The Sixth Sunday of Easter, May 10, 2026

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Francis Beckham, OHC

The Sixth Sunday of Easter, May 10, 2026

• Acts 17:22-31
• 1 Peter 3:13-22
• John 14:15-21

Click here for an audio of the sermon

Let us pray.

Holy and Loving God,

We give thanks for all the women in our lives who have shown us your love.

For those who have nurtured and inspired us,

for those who have taught and mentored us,

for those who have respected and befriended us.

Bless abundantly, we pray, all who are mothers to your people.

May we also show your maternal love to those who walk life’s path with us, today, and in the years to come.

We ask these things through Jesus Christ, who dwells in and with you and the Holy Spirit, now and forever. Amen.

On behalf of everyone who has a mother, I’d like to wish all you moms a happy and blessed Mother’s Day, and to say “thank you” for everything you do.

I think Mother’s Day is a wonderful occasion to mark this last Sunday of Easter before the Ascension. Today, I’m put in mind of one Mother’s Day in particular: Sunday, May 14, 1989, to be exact. On that sunny, long-ago spring morning, I made my First Holy Communion. It was the first time I received Jesus sacramentally under the forms of bread and wine. 

As part of the special day, my fellow first-communicants and I were surrounded by our entire church family, as well as legions of relatives including, naturally, our mothers. We gathered around the altar, received the Eucharist, and then sang songs honoring the mother of Jesus and all of us, the Blessed Virgin Mary. Afterwards, there were cake and way too many pictures in the parish hall, and each of us received a rosary and our very own Saint Joseph’s Children’s Missal, both of which I still happen to have. 

And, while amid the joyful celebrations, I remember basically understanding what the day meant – that Jesus was now present within me – what my eight-year-old self couldn’t quite yet understand was that I was now also present in Jesus.

“You in me, and I in you,” Jesus says in today’s Gospel reading. It’s part of Jesus’ message to the disciples about the need for him to leave in order to be more present to them. This seems a little paradoxical, though. How can leaving someone help them be more together? Well, don’t worry. Like any good mom, Jesus knows what’s best for us; just trust, and it’ll eventually all make sense.

This discourse takes place within chapter fourteen of Saint John’s Gospel, where Jesus is preparing the disciples for what’s about to happen; namely, his passion and death, followed by his resurrection and ascension, and finally the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.

Liturgically speaking, this reading fits a little bit differently into our timeline, since having already passed through Lent, Holy Week, and most of Eastertide during the past three months, only the Ascension and Pentecost remain for us at this point. But in both the disciples’ case and ours, I think Jesus’ message is essentially this: “I’ve taught you everything you need to know; now, it’s time for you to start doing for yourselves. If we all stay together here in this little group, the message of God’s love will never be proclaimed to anyone else. And I need you to proclaim that message to everyone, everywhere. It’s the whole reason I came to you in the first place!”

This is something important that every parent, teacher, coach, and even novicemaster, understands. The whole point of investing time and attention into those placed in our care is to help them grow in understanding and confidence so they can become more fully themselves. And while it’s natural to want to protect and nurture, there comes a time when continuing to do so in the same way as before becomes counterproductive. 

As people mature, they must be set free to grow their gifts through experiences beyond what current configurations permit. Jesus knows this firsthand, thanks to his own upbringing. Think of Mary at the Finding in the Temple. Although she treasured up that experience in her heart, she and Joseph make it clear to the twelve-year-old Jesus that he needs to come home with them. 

Yet, by the time we arrive at the Wedding Feast in Cana, we see that their relationship has adjusted. Mary is now clearly supporting, rather than supervising, her adult son in his new role – a role she, more than anyone else, helped prepare him for. And it’s within this truth that the paradox of ‘leaving to grow closer’ begins resolving itself.

 

In his death, resurrection, and ascension, Jesus isn’t actually leaving at all. In fact, he tells us, he’s really going to be more present now than ever before. “I will not leave you orphaned,” he promises. “I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live.”

So there it is. Instead of being just one person walking around first-century Palestine, Jesus becomes all of us, wherever and whenever we are. Like an unsure young adult learning to navigate the world on their own, or a disciple struggling to adapt their ministry to new and

challenging realities, the time has also come for us to start putting Jesus’ lessons into practice, proclaiming the Good News of God’s merciful love to everyone, and inviting those who are lost and discarded into relationship with God and one another. 

If this seems daunting – especially in light of the world’s disordered structures and systems that reject mercy and reward greed and violence – we need only remember Jesus’ own assurance: “If you love me, you will keep my commandments … They who have my commandments and keep them (that’s us!) are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.” So, if we do as Jesus teaches, rather than as the world does, we’ll have all we need to reveal Christ to others and to encounter Christ in them.

On this Mother’s Day and Sixth Sunday of Easter, I invite us all to reflect on the ways God’s love has been shown to us through all the ‘mothers’ who have touched our lives, regardless of whether they happen to be related to us by blood or not: Those women who have nurtured, taught, mended, supported, corrected, forgiven, and believed in us. 

Like the disciples, may each of us take what we have learned from our mothers and from Jesus to show forth God’s love in our own, special ways. And as we come forth to receive Jesus in the Holy Communion, whether for the first time or the ten-thousandth, may we do so knowing that Jesus is truly present around and in us, and we, together, are present in him. Amen.

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

• Acts 7:55-60
• 1 Peter 2:2-10
• John 14:1-14

Click here for an audio of the sermon

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.

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

• Acts 2:42-47
• 1 Peter 2:19-25
• John 10:1-10

Click here for an audio of the sermon

 

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 23^rd 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+