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










Sunday, April 12, 2026

The Second Sunday of Easter, April 12, 2026

Holy Cross MonasteryWest Park, NY

Br. Scott Wesley Borden

The Second Sunday of Easter, April 12, 2026

 

Here we are on the Second Sunday of Easter – a Sunday that has been traditionally a bit under-loved. In the Anglican tradition it is sometimes known as Low Sunday... It does pale a bit sat next to Easter. And yet there is some important work for this Sunday.

The Gospel Reading has the disciples hiding, as they seem to do a lot these days, in fear of the authorities. The disciples have reason for fear – it is these same authorities who crucified Jesus. Peter, in particular, has lied through his teeth to deny Jesus, so great was his fear. Fear is a big part of our Easter experience, but not a highlight...

Jesus comes to the disciples and presents them with his wounds. Well – that is to say, most of the disciples. Judas is gone. And Thomas is off doing something. So, Thomas misses the close encounter with the wounds. He also misses the first stirring of the Holy Spirit when Jesus breathes on them. These days it is not too clear, but back then Spirit and Breath were absolutely understood to be the same thing. In word and deed Jesus covers the disciples with the Holy Spirit.

Apparently, Jesus makes a quick exit as we hear nothing more from him for the time being. Jesus goes and Thomas returns. The disciples immediately tell Thomas that they have seen the Lord. Thomas seems not to believe them – and why should he. What they are telling him is impossible. He declares that if he doesn’t see the wounds for himself, he will not believe.

But the next week, when the disciples are once again hiding behind a locked door, Jesus appears – this time with Thomas present. And Jesus makes the first move – he goes right to Thomas and invites him to examine the wounds, even to go so far as to put his fingers in them. John does not tell us if Thomas took up Jesus on this offer... but Thomas is completely convinced.

It's an interesting thing that Jesus knows exactly where Thomas needs to be met. No challenges. No confrontation. Just Jesus essentially saying I know what you need... come see my wounds for yourself. Our loving God in the person of Jesus meets us where we need to be met. Not necessarily where we would like to be met; or in the way we would like to be met; or in the way we find most comfortable.

Sadly, for Thomas, this interaction with Jesus has come to almost totally define his identity – Doubting Thomas. Over about two thousand years Thomas has become the embodiment of doubt, even perhaps an archetype. And yet his actions are quite reasonable. He just wants the experience that the others had – they saw the wounds...

John is a bit vague in the narrative. Is Thomas doubting Jesus? Is he doubting the resurrection? John never tells us that. I suspect what Thomas is doubting is the trustworthiness of his fellow disciples. He doubts that they have seen Jesus. And let's be honest – the disciples have not exactly distinguished themselves as the most trustworthy folks on the planet recently.

Does Thomas earn his nickname “Doubting”? Who can say with any certainty. What we can be certain about is that he takes his faith seriously. Jesus asks “do you believe because you have seen? Blessed are those who have come to believe and yet have not seen.” That would be us – and so I think we owe thanks and gratitude to Thomas.

So, what do we think Thomas may have come to believe? The most obvious answer is that Jesus is Lord and Savior. What might that mean?

Well, it's not all that long ago, last Thursday – Maundy Thursday – to be clear, that Jesus gave us a mandate for how to believe. Jesus called it a new commandment, but in fact it was, even then, a very old commandment: Love one another. The new part is how Jesus clarifies: as I have loved you, so you are to love one another. This is how we are to be known as followers of Jesus. It follows that if we don’t love one another that we cannot be known as followers of Jesus.

But John’s Gospel is not through telling us about love... A few brief chapters later Jesus tells us that if we love Jesus, we will keep God’s commandments. All of this occurs as part of the telling of the Easter story. Clearly John has linked Easter with love. And it would seem we are called to do the same. God so loves the world that his son, his only begotten son, is given to us.

But this year part of the story has hit me a bit differently. Jesus and the Spirit and God are one, so their experiences must be one. Jesus comes to dwell among us so that we can gain experience of God, but also so that God can gain some experience of what it's like to be human, truly human. Our response is to crucify Jesus.

But even after that, God still loves us. God, it seems, handles rejection better than we do... We have done our very best to rid ourselves of God. Not only have we failed, but we have failed to change God’s love toward us. God’s call to us is still that we love God and love our neighbors and ourselves. This hasn’t changed since the Book of Genesis. But at the same time, it appears that we haven’t changed either.

In much of the Hebrew Scripture, our response to anything we didn’t like was to fight. And sadly, that hasn’t changed much either. When I was born the Korean War was mostly over, but in fact, technically, North and South Korea are still at was. On the heels of that came the Vietnam war. Then the Cold War, the war on drugs, the war on poverty, the war on crime. War seems to be our go-to answer for whatever we perceive as a problem.

This way of thinking defines our culture – just as it defined Roman culture in Jesus' time. It pushes our thinking into sorting our world into friends and enemies. But Jesus call to love our enemies notwithstanding. We prefer to crush our enemies. Where is the love in that?

In the so-called war on poverty, poor people were enemy adjacent. But the super-rich were not. And yet, the unjust conditions that create poverty are surely not caused by poor people. Bill Gates and Elon Musk have much more to do with creating poverty than all the poor people in the world.

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King made clear that as long as we fight in a model that has winners and losers, the fighting can never end. For it will always be up to the winners to defend their stuff and the losers will always be driven to try to become winners... It's a horrific cycle that we have seen play out many, many times.

But the call of Easter is to break that cycle. And the tool that we must use is love. It is the tool that Jesus gives us. It the only tool that Jesus gives us.