As Morning Breaks...

I received an email from a friend in the United States two days ago.

Some days I awake, simply ready for the new day. Other times, like today, I wake up feeling “old” or a certain fatigue. For sure the terrible stuff going on in the country and world are part of it. A sense of how long it will take before the “new” begins to reveal itself. So many conflicting values are still in the way.

Yesterday, early morning, the sky did its ordinary magic colouring the sky in pinks and fuschias.

Today, everything is blanketed in thick fog with no noticeable sign of lifting.

This pattern of sun and sky seems to mirror my friend’s personal human experience. And this alternating experience is common to us all. In fact, we might say that it helps us know we belong to each other. More deeply, we belong to earth.

I am reminded of a hymn that we sing on Holy Saturday, that “hold one’s collective breath” day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday in the Christian tradition. That immobile space between tragedy and hope. The words of the hymn go like this:

As morning breaks

I look to you

I look to you O God, to be my strength this day

As morning breaks.

Perhaps this moment of our experience on the planet also calls us to look to each other to be our strength this day. Perhaps we can also look to sun and sky, to river and ocean to be our strength this day. Perhaps in these discouraging days, we are more surrounded by what might give us strength than we have imagined.

As morning breaks…

-Sister Margo Ritchie, CSJ

IMAGE: Zetong Li/Unsplash

Good Friday: A Different Way of Seeing

Why Do We Call Good Friday “Good”? A Different Way of Seeing?

Every year, the question returns: If Good Friday remembers the suffering and death of Jesus, what exactly makes it “good”?

A quick search offers the traditional answer—Christians believe Jesus’ death was a necessary sacrifice that brought salvation, forgiveness, and reconciliation. It is called “good” because it leads to the hope of Easter.

And yet, for some, that explanation raises a deeper and more uncomfortable question: Does a loving God really require the death of a son?

For me, that idea doesn’t sit easily. A God who gives life, who nurtures and loves unconditionally—would that same God desire suffering and death? It’s hard to reconcile those images.

This question isn’t just theological—it’s deeply human. I think of my own family. When my brother died in a car accident at sixteen, my parents certainly didn’t see any “necessity” in his death. They grieved the loss of a vibrant life, full of promise and goodness. Love does not will loss. Love longs for life.

So perhaps Good Friday invites us to look again—not at a required sacrifice, but at a profound tragedy.

It is the day we remember the death of a man who lived with a bold vision: a world where love, justice, and harmony were possible. Jesus spent his life embodying that vision—healing, forgiving, including, and proclaiming a deep and unwavering love of God. And for living that way, he was rejected.

“He came to his own, and his own did not accept him.” (John 1:11)

Good Friday, then, becomes not a celebration of suffering, but a moment of honest grief. A recognition of what happens when love confronts fear, when truth meets resistance, when goodness is misunderstood.

And yet—even in his dying, Jesus revealed something extraordinary. Not vengeance. Not despair. But forgiveness:

“Father, forgive them; they do not know what they are doing.”

“Today you will be with me in paradise.”

In these final words, we see the heart of His life’s message. Not that suffering is required—but that love remains possible, even in suffering. That forgiveness can rise, even in the face of violence.

Perhaps that is where the “good” begins to emerge.

Not in the death itself, but in the way He lived—and the way He died. A gentle life ended by violence. A life of love that refused to become hate, even at the end.

Good Friday may not be “good” in the way we often define it. But it is true. It reveals both the worst and the best of humanity. And it leaves us with a calling:

To live as He lived.
To love as He loved.
To become, in our own imperfect ways, embodiments of that same compassion and courage.

Maybe the only “necessity” in Good Friday is this stark contrast—between a life rooted in love and a death marked by violence.

And in that contrast, we are invited to choose again what kind of world we will help create.

-Sister Kathleen Lichti, CSJ

Image: Wim van 't Einde/Unsplash

Do This In Remembrance of Me

A REFLECTION FOR HOLY THURSDAY

Since childhood, I’ve loved and looked forward to the diversity of narrative and liturgical richness of Holy Thursday.  It is at once a celebration of the institution and gift of the Eucharist and of the priesthood of all believers, it calls us to action in God’s world, and then presents us with the vulnerability, desolation and pain of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. Holy Thursday which marks the beginning of the great Paschal Triduum seems to hold within it the very essence of a vibrant life of faith. There is so much on which to reflect. It’s hard to find just one focus!

The words of Jesus that remain with me consistently as this day comes around each year and at every celebration of the Eucharist are recorded in Luke’s Gospel and echoed in St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians (11: 23-26): “Do this in remembrance of me”. Immediately the question arises, “do what in remembrance of me?”

As we gather at the table of the Eucharist where Jesus offers himself totally - to what are we called in remembrance of him? The answer is found in this year’s reading from St. John’s Gospel “wash one another’s feet” and in the symbolic practice of foot-washing during the ritual of Holy Thursday. What might this look like? Jesus shows us by his witness to ultimate love in the giving of his body, and in calling all to the table where everyone is to be welcomed– no exclusions! His presence for all time promised here is a presence of mercy and justice. His is the love that feeds us in sacrifice and service and calls us to an oftentimes costly discipleship.

Psalm 11 poses the question “when the world falls apart what can the good do?” Today, we so often experience helplessness in the context of all that is happening in our world – a world that sometimes feels as if it is, indeed, falling apart. So, what can we do? We can wash one another’s feet, one small yet significant act of respect and kindness at a time. Having been nourished at the Eucharistic table we can create tables at which all are to be welcomed and nourished materially and spiritually.  We wash other’s feet by listening to the inseparable cry of the Earth and of the poor, by the “realization” of inclusion of all peoples, by  accompanying the abandoned, lonely, desolate like Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane; by ‘staying awake’ and confronting the cruelty, violence and systems of injustice often so evident at this time in the world.

Kimberly Lymore, who will speak on the inspiring series, “Catholic Women Preach” on this Holy Thursday (video below) says as she links the themes of Holy Thursday: “We cannot receive the Body of Christ (in the Eucharist) while degrading the bodies crushed by poverty, violence and neglect. We cannot proclaim, ‘Amen’ at the table and then remain silent when dignity is denied.”

On this Holy Thursday may we be drawn into the depths of Eucharistic love that through the cross leads ultimately to resurrection in the world.

“Do this in remembrance of me.”

-Sister Mary Rowell, csj

Image: James Coleman/Rey Proenza | Unsplash

The Healing Power of Love in Divided Times: A Book Review

Recently, I read the book Cherished Belonging: The Healing Power of Love in Divided Times by Gregory Boyle, SJ. Father Greg works with gang members in Los Angeles through the organization Homeboy Industries, the largest gang rehabilitation program in the world. This book builds upon, enhances, reiterates, and reaffirms the message he shared in his previous books—namely, that compassion is the answer to every question.

The principles at Homeboy that apply to all situations are: (1) everyone is unshakably good (no exceptions), and (2) we belong to each other (no exceptions). In these times of deadlock and impasse in so many areas of our personal lives, our society, our country, and our world, imagine if we could all embrace these principles and live them fully.

“Compassion is the answer to every question...”

— Father Greg

He speaks of committing to creating a culture and community of cherished belonging, which is God’s dream come true. He says, “When we embrace relational wholeness, our divisions tremble.”

This is a big message to ponder and an even bigger one to live, but it is what we must do, day after day, to dissolve what divides us.

-Sister Nancy Sullivan, csj

Image: Martin Martz/Unsplash