My dear parishioners, the sun ascends the morning sky. It rejoices in splendor at the summit of day. Evening appears, night encroaches, and the sun vanishes below the horizon as if to say to darkness, I do not know you. Storms sweep through the skies. Their shadows march across the earth. Crashing thunder. Torrential rains. Reverent stillness. The wind gathers her skirts of clouds and rain and hurries away. 

In these phenomena, one beholds the splendor of God’s natural order. If we were to reflect in our hearts on what our eyes observe, we may glimpse perhaps the more resplendent mystery of God so perfectly symbolized by the rainbow. 

The Genesis narrative of creation presents darkness as a womb in which light is conceived and nurtured in the first day or age of creation. Like a child enfolded in its mother’s arms, light commingles with darkness in every dawn and twilight. As you make your way through city or country, on pavement or meadow, by turns light and darkness must overtake you, stirring you awake, hurrying you along, pushing you to finish the day’s work and to seek a place for your rest. 

Understandably human beings speak evocatively of the dawn and twilight of their lives. Night and day are but the turning of the glass through which the stagecraft and drama of our lives pour out like grains of sand. To hold an hourglass is to grasp a catechism of time and space quite beyond the human person’s capacity to comprehend. His very existence is a formidable if not unapproachable mystery. What does being loved by God mean? Where must I go? What must I do? 

The most tender and evocative responses to these questions are revealed to us by God himself, who has written his truth on the tablets of our hearts and placed his very own words on our lips so that we cannot fail to know or speak words of human longing for communion with God. “Because he cleaves to me in love, I will deliver him; I will protect him, because he knows my name.”  [Psa 91:14-15]  

Like birds at the changing of seasons, we find ourselves restless and impelled to make a journey of faith to “new heavens and a new earth where righteousness dwells”  [2Pet 3:13], “to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem”.  [Heb 12:22]  Not to abandon the world which God made or its people, but rather to sanctify the world in such a way that the practice of religion becomes indistinguishable from one’s work or play or service. The bonds of wickedness we must shatter. The heavy yoke of oppression we must break. The enslaved we must set free. This is the fast God desires.  [cf Isa 58:6]   

Behold the promises of Christ and his love! Our Lord’s cross is the victory over all anxiety and dread of the future, the hope of our own resurrection from the dead. As we enter the Liturgy of Holy Communion, humbly listen to what God commands for us: “that these gifts be borne by the hands of your holy Angel to your altar on high in the sight of your divine majesty, so that all of us, who through this participation at the altar receive the most holy Body and Blood of your Son, may be filled with every grace and heavenly blessing.”  [ROMAN MISSAL EP I]  

God’s heavenly banquet table is prepared for those who love him. Therefore be confident that the Holy Spirit can usher God’s people whole and entire through the gates of the heavenly Jerusalem. Celebrate God's forgiveness and mercy with joyful shouts of thanksgiving. Let your faith be the guardian of your hearts and a banner for all to see along the pilgrim way. May the peace of Christ keep you from sin and confirm you in the gospel. Wait in joyful hope for the coming of our savior Jesus Christ! Sincerely in the hearts of Jesus and Mary. Your pastor, Reverend Richard Barker.