did not mention the city of Sevastopol, which is administered separately, and it was unclear if private clinics there were still providing abortions.

Two chains of private clinics in Crimea contacted by The Associated Press on Thursday by phone confirmed they no longer provide abortions, citing orders from the management or the authorities. One said it's been about a month since they stopped offering the procedure to women.

[bolding my own]

the use of “demographic situation” is so vile & so clearly colonial

[agentnatesewell]

Beloved Mar, I saw your tags on that post! is there any Suri lore you've been wanting to drop 👀

My dearest PD! Thank you for this ask and thinking of Suri!

As Christmas is right around the corner and it is the holiday season here, I’ve been thinking of Suri Christmas lore

Suri is not religious, and isn’t a follower of any religion (though exposed to several through her life and she appreciates them), Christmas is special to her and mainly for the sense of community and the celebration of it all

Before moving back to Wayhaven, when she lived in Paris, she spent so much time walking through the streets to appreciate the light displays and festivals and going to the Christmas Markets - depending on the year either alone or with a boyfriend or friends who were free

Back to Wayhaven, she reminisced on her childhood celebrations with the Andersons, how magical they made the season. It’s all changed since their passing, and since joining the PD, she and Tina would spend their holiday shifts together, usually around the Cornerstones to take a look at the lights (they’d rank them and assign an unofficial winner, and it wasn’t never Friedman)

However, usually in secret, she’ll walk to the church for the Christmas midnight service, and stand in the foyer. Looking in to observe, feel some sense of togetherness (even if at times she still feels like an outsider) - I imagine that one of these years, Adam witnesses this little excursion

But now! With Nate, and Unit Bravo, she’s going to help decorate a tree for the first time in a long time. And host a holiday party, with Nate. Suri is very excited about this. It will he the first time she’s celebrated with a family structure, at least from the last time she was with the Andersons

Bonus, she’ll get tipsy on eggnog which will be fun

Bonus Bonus, she always kissed someone at might on New Years, and she’s looking forward to kissing Nate every year 🎉

[propheticeve]

"Holiness Hoodoo: Rediscovering Ancestral Roots Without Jesus"

The term "Holiness Hoodoo" may leave some people puzzled, so allow me to clarify its meaning. In my view, Holiness Hoodoo represents a return to the traditional practices of my ancestral lineage, a way to decipher who I am and what my purpose entails. Many of our forebears were devout Christians, and this undeniable fact forms the backdrop of my spiritual journey. Despite the complex relationship that many Black Americans have with the Bible due to the scars of slavery, it's essential to remember that it wasn't the Bible itself that caused harm, but the people wielding it as a tool of oppression.

As I delved deeper into the realms of ancestral magic, I began to notice striking parallels with church practices. To some, I seemed too "churchy" for hoodoo, and to others, too "hoodoo" for the church—there appeared to be no middle ground. However, I've come to understand that my connection to my ancestors is the cornerstone of my spiritual practice. I've realized that perhaps the reason some individuals struggle to communicate with their spirits is that they try to venerate them through African traditions, tarot, or other methods their ancestors might not recognize.

The Bible, as a potent tool in hoodoo, is not revered because we live by its teachings but because it contains powerful scriptures. My mother, for instance, believed in Jesus, yet she was a practitioner of hoodoo—a tongue-speaking, spirit-conjuring woman. Her approach, which I now embrace, is what I refer to as "Holiness Hoodoo."

So, what does Holiness Hoodoo look like for me?

1. Setting the Atmosphere:

I play inspirational or gospel music that resonates with my specific needs, allowing it to fill my home as I clean, pray, or perform spiritual work. Gospel music serves as a direct conduit to my ancestral spirits, and sometimes, when I hear a song I haven't listened to in a while, an ancestor's presence is assured.

2. Keeping a Bible on the Altar:

While I don't read the Bible frequently, I keep it open to the Psalms as an offering to my spirits. The Bible also serves as a powerful tool of protection, and specific verses and pages can function as talismans and petitions.

3. Baptisms:

Baptism, in my lineage, is a ritual practice to wash ourselves of sins and start anew. It's not just for babies; it can also cleanse generational curses and traumas passed down from parents.

4. Shouting:

Listening to gospel music, I engage in the practice of shouting, a form of ecstatic dance that connects me with my spirits. This practice fills me with light and often results in downloads of ancestral wisdom.

5. Laying of Hands:

I perform the laying of hands, a practice I'll discuss in more detail in the future. It's distinct from Reiki and is a significant part of my spiritual tradition.

6. Fasting:

Fasting is a part of my spiritual practice, serving as a means of both elevating my spiritual consciousness and cleansing my body. I firmly believe that one's health plays a pivotal role in their spiritual journey.

Holiness Hoodoo is about preserving the traditions of our ancestors and finding connections with them. It doesn't rely on dogma or strict religious doctrine; instead, it is a pathway to tap into the wisdom and spirituality that has been passed down through generations. In this practice, there is no room for being "too churchy" or "too hoodoo"—it's about embracing the rich tapestry of our heritage and harnessing it for a profound and authentic spiritual experience.

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[charles-lowmack]

The church is not a static building or institution, but the people of God. The church is a spiritual community, founded upon Christ, the cornerstone.

[rockislandadultreads]

Nonfiction Thursday: LGBTQIA+ History Month

The LGBTQ+ History Book by DK Publishing

Exploring and explaining the most important ideas and events in LGBTQ+ history and culture, this book showcases the breadth of the LGBTQ+ experience. This diverse, global account explores the most important moments, movements, and phenomena, from the first known lesbian love poetry of Sappho to the Kinseys' modern sexuality studies, and features biographies of key figures from Anne Lister to Allen Ginsberg.

The LGBTQ+ History Book celebrates the victories and untold triumphs of LGBTQ+ people throughout history, such as the Stonewall Riots and first transgender surgeries, as well as commemorating moments of tragedy and persecution, from the Renaissance Italian “Night Police” to the 20th century “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” policy. The book also includes major cultural cornerstones - the secret language of polari, Black and Latinx ballroom culture, and the many flags of the community - and the history of LGBTQ+ spaces, from 18th-century “molly houses” to modern “gayborhoods.”

The Gay Revolution by Lillian Faderman

The fight for gay and lesbian civil rights - the years of outrageous injustice, the early battles, the heart-breaking defeats, and the victories beyond the dreams of the gay rights pioneers - is the most important civil rights issue of the present day. In “the most comprehensive history to date of America’s gay-rights movement” (The Economist), Lillian Faderman tells this unfinished story through the dramatic accounts of passionate struggles with sweep, depth, and feeling.

The Gay Revolution begins in the 1950s, when gays and lesbians were criminals, psychiatrists saw them as mentally ill, churches saw them as sinners, and society victimized them with hatred. Against this dark backdrop, a few brave people began to fight back, paving the way for the revolutionary changes of the 1960s and beyond. Faderman discusses the protests in the 1960s; the counter reaction of the 1970s and early eighties; the decimated but united community during the AIDS epidemic; and the current hurdles for the right to marriage equality.

Queer: A Graphic History by Meg-John Barker & Jules Scheele

Activist-academic Meg John Barker and cartoonist Julia Scheele illuminate the histories of queer thought and LGBTQ+ action in this groundbreaking non-fiction graphic novel. A kaleidoscope of characters from the diverse worlds of pop-culture, film, activism and academia guide us on a journey through the ideas, people and events that have shaped 'queer theory'.

From identity politics and gender roles to privilege and exclusion, Queer explores how we came to view sex, gender and sexuality in the ways that we do; how these ideas get tangled up with our culture and our understanding of biology, psychology and sexology; and how these views have been disputed and challenged.

Along the way we look at key landmarks which shift our perspective of what's 'normal', such as Alfred Kinsey's view of sexuality as a spectrum between heterosexuality and homosexuality; Judith Butler's view of gendered behavior as a performance; the play Wicked, which reinterprets characters from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz; or moments in Casino Royale when we're invited to view James Bond with the kind of desiring gaze usually directed at female bodies in mainstream media.

Fire Island by Jack Parlett

Fire Island, a thin strip of beach off the Long Island coast, has long been a vital space in the queer history of America. Both utopian and exclusionary, healing and destructive, the island is a locus of contradictions, all of which coalesce against a stunning ocean backdrop.

Now, poet and scholar Jack Parlett tells the story of this iconic destination - its history, its meaning and its cultural significance - told through the lens of the artists and creators who sought refuge on its shores. Together, figures as divergent as Walt Whitman, Oscar Wilde, James Baldwin, Carson McCullers, Frank O'Hara, Patricia Highsmith and Jeremy O. Harris tell the story of a queer space in constant evolution.

Transporting, impeccably researched and gorgeously written, Fire Island is the definitive book on an iconic American destination and an essential contribution to queer history.

[allthegeopolitics]

Conservative general election candidate Darren Millar has been found to have links to pastors accused of homophobia and Islamophobia. Millar, currently a member of the Welsh Parliament, has been selected by the Conservative Party as its parliamentary candidate for the new seat of Clwyd North, in North Wales. According to the BBC, Millar has in the past attracted criticism for associating with Yang Tuck Yoong, a senior pastor in the Pentecostal Cornerstone Community Church who has described homosexuality as an “abomination” and a “sin”.

Continue Reading

[kemetic-dreams]

An entire Manhattan village owned by African people, was destroyed to build Central Park.

