Throughout this month, we’ve covered the inheritance of grace, of family and faith community, and LGBTQ experiences in the 21st century. These inheritances aren’t the same, nor are they of equally enduring value. Stewarding our inheritance necessarily means living in the tension. As we saw in Part 1 of this series, we’re given the ridiculously generous gift of grace from God the Father…yet we receive it as our fragile, fallen selves. In Part 2, we explored the both/and of our
Are you a half full or half empty person? “I still have half left!” or “I only have half left.” Quite often, I’ve seen us Catholics be “half empty” people when it comes to the secular LGBTQ space. We’re quick to point out the ways something falls short from Gospel ideals or God’s full vision for the human person. Are we equally quick to point out common ground? The truth is, a half empty glass is a half full one. Philosophers have long said that we wouldn’t chase after someth
Last week looked at being secure in God’s promise. This week we turn our eyes to a reverent acceptance of the way in which He often mediates that promise: human beings. Most “good Catholics” love a good Caravaggio. The realism of his paintings is so acute. We love the vivid, relatable expressions on our favorite saints, and Caravaggio’s stark and symbolic handling of darkness and light. Perhaps he’s so sensitive to those realities because his life reveals an affinity to both.
When we first picked our theme for June, I thought of the line above. It’s not technically a Bible verse. When Psalm 16 is featured in the liturgy, this is the response line we sing to God. What is Psalm 16, you ask? It has nothing immediately to do with inheriting anything. If anything, the Psalmist is having a pretty rough time, at least at first: Keep me safe, O God; In You I take refuge. I say to the LORD, You are my Lord, You are my only good…. They multiply their sorrow