Feast of Sts. Simon and Jude, apostles 

The Body of Christ

Before she could walk, he placed her high on his shoulders.  Her first mountain.  Carried to the top of the refrigerator, past swinging lamps, ducking under doors.  When he pretended to drop her, she laughed.

We have always been carried by those who came before us.

You climbed a mountain to be with God in prayer.  The dawn brought clarity.  Returning, you called those with the strength to serve others.  True companions.  With them, you would heed the call that kept rising within you.  With these friends, you were not alone.

We learned their names as children.  The twelve.  So many have ridden on their shoulders.

Sometimes individuality is made the corner stone.  We are said to be solely responsible for our lives.  Add up your deeds; that’s your identity.  A person is nothing more or less than actions that end with death.  We are thrown into existence and condemned to be free.  Each is sovereign over his life.  No obligation exists unless the debt is freely assumed.  Relationships are exchanges: keep trading until you achieve satisfaction. 

Gradually, the distortions in these ideas become apparent. The aloneness is crushing yet false.

You see it differently.  Humans are not sentenced to isolation.  You fashion us into a living structure where no life is split off from the rest.  In this dwelling, each wall carries some weight, and all are lifted by those who came before us.  Christ is the cornerstone.  In this new body, what previously divided us is set aside.  Abiding mistrust surrenders to recognition. We are strangers no longer.

I thought it was all up to me: my shining achievements matter most.

You see it differently.

Like the heavens, our very existence proclaims your goodness.