Sunday, May 3, 2026

The Fifth Sunday of Easter, May 3, 2026

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Daniel Hansknecht, OHC

The Fifth Sunday of Easter, May 3, 2026


In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Hello, happy Sunday! This morning, I want to tackle some big questions: “Why do we believe?” and, separately, “Why are we Christians?”.

Let’s start with belief. In our Gospel lesson today, Jesus mentions belief six times and, as far as I can tell, means it five different ways. With the help of some online dictionaries, let’s run through them. Right off the bat, we have our religious meaning: to have faith in the existence of something. “Believe in God”. Next we have a relational definition: to have confidence in a person’s abilities, character, or potential. “Believe also in me.” Thirdly, there’s surprise or annoyance: “I can’t believe it!”. “How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?” Fourth: to trust that something is true or that somebody is telling the truth. “Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves.” And lastly, we have the belief of a dreamer: to think something is possible, in the absence of certainty. “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do…”

If there’s one throughline between all of these, it is that the possibility of doubt is necessary for belief. God might not be real. The person you trust might lie to you or not live up to their potential. Maybe you’re surprised or annoyed, but you can believe that it happened. Perhaps, some of your dreams fall through. Belief, trust, and faith are all conceptually built on the mystery of an unknown future; staking our hopes on a singular vision that we wish to manifest – amidst countless alternative endings.

It’s a shame we can’t know the future. Where are we going? How do we get there? Why isn’t it all laid out for us? Imagine what it would do for all our anxiety – our troubled hearts, as it were – if it was! But, when addressing the worries of his disciples, Jesus doesn’t eliminate all their doubts. He asks first for their faith, then he offers his plans for the future. Before, they were focused on the negative possibility of Jesus’s absence. Now, he directs them to focus on the positive vision of taking them unto himself in his Father’s house. And when they ask for more guidance, he tells them that he is the way, the truth, and the life, with everything tying back to God.

History shows that they really took to this reassurance. For years after Jesus’s death, resurrection, and ascension, the disciples and others who came to believe in Christ were known simply as followers of “The Way”. They wouldn’t be called Christians until a decade later, when persecution in Jerusalem, sparked by St. Stephen’s death, scattered them abroad to Antioch and elsewhere.

Again though, Jesus leaves room for a certain amount of uncertainty when he calls himself the Way. He could have just as easily called himself “The Road”, or “The Path”, or “The Well-marked Trail”, but he doesn’t. He calls himself “The Way”. While a road is paved and clear cut, a way is more ambiguous. It implies that you know where you are and where your destination is, but not necessarily the specific route to get there. Imagine climbing a tall hill with a clear view. From there, you can see not only where you are going, but also the major landmarks that will act as signposts after you descend. Even though you now know the way, you might still get muddled or lost before finally arriving.

A famous example of this is Moses leading the people of Isreal out of Egypt and to the Promised Land. Ahem, it could definitely be said that their journey was not a simple one. Near the end, however, Moses ascends Mt. Nebo and sees their destination: the land promised to them by God. And, if you turn the words about, “The Promised Land” becomes “The Land of Promise”: a hope for their people’s future after years of troubled hearts and tested faith.

So, let’s go back to the first of my opening questions: “Why do we believe?”. Of all the definitions we named for belief, the one which resonates with me the most is the last one, which seeks to make possible our dreams and imaginations. So, let me rephrase this question as: “Why do we dream?”.

In “Man of La Mancha”, the character Don Quixote sings a song entitled "The Impossible Dream”. That song concludes with the following lyrics:

“And I know, if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest, that my heart will lie peaceful and calm, when I’m laid to my rest. And the world will be better for this: that one man, scorned and covered with scars, still strove with his last ounce of courage to reach the unreachable star!”

We dream because we see the absolute potential that tomorrow might bring. In a world where nightmares seem to abound at every turn, we dream in order to take back a bit of control and choose for ourselves a future worth striving for. Although the Way may be long and winding, or like Moses we might not get there within our lifetime, we keep walking forward for the peace and calm that awaits us in our Father’s house.

Despite the affectations of my wording, however, neither dreaming nor believing are by any means exclusively Christian qualities – far from it! So, why are we Christian?

