In a 13th-century text called the Il Foretti (The Little Flowers), a story is told about St. Francis in which a brother friar came to him and asked, “Why after you? Why is the whole world coming after you, wanting to see you, to hear you, to follow you?” Some 800 years after the life of St. Francis, this question remains. What is it about this unpretentious figure from the early 13th century that continues to exert such a perennial fascination for Catholics and non-Catholics, believers and agnostics alike? What is it that has made Francis the subject of more books than any other saint? Why has he inspired artists, ecologists, peace activists, and advocates for the poor to claim him as a patron? Why has he inspired countless tens of thousands of men and women to follow his Rule of Life in religious and secular communities? Continue reading
A Pattern of Life
Reply
Their Answer. The question that Jesus posed is now filled out: the chief priests and elders are required to adjudicate between the two brothers. For “doing the will of” God distinguishes mere profession from active compliance, and so here it suitably distinguishes between the attitudes of the two sons. Jesus’ question thus allows only one reasonable answer, which the Jewish leaders duly provide, but, like David in his response to Nathan’s parable (2 Sam 12:5–7), in so doing they provide Jesus with the ammunition he needs to mount an attack in v. 32 on their own inconsistency. First, however, he spells out its consequences. 
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD. As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my ways above your ways and my thoughts above your thoughts.” (Isa 55:9).
I like writing – even if it is a struggle at times. There is something—I don’t know— compelling about it when the germ of a thought begins to take shape and forms itself into a more complete thought. The preparation of a homily is often like that. You sit with the readings for the coming Sunday and let one or more points rise to the surface. Some ideas will be interesting, some will make the list for some future weekend, and every once in a while, the idea is just self-evident. The homily has a beginning, a pointed end, and a clear pathway to get from one to the other. In those moments, it just seems to flow. 
There are times when I am celebrating daily Mass, I can drift off in thought. It mostly occurs during the readings as I mentally make last-minute adjustments in my homily. I have a theme, a reflection, and I always wonder what connections I should make with what going on in the world. I was thinking about – what seems to me – a recent uptick in the virulent and harsh commentaries online. You name the topic: health care, DACA, racism, border security, immigration, refugees, and much much more – and the dialogue (if you can call it that) is ever more vitriolic, 
What Can We Say. Patricia Datchuck Sánchez writes:
In thinking about this morning’s 
friarmusings 