As I reflect on the readings for this week, I think about the noise in our day-to-day routines. Imagine the clacking sounds of a keyboard, the hum of the Link light rail, and chatter from friends and strangers. All of these examples are what I hear outside of myself. Yet even in the quietest spaces, I cannot seem to drown out the thoughts in my mind. 

Since the start of the quarter, it has felt like my head has been full of incessant thoughts about assignment deadlines, post-grad plans, and present responsibilities. The droning that goes on and on in my mind can seem louder than the exhaust pipes from cars. As a result, I fall into this cycle of cynicism about the state of the world, specifically my role in it. With these feelings of hopelessness, it is all too easy to push away what I “need” to think about and focus on the outside noise. 

With all the noise both in and around me, I rarely appreciate intentional pauses of silence. Recently I’ve started putting away my earbuds in favor of being more aware of my surroundings. While it isn’t the complete silence I pictured it to be, I notice how my thoughts stand still for a moment. This instant of momentary stillness feels like a second of relief from all things said and unsaid. 

I’d like to end this reflection with an invitation into the silence for a moment. That could mean pocketing your phone, doing a quick breathing exercise, or calming the mind. I invite you to note your feelings/emotions after entering into the silence. 

Breathe. 

-Gelsey Manipon, Class of 2022

I offer this prayer for us, based on the scriptures and today’s commemoration of Divine Mercy Sunday. This is my last Sunday with you. God bless you all – I will miss you tremendously, you will be in my prayers.  

“Give thanks to the Lord for he is good, his love is everlasting!” 
God of Goodness, You transform our world with your love,  
bringing life from death, hope and comfort to those who despair, 
healing to those in need of restoration, 
mercy and reconciliation to places of division and pain, 
We ask you in this Easter Season to be near to us;  
Come to the places where we are afraid and locked away, 
and greet us anew with your peace and love which cannot be contained. 

Jesus, We trust in You. 
Living One, we yearn to be close to you, and you meet us in our deepest desires. 
Allow us to encounter your wounded Body; 
in one another as we gather together to worship, in our world that cries out for you,  
in those we least expect: the despised, grieving, poor, hungry, imprisoned, refugee, 
and so many more wounded and locked away ones, who long to be met with love. 
Let us never turn away, help us instead to touch the wounded & crucified places,  
that we may truly know the power of your resurrection breaking into our world, 
and so proclaim like Thomas before us “My Lord and my God!” 

“Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.” 
Resurrected One, Divine Mercy, breathe your Spirit upon us,  
that we may be empowered and encouraged to be instruments  
of your healing mercy and love in our world. 
Grant that we may be Your Risen Body,  
showing forth the good news of your cross and resurrection  
to all the world through our presence, proclamation, and action. 
May all who encounter us, your Church, 
come to believe in you and so enter more deeply into your reign of 
love, trust, relationship, hope, transformation, and abundant life. 
We pray this in the name of Christ who is alive forever and ever. Amen. 
 
- JoAnn Melina Lopez, Campus Minister for Liturgy   

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Today we focus on the Passion of Jesus in a series of events starting with the arrival in Jerusalem, the Last Supper, and the Agony in the Garden, which all lead up to Jesus’ trial, crucifixion, and death. It goes without saying that this is a lot to process all at once – and reasonably so. While the story begins with a joyous welcoming to Jerusalem, it all seems to turn very rapidly. He is betrayed by one of his own friends, Peter, on three separate occasions. Next, the council of elders pressure Pontius Pilate into persecuting Jesus. In his last days and even in the final moments of his death, he is betrayed, denied, reviled, and provoked over and over again. Finally, he is humiliated and forced to carry the cross that he would be crucified on.

The amount of pain that Jesus endured during these days is incomprehensible. While trivial at first, the story of the Passion is how Jesus teaches us how to suffer, that is, through patience and calm. When he was betrayed, he was forgiving. When he was provoked, he remained humble. During times of need, he turned to God for help. Even in the midst of so much hurt, Jesus persevered. Perhaps his example can teach us something about how to lead our own lives when we are hurt, when we are in trouble, and when we are at our lowest.