When Reverend Christopher Rush laid the cornerstone of the First African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church in 1853, he placed in it a time capsule, a box that contained a bible, a hymn book, and copies of two New York papers, The Tribune and The Sun. These were mementos for future New Yorkers. Rush, who escaped slavery and became the second ordained bishop of the AME Zion Church, also delivered the church’s first sermon. He read in part from the First Epistle of Peter, an address to the oppressed and persecuted, assuring the congregation that “although now for a little while you may have to suffer through various trials,” salvation would reward those who kept the faith. But even as he counseled hope, the church was doomed. What Rush didn’t know was that the land where the Church would stand, part of a thriving African American community, had been condemned two weeks before as part of the plan to create New York’s Central Park.

Most landowners at the time refused to sell to African Americans. A white couple who lived in what was then a distant northern outpost of Manhattan was an exception, subdividing and selling off their land first to Epiphany Davis and Andrew Williams, two prominent members of the The New York African Society for Mutual Relief, and then to the AME Zion Church. More members of the African Society, whose purpose was in part to build black communities, followed suit and purchased land too. Slowly, houses were built. Some of them were rather grand, two-story affairs, with barns and stables, and some were modest shacks. The area was eventually anchored by three churches and a school.

Owning land in Seneca Village meant more than finding a refuge from the slums and violence of Manhattan proper. Buying property meant voting rights (at least for men), as laws in New York at the time required that all voters own at least $250 worth of real estate. Seneca Village probably had a more radical purpose, too, as a stop on the Underground Railroad. Prominent abolitionists such as Albro Lyons, later recognized as a conductor on the railroad, owned land and lived there. In fact, the African Society so instrumental in founding the village was reputed to have a hidden basement for hiding runaway slaves. And the name of the village itself may have come from a philosophy tract called Seneca’s Morals, a book that was popular with abolitionist activists

[under-olympos-bodhi-tree]

On Xenia, Missionary Work, and Living in a Broken World

I'm still getting used to writing these blogs, but I had something nagging at me from earlier today, I hope this essay does it justice. Long post ahead!

A friend of mine, not a close friend but still a friend, works at a sit-down restaurant and has shared difficulties with life and the service industry with me. Earlier, they shared that a Christian group visited their restaurant, ordered notably expensive food including steaks, and were not generally the best customers, but they left a $100 tip to my friend at the end of their stay.

This bill, however, turned out to be fake. On closer examination, it was a concealed note made to look like a $100 bill advertising a local Christian group, informing them that "Jesus is worth more than this bill!" followed by an ad for their congregation. Setting aside that the bill was literally worthless, as it was not worth any money, this... upset me. But let's peel back a little.

A common theme among religions is that the gods show up in the poorest of society. The concept of Xenia in Hellenic Polytheist religious belief and Ancient Greek society is built around the idea that Zeus and any other deity could appear as a poor beggar asking to sleep under your roof in the rain, or at least that they might be watching.

For those who may not see things so literally, it is still fundamentally a religious matter that humans built the world and make it what it is, even if we all still dance to the invisible tune of the Theoi and the Fates, and that we have some kind of a responsibility to build a better world from those who walked before us.

All of that is pretty common among religions, with only the details changing. Buddha lived as an ascetic with his only shelter being a tree where he had his awakening, the ancient Israelis were penniless slaves who were led by Moses who was essentially an exiled refugee, Jesus was a peasant carpenter, etc. The idea that the divine comes to our without money at their lowest is not new.

There is, however, a very toxic mentality that I have mostly observed among preaching and missionary Christian groups. It is that, because Jesus lived without money, that he is the wealth that matters. The idea being that faith in Jesus is the only thing that matters, as someone without him is damned, and the more souls you save by making them realize his supposed trueness makes you a better person by making them realize this, and possibly earns you better brownies in Heaven.

This is, however, disregarding virtually every other cultural experience in exchange for having this world view. Well-adjusted, comfortable and safe communities who worship a different god must obviously be proselytized against in this view of the world, for even the happy and comfortable cannot truly be happy for they do not know the son of your sun god if you seek conversion rates above all else in the mortal world. We have all seen this in effect.

There is a grim cowardice to this entire world view. It is a fundamental unwillingness to see the perspectives of others, to have empathy, and move your mind out of your own head. In this world view, no one who isn't you can be happy and good, all must be bent to your shape to match the perfection that you were so obviously built in.

I was raised Mormon, and this cowardice has been weaponized to an enormous degree by building entire cultural cornerstones by preaching and conversion and proselytization. Those who do not surrender vast sums of money in order to travel to strange places without friends and family purely so they can bother other people with this 'truth' that they do not want... well, to not do it makes you less than a person to the Church, unworthy of the paradise they promise you.

I in no way wish to state that sharing religion is bad. Talking to people that you know, sharing your world view, talking about what you believe, telling them about the beauty of the divine that you have witnessed, all of these I feel are an innate good. But if you see the world narrower than a pinhole, if you believe that every humans who is born, toils and dies under our sun must believe in Jesus and God in order to have a shred of value and thus seek to force it on them by any means necessary, you have perverted the entire arrangement.

Dan Olson did a wonderful documentary on Flat Earth and qAnon in which he stated that to Flat Earthers, they are not simply in ignorance of geography, but that the simple denial of truth is a weapon, a tool, in which they seek to build the world in their image by denial of facts through a force of will to build a metaphorical flat earth in which they are right and their enemies are silent. When you do not seek to enlighten, to share, to learn, and instead seek to use your will, words and resources in order to hammer anyone you ever meet into a familiar shape, to build the good little Christian paradise on Earth that is so clearly strangling those who do not see it as a paradise, you have built a horror.

And it is into this environment that the final horrors take shape. The denial of refugee aid by powerful religious organizations without conversion, the refusal of helping others without getting something in return, the clawing tendrils of rigid enforcement of religion and culture that forces people into your group for fear of leaving it, the refugees and poorest people in my city who were forcefully converted by missionaries in return for food and shelter is the final result of such a narrow world view, in viewing every human as needing to conform to you and your way. This is homousian as the horrors that have ravaged the planet for centuries, that has devastated native cultures, killed generations of queer people, and built the worst of the world.

It is in all of this that the introduction to this essay began. A Hellenic Polytheist, working a thankless job, bringing fine steaks to those who taunted them with fake money while promising that their note had the only thing of value.

What if I told you that my friend was moving away from an abusive lover or parent and desperately needed money for shelter? If they were trying to scrounge together money to pay for insulin without insurance? What if I told you they were paying for an unexpected funeral and were facing the reality of being unable to bury a loved one? What if I told you they had cancer and needed every penny to get surgery and chemotherapy?

Thankfully, they do not have any of these things to my knowledge, and were simply annoyed. But to dangle a religious truth that they are not interested in, teasing them with the money that, to the knowledge of these Christians, may have saved their lives, while taunting them that your carpenter god would cure these things for fealty like a feudal lord, is a vile and small-minded idea. That this person was likely not the sole executor of this evil and likely was simply promised by higher-ups that they were doing good, that they meant well and genuinely thought they were helping, does not decrease the horror of the world and mindset that would create this circumstance. Because next time it will be someone with cancer you yank hope away from.

I hope, dear reader, that you can extract my meaning on the purpose of Xenia, and good deeds from this, and see a small piece of the dark horror that small minds and narrow eyes can build. When Zeus appears at your doorstep dressed as a ascetic beggar, the fact that this beggar may not be Hellenic does not matter. That he may not be your color, or that he may not be healthy, or that he may be different, is not an excuse not to be kind, to think outside of your own experience, and to embrace those who need us the most. Because your $5 and your kindness and understanding to your waiter or barista or your uber driver is far, far more valuable than a pamphlet and a condemnation.

I'd like to send you off with a small story I like about the Buddha. This story is neither historical nor truly about the Buddha, but it is an enlightening tale containing a deep religious truth told through fiction, not unlike our Greek mythology:

While the Buddha meditated beneath his Bodhi tree, searching for truth and enlightenment, he peered beyond the mortal realm and saw a thief in hell who had repented and begged forgiveness. The Buddha, seeing that the man wanted to change, to come back to Samsara and to fight to be a better man, lowered a spider's web into hell for him to climb.

The Thief graciously began climbing up towards the Buddha. However, the other denizens of hell began climbing up after him, and he feared that the delicate spider's web would break and take him back to hell, so he began kicking them off. The spider's web was stronger than the finest steel and could have taken all of them, but his kicking broke it like it was thread.

Be kind, love each other, and always seek a better world.

-Lady Nikki

[lghitofgospel]

Christian Faith: A Journey of Belief, Hope, and Love

The concept of Christian faith is profoundly rooted in belief, hope, and an enduring commitment to love. This spiritual journey encourages individuals to trust in God’s plan, embracing both life’s triumphs and trials with a spirit of resilience. At its core, Christian faith is not just a religious expression but a personal relationship that shapes the heart, mind, and soul. Many who embark on this path find that faith provides purpose, peace, and strength in a world that often feels uncertain.

What is Christian Faith?

Christian faith can be seen as a foundational belief in the teachings of Jesus Christ, as conveyed through the Bible. It begins with the belief in God’s existence, His goodness, and His role as a loving Father. Yet, it extends beyond belief into trust, aligning one’s life with God’s promises and commands. Christian faith is often a journey of transformation, impacting a believer’s choices, relationships, and personal growth. Through faith, Christians are called to embody compassion, integrity, and humility—values that reflect Christ’s example.

The Foundation of Christian Faith

At the heart of Christian faith lies the belief in Jesus Christ as the Son of God, the Saviour who redeemed humanity through His death and resurrection. This belief forms the cornerstone of Christianity, inspiring followers to surrender their lives to God. The teachings of the Bible reinforce these foundations, inviting believers to live with a sense of purpose. The Bible serves as a guide, showing how to handle life’s challenges with grace, patience, and hope—a path only made possible through a deep-seated Christian faith.

