Category Archives: Musings

Widows and Orphans

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The words of today’s Psalm reveal something essential about the heart of God: “The father of orphans and the defender of widows is God in his holy dwelling. God gives a home to the forsaken.”  This is not a small theme hidden in Scripture. It is one of the great threads running through the entire Bible. Again and again, God reveals himself as the protector of the vulnerable, the forgotten, and those who have no one else to defend them.

In the ancient world, widows and orphans were among the most powerless members of society. They often had no legal protection, no financial security, and little social standing. Yet God repeatedly identifies himself with them. In the Law of Israel, the people are commanded: “You shall not wrong any widow or orphan.” In Scripture, again and again, God tells his people that if the vulnerable cry out to him, he will hear them. Why? Because this reflects who God is.

We see this throughout the Old Testament. In the story of Ruth and Naomi, God cares for two vulnerable widows through the kindness and faithfulness of Boaz. In the ministry of the prophet Elijah, God provides food for the widow of Zarephath during famine. Again and again, God acts not only through miracles, but through people who make room in their lives for the suffering and forgotten.

Then, in the New Testament, this same divine compassion becomes visible in the life of Jesus Christ. Jesus notices those others overlook. He stops for beggars. He touches lepers. He speaks with sinners. He feeds the hungry crowds. He raises the son of the widow of Nain because he is moved with compassion for her grief.

Even on the Cross, Jesus does not forget the vulnerable. Seeing his mother standing there, he entrusts her to the beloved disciple so that she will not be left alone.

The early Church understood that caring for the vulnerable was not optional charity; it was part of Christian identity itself. The Acts of the Apostles describes the community caring daily for widows. And the Letter of James says: “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God is this: to care for orphans and widows in their affliction.”

The Church has always understood that worship of God and care for the vulnerable belong together. We cannot praise the God who defends widows and and at the same time ignore those who are lonely, poor, abandoned, or burdened around us. Most of us may never encounter literal orphans or widows in the biblical sense, but every day we meet people who feel forgotten: the elderly person no one visits, the struggling parent, the immigrant far from home, the prisoner, the grieving, the lonely, the anxious, the poor, the person quietly carrying suffering that no one sees.

To imitate God means learning to notice them.

Often the Lord’s work begins in very ordinary ways: a listening ear, a visit, a meal, a word of encouragement, an act of patience, generosity, or mercy. The Psalm says God “gives a home to the forsaken.” As Christians, we are called to help create that home not only in buildings, but in the way we welcome others into dignity, friendship, and hope.

When the Church lives this way, people begin to glimpse the face of God himself: the Father of orphans, the defender of widows, and the one who never abandons the forgotten.

Image credit: Duccio di Buoninsegna – Appearance on the Mountain in Galilee | ca. 1310 | Museo dell’ Opera del Duomo, Siena | Public Domain

Lightning

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Now at the cusp of the Stanley Cup Finals, you might think this is going to be an article about my beloved Tampa Bay Lightning. Were that it was, but alas the Lightning lost in the first round to the Montreal Canadians. No worries. I have a backup team: Carolina Hurricanes.  I trust you see the weather connection from my home state, Florida.  Tampa is “the lightning capital of the world” and the State is often the target of tropical storms and hurricanes.

But this musing is about the natural phenomena, lightning. Take a moment to ponder what causes lightning. Do you remember the basic explanation we learned as young inquiring minds? If my memory serves me, after a discussion about Benjamin Franklin’s kite experiment, we were offered an explanation similar to the basic one still offered today.

According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration  (NOAA), lightning is a massive burst of static electricity caused by the separation of positive and negative charges within a storm cloud. As updrafts and downdrafts crash ice and water particles together, negative charges build up at the bottom of the cloud and positive charges gather at the top. When the charge becomes strong enough to overcome the air’s natural insulation, it releases a spectacular electrical discharge. That matches up with what I remember from elementary school science and memories of Van de Graaff generators – a device that causes the accumulation of very high-voltage, low-current electricity on a hollow metal globe. When the charge reaches a critical level lightning bolts emerge in a mesmerizing display.

But lightning, it seems, is far more interesting.

