In the movie Oh God, You Devil the roles of both God and Satan were played by George Burns. This completely baffled the humans. But as “God” pointed out, the face of evil has long tried to look like God, act like God, sound like God—or at least fulfill all our expectations of what God is like and desires. This is the aspect of Jesus’ human nature that Satan attempts to prey upon in today’s Gospel. It is in our human nature to seek the easy or surface answers; it was this part of Jesus’ true human nature that was tested in the desert dryness that immediately followed his plunge into the Jordan’s baptismal waters. Our surface expectations of God are in miracle-working, power and glory, the intervention of supernatural beings on our behalf. But all of these things can be accomplished by the might of evil as well. Jesus takes us deeper and shows us that, even when we’re at our weakest (as he would have been in the desert after his forty-day ordeal), we need to be relentless in seeking the true presence of God’s word, giving our worship to God alone, testing ourselves and not God.

Zephaniah is one of the least-known of the Old Testament prophets. He speaks in today’s first reading of impending judgment. But the Lord will leave a “remnant” in Israel. This image of a remnant, or remainder, was to become vital to both Judaism and Christianity.

Paul’s letter to Corinth makes obvious his deep concern for the Christians there. They are too self-confident, he says, too sure of themselves. He admonishes them to remember that Christ has given them all they have.

Today’s Gospel comprises the opening of Jesus’ “Great Sermon.” As God gave Moses the Law on Sinai, so now Jesus gathers his disciples on a hillside to teach them the New Law. Each of these Beatitudes contrasts the humiliation of the present with the glory of the future: poverty vs. the riches of God’s kingdom, hunger for holiness vs. fulfillment in the Spirit, persecution vs. the reign of God. Jesus is here speaking to God’s chosen “remnant.”

The unfolding of the story of the Incarnation continues today as the Church celebrates the Epiphany. The tale of the magi from the East is one of the most fascinating in all of scripture. It has much to teach us about what we can come to expect, even in circumstances and places that may seem insignificant or small. Bethlehem was a tiny town, what we might refer to today as a town without even one stop light. Yet it is over this seemingly insignificant place that the guiding star stops in its own search for the place where the Savior would be born. Too often we fail to recognize the fact that the star of Bethlehem comes to rest in our everyday lives, where we can experience God’s presence, manifested in ever new ways. Epiphany calls us to shake off our stupor and recognize the One who comes to save us.

“Octave” comes from the Latin word for “eight,” and since eight is one step beyond seven, the number of days in a week, it has long been seen as a symbol of perfection, completion, and new beginnings. Early Christians called Sunday the “eighth day,” since it was the day after the Sabbath and a day of resurrected life, the Lord’s Day. By the seventh century, people regarded the eight days after Easter Sunday as one great day, an octave, one glorious feast when people were forbidden to fast or kneel. In the seventh century, Pentecost acquired an Octave, too. Christmas didn’t claim the honor of a continuous feast, but it did get an Octave Day. January 1 is the oldest Marian feast, the Octave of Christmas. It was originally a feast of the motherhood of Mary, although for centuries until 1969 it was called the Feast of the Circumcision. Our reformed calendar follows the earlier tradition of celebrating Mary as Mother of God.

Today’s Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph is a modern one, instituted in 1921. Strains on family life then, with the world emerging from the first “Great War,” were enormous. From its inception, this feast was clearly intended to inspire people with an image of family harmony even amid difficulties.

In 1969 the Feast of the Holy Family was moved to its present position, the Sunday within the Octave of Christmas. When Christmas falls on a Sunday, this feast is bumped to December 30, but is not a holy day. The Gospels chosen in 1969 all depict stressful times in the life of the family of Jesus: the Presentation (with the warning of future sorrow), the flight into Egypt, and Mary and Joseph’s frantic search for their son in Jerusalem. The feast’s former place in the calendar is taken now by the Baptism of the Lord.

Saint Matthew’s account of the flight into Egypt takes center stage today as we continue to follow the story of the Holy Family. Once again the angel of the Lord appears to Joseph in a dream, telling him to take the child Jesus and his mother to Egypt. Joseph heeds the command and takes them on what must have been a strenuous journey. Saint Matthew does not give us any of the details, but we can only imagine what this journey must have been like. Where did they eat? Where did they find shelter? What were the roads like? Was Joseph able to find work? The Holy Family survived in no small measure because they put their trust in God. This is exactly what today’s feast calls us, God’s holy family, to do.