The most obvious characteristic of Christianity that differentiates it from other religions, or alternatives like atheism, agnosticism, and humanism is the man himself: the person of Jesus Christ. His identity in our faith, as both human and divine, is the very embodiment of the impossible dream; someone who reached the unreachable star. Despite bearing all the foibles of humanity, both his own and those of society, he was a living example of God’s grace and salvation manifested here on Earth. And in his very existence, we can take heart and gain courage as we seek the same, both in ourselves and in our society.

As Jesus himself puts it, “the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these”. Jesus not only believed that we could do it – we could also live as sons and daughters of God – he believed that we would reach even greater heights than he did. Because he pioneered a Way for us to follow, and is even now interceding on our behalf, we are poised to walk even further along his path and realize dreams even more audacious than claiming to be God’s son: “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as in heaven.”

This line from the Lord’s Prayer is easy to gloss over, because we say it so often. But, when we say it together today, I ask that you say it with intention. For it is the fervent wish of our paragon, our Lord; a grand dream still waiting to come true. May we continue to follow the Way and have the courage to keep reaching for that unreachable star. Amen.


Sunday, April 26, 2026

The Fourth Sunday of Easter, April 26, 2026

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Josep Martinez-Cubero
The Fourth Sunday of Easter, April 26, 2026


 

Today, the Fourth Sunday of Easter is traditionally called “Good Shepherd” Sunday. What’s interesting is that, in our gospel lesson Jesus did not say he was the good shepherd. He said he was the gate. And he said so twice. I guess “Good Gate” Sunday wouldn’t be as catchy. There is actually a good explanation for all of this. Each year of the lectionary assigns different portions of chapter 10 of Saint John’s Gospel for the Fourth Sunday of Easter: Year A (which this year is) the portion is chapter 10:1-10. Jesus will say he is the good shepherd in verse 11. But Jesus does say very important things in today’s portion of chapter 10 about the shepherd, his relationship with the sheep, and the sheep hearing his voice.

I have to say that reading today’s gospel lesson really took me back to my former life as a youth theatre director. The passage has characters and scenery that would make a great production. We have a sheepfold, a gate (and that’s tricky because that somehow would need to be double cast with the shepherd). I know what a shepherd costume needs to look like, but I’m not sure about a gate costume. We have sheep. A chorus of sheep! Fantastic! I know exactly what those costumes need to look like and what material to use! We also have a gatekeeper and a stranger. And we have a thief and a bandit- how fun! So many characters for such a short story, and so many metaphors. But let’s talk about the sheep.

Sheep are mentioned more than 200 times in the Scriptures, more than any other animal. In biblical times they were important sources of wool, milk, and meat. Throughout the Scriptures, sheep are symbols for God’s people. God is portrayed as the shepherd of the chosen flock in the prophetic words of Isaiah and Ezekiel, and most famously in the 23rd Psalm.

It has long been assumed that sheep are dumb animals. You may or may not know about the word “sheeple”, a derogatory slang term combining “sheep” and “people” to describe individuals who are easily influenced, lacking critical thinking, and acting like a herd. But in 2017, the University of Cambridge published a study in the Royal Society: Open Science Journal demonstrating that sheep can recognize human faces from photographs, including their handlers and even celebrities like Emma Watson and Barack Obama. Sheep were trained to select specific faces on screens for food rewards, showing capabilities comparable to humans and non-human primates.

The experiment also proved that the average sheep could recognize and easily distinguish between at least fifty other faces of their fellow sheep, humans, and other species, and that this memory stays with them over a period of several years. Sheep can be trained to follow a distinctive call, or a unique melody played on a pipe, and can learn to recognize their own name and come when called by that name.

Additionally, the study found evidence that sheep are capable of a wide range of emotions, another signal of higher levels of intelligence. Sheep remember who treats them well, and even more, they remember who handles them harshly. They will allow a gentle shepherd to come close, but they will balk and run from a person who has handled them roughly in the past. So, sheep are more intelligent and visually sophisticated than previously thought.

Given all of this, one might ask why the idea that sheep are dumb animals? The reason is because sheep act stupidly whenever they become fearful. They are herd animals and will follow another sheep, even to the slaughter. Once they are scared, sheep don’t tend to show signs of intelligent behavior. And why do the Scriptures talk about humans as sheep? Well, there’s the being social and intelligent. But while humans are recognized as the most intelligent species on the planet, we too tend to react blindly and act stupidly when fearful.