NASA’s Wind Satellite is a space-based laboratory for long-term solar wind measurements. It monitors solar flares that shoot out from the sun allowing scientists to analyze the particles that stream from the sun’s surface. It is a phenomenon not that dissimilar from lightning, or so it seemed to scientists living in lightning-rich areas of the world… such as Florida and other locales across the globe. By the way, it is estimated that there are 2,000 lightning strikes per hour each day across the planet. There’s a lot to study.

The Wind Satellite results pointed to an avenue of research that said there was more going on than just separating positive and negative charges like a planetary Van de Graaff generator. Astrophysicists began to take their space-focused instrument built to study violent cosmic events and began to use them to study thunderstorms and lightning. These new studies have recorded X-rays emanating from lightning and flickering patterns of gamma rays resident in thunderclouds. The scientific world began to question if lightning was more than super-sized electrostatic sparks. Electricity has a role to be sure, but the question was what was the spark that initiated the spark that initiated the lightning. Typical thunderstorms have just a tenth the electric juice needed to spark, and the strongest fields ever measured reach just a third of the critical intensity. It turns out that the entire physics toolbox might have a role – from particle physics to cosmic events such as supernovas and black holes.

The basic idea is that an electron in the storm cloud collides with an atom amidst an already underway stream of atoms in what might be termed an avalanche, The electron ricochets and emits a gamma ray. That gamma ray transforms into an electron and its antimatter twin, a positron. The cloud’s electric field would push the positron backward close to where the avalanche began. There it could crash into another atom, setting off another avalanche, which would make more gamma rays, more positrons, more avalanches, and so on, until you get lightning.

Of course that just leads one to ask, why the avalanche in the first place. There are several competing theories, I am partial to the one that speculates (based on solid field research) that cosmic-ray showers are the initiator. “These showers are the end result of violent events in deep space, such as the expulsion of particles from feeding black holes or stellar explosions that fire off a piece of atomic shrapnel. Perhaps a proton from an exploding star, or a denuded iron atom expelled from a supermassive black hole. After their cosmic travel across the universe, they slam into Earth’s atmosphere.” [Wood] The violent collision sprays a jet of electrons, positrons, and other particles down into a cloud with enough energy that the resulting electrons and positrons could have enough kinetic energy to separate the electrons from their molecules and get an avalanche going, even if the electric field stays well below the critical threshold.

Ancient civilizations thought lightning was an indication of warfare among the gods. In a way they weren’t all together wrong. Lightning may well be an indication of cosmological events “way up there” millions of light years away.

As for the Tampa Bay Lightning…. there is always next year.

Source credit: What Causes Lightning, Quanta Magazine, Charlie Wood, May 2026.
Image credit: murat4art | iStock photo ID:2274303724 | downloaded May 16 2026 | standard iStock licensing

Planting Seeds

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The account of St. Paul’s address on the Areopagus in Athens is a masterclass in the evangelization of the culture – a skill surely important for our day and age. His arrival in Athens is, in its way, the introduction of Christianity to Europe. It was an event, while of no particular note or importance to historians, thoughts leaders, or philosophers of the day, was one that shaped the history of Western Europe and eventually the world.

After spending time in Asia Minor, Paul went to Athens, arguably the most important cultural center of the ancient Roman world. Upon arriving, as was his practice, Paul went to the synagogue where he could easily connect the Good News to a shared foundation of their common Jewish heritage. There his goal was to announce Jesus as the climax of the story of Israel.

But he did not limit his delivery of the Good News to those already part of the Chosen People. He went daily in the public square with whoever happened to be there. Even some of the Epicurean and Stoic philosophers engaged him in discussion.” (Acts 17:17-18)

When he arrives at the Areopagus—a rocky outcropping just below the Parthenon—Paul used a rhetorical device, captatio benevolentiae (capturing the good will of one’s audience), Paul compliments them: “You Athenians, I see that in every respect you are very religious.”  (v.22)  Just as in the synagogue, Paul works to build upon a foundation already there: “For as I walked around looking carefully at your shrines, I even discovered an altar inscribed, ‘To an Unknown God.’” (v.23) Then Paul moves on to complete the story and make known to the Athenians, “The God who made the world and all that is in it, the Lord of heaven and earth.” (v.24)

It is an important masterclass in Evangelization: there were seeds of the Word in Athenian culture, alongside idolatrous practices, esoteric philosophies and variant theologies. As in our day.  St. Paul is not simply “open” to the culture or quickly adopts the combative stance of the cultural warrior. He starts on a foundation upon which both can agree.