As Christmas draws near, Advent’s Scriptures lure us into a world of dreams, signs, wonders, and the miracle of the virgin birth. Too often we allow the great stories of our faith, the ones that are most familiar, simply to wash over us. Today’s Gospel account of the events leading up to the birth of the Lord reads like a present-day soap opera. Yet Joseph’s courage, even in the midst of what must have been an incredibly confusing time, provides a model for us. Each week, we are summoned by God to embrace the way of goodness and truth through the proclamation of God’s holy word. Like Joseph, we are called to do as the Lord commands us. As we stand at the threshold of Christmas, let us have the courage to be open to whatever it is that the Lord will require of us as we celebrate the miracle of Bethlehem.

Today we can bask in the imagery that the Mass readings offer us. In particular, Isaiah’s vision of a parched land that blooms with abundant flowers holds a message for each of us. Too often we are just like that parched land. We can allow ourselves to become absorbed in the waves of consumerism that grip so many. We look for fulfillment in the things that money can buy. Unfortunately, this leaves us like parched land, thirsting for something that money can’t buy. This holy season has much to offer to quench our thirsts. In a word, this season offers hope. We are told that those who are ransomed by God will know joy and gladness. For them, sorrow and mourning will be no more. Let us place our hope in these promises.

Saint John the Baptist appears on the scene today as Advent enters its second week. The mysterious consumer of locusts and wild honey, John echoes the words of the prophet Isaiah as he calls for repentance in the face of the nearness of the kingdom of heaven. The rhythms of the Christian life are often confounding. Each year we meet the Baptist and hear his calls for repentance. Each year we see him pointing to the one who is coming after him, the Lord Jesus. Yet each year the words and actions of John the Baptist echo anew in our hearts, because we have fallen into old sinful traps again and again. Advent gives us the opportunity once again to turn away from our sinful ways and embrace the Gospel way of life. John the Baptist invites us to prepare the way for the Lord, in whom we place our hope.

An old expression holds that the sun-warmed stone heals. Perhaps. But Malachi explains that only dark, sunless days are in store for those who do not find a place for God in their lives. Conversely, he tells us that the warmth and light of God’s healing justice await those who fear the Lord. That’s a pretty comforting notion—especially now in the already short and growing even shorter days of November. It’s the sun-warmed stone, and then some.

Paul speaks to us of justice as well, but points out that it is not a passive thing. To be treated justly, we need to do our fair share. If we are diligent and persevere we will be rewarded with and by the fruits of our labor. Lastly, Luke, too, tells us to persevere—in faith, this time—and our lives will be secure in God regardless of how we are treated by our enemies.

The second book of Maccabees tells a powerful story, and a rather gruesome one at that. But central to it, beyond the horrible deaths inflicted upon the brothers and their mother, is their belief in the promise of resurrection and life everlasting in God.

Paul asks the Thessalonians to pray for him as he spreads Christ’s message of love, so that he might be delivered from other nonbelievers anxious to do him harm. The apostle is confident in such prayer, just as he is confident in the everlasting support of Jesus and God the Father.

And there’s that “everlasting” word again. The Sadducees, not buying the idea, ask Jesus an interesting—albeit meaningless—question about the status of married life at the Resurrection. He tells the non-believers that marriage isn’t an issue for the risen children of God. More importantly, he assures them that their ancestors do live on in God, even as evidenced by the Father’s words to Moses.

How many times have we read or heard about someone who’s gotten into trouble—maybe even fired from a job—because of a brush with the law? While our “Christian” minds tell us to be sorry and even pray for the person, a little voice inside our heads may also be saying, “I’m glad I would never do anything like that.”

And perhaps we wouldn’t. But are there some things we do that are still not pleasing in God’s eyes? Today’s readings caution us not to look so intently at someone else’s wrongdoing that we overlook our own weaknesses and shortcomings. When we measure ourselves against the worst people we can think of, we come out looking pretty good. There is a danger, however, in using someone else’s behavior as a way of reflecting our own goodness.

“Getting by with a little help from our friends” is not an idea that began with the Beatles. Certainly the idea of “getting by with a little help from God” goes back at least to the first reading today from Exodus. How we get that help, however, is the key to this weekend’s Scriptures.

No matter how inadequate Moses felt to the task God had given him, he persevered—even though he needed help from the people around him. The Israelites especially depended on God for freedom. The woman in the Gospel, desperate and destitute, had no one to depend on, but still she would not give up. She could not afford to bribe the unscrupulous judge, but she pestered him into weariness until finally he met her demands.