Living Out Christian Faith Daily

Living out Christian faith means allowing one’s beliefs to influence actions, decisions, and interactions with others. For many, this translates into daily prayer, reflection, and engaging with Scripture to seek God’s wisdom. In practice, Christian faith often requires the courage to love, forgive, and be patient, even when circumstances are difficult. Christians are encouraged to live with kindness and generosity, seeing others through God’s eyes. By following these principles, Christian faith becomes a way of life that encourages love, peace, and understanding.

The Role of Prayer in Christian Faith

Prayer is central to Christian faith, serving as a way to communicate with God and seek His guidance. For many, prayer provides solace and strength, especially in times of hardship. In moments of uncertainty, believers turn to prayer to find reassurance, believing that God listens and cares deeply. This personal connection with God helps to reinforce Christian faith, making it more than just an abstract belief. Through prayer, Christians seek divine wisdom, giving them clarity and purpose in every decision.

Christian Faith and Community

Christian faith is often strengthened within the community, where believers come together to worship, share, and support one another. Church services, Bible studies, and fellowship gatherings allow Christians to grow in their faith alongside others. These communal settings offer encouragement and accountability, fostering a deeper connection to God and one another. In a world that can sometimes feel isolating, Christian faith provides a community of like-minded individuals who strive to embody love, compassion, and unity.

Christian Faith in Times of Suffering

One of the profound aspects of Christian faith is its ability to provide comfort in times of suffering. Many believers find that, during trials, their faith grows stronger, offering a refuge that sustains them through hardship. The belief that God is present, even in pain, is a pillar of Christian faith. This faith reminds Christians that suffering is not meaningless but rather a part of life that can bring growth, resilience, and a closer relationship with God. For those going through difficult times, Christian faith offers a source of hope, knowing that God walks alongside them.

The Role of Faith in Forgiveness

Forgiveness is a key principle of Christian faith, encouraging individuals to let go of resentment and show mercy to others. Inspired by Christ’s own forgiveness, Christians are called to extend grace, even when it is difficult. This aspect of Christian faith can be transformative, freeing believers from bitterness and bringing peace to their hearts. Forgiveness is not just a moral duty; it is a reflection of the grace that God offers to humanity. By choosing forgiveness, Christians live out their faith, demonstrating love and compassion in their interactions with others.

Building a Life of Purpose Through Christian Faith

Christian faith inspires believers to pursue a life filled with purpose, aligned with God’s will. Whether through serving others, spreading kindness, or living with integrity, faith calls individuals to make a difference. Many Christians feel that their lives are meaningful when they contribute positively to society, seeing themselves as vessels of God’s love. Through Christian faith, they find the motivation to impact the world in ways that align with Christian values, knowing that their efforts serve a higher purpose.

Explore More About Christian Faith

The Future of Christian Faith

In an ever-changing world, Christian faith continues to be a beacon of hope, guiding believers toward a future rooted in love, peace, and justice. This faith has endured through centuries, adapting yet holding firm to its core beliefs. As society evolves, so too does the expression of Christian faith, finding new ways to reach people in diverse cultures and communities. Its timeless message of redemption, love, and purpose remains relevant, speaking to the hearts of people in every generation.

Conclusion

Christian faith is a journey that invites believers to experience life with hope, purpose, and love. It shapes character, strengthens relationships, and offers comfort in times of hardship. For those who embrace it, Christian faith is more than a set of beliefs; it is a profound relationship with God that brings joy and meaning. In a world filled with challenges, Christian faith remains a steady foundation, helping believers navigate life with grace and resilience, trusting in God’s unchanging love.

Disclaimer

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[theblissfulstars]

Spiritual Church of New Orleans/Black Spiritual Church movement.

Let's discuss The spiritual churches of New Orleans and the black spiritual church movement. I love to sharing about Spirtualism on this Blog because I define myself as an African American spiritualist, Soulaani spiritualism if you will, which is distinct from American spiritualism which was predominantly practiced by white upper class people across the United States.

Spiritualism is a religion that began in New York with the fox sisters during the Reformation movement, this new religious phenomena spread quickly to the Soulaani community as spiritualism mirrored many of the ancestral practices of many colonized BIPOC spiritual traditions that had been phased out. Trans-cultural parallels show a similar happening in Latin America through the adoption of Espiritismo, a Kardecist perspective on Spiritualism.

The spiritual church movement in the African American community is largely attributed to Mother Leafy Anderson, a medium from Wisconsin who relocated to New Orleans where she demonstrated her mediumistic ability and wisdom through the channeling one of spirit guides Blackhawk, Aunt Esther, and many more.

These uniquely Black spiritual churches became a cornerstone in the black community as an alternative to more mainstream beliefs held in our communities and also were there with open arms to receive black members who were expelled by the national spiritualist association of churches in the '20s during Jim Crow causing their growth even further. By the mid-1920s you could find black spiritual churches in the New Orleans tradition from Chicago, Detroit, California and Texas.

This unique tradition is characterized by its blending of Catholic iconography, with a Pentecostal or Baptist worship style. Some congregations even purported to incorporate elements of Conjure, Hoodoo and Voodoo(not to be confused with Haitian Vodou, Dominican Vudú, or Vodun) such as in the case of mother Catherine seals, an eccentric healer who was said to have healed herself back from the dead. Not many of the churches still stand, however, some noteworthy and historic ones include The metropolitan Spiritual Church of Christ, Pentecostal spiritual Assemblies of Christ, universal hagar's spiritual Church. And many many more!

[gayleviticus]

I think anytime people want to talk about how [group] isn't really [religion]' its quite difficult bc there are at least four different possible levels this conversation could be happening on: (this can probably apply more broadly but I'm most familiar w Christian ones so I use those examples)

Linguistic - "I believe in Christ so I'm a Christian". basic and to the point, you can argue w it by pointing out Muslims also believe in Jesus (and then counterargue he's not the cornerstone of Islam)

Sociological - "even if it diverges from Christian orthodoxy, LDS self identifies as Christian and emerged from the Christian tradition so it is Christian"

Normative theological: "JWs aren't real Christians because they reject the Trinity and believe in falsehood' (or, for that matter "JWs are the only true Christians because we're the only ones who accept the truth")

Community: I don't think people tend to explicitly verbalise this one as much, but it sortve like "we just don't believe the same thing as that group and don't have anything in common."

And I think where it gets especially tricky is the way that 3 and 4 can become quite difficult to unentangle.

let's say there was some kind of gnostic Christian church that believed the God of the Old Testament is a sadistic monster (this might exist but i dont know of any; i pick this as a pure hypothetical). when they self identify as Christian, I would concede 1 and 2, disagree on 3 but accept everyone thinks they're right in life so what are you gonna do about it, but where I would feel uncomfortable is when we get to 4.

I can accept someone might have an interpretation of Christianity that thinks my God is an evil demiurge - but I'm going to feel like we really don't have a shared faith in common. We may both use the language of Christian, but what we mean by that is very different and doesn't necessarily imply unity. That doesn't need to be a bad thing at all, unless you think being of the same religion is necessarily to truly respect others as human beings; if I can respect Islam and Judaism, I can respect Gnostic Christianity as a different faith from mine. and so a lot of people think 'hmm, well my faith is so different from X that it feels wrong for both of us to call ourselves Christians.'

but 4) is more than just a binary of exclusion/inclusion; it's about what actually marks a community in common, and I think that's more, not less pertinent in a society where we understand other people don't have to be your coreligionist to be someone you can respect and love and be in community and solidarity with in other ways.

and its also difficult because people can feel like they have different parts of their faith that are fundamental from others and not understand why there seems to be this one way gap (which can include the liberal not understanding why the conservative cares so much about biblical inerrancy, but it can also include, say, the evangelical not understanding why Jewish people won't accept Messianics). and so debate over who is a true [believer] often just becomes a proxy for 'is this someone with whom my faith is a unifier or a differentiator'. which is then quite unhelpful when someone tries to argue against someone operating on this level with a sociological argument.

[grandmaster-anne]

Court Circular | 16th February 2023

Buckingham Palace

His Excellency Mr Bader Mohammed Al Mantheri was received in audience by The King today and presented the Letters of Recall of his predecessor and his own Letters of Credence as Ambassador from the Sultanate of Oman to the Court of St James’s. His Excellency Mr Thani Thongphakdi was received in audience by The King and presented the Letters of Recall of his predecessor and his own Letters of Credence as Ambassador from the Kingdom of Thailand to the Court of St James’s. Mrs Thongphakdi was also received by His Majesty. Mr Thomas Drew (Director General Defence and Intelligence for Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office) was present. The King this afternoon attended a Reception at the Church of Christ the Cornerstone, 300 Saxon Gate, Milton Keynes, to celebrate Milton Keynes’ new status as a City, and was received by His Majesty’s Lord-Lieutenant of Buckinghamshire (Countess Howe). His Majesty met community groups representing charitable, business, faith, environmental and arts organisations in Milton Keynes. The King afterwards visited Milton Keynes Food Bank, 14 Burners Lane, Kiln Farm, Milton Keynes, and was received by Ms Fola Komolafe (Deputy Lieutenant of Buckinghamshire) and Ms Louisa Hobbs (Operations Manager). His Majesty met staff, volunteers and representatives from local partner schools and organisations and viewed the foodbank’s new Mobile Top-Up Shop. The King later received His Excellency Dr Sultan Al Jaber (United Arab Emirates’ Special Envoy for Climate Change and President Designate of the 28th United Nations Climate Change Conference of the Parties). Mr Vinod Tailor (Deputy Lieutenant of Bedfordshire) was present at London Luton Airport this morning upon the Arrival of The President of the Republic of Poland and welcomed His Excellency on behalf of His Majesty. The King and The Queen Consort were represented by Sir Nicholas Coleridge at the Memorial Service for Dame Vivienne Westwood (Fashion Designer) which was held in Southwark Cathedral, London SE1, this afternoon.