That day, only a few accepted his testimony, but the seeds were planted. St. Paul might not have been successful, but he was faithful to the opportunity. And he left the increase of believers to God. It is a lesson in humility and faithfulness.

Image credit:  Paul preaching in the Areopagus, 1729-31 by Sir James Thornhill, Public Domain – from an original preparatory drawing by Raphael of  Paul preaching in the Areopagus.

Burdens and Necessities

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In the first reading today, the apostles and elders, after prayer and discernment, send a message to the Gentile believers. And at the heart of that message is this line: “It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us not to place on you any burden beyond these necessities.” The early Christians were wrestling with a serious question: what is really required to follow Christ? And, guided by the Holy Spirit, they come to a conclusion that shapes the Church forever: do not place unnecessary burdens on people. But notice this does not mean no demands at all. It means distinguishing between what is essential and what is not. And that leads us directly to the Gospel. Because if Acts shows us what the Church removes, the Gospel shows us what the Church keeps.

The apostles could have said: “Let’s require everything—the whole Mosaic law, every custom, every practice.” But they don’t because they recognize something fundamental: God is not trying to make salvation complicated or inaccessible. Faith is not meant to be weighed down with layers of requirements that obscure the heart of the Gospel.

And that matters for us. Because even today, we can quietly add burdens: expectations about how others should pray, assumptions about what “real” faith looks like, personal preferences that we elevate into requirements or so emphasize that Christians, still maturing in the faith, begin to think it is essential.

The Church, guided by the Spirit, resists that instinct. She seeks clarity not confusion; freedom, not unnecessary burden. And that should lead us to an important question: If God removes what is unnecessary… what remains? In the Gospel, Jesus answers that question very clearly: “This is my commandment: love one another as I love you.” Not a suggestion. Not one option among many. And so there is no confusion, He tells us what that love looks like: “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

So the Christian life is not burdened but it is not easy. God removes what is unnecessary, but He does not remove what is essential. And love – real love – is demanding. It means:

  • Choosing patience when it would be easier to react
  • Forgiving when we would rather hold on
  • Giving time, attention, and care when we feel tired
  • Letting go of pride, control, or resentment

In other words, the burden is not multiplied—it is focused. Not many competing demands—but one central call: to love as Christ loves. And Jesus goes one step further. “It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit.” We are not only called to receive this love, we are sent to live it.

The decision in Acts did not remain an idea. It was sent out to communities. It shaped how people lived together. In the same way, the command to love is not abstract. It becomes concrete in families, workplaces, parishes and in daily encounters. And often, the place we are most called to love is the place that is least convenient. That is where love becomes real. That is where it bears fruit.

Today’s  readings give us a clear pattern: God removes what is unnecessary. God commands what is essential. And then God sends us to live it.

And that brings us to a simple but challenging questions: 

  • Do I carry burdens God never asked me to carry?
  • And do I sometimes avoid the one thing He asks of us?

Because it is possible to be weighed down by the wrong things and yet resist the one thing that matters most.

Faith is not about doing everything. It is about doing what matters. 

Image credit: Cristian Blázquez Martínez | iStock photo ID:1478111360  |  downloaded May 2, 2026 | iStock standard license.

The Essentials

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The first reading today begins with a very strong claim: “Unless you are circumcised according to the Mosaic practice, you cannot be saved.” That is not a small disagreement; it is a statement about who counts—about what is necessary to belong to God. And the early Church takes it seriously. The apostles gathered, listened and discerned because at stake is something fundamental: What is essential to being saved—and what is not?

Now, we might be tempted to think: “That was a first-century problem. That doesn’t apply to us.” But it does—just in a quieter, more subtle way. Because even today, we can fall into similar patterns of thinking. We may not say, “Unless you are circumcised…” But sometimes we imply you are not really a serious Catholic unless you pray the Rosary every day, the Divine Mercy Chaplet or some other devotion. You have to fast and abstain from meat every Friday even outside of Lent. You have to… and the list goes on. Unless you do these things you are not really committed. You’re not quite “there.”