We sometimes need to turn to others to help us through difficult times; but if we always turn to God, we won’t be disappointed, for our help, the Psalm assures us, is from the Lord.

Have you ever been in a group of people—maybe on a tour, at a social gathering, or at church—and discovered that you have just been talking with a well-known author, corporate CEO, great scholar, or politician? Your first thought is the hope that you didn’t say anything to embarrass yourself; but your second thought is how much they seemed like such “regular” folks. What is it that makes people seem so “regular”? Today’s readings give us a clue when they stress the importance of humility.

It is so hard for us not to tell the first person who will listen how busy we are, how hard we work, how much money we donate, and how important our job titles are. We think these accolades make a difference to people, and if we don’t tell them, how will they ever know? But if our actions demonstrate our values, people will recognize our worth on their own. The words of Jesus show us how much better it is to let someone else recognize our worth than to be embarrassed because someone did not.

It is no accident that the words “disciple” and “discipline” are nearly identical. Their relationship in Christian faith and life, however, has fallen somewhat out of favor in the past generation, as certain prescribed Church rules and regulations have been reduced and relaxed. These rules were often referred to as “disciplines.” We are mistaken, however, to think that it no longer takes discipline to follow Christ. The Letter to the Hebrews assures us of that today. Our discipline is more like that of an athlete pursuing a victory or a personal best, or a musician striving for a concert career or to master a new piece of music. This discipline comes from desire, not from regulations. It was the desire to do the will of God that led Jesus on the path to his cross. It is that same desire he encourages in us today: to strive to enter through the narrow gate, to find ourselves in the kingdom with a surprising assortment of people who are there not because of mere observation of rules, but out of a genuine desire to recline at the table of the heavenly banquet.

Do you remember Peter on the night Jesus was arrested? He claimed he had never heard of Jesus. Today we are called to join Peter in testifying to the name of Jesus as he does in the first reading, and in proclaiming our love for him as Peter does in the Gospel passage. The powerful imagery of John’s vision in the second reading from the book of Revelation shows us the company we keep when we have faith in the name of Jesus. We join all living creatures, “countless in number” from “heaven, earth, under the earth, in the sea; everything in the universe” (Revelation 5:11, 13). The dignity and majesty described in each reading are in stark contrast to the dark and pitiful image of Peter and the other Apostles at the time of Jesus’ arrest, trial, and crucifixion. What a relief that we can all be redeemed so completely!

What will help you to believe? Today’s scripture readings tell of faith and doubt. They offer stories “recorded to help you believe,” as the passage from John’s Gospel (20:31) remarks today. There is an urgency about this. On this second Sunday of Easter we are challenged to join the company of believers—countless men and women who witnessed the power of the Apostles’ faith.

There is no doubt that this power comes from Jesus Christ. The second reading, from the book of Revelation, reports John’s mystical vision of the Son of Man, who proclaims, “Once I was dead, but now I live” (Revelation 1:18). The Gospel gathers everyone but Thomas to see the Risen Jesus and receive the Holy Spirit from him. Like Thomas, we who have come along later must have faith so that we can have life.

“We are witnesses!” The Scripture readings for Easter Sunday concentrate on details reported by eyewitnesses. Listen carefully and you will be drawn into the stories yourself. Peter reports the good works Jesus did, his death on the cross, and his resurrection. The passage from John’s Gospel has us running to the empty tomb with Peter and John and peering inside to see the cloths used to cover Jesus’ body. Psalm 118 sums up our response: “It is wonderful in our eyes!”

What resurrection details do we see in our lives today? How have we died to our old lives and been raised up again with Jesus? Let us pay attention to the new life around us. It is wonderful in our eyes.

The word “passion” connotes deep, focused engagement. It also relates to passivity, interestingly. The deeply passionate person in the Gospel narrative from Luke is Jesus. He appears passive, but he is not. He is wholly self-possessed and wholly present for the one day that begins on Thursday evening at his last meal with his apostles and ends with his burial before sunset the next day. Then follows the long Sabbath silence.

The narrative of the Passion is read whole and without pause on the Palm Sunday of the Passion. This story, found at each of the Gospels, is unchanging. We are the ones who change. Each year, we bring ourselves with another year’s history to hear and heed the story we so badly need. Life has its way with us, and we look again to the Passion narratives to learn to follow.