St James’s Palace

The Princess Royal, accompanied by Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, today carried out the following engagements in New Zealand. Her Royal Highness this morning visited Havana Coffee Works Limited Roastery, 163 Tory Street, Te Aro, Wellington. The Princess Royal, Patron, New Zealand Riding for the Disabled Association Incorporated, later visited the Wellington Group at Battle Hill Farm Forest Park, 610 Paekakariki Hill Road, Porirua. Her Royal Highness, President, the Mission to Seafarers Limited, this afternoon opened the new Wellington Mission site, Shed 39, CentrePort Wellington, Aotea Quay, Port of Wellington. The Princess Royal, President, the Mission to Seafarers Limited, afterwards unveiled the Foundation Stone for the Mission to Seafarers and Merchant Navy Memorial at Wellington Cathedral of Saint Paul, 2 Hill Street, Thorndon, Wellington. Her Royal Highness, Colonel-in-Chief, Royal New Zealand Corps of Signals, this evening attended a Reception at Government House, Wellington. The Princess Royal, Colonel-in-Chief, Royal New Zealand Corps of Signals, afterwards attended a Dinner at Government House given by the Governor-General of New Zealand (the Rt Hon Dame Cindy Kiro).

Kensington Palace

The Duke of Gloucester, Colonel-in-Chief, Royal Army Medical Corps, this afternoon received Major General Alan Hawley upon relinquishing his appointment as Representative Colonel Commandant and Brigadier Robin Simpson upon assuming the appointment.

St James’s Palace

The Duke of Kent, Deputy Colonel-in-Chief, this morning visited The Royal Scots Dragoon Guards (Carabiniers and Greys) at Leuchars Station, St Andrews, Fife.

[holdingart]

Playtime

Roach and Elodie try to watch a movie

I am an absolute moron who forgot to actually link the fic I wrote, so here it is AND now you can read it here on Tumblr if you want.

Here's the AO3 link if you'd like to read it there or leave a comment

  “Jonny’s gonna be so pissed about this.”

  Despite that, the air around Roach had an excited charge.  Elodie couldn’t help but think they wanted to get caught, just for the thrill of it.

  She switched off the lights to her bike and walked it into the alley behind Hellbender’s.  Roach had teased her mercilessly for it, but she refused to bring it inside the store without Jonny’s permission.  Breaking into their friend's workplace was one thing, but that didn’t mean she would be rude about it. 

  “I would be more worried about Mrs. Bender, honestly,” she said as she killed the engine.  She flinched when Roach gave her a final squeeze before they hopped off.  

  “I’ve never met her ‘fore, what’s she like?”

  Her mind was buzzing, but she tried to focus on their question.  “Practical.  The kind of person who wouldn’t tolerate our kind.”

  “Free spirits?”

  “Aliens,” she corrected.  She slid off her bike, already feeling more grounded with it between them. “I cannot imagine her without a wooden spoon in her hand and a cowering priest at her feet.”

  Roach leaned forward, eyes wide.  “What?”

  Her lip twitched as she fought a smile.  Mrs. Bender had been a key member of St. George’s two churches, along with every other church, mosque, and temple between the Burrow and Waynesboro, at one point or another.  She had a strong mind with stronger opinions on faith and death and morality that challenged the most robust religious leader.  

  This would inevitably lead to a cataclysmic debate between them and Mrs. Bender, something the leaders looked forward to with the same enthusiasm their predecessors had for the Age of Enlightenment.  Afterwards, she would pick up her things and leave; but not after she had integrated herself into every committee and had become the cornerstone of the community.  When her new altar buddies and charity drivers couldn’t convince her to stay, more often they would leave with her until she amassed enough bodies to start her own religious movement to challenge the Pope himself.  The absolute chaos left behind could destroy a smaller congregation (and probably had).

  She was kind of Elodie’s hero.

  “She is just a force of personality.  Forget I said anything.”

  Roach huffed, but didn’t pursue it.  Elodie shuffled deeper down the alley where she knew the side door was.  A sudden tug at her sleeve nearly made her jump out of her skin.

  Christ, how do they do that?!  

  Roach looked up at her through their blond eyelashes, the picture of innocence.  “Where ya goin’?  We’re usin’ the front door like always.”

  She opened her mouth, ready to snap that they didn’t have a key, before she remembered who she was talking to and closed it.  Her body gave a jolt when their fingers brushed against her wrist, and cursed this casket for how responsive it was to every damn touch.  In the dark of the alley, the only light shone from Roach’s golden eyes and the occasional glint of their teeth.  So it killed her that the only thing she could see with any clarity, was that smugass grin of theirs when they felt her thrumming heartbeat. 

  They’re going to give me hell for this later, she thought as Roach tugged her along, ignoring how eager she felt at the thought.

  Standing at the storefront, Roach finally released her to pat down their pockets.  She rubbed her wrist— it felt like it was on from where they touched it— as she tried to piece together the reason for this charade.  As Roach turned out their pockets, they seemed to feel her eyes on them, and gave the tiniest of jerks towards the corner of the store.  Her eyes followed and immediately understood.

  “Oh how embarrassing,” Roach sighed melodramatically.  “here I had this whole thing planned and I forgot the dang key.”

  She rolled her eyes but played along.  “Oh nooo.  What should we dooo?  Now the evening is ruined.”

  “Noo!” They placed a hand to their forehead in a mock faint against the window.  “This cannot be!” They snuck a glance at her, but she was quick to cover her face with a hand.  She definitely wasn’t hiding from their gaze; it was just that their theatrics were so over-the-top it gave her secondhand embarrassment.  

  Then she heard Roach snap their fingers.  It didn’t sound like it was to get her attention but she peeked anyway.  To her relief their gaze wasn’t on her but on the door handle as they jiggled it.  A moment later they pushed the door open, and the clattering of the welcome bells greeted the two.

  They dusted off their hands with a satisfied look.  “We’ll ain’t that lucky.  Someone musta forgot to lock the door when they left.”

  “Whaaat?  But Jonny didn’t even know we were coming here.”

  “Nope, no sir.  Jonny’s a model employee and it must’ve been someone else like, uh,” Roach gestured at her.

  “Like that Danny.”

  “Like that Danny, exactly!  So much makeup, like a raccoon, y’can’t trust them types.” Roach gave her a wink before they went in.

  She shook her head and smiled.  With a parting glance at the beeping security camera, she followed.

  Without Jonny, they were once again cast into darkness.  Normally the trio had to hold hands while he guided them around the displays, with the occasional detour towards the movie shelves to pick up something to watch.  Elodie wasn’t sure how to feel about coming into contact with Roach again without a third party present. 

  “Now just remind me: you can’t see in the dark, right?”

  “No, Roach,” she sighed.  “I am at your mercy.”

  A self-satisfied hum escaped them as they tapped two fingers against their lip.  “I like the sound of that.”

  Thank God it’s so dark.  They can’t see me blushing, oh God can they see me blushing?  FUCK.

  Elodie let out a huff and shoved them.  “Just lead, this was your dumb idea.”

  Her hand hovered over their shoulder, just for a moment that she was sure they would not have noticed.  Finally she placed it down and pinched the fabric of their hoodie.  She was about to give them the go ahead when she emitted a surprised squeak.

  Roach huffed a laugh as one of their hands entwined with hers.  “You gotta stay close luv, otherwise y’might trip.  It’s for safety.  You understand, right?”

  They invited her into their personal space with the slightest of tugs, and damn it if she didn’t hate how compliant she was.  It was a straight shot to the breakroom, but dammit if Roach seemed to walk slow on purpose.  But if she pushed them to go faster, that would mean putting her body even closer to theirs.  So she settled for muttering death threats to them the entire trek, just loud enough for Roach to hear and laugh at.

  Which was definitely not what she wanted.  It was just a coincidence how their laugh made her feel.

  Roach entered the breakroom first and flipped the light switch.  Elodie blinked at the sudden change and slid out of their grasp while Roach made a beeline for the rows of VHS tapes.  Elodie had been to Hellbender’s Videos every night for the past week, but she still needed to prepare herself each time before she entered.  Movie posters covered every inch of the walls, a colorful cacophony of faces.  The eyes stared in all directions, but something about them itched her skin — loathe as she was to admit it, she disliked the thought of them watching her.  She took a deep breath and followed.

  “Did you find your wish?” she asked.

  “Well that’s one way to put it,” Roach said as their hand flicked through the rows of tapes and the other fidgeted with their lighter.  “You gotta poet’s soul inside of ya?”

  “I hope not,” she said as she sat on the ground.  She’d used the couch once this past week and swore she’d never make a mistake like that again.  “It’s crowded enough inside here without something else.”

  Roach let out a snort and squatted to check the bottom rows.  *flick flick flick* 

  “Dammit, I don’t see any Divine stuff here.”

  “How do you know when a movie is divine?”

  “When John Waters directs it.” *flick flick* 

  “Does he water or direct the movie?”

  “Cute” they pulled out a cigarette and lit it.  “I’ll check the front.  Maybe they finally got an NC-17 section.”

  Elodie snorted.  St. George was built on Catholic guilt and a paralyzing fear of sexuality; it'd be more likely to meet a unicorn than for a sex section in Mrs. Bender’s store.

  Roach stepped around her — she tried to trip them but dammit they were too slippery — and said, “Back in a flash.”

  She craned her neck to watch them as they disappeared into the darkness, the light at their lips her only way to track them.  It was when they disappeared around a corner did a thought strike her.