Now, all of those practices are good. Some are very powerful. Many are strongly encouraged by the Church. But they are not the same as what the apostles are discerning in Acts 15. They are not the foundation.So what is essential? At the heart of the Church’s life are two inseparable realities: Orthodoxy (right belief) and Orthopraxis (right practice).

To be Catholic is to believe what the Church hands on: faith in the Trinity; faith in Jesus Christ, true God and true man; Jesus’ death and resurrection for our salvation; and the gift of grace (to name a few).  To live that faith concretely, the essential elements include: participation in the sacraments—especially the Eucharist, a life of repentance and conversion, living according to the commandments, and loving God and neighbor. These are not optional or “extra credit.”  These are the core of Christian life.

Devotions, spiritual practices, disciplines – everything else belongs to a different category. They are not unnecessary. Far from it. They are helps, aids, supports and good. They are like tools, or pathways, or languages of prayer that help different people grow closer to God. The Rosary, for example, is a beautiful way to meditate on the life of Christ. The Divine Mercy Chaplet opens us to trust in God’s mercy. Lectio Divina immerses us in Scripture. Fasting strengthens our freedom and deepens our dependence on God. But they are means, not the measure of whether someone is truly Catholic.

The danger comes when we confuse the two. When we take something good and quietly turn it into something required for belonging. That is exactly what was happening in Acts 15. Something deeply meaningful, i.e. circumcision, part of God’s covenant with Israel, was being elevated into a condition for salvation. The apostles, guided by the Holy Spirit, recognized that is not the Gospel. Because salvation does not come through adopting a specific set of cultural or devotional practices. It comes through Jesus Christ.

This is not just a theological point. It is a pastoral one. Because people come to the Church with very different spiritual paths. One person may pray the Rosary daily and find deep peace. Another may encounter God most powerfully in silent prayer. Another may be drawn to Scripture. Another to acts of service. The Holy Spirit does not form every soul in the same way. And that is not a weakness of the Church. It is a sign of her catholicity, her universality.

At the same time, we should be careful not to swing too far the other way. To say, “Nothing matters, everything is optional.” That is not the Gospel either. There are essentials. We are called to believe, to worship, to repent, to love. We are called to a real, concrete relationship with Christ in His Church.

So perhaps the right way to hold this tension is this: be firm about what is essential and be generous about what is helpful. Hold tightly to the faith of the Church. And hold lightly, though appreciatively, to the many ways people live that faith.

The apostles in Acts 15 refused to place extra burdens on people that Christ Himself had not imposed. And that remains a guiding principle for us. Because in the end we are not saved by adopting every good practice. We are saved by Jesus Christ and then given many good ways to grow in Him.

Let us ask for the wisdom to know the difference and the charity to live it well.

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Perfection in Jesus

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There are many verses which we encounter which, if we paused and considered, we might think, “Well, that’s odd.” But the Word of God being what it is, we give the passage a “believer’s nod” and read on. Consider Hebrews 5:8-10:

“Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him, declared by God high priest according to the order of Melchizedek.”

What do you make of the phrase “when he was made perfect”? The Word of God, the Son of God, the second person of the Trinity wasn’t always perfect? We should naturally recoil at the idea. But then again, there it is. Perhaps it is just an awkward translation from Greek into English…nope. That’s not it. This is the point at which one explores the question or nods and reads on.

Interestingly, this is not the first place in Hebrews that perfection is mentioned in association with Jesus – 

“For it was fitting that he, for whom and through whom all things exist [God the Father], in bringing many children to glory, should make the leader [Jesus] to their salvation perfect through suffering.” (Heb 2:10) 

Again there is a phrase that Jesus (the object of this passage) is made perfect through suffering. The idea needs a little unpacking. The word “leader” is archēgos. Many bibles translate this as “author” but the New American (NAB) more fittingly translates the word as “leader” – and “pathfinder” would have also been a suitable translation; and to my mind closer to the sense of the passage. In any case, when used in the New Testament archēgos solely and always refers to Christ.  As F.F. Bruce notes: “He is the Savior who blazed the trail of salvation along which alone God’s ‘many sons’ could be brought to glory. Man, created by God for his glory, was prevented by sin from attaining that glory until the Son of Man came and opened up by his death a new way by which humanity might reach the goal for which it was made. As his people’s representative and forerunner he has now entered into the presence of God to secure their entry there.” (The Epistle to the Hebrews,1990)