“God writes straight with crooked lines,” the saying goes. The power of Paul’s testimony that everything is junk but knowledge of Jesus and the power of his resurrection is a straight enough message. And, God knows, Paul had a crooked journey before his blinding insight straight from God.

Through Isaiah, God reminds us all that the past great works were as nothing compared to the new creation. “Can’t you see it?” we are asked, as if we are still wandering along our crooked lines.

And there is no straighter line than that between the woman whose misery is intense and the God whose mercy in Jesus is deeper and more acute. You just can’t beat this kind of good news.

Kindness and mercy are what the enslaved people of Israel needed, and they came in the form of deliverance. They came through a leader, Moses, who was once plucked from the Nile River and was now herding his father-in-law’s sheep in the land of Goshen. The bush that burned but was not consumed shows us that God is inexhaustible mystery.

Moses’ awe and deference are mixed with a touching conversational tone as he seeks to learn God’s name. And God sweetly responds. The somewhat abstract “I AM” distinguishes the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob from the minor gods in the territory who “are not.” They are helpless, powerless, and useless. Moses is to step out into an amazing future, and God will be there with outstretched arm. Just go and see, God seems to say.

Today’s showing forth of God’s glory is filled with a light that astonishes and reveals. Jesus transfigured on Mount Tabor energizes even the sleepy apostles, who see but cannot get hold of it. They can be forgiven for not apprehending the full meaning of this extraordinary vision of a transfigured Jesus with Elijah and Moses. The whole of the Law and prophets is summed up here on this mountain.

The transfiguration on Mount Tabor is handed over to us this Sunday. As Paul reminds us, it is we who are to be transformed. The light and life of the Resurrection are set forth here so we do not lose heart and fall entirely asleep. This Sunday looks to Easter. It looks to transformation. It asks us to lift up our heads and acknowledge the risen Lord as our light and our salvation.

The devil tempted Jesus by quoting scripture, as today’s Gospel reminds us. Try a self-serving miracle. Try selling out. Try dazzling the audience; people are gullible, after all. Try all these easy ways. The tempter tries to urge Jesus onto the slippery slope, attempts the old soft-soap, the snake-oil solutions that are always readily at hand. The devil knows better, but is powerless to do better, much less be better. The devil is evil personified, who senses in Jesus the stronger, truly attractive presence of holiness.

Evil is exposed and engaged, we are reminded in this Sunday’s Gospel. Evil knows the jig is up. The undoing of lies begins with Jesus, who takes up the work of soul-healing and world-healing. This Lent, the Church invites us to enter into this renewing, re-creative work and be made whole again.

When we think of the word “Beatitude” we think of today’s discourse from Luke’s Gospel, or the more familiar one from Matthew (which begins “Blessed are the poor in spirit . . . ”). Actually, beatitudes occur throughout the prophets and Gospels. Today in Jeremiah (with an echo in the psalm) we hear, “Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord” (Jeremiah 17:7). Following his resurrection in John’s Gospel, Christ proclaims, “Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed” (John 20:29). The evangelists placed these sayings throughout the Gospels as short reminders about the characteristics that one will find in a follower of Christ, characteristics that will help spread the Good News in this life and lead to eternal blessings in the next. In Latin, the saints are called the Beati, the “Blessed,” for they are the ones who lived the “blessed” life as described by Jesus throughout the Gospels. How blest are we, when we also strive to make our own days a living beatitude!

“Holy, holy, holy!” Ancient languages, like the Hebrew used in the Scriptures, did not always have a way to express superlatives in one word. Isaiah could not say God was “holiest,” so he used the threefold repetition of the same word. This bit of scriptural minutiae about these “three little words” that we sing at every Mass serves as a reminder that answering God’s call has to be grounded in awareness of God’s holiness. In Isaiah and in the Gospel passage today, we hear accounts of the revelation of God’s power and might: the seraphim in the temple and the miraculous catch of fish. These are not wondrous revelations for their own sakes. They lead to a response in mission, Isaiah’s “Here I am, send me!” and the disciples’ leaving everything to follow Jesus. And so must our own “Holy, Holy, Holy!” lead us to Christ in the Eucharist every Sunday, and to a life following him day by day.

It is doubtful that Saint Paul, when he sat down to write what we now know as the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians, knew that he was penning what was to become one of the keystones of Christian ethics. In this brief passage, he set down ideals about love that have held fast through the centuries. Sometimes we may think that because these are ideals to which we aspire, we are excused from them in our daily living.