  She wanted to play.

  The thought jolted her to her feet.  Where did that come from?  She didn’t ‘play’, not as a human and especially not before; there was only the hunt, the chase, the feast.  She bit her thumb and began to pace.  Yes, there were occasions she’d intentionally prolong a hunt — but that felt too dissimilar.  Those were intellectual exercises, where no pleasure was derived from it.  How did the prey react to this stimuli, how did they fight back if this happened?  It was done in preparation for the next hunt.  There was always another hunt.

  She bit down harder on her nail.  Another Earth thing, then.  Another thing no doubt connected to glands and hormones that she was grateful to lack in her true form.  But that didn’t explain why.  Why did she have this compulsive need to…to mess with Roach?  To tease and push and to have them respond in kind?

  She had a vague recollection of someone mentioning other creatures that did that — cats specifically — where they would play with their food, give them a moment of hope before they dashed it away.  But that didn’t sit well with her; she didn’t want to hurt Roach, but instead wanted to hear them laugh.  She shuddered at the thought.  They’re supposed to be prey, but they don’t feel like that anymore.  That’s a problem.  

    And the word itself—‘play’— evoked such strong memories: Melanie as she begged for one more game of dolls; Carmen McCarthy as she challenged her to a race; fucking Andrew and that stupid rubber band gun of his before she snapped it over her knee.  But none of these felt right.  Those had never interested her then and they didn’t interest her now; besides, those sort of games would likely bore Roach to tears.

  She finally stopped her pacing.  Her jaw finally relaxed, and the pressure on her thumb sighed in relief.  Ah, so that is it.  This was definitely the casket’s doing.  This stupid, confusing, confounding thing that dared to make demands at all hours of the day.  She remembered the horror at the realization that she wasn’t the master of this casket so much as its prisoner.  It would react and respond without her consent, and when she finally had to concede that total control of it was as likely as stopping this planet’s rotation.  This had to be another example of that, there was no other explanation.  It had grown bored with human-made games, and craved the stimulation that only another one of their kind could create.

  She looked around the cramped room, and her eyes rested on one of the multiple movie posters.  A girl hugged a dog, surrounded by more.  Something triggered in her memories, a new word floated and with it was an image so strong she wasn’t certain if it was a forgotten memory or not.

  She and Livvy were at the Burrow — it had to be the Burrow because St. George didn’t have a pet shop, but she couldn’t fathom why they’d be there without Mom.  She looked at their interlocked fingers and followed it up to her sister’s face.  Ah, this must’ve been in grade school; Livvy has that awful perm cousin Camilla gave her.  

  Then a high pitched sound drew Elodie’s attention back to the store window.  On the other side was a litter of puppies.

  It was a moving mound of colorful fur as they clamored over each other.  They tussled and pawed at each other as gleeful yips could be heard through the glass.

  “They’re fighting,” Elodie had said.

  “Nah squirt, they’re just roughhousing,” Livvy responded.  “Playing.”

  “Really,” she said with all the cynical skepticism she could muster.  She shook her head as one of them nipped a floppy-eared one’s nose.  “I get in trouble whenever I play like that.”

  Livvy laughed.  “That’s ‘cause you’re too rough, squirt.”

  “Isn’t that just what roughhousing is?”

  “Nah kiddo, it’s just another kind of playing.”

  “And how do they know when it’s supposed to be for real and when it’s not?”

  “They just do, squirt.”

  “But how?”

  Livvy opened her mouth then closed it.  She had that thoughtful look she got whenever she was serious and wanted her words to mean more than they did.  People said Elodie would get the same look on her face, but she doubted it.  There was no way for this small human to ever compare to her.

  A noise on the other side of the window pane drew Elodie’s attention away from her sister.  The Nose Biter had lost interest in Floppy Ear’s face and had redirected its attention to chasing the other’s tail.

  Just as Elodie was about to congratulate it on learning which end was the dangerous one, Nose Biter got ahold of Floppy Ears’ tail, and bit down hard enough for the latter to let out a cry.  Immediately the rest of the litter backed away from the two and the shopkeeper appeared to separate them.

  Livvy pointed.  “There.  That’s how they know.”

  The shopkeeper patted and soothed the pup with love-words before they placed it back down.  They waved at the girls and gestured for them to come in, but Livvy gave a smile and shook them off.  They left, and Elodie looked up at her sister as she waited for her to continue her thought.  But Livvy shook her head.

  “Just watch, squirt.  It’ll make sense pretty soon.”

  Elodie turned back to the pups.  Nose Biter has wobbled on its bowlegs back to Floppy Ears, who seemed a touch more cautious than before.  Nose Biter raised a paw up, hovering in front of the other; then Floppy Ears barked and tackled it to the ground.

  “See?  He was a little more careful and asked if they could still play.”

  “But they didn’t say anything!”

  “Yes they did.  They asked in puppyspeak is all,” she pointed as Nose Biter got off its back and began to spin around.  “Now he’s saying ‘chase me! chase me!’ And look, now they’re friends again.”

  “Squirt, I get that sometimes it’s hard to know this kinda stuff.  All you gotta do is listen to the other person's words and body.  The more you play, the easier it gets.”

  “Found it!”

  Elodie nearly jumped out of her skin, and yanked out her thumb with a hiss.  She glanced down and noticed a droplet of blood bloom where her incisor had been.  She quickly wiped it off on her jeans and poked her head out of the break room.  A flash of movement by the counter drew her attention, and a moment later Roach’s face appeared.

  “What are you doing over there?” she asked.

  When they grinned the cigarette wobbled between their teeth and momentarily flared, and bathed their face in an orange glow.  They lifted something above their head and shouted,   “Had ‘em all in a box labeled ‘Trash for Roach’!  Can you believe it?  Jonny loves me!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Trust me, I know these movies like the back of my hand.”

  “I meant about Jonny loving you, but okay.”

  Roach blew a raspberry at her.  “You’re no fun.”  The glow from the cigarette had begun to fade, and left Elodie literally in the dark.  She could follow what remained of the light as Roach tucked it behind their ear, but it had shrunk so much it was little help.  Roach climbed on top of the counter, box under one arm, and tried to hop over the counter.  

  Keyword: tried.  Not only did they misjudge just how high the counter was compared to their lil’ legs, they seemed to have immediately forgotten the lit cigarette until it caught part of their hair on fire.  They wildly hopped from foot to foot, desperate not to crush the scattered VHS tapes while they tried to put out their hair.

  Elodie leaned against the doorframe and watched their act with a critical eye.   They’re doing this on purpose, but why?

  Was this another attempt at humor?  Was this that  slapstick thing they and Jonny tried to explain before she tuned them out?  Roach was durable and could withstand some serious injury without a problem, but there wasn’t a shock factor when you knew why.  And Elodie knew; but that meant she wasn’t impressed by Roach’s stuff, and they should have grown bored by her lackluster reactions.  So why put in the effort?  Was it supposed to be some sort of signal, a clue she hadn’t noticed?

  She walked off to the supply closet and grabbed the vacuum.  When she returned, Roach had (miraculously) put it out without any burns or charred hair.  What luck.

   She followed the light of their eyes and could make out their crouched silhouette, as those golden eyes looked up at her in a clear pout.  “You coulda helped, y’know.”

  “What, and miss the show?” She unraveled the cord and began to feel around the wall.  “Where is the nearest outlet?”

  They gave a vague gesture in her general direction.  “I’unno, somewhere around there, I think.”

  “Roach, I know you can see.  Just tell me already.”

  “What, and miss the show?”

  “I could eat you, you know.  Right here and now.”

  “Promise?”

  She snorted.  “Ass.”

  “And a damn fine one too.”

  Together they managed to do a passable job cleaning the mess, with only a small amount of grumbling. On the taxing ten-yard trek back, Roach had graciously decided to look past her ’betrayal’.

  “Next time though I won’t be so forgiving.” 

  “Is that a threat?”

  “What? Nooo, never,” they batted their lashes and held up a VHS tape.  “Ready to have your life changed?”

  “By the divine?”

  “By the Divine.”

  “That’s what I said!” Roach laughed as she shoved him, a strange comfort settling in her stomach.  Yes, I was definitely right.  It’s the casket that desires their company, not me.

  Livvy had always been “a gentle soul” as their Mom would say;  whenever the two played any sport, she  would move with a delicate nervousness that made any serious game impossible.  Elodie had never been sure if it was out of fear of Elodie hurting her or of Livvy hurting her.  The thought would have amused her if it hadn’t frustrated her growing up.

  And their cousins learned to give Elodie a wide berth ever since she dislocated one of their shoulders.  Only fucking Andrew seemed ready to play rough — but it was Andrew and it’d be a cold day in Hell before she willingly sought out his company.  

  Elodie returned to her spot on the floor as Roach pushed the play button.  When they saw her, they raised an eyebrow.

  “There is a couch, y'know.  It’s right there behind ya.”

  She glanced over her shoulder.  “Well I’ll be damned.  So there is.”

  “So?” Roach asked as they plopped in their usual spot in the middle.  They patted the cushion next to them, but she shook her head.

  “I like being comfortable, thanks.”

  “Killjoy.”

  “I don’t even know—“ but Roach hushed them as the credits played.  They slid down beside her, and the sudden closeness made her  crinkle her nose at the smell of burnt hair and fabric.

  Roach turned, no doubt to share some trivia, but stopped when they saw her face.  They cocked their head to the side, a question on their lips.  Elodie scooted an inch away from them, as she dusted some of the ash off their shoulder.

