"Knot in Your Life"

 

"Knot in your life"!

The Knots Prayer

 

O God,
please untie the knots
that are in my mind,
my heart, and my life.

 

Remove the have nots,
the can nots and the do nots
that I have in my mind.

 

Erase the will nots,
may nots, might nots
that find a home in my heart.

 

Release me from the could nots,
would nots, and should nots
that obstruct my life.

 

And most of all, God,
I ask that you remove from my mind
my heart and my life all of the ‘am nots'
that I have allowed to hold me back,
especially the thought
that I am not good enough. Amen.

Author Unknown . . .

To Dare or Not To Dare . . .

 

Dare to declare
who you are. 
It isn’t far from
the shores  of silence
to the boundaries of speech.
The road is not long
but the way is deep.
And you must not
only walk there.
You must be prepared
to leap.

Composer, Mystic: St. Hildegard of Bingen (1098 – 1179) 

Seeing Is Believing!

 

 

Seeing God

We cannot see you
and yet in so many ways we have seen you,

We cannot touch you
but we have experienced and felt you.

You have been in the full moon
and the early morning mist,
the bright blue sky
and the cool night air
after a scorching day.

You are the rock
that anchors us in uncertain times,

You are the hope
that keeps us going on a road with few signposts,

You are the presence
when we feel disoriented and estranged.

You are the compassion
that knits us even to strangers,

You are the justice
that tugs at our complacency,

You are the joy
that unexpectedly overwhelms us,

You are the love
that banishes all fear.

We praise you for revealing yourself to us
in all these ways -
and for Christ, your full revelation.

~ Suellen Shay

Thresholds: A Book of Prayers, 2011

New Life; Living Hope:

 

                                                 New Life; Living Hope:

Second Sunday of Easter 2026 

April 12, 2026

www.johnpredmoresj.com | predmore.blogspot.com

Acts 2:42-47; Psalm 118; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

 

Overwhelming joy punctuates the first Apostles as they come together in astonishment. Acts writes, “They ate their meals with exultation and sincerity of heart, praising God and enjoying favor with all the people.” Thomas cries out, “My Lord and My God” after receiving the Holy Spirit that ushers in a radical depth of peace. Peter explodes with praise as he writes, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who in his great mercy gave us a new birth to a living hope.” Wow. A new birth to a living hope. 

 

What does this tell us about Peter? These are words from a man whose life was significantly changed. He is becoming someone new because of the Resurrection. We have to realize that God is not simply making us into better people; God is making us into new people. This is about transformation, new life, not simply that we improve who we are. We can think about salvation as “enjoying the fulness of new life.” Salvation moves us into wholeness, into an inner vitality. Salvation is far more than being saved from sin; Let us put sin in its proper perspective. Salvation is about enjoying the fulness of life. What do you need to embrace this “newness?”

 

Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Jesuits, speaks about this as the “magis,” the more. Sometimes we feel stuck with our fate or state in life, or we look at our lives as defined by past failures, or we have reached a point of resignation where we simply say, “This is just who I am.” No. There’s more. There’s much more. Through God’s mercy, we are given a living hope. You have been given new life with a living hope. We cannot let ourselves settle when new life is offered to us.

 

This is not an ordinary, passive hope in which we say, “I hope things get better,” or “In the end, all will be well.” This is an active, living hope that has already begun within us. It has already started. We can now strive for our best, hold not the love we had in childhood, and to know of our essential goodness even when life has battered us down. This is a living hope that cannot die – even when we die. This is about a relationship now and in the future, a relationship with the Risen Jesus who is alive right now and reaches out to you with gentle hands. Our hope is not optimism. Our hope is what happens when Christ walks into our fear and does not leave. This is Christ’s mercy to us. Christ enters into the fabric of our life and is pleased to be there. 

 

Some might ask, “How can we have hope when there are overwhelming dark forces in the world, when we feel like we are stuck in the tomb? Sometimes, the tomb can provide us safety from the menacing powers.” We may wonder, “Where are you, O God? How can you permit this darkness?” You are right to ask. Fear has no place in God’s plan. We are called out from the tomb, out of our fears into an unstable world. We are called to live in the resurrection. It was not just something that happened to Jesus, it is something that is happening to us. Humanity will reach a tipping point when there are more people with expanding consciousness and compassion to reshape the world.

 

What does this mean for us? We can make ourselves vulnerable and risk loving generously because that love can never be lost. We can endure suffering with hope because suffering is not the final word. We can let go of lesser concerns because something greater awaits us. God is always standing before us – beckoning us forward, waiting in the future, leading us toward a future that cannot be taken away. It might be time for us to make some radical changes in our thinking. Let us go forward together and raise our consciousness to higher matters. Let us drop everything that holds us back from the fulness to which we are called. Let us live in this love that knows no limitations.

 

Today, we read about Jesus coming back to see Thomas with the Apostles. We saw how he came back for Mary Magdalene, for Peter, and the Others. We also know that the first person he visited was a woman in grief, sitting in her courtyard filled with overwhelming loss. What son have risen from the dead would not first return to his mother? And Jesus has not forgotten you. He will come for you. He will appear to you in many ways before you recognize that you matter, that you matter a great deal to him, that he cares for you, that he wants your friendship, that you are lovable and worthy of his love, that he wants to give you the fullness of life. If you knew how much you are loved, you would do everything in your power to live as God sees you. This is what I want for you too. Within the Resurrection, there is nothing to hold us back. Let us explore the energy of this creative love, this transformative mercy, that transforms lives and grounds us in living hope.

 

Second Sunday of Easter. . .