But what Paul was writing was a letter to his friends, providing them with some sound advice about what it meant—and still means—to live in love, day by day, as a follower of Christ. We find in his words to his friends a broadening of the great commands of Jesus to love God and neighbor. Today we hear what this love must look like in our own actions, and how it ought to guide our relationships with others.

Some of Saint Paul’s best known and most beloved imagery is contained in the passages from First Corinthians that we have heard last week and this week: the many gifts granted by the one same Spirit and the many members making up the one Body of Christ. Few passages from sacred scripture more accurately sum up how Christian vocations work together.

Unlike some of Paul’s other writings, which are a product of the social and religious conventions of his time, these enable us to look at our own lives and the lives of those around us to discern what gifts, what vocations the Holy Spirit has given for the good of all. We can likewise know the joys and sorrows of the other members of the Body and share in them for the strengthening of the whole Body of Christ.

Life is full of surprises, some pleasant, some not. The Scriptures are filled with stories of God’s surprises cropping up where least expected: younger children obtaining the inheritance; the lowliest being seated up highest; an itinerant preacher, killed like a criminal, exalted to eternal, heavenly glory.

Anybody who has planned a wedding or similar event knows that they are filled with opportunities for surprises. For that bridegroom (who, in the Gospel story, has no direct contact with Jesus) the pleasant surprise came because somebody else had paid attention and had faith in Jesus.

We may think that the point of today’s familiar story of the wedding at Cana is that when we have faith in Jesus, our lives will be pleasantly changed. A Christian, however, needs to have a broader perspective, and realize that to have faith in Christ means that somebody’s life—maybe our own, maybe somebody else’s—will be surprised for the better.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” as the saying goes. As we celebrate the epiphania, the “appearing” of the eternal Word of God on earth, this is still true.

What rapturous foresight must have filled Isaiah as he wrote the words we hear today. How, for four hundred years, they must have filled the hearts of the people of Israel with hope for the day when God’s glory would shine on them. How deceived some must have felt when the glory of God came to them in the lowliest and humblest of human lives.

We have many expectations about how the divine presence will appear among us. But we can also set ourselves up, through these expectations, to miss the divine glory when it truly appears. We get caught up in looking for the star, forgetting that the star is not the divine sign, the babe is. It may take a persistent journey for us to come upon the true appearance of God’s glory in our lives: Jesus Christ.

Family life is sacred, but it is not without trial. Perhaps this is the most important message we can glean from today’s readings. If Jesus, Mary and Joseph can trip up sometimes—can disconnect—then we shouldn’t find it surprising when such things happen to us as well. And parents everywhere (children, too) can probably relate to—and take some solace in—the Gospel’s account of Mary and Joseph after Jesus explained why he stayed behind in the temple. They heard his words, Luke tells us, “But they did not understand what he said to them” (Luke 2:50). Amen! Nevertheless, Jesus does go back home with them, and continues to thrive under their care.

“O, Little Town of Bethlehem.” A Philadelphia clergyman named Phillips Brooks penned these popular words back in the mid-1800s, but the prophet Micah could have used them first. Micah knew that from small packages great treasures come. In today’s first reading, he knew that from tiny Bethlehem would come the Lord.

The writer in Hebrews explains that Christ came to us to do the will of God by establishing a new order and by becoming our perfect sacrifice. And Luke tells us that Elizabeth and John, the infant in her womb, understand that great and wondrous things are at hand with the coming of the Lord.

This is the Fourth Sunday of Advent. Tomorrow we celebrate anew the fruit of Mary’s womb. As we are told in Hebrews, Jesus’ new order is being established even today. And as Micah proclaims, his greatness is reaching even now to the ends of the earth.

Today, Baruch speaks of the splendor that lies ahead for the city of Jerusalem and for all of us, regardless of where home is for us. Throw off strife, he tells us, and put on joy. Like a favorite old sweatshirt, joy fits, and how warm it keeps us, even when the winds blow cold.

Paul knows of this joy as he pens his letter to the Philippians, praying that they may grow in their ability to discern what is righteous and good. And Luke speaks to us of John, who was foretold by Isaiah and who sings a similar song—“Prepare the way of the Lord,” for salvation is at hand.

A man ahead of his time, Baruch spent his days joyfully awaiting a distant glory. On this Second Sunday of Advent, Paul and John know that this glory is upon us.