  Their eyes widened.  “Oh!  Oh man, sorry ‘bout that.  Here, gimme a second.“ immediately the room was filled with the familiar scent of honey and cinnamon, the same they sold at the bakery that made her mouth water without fail.  Roach smiled.  “Better?”

  She nodded and tried to think past the onslaught of hunger the shift in scents had caused.  Roach seemed to realize the mistake and quickly changed again, first to a fresh carpet smell then to pinewood then a dizzyingly strong bleach.

  She pressed a hand to her temple at the abrupt changes.  “Stop.  The real is fine, just stop already.”

  “Sorry, sorry!  Tryna land on a neutral smell’s harder than it looks!”  

  It was a relief when the smell of nicotine and burnt shit returned.  It took a few minutes more before the throbbing behind Elodie’s eyes finally subsided, not helped by the fact that some girl in the movie had the nasalliest Baltimore accent she’d ever heard.

  When she finally opened her eyes, Roach watched her with a contemplative gaze.

  “What?” She snapped.  But they just gave her a hollow smile.

  “Nothin’.  Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, Elodie,” they pointed to the screen.  “Look, we’re ‘bout to hit a classic scene, you gotta watch.”

  Elodie let out a frustrated hiss.  She moved in front of the TV screen just as Dawn Dvenport threw her mom into the Christmas tree.  A cacophony of people’s screams and the eerie silhouette gave just the right effect.  She looked over Roach, all previous playfulness gone.

  “Tell me Roach, before I get mad.”

  They smiled, but it was spread a little too thinly to look natural.  The way their body froze when they’d been so animated a moment ago was also a giveaway.

  “Ellie, there’s no need to go all scarechord on me.  Ya just gotta ask nicely is all.”

  “I am,” she gave a grin that was all teeth.  “So spill.”

  They smiled back.  “You won’t like the answer.”

  “Roach.”

  “Aight,” they shrugged nonchalantly.  “I was just thinkin’ how funny it was, how fragile humans are and, well, how human your reaction was, is all.”

  She stared at them, dumbfounded.  That wasn’t the answer she expected.  Roach rolled their eyes.

  “Look, can you move now?  The sex scene’s coming up and it’s actually got some real good camera work and effects, and I’d like to watch it.”

  Elodie complied and returned to her seat next to them, blind to everything but her thoughts.

  A part of her screamed that this was a ruse, a blatant coverup of the truth with an insecurity for her to chew over.  And dammit, it worked.

  Because humans are so, so delicate.  She’d known that since she’d dislocated her cousin’s shoulder; when she joined track and swimming, and learned how painfully slow these creatures were.  If she went as fast as she desired, it’d destroy this casket.  It’d take so little effort for her to destroy everything around her and she couldn’t afford that kind of recklessness.  She could never be all that she wanted without exposing what she was.

  She looked at Roach with newfound respect.  They’re dangerously clever.  How intoxicating.

  Flick flick flick

  The lighter was out again, something for Roach’s hand even as their foot tapped with the melody.  Perhaps they were nervous after that encounter.  Or maybe it was the usual Roach-chitters.  A sexy sax played over Dawn Davenport’s illustrious start as a career girl when they finally fished out their cigarette packet.

  “Hey, is that ‘Mabel Mabel’ thing a real jump rope rhyme?” they asked as they tried to shake one out.  Why they seemed against using their hands she’d never know.

  “...Yeah,” she said cautiously.  Were they going to mention her shift in mood?  Did they care?  Did it matter?  “Liv and her friends used to sing it, but I think it went out of style by the time I was in school.”

  “Hm.  What kinda rhymes did you ‘n your friends sing?” they twirled the cigarette between their fingers as they watched her.

  She frowned.  “I wasn’t much for those kinds of games.”

  Roach snorted.  “Sure you weren’t.”

  “It’s true though.” she tried not to cringe.  Even to her own ears it sounded whiny.,

  That made them laugh, and dammit if that didn’t immediately lift her mood, even if their words didn’t.  “Hey, don’t get all pouty on me, I was just askin’.”

  Pouty?  Her?  She was an interdimensional creature larger than anything on this planet, incomprehensible in form and in thought.  She did not pout.

  But they’re teasing again, so they’re not mad anymore, right?  They wouldn’t push if they thought it was dangerous.

  There it was again.  That familiar rush, the intoxicating idea of ‘playing’ with Roach, even if that meant a few hits to her pride.  She shifted to face them and balanced on the balls of her feet.  She had to try.

  “Are you really having another one already?”

  Her question came just before the lighter reached the cigarette.  The look of Roach’s pursed lips and surprised look brought her more satisfaction than it probably should have.  Their eyes crossed as they tried to look at it between their lips, then took it out to properly examine it.  They gave a performative show of tapping their chin, almost as if in thought.

  “Well, I was plannin’ on just staring at ‘em all lovey-like, but I like your idea better.”  

  “You just had one.  I don’t want Liv asking me if I’ve been smoking.  It’s annoying.”

  “Aww, poor you.  Not my problem though.” the second their eyes went back to the lighter, Elodie pounced.

  “— Do you always have to badger me for attention?”

  “— MABEL MABEL—-”

  “— Goddammit, Taffy!”

  Elodie’s hand shot out to grab the packet just as Roach bucked their hips and threw her off.  She grabbed their wrist and managed to pin them from behind, but Roach continued to squirm and buck like one of those mechanical bulls down at the bar.  One of Roach’s arms freed itself and tried to drag themselves out just as Elodie pulled it back.  She released it the second she realized the packet wasn’t there, and focused on trying to pry it from their other hand.  Roach let out a bark of a laugh so sudden it gave her momentary pause.

  “Oh so that’s what we’re doing!” they said with an edge of excited panic.

  Maybe they were more nervous than I thought.

  But it was too late to back down.  Now it was an all-out war for the nicotine packet.  The struggle lasted the rest of the scene in Dawn’s apartment, and the entirety of Hellbender’s break room.  Roach managed to get to their feet and somersault Elodie onto her back, then made a break for the door, when her hand shot out for their ankle and dragged them down.  She climbed onto them as they tried to roll away, but was once again pinned between her and the couch.

  Elodie gave a triumphant shout and wrapped an arm around them, clinging to the couch’s foot.  Roach was trapped for sure this time.  They desperately tried to keep the packet out of her reach, but their lack of mobility made it child’s play.  She wrapped her legs around one of theirs as she reached up, and felt her fingers barely brush the cardboard box.  The more Roach tried to pull back, the more it crumpled and she thought to herself, I’ll win whether I get it or not.  I’m brilliant.

  She grinned in triumph at the sight of the now-crushed packet as it fell from Roach’s grasp and into her waiting clutches.  “Ah-ha!  Got you!”

  “— You have to audition to even get your hair done.”

  “ —  And there’s this guy who does hair there… Mmm-mm!”

  Then her mind finally caught up with the rest of her.  She relaxed herself back to the ground and realized how intertwined the two of them were.  There wasn’t a hair’s width of space between them, made all the more noticeable by how heavy she panted for air and the hammering of her heart.

  “—I’d suck the socks off of him in a minute.” 

  Oh no.  Elodie squirmed, she needed to disentangle herself from Roach, but her head was too full of noise.  It was like every part of her body needed to let itself be known where it was in proximity to them, like the hand that was around her or how their thumb was hooked in one of her belt loops.

  Meanwhile, Roach looked completely at ease as they rested their head on her arm.  And here I thought I was being so clever— FUCK.  What is going on in this movie, why is there so much moaning all of a sudden?!

  “Looks like you caught me,” they practically purred.  Their eyes were two black pools, the shine of their strange eyes reduced to a shimmering ring.

  Elodie’s mouth suddenly felt very dry.  She gulped, and prayed they didn’t take that as a sign of weakness.  “Yup.”

  But that was enough to break whatever stupor she’d been in, and she began to wiggle away.  But with every inch she tried to put between them, Roach was quick to close it again.

 “— Don’t you look hot today!”

  “ — Why thank ya, honey.  I feel more,” the actress let out a steamy moan and felt herself up.  “comfortable.”

  “The hell is even happening?” she asked, eager to distract.  This doesn’t count as running away, she told herself.  This was merely a sign of respect, it was standard protocol of the human game of ‘roughhousing’.  I’m not afraid of something like Roach.

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

8th October >> Fr. Martin's Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Matthew 21:33-43 for the Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A: ‘They will respect my son’.

Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

Gospel (Except USA) Matthew 21:33-43 This is the landlord's heir: come, let us kill him.

Jesus said to the chief priests and the elders of the people, ‘Listen to another parable. There was a man, a landowner, who planted a vineyard; he fenced it round, dug a winepress in it and built a tower; then he leased it to tenants and went abroad. When vintage time drew near he sent his servants to the tenants to collect his produce. But the tenants seized his servants, thrashed one, killed another and stoned a third. Next he sent some more servants, this time a larger number, and they dealt with them in the same way. Finally he sent his son to them. “They will respect my son” he said. But when the tenants saw the son, they said to each other, “This is the heir. Come on, let us kill him and take over his inheritance.” So they seized him and threw him out of the vineyard and killed him. Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?’ They answered, ‘He will bring those wretches to a wretched end and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will deliver the produce to him when the season arrives.’ Jesus said to them, ‘Have you never read in the scriptures:

It was the stone rejected by the builders that became the keystone. This was the Lord’s doing and it is wonderful to see?

‘I tell you, then, that the kingdom of God will be taken from you and given to a people who will produce its fruit.’

Gospel (USA) Matthew 21:33–43 He will lease his vineyard to other tenants.

