Fourth Sunday of Advent (Year 3, NL)

"I love you," says God. "We love you, too," our prayers reply.

What a relief it might be to middle-class America to be sent away empty.

As I lifted the chalice, the baby began to play soccer under my ribs.

What is Jesus thinking when he tells the parable of the dishonest steward?

This story is full of echoes—most famously, Mary's song echoes Hannah's. But there is another echo: Elizabeth's praise of Mary, which gets taken up into the Hail Mary, is an echo of Deborah's song in Judges 5.

Mary is a jazz singer, improvising on a familiar tune.

The prospect of Syrian refugees entering the U.S. has unleashed a wave of fear. But fear, while understandable, is an unreliable guide to policy.

It’s no secret that I love Ordinary Time.

As time goes on, I find that the seasons I love the most in the liturgical year aren’t the high holy feasts, but the ordinary ones.

God’s word to Nathan and Gabriel’s word to Mary hold a tension that’s at the heart of biblical faith.

Would it be that we all could sing our souls. I think Mary helps us. I think we should read her song, and preach it, and sing it over and over again.

Sampling Isaiah, Mary's song sings of mercy, strength, humility, and the truest meaning of charity. Her song hears in each of these virtues a gift of God, and a sign of God's desire for all.

Mary’s song marks a transformation from seeing her condition’s weight to receiving a new power within the situation. And then, finally, she is a participant in the work of God’s spirit.

John 3:16 or Matthew 25? Both. Neither.