Fr. Bob’s Weekly Reflections

The story of Adam and Eve is perhaps the best known story in history. They ate fruit from the wrong tree. Right in the middle of the garden was a tree that was off limits. They were not to even touch it.

It is late in the day. A little boy is tired of playing. He's tense and miserable; agitated. He starts to whine. The mother is also tired, but must think about cooking dinner.

I'd like to recall the words Jesus told Nicodemus. "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son."

It has been a long journey since we entered the season of Lent on Ash Wednesday. We have known the gift of Holy Thursday, the agony of Good Friday, the glorious triumph of Easter Sunday and bewilderment of the Ascension.

In our Gospel, we read the prayer Jesus offered the night before He died. It's the longest prayer in the Bible. He says, "Father, Most Holy, protect them which You have given Me. I gave them Your word and the world has hated them for it.

In our Gospel today, Jesus speaks about being chosen. It was not you who chose Me, but I who chose you. And appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain.

Most of us are repulsed by spiders. Rather than admire the woven web in the corner of the room, we are quick to destroy it. The spider swaying from the ceiling does not evoke amazement in us, despite its abilities. The spider disgusts us, and even causes us fear.

We are all familiar with the 23rd Psalm. The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He leads me in green pastures. Even if we know nothing about farming or sheep, we can find some comfort in that image. Shepherds lead sheep.

When the Disciples who were on the road to Emmaus sit together with Jesus for a meal and He breaks the bread, they recognize Him as the Lord. And like the Disciples who Jesus revealed Himself to, many people come to realize that on life's journey, they are not alone.

A small child looks at a stove. It's been turned off, but it's still quite hot. She has been told the word several times: "Hot." But it doesn't mean much to her. It's just a word; a sound her mother makes when she does not want her to touch the oven.