But what is meant by his being made “perfect” through his sufferings? We take it as a “given” that Jesus is perfect in that He is the fullness of his Father’s glory. What is being offered here is that the perfect Son of God has become his people’s perfect Savior, opening up their way to God. In order to become that, he must endure suffering and death. The pathway of perfection which his people must tread must first be journeyed by the Pathfinder.  Only Jesus could, at the same time be the true representative of the people and at the same time be high priest in the presence of God. “In order to be a perfect high priest, a person must sympathize with those on whose behalf he acts, and he cannot sympathize with them unless he can enter into their experiences and share them for himself. Jesus did just this. Moreover, in order to be a perfect high priest, a person must learn the lesson of obedience to God; if he failed in this, he would really need a priest for himself, to enter into God’s presence for him with the assurance of being admitted there. Of Jesus’ obedience there could be no question.” (Bruce) 

The high priest had one specially solemn service to perform: present an atonement to God on his people’s behalf. The high priest must have unreserved identification with the people and at the same time have perfect obedience to the God. There is only one who fulfills these conditions perfectly—the one whose obedience and death fitted him completely to be his people’s representative. He suffered not only with them but for them; his suffering was both voluntary and vicarious. He who suffered was the Son of God, and the “many” for whom he suffered are thus led to glory as sons and daughters of God in their turn.

In what sense, then, did the Son of God learn obedience “by what he suffered”? We know the sense in which the words are true of us; we learn to be obedient because of the unpleasant consequences which follow disobedience. It was not so with him. St. Luke tells us that as a child “And Jesus advanced wisdom and age and favor before God and man.” (Lk 2:52) In his earthly life he learned what obedience to God involved the sufferings that sometimes attended such obedience. Isaiah’s “Suffering Servant” always comes to mind:

The Lord GOD has given me a well-trained tongue, That I might know how to speak to the weary a word that will rouse them. Morning after morning he opens my ear that I may hear; And I have not rebelled, have not turned back. I gave my back to those who beat me, my cheeks to those who plucked my beard; My face I did not shield from buffets and spitting. The Lord GOD is my help, therefore I am not disgraced; I have set my face like flint, knowing that I shall not be put to shame. He is near who upholds my right; if anyone wishes to oppose me, let us appear together. Who disputes my right? Let him confront me. See, the Lord GOD is my help; who will prove me wrong? Lo, they will all wear out like cloth, the moth will eat them up. (Isa 50:4-9)

The Servant’s willingness to heed the voice of God teaches him that suffering will be inseparable from his obedience (cf. Isa 50:5, “Morning after morning he opens my ear that I may hear; And I have not rebelled, have not turned back”). The sufferings which Jesus endured were the necessary price of his obedience and were part and parcel of his obedience and the means by which he fulfilled the will of God. This is something Jesus points out at his baptism in the river Jordan when John was reluctant: “Jesus said to him in reply, ‘Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.’” (Mt 3:15)

Baptized along with sinners, Jesus placed himself unreservedly at God’s disposal for the accomplishment of God’s saving purpose and in doing so, he associated himself publicly with sinners, that was something which he was going to do throughout his ministry, until he was “numbered with the transgressors” on the cross. The pathway of public obedience which was inaugurated in the earlier baptism was crowned by the second baptism: the fulfilment of “all righteousness” in his Passion and Death.

The Christians for whom this letter was intended found that the maintenance of their faith and loyalty exposed them to trial and suffering which they could escape by renouncing their confession or dodge by drawing less public attention to it. But the question for them to face was: were they to fall back and lose everything or press on to salvation? Our author urges them to press on, in spite of all the suffering it may involve, and he sets before them the example of Jesus, who set his face “like a flint,” refusing to turn back, and was thus made “perfect through sufferings.” His example and his present aid might well encourage them too to persevere; no hardship could befall them in which he did not sympathize with them.

“Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him, declared by God high priest according to the order of Melchizedek.”