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5y8vn997DM&t=353s

April 12, 2026

Second Sunday of Easter

Kelly

Sankowski

We were on the way to the hospital for the birth of my second son when we decided what his middle name should be. We decided on Thomas. Given that we met at a church named after St. Thomas Aquinas on the campus of a university founded by Thomas Jefferson, many people probably assumed he was named after one of those men. But he was actually named after the Thomas in today’s gospel, because we believe he has gotten a bad rap.

He has been known through the ages as “doubting Thomas” because he did not believe the apostles’ story about the risen Jesus appearing to them. He demanded to see it with his own eyes.

This has always seemed unfair to me, because he was only asking for what other people – the other apostles – already got. We have made this one moment of doubt his defining characteristic, and I don’t think any of us would like it if this is what happened in our own lives.

So, on this Divine Mercy Sunday, I would like to invite us to consider Thomas through God’s merciful eyes. For when we look at the whole context of his life, we see that it is not doubt that defines him, but rather courage, critical thinking, and a willingness to stand out from the crowd.

Earlier in the gospel of John, we see that Thomas plays an important role in another story – the raising of Lazarus. Jesus and his disciples had left Jerusalem because people had started to threaten to kill Jesus for saying he was the son of God. Then, they receive the message from Mary and Martha telling Jesus that their brother, Lazarus, was ill. When Jesus tells his disciples that he intends to go back to Judea, they challenge him, saying, “Rabbi, the Jews were just trying to stone you, and you want to go back there?” (John 11:8). Thomas is once again a lone voice – this time, urging the others to follow Jesus. He tells them, “Let us also go to die with him” (John 11:16).

In John chapter 14, Jesus tells his disciples that he is going to prepare a place for them in his Father’s house, and that they know the way. Thomas, clearly thinking critically about this, asks, “Master, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?” (John 14:5).

And finally, the beginning of today’s Gospel passage tells us that Thomas was not with the other apostles when Jesus first appeared to them. Why not? We don’t know, but I wonder if it is because while the others were hiding behind locked doors out of fear, Thomas was once again courageous enough to still be out in the world, continuing the work of Jesus, even if it meant risking his own death.

The same characteristics that led Thomas to need to see the resurrected Jesus with his own eyes are the ones that gave him the strength to follow Jesus at a great risk, and to ask important questions to gain a deeper understanding of Jesus’s message.

When Jesus looks at Thomas in the second half of today’s Gospel, he doesn’t just see “the doubter”. He sees the whole person – the man whose courage and critical thinking have given him the strength to be one of his most ardent followers, but have also made it hard for him to believe in this improbable miracle. Jesus sees it all, and has mercy on Thomas. While he does point out where Thomas could have done better, saying, “Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed,” Jesus also gives Thomas exactly what he needs: he lets Thomas touch his wounds.

This is also true when God looks at you. God sees the whole picture of your life - not just the weaker moments that others might define you by. God does not just see your impatience with your children, or the way you never can seem to remember to bring reusable grocery bags to the story. God does not just see the ways you fall short, the things that you are afraid of, or the long list of things in your head that you think you are doing wrong. God sees those things, sure, but God also sees the care that you have for your loved ones, God sees the way that you work for justice, even if it is imperfect, God sees the ways you have grown, and the ways you are still trying to do better. And God sees how all of that has brought you to this moment. In God’s infinite mercy, no one moment can ever break God’s love.

It strikes me that Thomas might be exactly the saint we need at this moment. The news cycle of this Lenten season was one of violence and war. When so many of us are either tempted toward greed and power or tempted toward despair at the state of the world, we need someone who is thinking differently. Someone who is courageous enough to challenge the status quo. Someone who doesn’t remain inside the locked doors of paralysis when problems seem too large, but is willing to continue doing the important work of building God’s Kingdom.

As we enter into this joyous Easter season, may the mercy and love of God empower us to be more like Thomas: to use the brain that God gave us to ask difficult questions, and to be courageous in our following of Jesus.

 

Painting by Caravaggio

It's all in the hands. . .

“The Kitchen Maid with the Supper at Emmaus” by Diego Valázquez  c.1620

The poet Denise Levertov was inspired by this painting to tell the story of the

Servant Girl at Emmaus.

 She listens, listens, holding her breath.
 Surely that voice
 is his—the one
 who had looked at her, once,
 across the crowd, as no one ever had looked?
 Had seen her?
 Had spoken as if to her?

 Surely those hands were his,
 taking the platter of bread from hers just now?
 Hands he’d laid on the dying and made them well?

 Surely that face—?

The man they’d crucified for sedition and blasphemy.
 The man whose body disappeared from its tomb.
 The man it was rumored now some women had seen this morning,
 alive?

 Those who had brought this stranger home to their table
 don’t recognize yet with whom they sit.
 But she in the kitchen,
 absently touching the wine jug she’s to take in,
 a young Black servant intently listening,

 swings round and sees
 the light around him
 and is sure.

-Denise Levertov

Emmaus -- In the breaking of the bread . . .

 

The Road to Emmaus ~ Caravaggio

 EMMAUS JOURNEY (Luke 24: 13-35)

All was chaos when he died.
We fled our separate ways at first,
then gathered again in the upper room
to chatter blue-lipped prayers
around the table where he’d talked
of love and oneness.

On the third day Cleopas and I
left for the home we’d abandoned
in order to follow him.

We wanted no part of the babble
the women had brought from the tomb.
We vowed to get on with our grieving.

On the road we met a Stranger
whose voice grew vaguely familiar
as he spoke of signs and suffering.

By the time we reached our village,
every tree and bush was blazing,
and we pressed him to stay the night.

Yet not till we sat at the table
and watched the bread being broken
did we see the light.

Irene Zimmerman, osf
From: Woman Un-Bent