 Palm Sunday comes to me as a bittersweet reminder that Lent is ending, Holy Week is beginning, and Easter is arriving. For many, Holy Week may feel like a mixture of both eagerness for the future and discomfort in the final stretch of Lent because we are so close, but not there yet. It’s a little painful, yes. However, maybe we can relate this experience of pain, and our own troubles, to those Jesus experienced, and endure them with the same calm and patience that he did. What prayer do you have as you consider your pain and the pain of the world today? How can we keep our hearts open to learn from Jesus this Holy Week?

 ~ Taylor-Ann Miyashiro, B.S. Electrical Engineering Class of 2022

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Today we’re invited to look in a new way. Paul professes that he is willing to relinquish all of what he valued, seeing everything that he previously took pride in as worthless now that he understands the call of faith in Christ. Jesus, in our complex Gospel story, offers a new approach to dealing with questions of morality and punishment in the public square: by displacing himself, defusing tension, inviting the crowd to reflection on their own need for mercy and reconciliation, and connecting personally and compassionately with one whom the community condemns, Jesus’ way leads to personal and communal transformation. “See, I am doing something new! Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” God appeals to us through the prophet Isaiah.

This Sunday the scriptures are calling us to look at our lives, our world, with eyes that see God’s presence breaking in, transforming us. Right now. In ways beyond our imagination. In ways that might challenge us to leave behind the familiar and comfortable, to go beyond ourselves, to listen well to unexpected people, to truly encounter the Spirit at work in our world. Paying attention to the Spirit now means not clinging to the ways of old, but drawing on the past, interpreting the present signs of the times, and acting for a hope-filled future, all with faith and hope in God’s abiding presence working in and among us.

This attentiveness to the Spirit is the call of the 2023 Synod. In an unprecedented process, all the baptized around the world are being invited to come together to reflect on how we journey together as Church, to share our experiences, and to pray and ponder where the Holy Spirit might be calling the Church. We’re being invited to be the Body of Christ in a new way. “The purpose […is…] “to plant dreams, draw forth prophecies and visions, allow hope to be nourished, inspire trust, bind up wounds, weave together relationships, awaken a dawn of hope, learn from one another, and create a bright resourcefulness that will enlighten minds, warm hearts, give strength to our hands.” ~ Synod Preparatory Document

When I think of the Synod, I hear God crying out: “See, I am doing something new! Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” Friends, come be a part of this unfolding work of the Spirit in our Church. Join us this Sunday at 12:30 p.m. or 6 p.m., or on April 20 at 6p.m., for synodal listening sessions. Let us pray to be able to listen to and partner with the Spirit’s work in our world today.

• JoAnn Melina Lopez, Campus Minister for Liturgy

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Today’s parable looms so large and so poignant in our religious imagination that I tend to forget the context in which it was first spoken. Religious authorities grumbled: “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” Jesus, radically inclusive host and master storyteller, challenges those – then and now – who create firm boundaries around “us” and “them” or “lost” and “saved.” In the kin-dom of God, to which all parables point, those distinctions fade away so as to be meaningless. Accordingly, Jesus blurs the lines so that no one is outside the hopeful gaze and eager embrace of this divine parent’s compassion. 

 Let’s not forget or minimize how complicated and messy that sort of kin-dom living is, however. The parable ends on a freeze frame, a moment in time suspended between conflict and celebration. What happens next? We glimpse the potential for reconciliation, for healing, for deeper and more honest relationships, but we don’t observe the work it takes to get there. Today’s song for the Preparation of Gifts, “I Will Arise,” by Tony Alonso, demonstrates that complexity in a beautiful way. In each of the first three verses, one of the main characters speaks from their vantage point. In verse four, Alonso juxtaposes an excerpt from each one’s voice. All the while moving toward the refrain, “All will be well and all be one.” It’s unresolved and unfinished. Yet there is space in the song for each perspective to be heard. And, with God’s grace, there is a commitment to put in the work required to move towards well-being and unity that does not diminish but amplifies each one’s uniqueness. 

 Being and making kin with each other in this web of unresolved and unfinished relationships is our life’s work, and also God’s work… Between siblings and parents, between Pharisees and sinners. How is God calling you to be a minister of reconciliation? How is God calling us – as a worshipping community, as a university, as a church, as a nation – to embrace this work? 

 ~ Bill McNamara, Campus Minister for Liturgical Music