In today’s gospel lesson Jesus says that sheep know the shepherd’s voice when they hear it. Do we know the Good Shepherd’s voice when we hear it? Among the many competing voices in our current world, it seems that the most dominant and controlling these days is the voice of fear. We seem to be living in a culture of fear and anxiety. Instilling fear and appealing to our deepest anxieties seems to be the preferred tactic of politicians, the media, advertisers, advocacy groups and even some religious organizations in order to gain power, advantage and profit. Broadcasters, influencers, and news shows (and they are shows!) seek sensational, fear-inducing stories to ensure that people will tune in and stay hooked. Advertisers use fear to sell their products. And while this is not new, it certainly has gotten and continues to get worse.

 

In his 1928 book Propaganda, Edward Bernays, nephew of Sigmund Freud, wrote: “If we understand the mechanism and motives of the group mind, is it not possible to control and regiment the masses according to our will without their knowing about it?” Today there is even a commercial marketing communication field called “neuromarketing”, which applies neuropsychology to market research in order to study the human brain’s response to different kinds of advertising. They have found that fear sells. And then we have the politicians who harness fear to get elected by convincing enough of the population that they will be kept safe from various dangers. They also use fear to get people to agree to policies or practices they would otherwise oppose. It seems to me all of these are the thieves described in our gospel lesson: those who fail to protect the flock because, “they care nothing for the sheep.”

 

The last verse of our gospel lesson this morning ends exuberantly but begins with a solemn warning: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.” Discerning who or what is a thief in our lives is crucial. Many voices, from within us as well as from without, compete for our attention. They keep us fearful and stuck, or they may promise happiness and safety, but these are empty promises. We are the gatekeepers of our hearts and must guard against the many voices of the thieves that surround us with fear.

 

Whose voice do you follow most readily? What calls to you, making seductive promises you shouldn't trust? Do you know the shepherd well enough to recognize his call? Are you willing to leave the fold in order to find pasture, or are you too fearful, complacent, or jaded? Identifying the voices of thieves in our lives takes discipline, continual conversion, and a life rooted in prayer. It is about living the abundant life Jesus promises. Jesus' desire for us is not merely to exist or cope with our circumstances, but to live abundantly. But what is this abundant life?

 

A young monk went to an elder monk and asked, “How many years will it take for me to become holy?” The old monk replied, “Ten years.” The young monk asked, “But what if I work really, really hard?” The old monk said, “Twenty years.” Like holiness, the abundant life is not something we achieve by working really hard. It is a quality of life that happens when we let go and surrender to Christ who abides in our hearts. The example of the Desert Monastics is that their ultimate goal was to be transformed into persons of love, always aware of Christ dwelling in their hearts.

 

Saint Paul offers us a good guide for this way of living in his letter to the Galatians with nine visible attributes of a life shaped by the Holy Spirit he calls the Fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. This Fruit of the Spirit represents the character of Christ within us. It is not a life of arrogance, greed and self-absorption. It is not a life of bigotry, hatred, and violence. It does not add to the pain of the world. The abundant life is a life of meaning, purpose, integrity, and creativity.

 

May we always listen to the voice that leads us to abundant life- a life that reaches across boundaries and flourishes even in precarious places. A life that never denies the real threat of thieves and bandits, and yet holds out the possibility of pasture, nourishment, protection, and rest. A life that perseveres and thrives even in the valley of the shadow of death. ¡Que así sea en el nombre del Padre, del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo! ~Amen+  

Sunday, April 19, 2026

The Third Sunday of Easter, April 19, 2026

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, New York

Br. Robert James Magliula

The Third Sunday of Easter, April 19, 2026


It’s not enough to believe in the resurrection. At some point we must move from the event of it to experiencing it. Resurrected life can never be comprehended, contained, or controlled by human thought or understanding. The resurrected life of Christ is revealed in and through the created order, but it is not bound by it. It unites the visible and invisible, matter and spirit, humanity and divinity. The degree to which we’ve allowed ourselves to be bound by the created order is the degree to which we are unable to see resurrected life in this world.