Jeremiah could see it coming—the kingship of Jesus and the restoration of Jerusalem. But was anybody listening? Is anybody listening now? It must have been tough being a prophet, but Jeremiah was persistent in his message because he knew that it needed to be heard.

Also persistent in his message is Paul as he encourages the Thessalonians—and all of us—to live in accordance with the kingship that Jeremiah foretold. He encourages us to conduct ourselves in ways of holiness so that we may be well prepared for the king’s coming. Finally, Jesus himself tells us to be ever diligent so that we may gain favor before our God and King.

Jeremiah could see the kingship of Jesus coming. As we begin the season of Advent, Paul and Jesus tell us not only how to prepare for the Kingdom, but how to live it day to day.

The gospel message proclaimed throughout the New Testament invites us to live in harmony with the world. This is a challenge to care for the world and be stewards of all that God has given us. Like generations before us, we are entrusted with the care of the earth so that generations to follow may enjoy the same gifts. Sometimes, however, we are absorbed into the ways of the world. When we are of the world, we rely heavily on the power of wealth, beauty, fame, and accumulation of material possessions. We want earthly possessions and carelessly turn our hearts from the responsibilities of stewardship and conservation.

The readings today challenge us to walk away from the world so that we might inherit our share of God’s kingdom. How we live our lives directly reflects our love for God.

"It’s going to get worse before it gets better” is a phrase that prepares us to buckle up for a rough ride. We know that enduring a difficult time will require some strenuous physical or emotional energy on our part before we experience the calm of normality. Our past experience tells us that we can endure the difficult pressure better when we know how long it will last and if we know that something better awaits us. Getting through the tough times while holding to the promise that awaits us is the message of this weekend’s readings. They point toward the promises of God’s kingdom that will come after the maelstroms and chaos of this world.

Trusting widows play a significant role in this weekend’s readings. At the point of poverty, when giving even the smallest amount of what they had could imperil their health and well-being, they trusted God and gave anyway. What is important about their giving is not what or how much they gave, but how they gave it. Without selfishness, they gave to help others. Their giving was from the heart, with little hope or intention of receiving any sort of reward or recognition for their generosity. The monetary values of the widows’ gifts were small, but their value measured in the Kingdom was priceless.

There is a significant similarity between their gift and the gift Jesus gave each of us. The widows offered their lives for God. Jesus offered his life for us.

God’s laws are not intended to burden or torment us. Instead they are guideposts that point us in the direction of good living. Accordingly, good living requires loving God and loving one another. We should not follow God’s laws out of fear of what might happen if we don’t, but rather view them as a foundation for building relationships and trust with one another and with God.

The Shema prayer of Orthodox Jews is based on the reading from Deuteronomy today, “Hear, O Israel.” Every morning people recite the prayer as a profession of their love for God and pledge their obedience to God throughout the day. They pass on their love of God to their children, from one generation to the next.

Sometimes we get the idea that having material wealth is a bad thing. We may convice ourselves that it is the poor who are favored. In today's readings we discover that material wealth alone does not keep us from discipleship. We will see that there are other gifts more important than material wealth, but even so, it is how we use our gifts that matters most.

Today's scriptures point to the value of the gifts of wisdom, trusting in God, and letting our actions reflect the love of God from within. It is not gold that causes us to fail, but rather the desire for gold above all other things. From the readings in Wisdom and Hebrews, we find the source of God's gifts in our lives. Wisdom is more valuable then worldly possessions. In Hebrews, we are challenged to look at our own values and admit honestly what controls our lives.

With today's two accounts of feeding miracles and the psalm response about the Lord's hand feeding us, it is easy to gloss over the marvelous hymn in Ephesians. It is built around the most potent biblical numbers: one, three, and seven. The core of it is the word "one" expressed seven times. Three of these describe the church: one body, one Spirit, one hope, the next three are the foundations of the church: one Lord (Jesus), one faith, one baptism. All of these are bound up together in the one Father of all. While we might feel daunted by the prospect of duplicating the wonders worked by Elisha and Jesus in the feeding of multitudes, Ephesians gives us a more realistic way t live and "feed" others as the church: by living in humility and gentleness, by acting with patience, bearing with each other in love, and always seeking and striving to preserve unity through peace. Who among us cannot increase the way we "feed" the church and the world by living this way? We are always called upon to "feed" the world in the literal sense, but our mission as church tells us that others are also fed by the way we live and act each moment of each day.