Jesus said to the chief priests and the elders of the people: “Hear another parable. There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a hedge around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a tower. Then he leased it to tenants and went on a journey. When vintage time drew near, he sent his servants to the tenants to obtain his produce. But the tenants seized the servants and one they beat, another they killed, and a third they stoned. Again he sent other servants, more numerous than the first ones, but they treated them in the same way. Finally, he sent his son to them, thinking, ‘They will respect my son.’ But when the tenants saw the son, they said to one another, ‘This is the heir. Come, let us kill him and acquire his inheritance.’ They seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him. What will the owner of the vineyard do to those tenants when he comes?” They answered him, “He will put those wretched men to a wretched death and lease his vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the proper times.” Jesus said to them, “Did you never read in the Scriptures:

”The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; by the Lord has this been done, and it is wonderful in our eyes?

“Therefore, I say to you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that will produce its fruit.”

Reflections (5)

(i) Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

We are very fortunate to have the ruin of a church in our parish that goes back to the twelfth century or even earlier. It has been modified over the centuries and was used by the Church of Ireland community as their place of worship until 1840. I often wonder what the stones of that ruin would say if they could speak. They have witnessed so much history, so much Christian faith. When I look at it, I think of the people of faith who had it built, who maintained it over the centuries, and who prayed in it. It is now a ruined church but the stones of the building continue to speak to us.

In today’s gospel reading, Jesus speaks about a stone that was rejected by the builders but subsequently became the corner stone of a different building. Jesus is speaking of himself here. He was the stone rejected by the builders, put to death on a cross. Yet, God raised him from the dead and he became the corner stone of a new spiritual building, what we call the church. Together, we are that spiritual building. What Saint Paul wrote to the church in Ephesus applies to us all, ‘You are… members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure joins together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord’. Even though the rejection of Jesus, his crucifixion, was a tragedy, something wonderful has come from it. God has brought great good out of the brutal rejection of his Son by humanity. God did not give up on us on Calvary. God ensured that the rejected stone became the cornerstone of a new spiritual building, a new community of believers from every nation. God remained faithful to us, even in the face of the rejection of his beloved Son.

This is also the message of the parable in the gospel reading. The landowner invested greatly in his vineyard, fencing it round, digging a winepress in it and building a tower, all to keep it safe. He leased it out to tenants to look after it. However, he had the misfortune to have tenants from hell. When the landowner sent his servants to collect the produce of the vineyard, the tenants attacked the servants, killing some of them. When the landowner sent his son, expecting that the tenants would respect him at least, they rejected him in the most brutal way, killing him and throwing him out of the vineyard. Most landowners would have given up on the vineyard at this point, but this landowner kept looking until he found decent tenants who would give him the fruit of the vineyard he was entitled to. He kept faith with his vineyard. In a similar way, God keeps faith with us. He keeps investing in us, even when we fail to give him a return on his investment. He keeps pursuing us, even when we turn from him. He works to bring new life out of our failings, just as God brought new life out of the rejection of his Son. God does not ask us to be worthy of his love. As Saint Paul says in his letter to the Romans, ‘God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners, Christ died for us’.

God loves us as we are. Yet he hopes that his love will change us for the better. Even though God loves us as we are, God is always at work to move us on from where we are. God wants us to be fully alive with God’s own life, which is a life of love. God sent his Son into our world so that we could live lives that reflect something of the loving life of God. God then sent the Spirit of his risen Son into our hearts so that our lives would bear the rich fruit of the Spirit. In one of his letters Saint Paul portrays the fruit of the Spirit as love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. This is the return that God looks for from his investment in us. In today’s second reading, there is another portrayal of the fruits that God hopes his investment in us will produce. Paul calls on us to fill our minds with everything that is true, everything that is noble, everything that is good and pure, everything that we love and honour, and everything that can be thought virtuous or worthy of praise.

Even though God doesn’t give up on us even when our lives fail to bear this kind of fruit, sometimes, we give up on ourselves. We get discouraged by our failings. This is where prayer comes in. When we pray to God out of our need, aware of our weakness, God will always respond to us in a way that builds us up. As Paul says at the beginning of that second reading, ‘if there is anything you need, pray for it, asking God for it with prayer and thanksgiving and that peace of God… will guard your hearts and your thoughts’. In our need, we can do no better than pray that wonderful prayer in today’s psalm, ‘God of hosts, bring us back, let your face shine upon us and we shall be saved’.

And/Or

(ii) Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Most of us will have experienced disappointment at some time in our lives. Something we put effort into did not work out as we had hoped. More often than not, it is other people who disappoint us. We invest something of ourselves in people. We have some expectations of them on the basis of that. They let us down. My father had numerous little sayings that he tossed off from time to tome. One of them was, ‘Eaten bread is soon forgotten’. I felt that this saying expressed for him his own sense of disappointment when people he cared about took him for granted and made little or no return for his efforts on their behalf.

Most of us learn to live with that experience of being disappointed by others. The realization that we ourselves have probably disappointed others many times may help us to accept others who disappoint us. It can happen, of course, that the repeated experience of disappointment can leave us deeply discouraged and disheartened. We retreat into ourselves and settle for less. We become slow to trust and disinclined to give too much. Learning to deal with the experience of disappointment in ways that do not diminish us is one of the tasks and challenges of life.

The first reading and the gospel reading today shine a light on the experience of disappointment. In the first reading, a vineyard owner is disappointed by his vineyard. In spite of generous investment of work and resources on his part, the vineyard offered him back sour grapes instead of good grapes. Although the parable Jesus speaks also focuses on the disappointment of a vineyard owner, the experience of disappointment it explores is much more traumatic and painful. Here the disappointment of the landowner is not with his land but with the people to whom he entrusted his land. Not only do the tenants not offer him the produce of the land, but they maim and kill the messengers he sent in his name, including his own son. The story Jesus tells has a sinister element not present in the sad song that Isaiah sings.

Yet the sad song and the story of betrayal and murder both give expression to God’s disappointment with his people. God has invested heavily in us. God has given us his Son and has poured the Spirit of his Son into our hearts. What greater investment could he make in us? Yet, the first reading and gospel reading bring home to us the uncomfortable truth that our lives do not always bear the kind of fruit that such an investment has a right to expect. We do not always fulfil God’s hopes for us.

Where does that leave us? I suggest it leaves us on our knees asking God to help us to open up our hearts to the many gifts God is always giving us, so that those gifts can truly shape our lives and make of them a gift to God and God’s people. In the second reading, Paul encourages us: ‘There is no need to worry; but if there is anything you need, pray for it, asking God for it with prayer and thanksgiving’. Paul himself knew that he had disappointed God. He may have had little difficulty identifying with the tenants in today’s parable who killed the landowner’s son. Writing to the Corinthians, he states: ‘For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God’. Yet, he immediately goes on to add: ‘But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace towards me has not been in vain’. Paul knew from experience that God continues to invest in us even after we have failed and disappointed him.

Jesus reveals a God who works to bring new life out of our failures, who can turn a rejected stone into a keystone. We catch glimpses of this God in those who continue to journey with us even when we have repeatedly disappointed them. We reveal this God to others when we ourselves keep faith with those who give us little reason to go on believing in them.

The conviction that God remains faithful to us even after we have disappointed him many times does not leave us complacent. Rather, this conviction keeps fresh our desire to live lives that are truly fruitful, full of the fruit of the Holy Spirit. It encourages us to keep seeking the Lord whose power at work within us can do immeasurable more than all we can ask or imagine. Seeking the Lord entails filling ‘our minds with everything that is true, everything that is noble, everything that is good and pure... everything that can be thought virtuous or worthy of praise’ (Second Reading). A lot of talent, effort and money is invested in filling our minds and hearts with rubbish. Yet, we have choices. We can decide in what ways our minds and hearts will be filled. We pray today that we will make the kinds of choices that will create a space for God’s continued investment in us to bear rich fruit, both in our own lives and in the lives of those with whom we journey.

And/Or

(iii) Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Nowadays we expect to get a good return for any investment we might make. Those who have money to spare will often put it into property on the understanding that the value of the property will increase over time. When we invest time and energy in some project or other we expect that we will see good results for our efforts. Those who study hard expect to do well in examinations. When we invest time, energy and money in people, we expect that they will give some return for what has been invested in them. Parents who invest themselves generously in their children hope and expect that they will do well in life.

Yet, we know from our own experience that we do not always get a return that is proportionate to what we have invested. The property market can collapse unexpectedly and the money we have invested does not give us a good return. Those who study hard can get a blank on the day of the exams and may not do themselves justice. People in whom we invest a great deal will often disappoint us. We give them resources that can benefit them and they do not use those resources well. People can be given a lot and yet give back very little.

It is that kind of experience of a poor return for a good investment that is reflected in today’s first reading. The landowner loved his vineyard and invested generously in it, doing all that was required to ensure that it produced a good quality crop. He had an understandable expectation that it would yield good grapes, and, yet, it yielded sour grapes. For the prophet Isaiah this story was not just about a vineyard. It told the story of God’s relationship with his people. God had invested greatly in his people and, yet, the return for God’s loving investment was disappointing in the extreme, bloodshed in the land resulting in a great cry coming from the oppressed, instead of justice and integrity.

The very disappointing return on God’s investment in his people did not lead God to reject them. Instead, he invested more heavily in them, by giving them his son, as the parable Jesus speaks in today’s gospel reading makes clear. Even when that investment was met with violence and rejection, God did not take back his investment. Rather, in the words of the gospel reading, the rejected stone became the corner stone of a new community, to which all people were invited to belong. God, having given his Son only to see him crucified, gave him again as risen Lord and invited all people to become his followers, and, thereby, find life. The readings suggest that God is slow to give up on us. God continues to invest in us even when the return is small. Most of us are only prepared to invest for so long when a return is not forthcoming. God is much more persistent than we are. God keeps on offering us the gift of his Son; he keeps on sending his Son to us. Every time we celebrate the Eucharist, God puts before us the gift of his Son anew, holding him out to us as the bread of life. The Eucharist is, in a sense, the sacrament of God’s persistent love.