We bind ourselves through our fears, our sorrows and losses, our random thoughts and distractions, our attachments and addictions to things, people, and even beliefs. Sometimes it’s our unwillingness to trust God to grow and change us. In binding ourselves to the created order we lose the ability to live in the sacred. The resurrected life is not acquired but received. It happens when we risk unbinding ourselves from our usual ways of seeing, living, and relating. Christ longs to open our minds to understand all that has been revealed about him. That’s what Jesus did for those two disciples in today’s Gospel. When Christ opens our minds, we experience moments of awe and wonder that leave us in sacred silence.

Within this Gospel story is a template that describes the journey from Jerusalem to Emmaus and back to Jerusalem. If our life has ever been broken and restored, or if we’ve ever been in that in between place, then this is our story. It’s the journey Cleopas and his companion take and it’s a journey each of us has taken, is taking, or will take. It’s not, a one-time journey, but one we take repeatedly.

Jerusalem and Emmaus are archetypal realities within us which get enacted in our lives. They’re portals into a greater self-awareness through which we see a greater fullness of God, ourselves, each other, and the world.

Have you ever felt like you just had to get away or that life had given you more than you could handle? Have you ever been deeply disappointed by unmet expectations? Have you felt lost, as if your world had been turned upside down? Have you ever asked: “Who am I now? What’s next? Where do I go? What do I do?” Have you grieved the death of a love, a dream, an identity, a future? If so, then you know what it’s like to be Cleopas and his companion.

It’s Easter morning and the two disciples are leaving Jerusalem, a place of pain, sorrow, and loss, a place of death, unmet expectations, and disappointment. As they walk, they’re talking about all the things that had happened: Jesus’ arrest, torture, crucifixion, and death. They’re talking about a hope that didn’t materialize. They’re disappointed and sad. They had hoped Jesus was the one, but now he’s dead. There’s a part of them that’s been lost with Jesus. They had heard rumors that he was alive, but it all sounded too unbelievable.

Emmaus is our escape from life, but it is also a hunger for life. It wasn’t only brokenness that took them to Emmaus but a hunger for wholeness, for restoration. Hunger isn’t only physical; it can also be spiritual and emotional. We are all by nature hungry. We hunger for life, love, wholeness, community, meaning, purpose. That hunger is the reason they urged Jesus, “Stay with us.” He not only stayed, but he also fed their hunger. The guest they invited to their table became their host.

“When [Jesus] was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him.” They recognized him as the one they had left for dead in Jerusalem. They recognized him as the one who had accompanied them on the road. They recognized him as the one they had hoped he would be. Jesus wasn’t just giving them bread; he was giving them back themselves. This was their resurrection, their restoration. When Jesus broke the bread something in them broke open. With that breaking open their lives were being put back together. It is so for us as well.

Despite how it feels, our brokenness is not an ending. It’s a breaking open to new life, to new seeing, community, welcome, hospitality, and love. Jesus fed them, as he feeds us, not just with bread, but with himself: with his body, his life, his love, his compassion, his forgiveness, his strength, his hope.

As soon as they recognized him “he vanished from their sight.” He was no longer before them because he was now the burning heart within them, who had been there all along. Sometimes that burning is felt as loss, sometimes as hunger, or being broken open, and other times as deep joy and gratitude. And “that same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem”, to the place from which they had to get away. Now it is not only the place of death and sorrow, but also the place of life and resurrection.

We leave our Jerusalem to return to our Jerusalem: to face our deaths, losses, and broken lives. In so doing we discover that life awaits us too. We return to reclaim ourselves, to recover the lost pieces of ourselves. Our Jerusalem hasn’t changed but we have. Of course, it’s never as simple as it sounds. It’s one thing to name this pattern but another to live it. It takes trust, time, and effort. It means trusting that somehow the pieces of our lives will become a new life.

Where do you see this pattern in your life today?

What is your deepest hunger?

What in your life is being broken open?

What needs to be restored and put back together in you?

Jesus was in Jerusalem before Cleopas and his companion ever left. He was with them on the road to Emmaus. He was in the breaking of the bread. And he was already in Jerusalem when they returned.  He never left them nor does he ever leave us on our journey. +Amen