Jesus Christ Pantocrator | detail from the deesis mosaic in Hagia Sophia, Istanbul | PD-US

In the Father’s House

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Today’s gospel contains the verse we all remember from the King James translation version: “In my Father’s mansion, there are many rooms.” As grand as that image is, in fact, the word “mansion” does not appear in the original Greek. It simply says,  2 In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. 

Verse 2 also has some translation options: “In my Father’s house [oikia] there are many dwelling places [monai].”  Should oikia be translated “house,” i.e., a physical structure. Or perhaps “household,” i.e., a community of people? What about the royal lineage as in the House of David or the House of Windsor? Or even “family” – all of which are valid translations.

If one is convinced that house [oikia] refers to heaven alone (v.2) then the prepare a place (v.2) and the where I am (v.3) refer to a place in heaven where Jesus is. The I will come back speaks to the parousia – although that is not a topic this Gospel speaks about elsewhere. But clearly oikia has other meanings: household, community, family. If one lends credence to those understandings, then the reference can be heaven and earthly life.

Some of this should sound familiar to those who would study the Gospel According to John. The encounter with Nicodemus (ch. 3) and the Samaritan Woman at the well (ch. 4) hinge of the ambiguity of words. And there is more. The same ambiguity exists with mone (singular). It means a “place where one may remain or dwell,” It can mean a physical structure – and often in secular use it refers to a transient or overnight lodging – rather than a fixed  dwelling.

Then again, all the focus on the “where” might be a diversion from the more important element. Many argue that the context does lend itself to a permanent dwelling – but is it physical?  The only other NT use of mone is John 14:23, “Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling [mone]with him.”  The use there seems to imply an abiding relationship between people and God – and one in which the Father and the Son come to the human person!

This noun is related to the verb menō meaning “to remain, stay, await”. The verb occurs often in this part of John’s gospel, most often referring to the relationship between God and Jesus or God and us. Another reference with this meaning of menō is 8:35 (where oikia also occurs): “ A slave does not remain in a household forever, but a son always remains.”  Do the words “remain” and “house” refer to a physical place or to a relational state? Our children remain our children forever, even though they may not be living in our house. The relationship remains even while the physical presence may not.

Why mention all this? Jewish traditions that identify the ‘Father’s house’ with a heavenly dwelling place clearly lie behind the imagery of v. 2a (e.g., Pss 2:4; 66:1; 113:5-6; 123:1; Is 66:1). But as with many of Jesus’ teachings, we are asked to look more deeply into meaning. Here in this gospel “my Father’s house” needs to be read first in the context of the mutual indwelling of God and Jesus, a form of  indwelling that has been repeatedly stressed from the opening verses of John’s Gospel.

And that indwelling is the critical relationship for the disciples in the post-Resurrection era – and for us in our age.

Image credit: Duccio di Buoninsegna (1255–1319), “Jesus taking leave of his Apostles,” ca. 1310 | Panel 4 of the Maestro, Museo dell’Opera del Duomo, Siena | Public Domain

Into the Unknown

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Within my friar community, given my experience as a naval officer, these days I am the easily accessible subject matter expert on all things afloat in the current war in the middle east. The brothers ask questions because they are curious, concerned, and want to know how it will all end. I wish I knew.

The Apostles are concerned because in the gospel reading for today Jesus has told them He is going away. “Master, we do not know where you are going?” Already things seem to be going “off the rails” in these moments following the Last Supper.  What will happen next? How will this all end?

In the first reading, St. Paul is doing “his thing” in Antioch. It is only the beginning of his missionary endeavors. There are another 15 chapters in the Acts of the Apostles.  He has been arrested, transported and is now imprisoned in Rome. What will happen next? How will this all end?

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness” (Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities) Historian David McCullough named the unsettling reality of living in the tension between the darkness and the light. He called history “an unfolding drama in which the men and women of a given moment could not know how everything turned out.”

Except we do. Some days we just need to be reminded.

Jesus said to his disciples: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be.” (John 14:1-4)

Image credit: Duccio di Buoninsegna (1255–1319), “Jesus taking leave of his Apostles,” ca. 1310 | Panel 4 of the Maestro, Museo dell’Opera del Duomo, Siena | Public Domain