Although God continues to invest in us and although his investment is not dependant on the return that we give, God does, nevertheless, expect some return for his investment. In the words of the two parables in today’s readings, God looks to us to bear the kind of fruit that God’s investment in us has a right to expect. In the gospel reading, Jesus refers to the fruit of the kingdom of God. Such fruit would certainly include the justice and integrity that the first reading refers to. It also includes all that Paul refers to in today’s second reading – ‘everything that is true, everything that is noble, everything that is good and pure, everything that can be thought virtuous and worthy of praise’. Elsewhere in one of his letters, Paul refers to the fruit of the Spirit, the fruit of the kingdom, as ‘love, joy, peace, kindness, gentleness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control’. This is a sample of the fruit that God looks to our lives to bear, in response to the great investment that God has made and continues to make in us.

That fruit of the kingdom is evident in all our lives, to some extent. We have all experienced kindness and generosity in others, just as others have experienced it in us. Yet, we are all aware that our lives could be more abundant in that fruit of the kingdom that our readings speak about. That is why we need to look towards God to keep on investing in us. Without God’s ongoing investment in us, our lives cannot become all that God desires them to be. It is above all in prayer that we invite God to keep on investing in us. St. Paul tells us in today’s second reading, ‘if there is anything you need, pray for it, asking God for it with prayer and thanksgiving’. Paul encourages us to look at our lives and to see in what way they are lacking in the fruit of the kingdom, and then to ask God for the fruit that we need. There is bound to be something in all our lives that is not really worthy of the kingdom. It is that lack which Paul invites us to make the focus of our prayer of petition. We pray for what we need. Paul calls on us to make our petition with thanksgiving. As we ask for the fruit of the kingdom that is lacking in lives, we give thanks in anticipation that such a humble prayer will not ultimately go unanswered.

And/Or

(iv) Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Since I came to the parish of Clontarf I have been struck by the number of very old stone walls that are to be found here. In fact, there is one out in the back garden of the presbytery; it divides my garden from the garden of the house next door. I have noticed these old stone walls in other parts of the parish. When I see an old wall it always gets my imagination going. I begin to wonder if the wall could speak what it might say, what stories it might tell of times past. Occasionally you might see a wall in rather bad repair; some of the original stones may be lying around at the bass of the wall and you hope that someone with the appropriate skill will be able to restore the wall using its original stones. The stones lying around can have the look of discarded or rejected stones, serving no useful purpose, but you sense that they could still serve a very vital purpose in the restoration of the wall.

I was reminded of all of that by Jesus’ image in today’s gospel reading of the stone rejected by the builders which became a keystone or a cornerstone. Jesus was quoting one of the psalms there, and he was really speaking about himself. He was the rejected stone. In the immediately preceding parable he clearly identified himself with the rejected son, the son who was seized by the tenants, thrown out of the vineyard and killed. Jesus knew what it was to be rejected, discarded as serving no useful purpose. Those who crucified him were saying that he was fit for nothing but the most shameful and degrading of deaths. Yet, Jesus, the rejected son, the rejected stone, was raised from the dead by his Father and he became the keystone, the cornerstone, of a new spiritual building or temple, the church, the community of faith. Writing to the church in Corinth some twenty five years or so after the death and resurrection of Jesus, Paul says to them, ‘Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?’ and he declared a few verses earlier that the foundation of this temple was Jesus Christ, Jesus crucified and risen, rejected by people but chosen by God.

Jesus did not reject those who rejected him. Rather, as risen Lord he worked through his followers to proclaim the gospel of God’s love and grace even to those who had brought him to the cross and were responsible for his crucifixion. The gospel reading today speaks to us of God’s pursuit of humanity, regardless of how God’s outreach towards us is received. In the parable that Jesus told, when the landowner sent servants to collect the produce of the vineyard from the tenants and those servants were beaten and killed, he immediately sent another group of servants in the hope that they would be better received. When the second group of servants were treated no better than the first group of servants, he then sent his son in the hope that his nearest and dearest would be respected by the tenants. There is an allusion here to the prophets that God sent to the people over many centuries culminating in the sending of God’s Son. When the son was thrown out by the tenants this precious stone that was rejected became the cornerstone of a new initiative by God towards humanity, the initiative that finds expression in the church, the community of faith, the body of God’s Son, in and through which God is present to the world in a unique way. God, it seems, is not dissuaded by our unwillingness to respond to the many initiatives that God takes in our regard. God keeps going when we humans would have given up a very long time ago. We can be very slow to keep in touch with people who do not respond to our repeated efforts to keep in touch with them. The temptation can be very strong to give up on such people, to wash our hands of them, even though, down the road, they could benefit greatly if we refused to give up on them.  God, however, keeps seeking us out even when we have given God very little reason for remaining faithful to his pursuit of us.

God continues to grace us even though we fail to respond to his many graces. That is one aspect of the message of today’s gospel reading. Yet, the other dimension of its message is that God expects us to co-operate with his abounding grace. God continues to invest in us but God also expects to see some return on that investment. God looks to us to bear fruit in response to the many initiatives that God takes towards us. In the first reading, Isaiah declares that God expects the fruit of justice and integrity. In the second reading Paul makes reference to everything that is true, that is noble, that is good and pure, everything that can be though virtuous or worthy of praise. These are the fruits that God looks for in response to God’s faithfulness to us. These are the fruits that God’s abounding grace in our lives makes possible. This is what we are capable of because of God’s investment in us.

And/Or

(v) Twenty Seventh Week in Ordinary Time

I am sure many of us will have had the experience of giving of ourselves to someone or to some project without appearing to get anything in return. When our giving does not appear to bear any fruit, we might find ourselves asking if our investment has been a waste. When our efforts seem to bear little result over a long period of time, we begin to wonder whether we should give up, even though what we are doing appears worthwhile. It can be hard to sustain our giving, when all we encounter is repeated disappointment.

That appears to be the human experience that is touched upon in the first reading and the gospel reading this morning. The first reading is a song about the loving investment of a vineyard owner for his vineyard. He spared no effort to ensure that the vines produced a good crop of grapes. However, in spite of his energetic investment, the vines only produced sour grapes. For the prophet, this song tells another, bigger story, the story of God’s loving investment over many generations in his people Israel. The return God received for his investment was pathetic, bloodshed in place of justice, a cry of distress in place of integrity. The song ends on that sad note.

In the gospel reading, Jesus tells as story, very similar to Isaiah’s song, and, yet, different in some significant ways. Once again a landowner invested heavily in his vineyard. The loss to the vineyard owner in Jesus’ parable is much greater than in Isaiah’s song. He didn’t just lose his crop; he lost his servants, and most tragically of all, he lost his son, killed by the tenants. If Isaiah’s song is a sad song, Jesus’ story has all the makings of a tragedy. Yet, while Isaiah’s song ends in sadness, Jesus’ story does not end in tragedy. In spite of all he has lost, the vineyard owner does not give up on his vineyard. He leases it to other tenants who deliver the produce his investment deserves when the season arrives. Human perseverance wins out over human resistance. Immediately after speaking the parable, Jesus emphasizes this message using another, different image. The stone rejected by the builders became the keystone. What looked like a terrible waste was the beginning of something new. Once again Jesus’ story about the vineyard tells another, bigger story. Jesus is saying something to us about how God relates to us. He is suggesting that God continues to invest in us, even when the response God hopes for from us is not forthcoming. God does not turn his back on humanity even after we continually turn away from God and go our own way. We may have done our best to make ourselves a rejected stone in God’s sight, but God works in our lives to turn that rejected stone into a keystone, something vitally important.

The readings this morning suggest that the reason God continues to invest in us, to draw near to us, is because he wants us to live fruitful lives. God has a great desire for our lives. God wants us to be fully alive with all those qualities that are a reflection of God and of his Son, Jesus and that make us fully alive. Today is the Day for life. Some of those life-enhancing qualities are mentioned by name in today’s readings. The reading from Isaiah speaks about justice and integrity. in the second reading from Paul’s letter to the Philippians, we have that wonderful list of human qualities at their best ‘everything that is true, everything that is noble, everything that is good and pure, everything that we love and honour, everything that can be thought virtuous or worthy of praise’. In another of his letters Paul speaks of the fruit of the Spirit as ‘love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control’. God invests in us so that our lives can bear this kind of fruit. His greatest investment is the gift to us of his Son and the Holy Spirit. It is above all through our relationship with his Son and our openness to the Spirit that this full, wholesome, life becomes possible for us, as individuals and as communities, as families.

It is above all within the family that we are helped to arrive at this quality of life that God desires for us. That is why the extraordinary Synod on the family which begins in Rome tomorrow is so important. Last night at a prayer vigil for the Synod in Saint Peter’s Square, Pope Francis said, ‘The communion of life assumed by spouses, their openness to the gift of life, the mutual protection, the encounter and the memory of generations, educational support, the transmission of the Christian faith to their children . . . With all this, the family continues to be a school without parallel of humanity, an indispensable contribution to a just and united society’. Towards the end of his homily he prayed a lovely prayer for the work of the Synod which we might make our own this morning, ‘May the wind of Pentecost blow upon the Synod’s work, on the Church and on all of humanity. Undo the knots which prevent people from encountering one another, heal the wounds that bleed, rekindle hope’.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

[jerseydeanne]

King Charles attends a reception for members of the local community and organisations at Church of Christ the Cornerstone in Milton Keynes