01.09.2026 | Friday in Christmastide

Jesus Wept
 
It is a dark and gloomy Friday as we walk through the Garden on this January morning. Christmastide is quickly coming to a close. The decorations are being taken down and tucked away for another season. The early January darkness lingers as we prepare to enter Ordinary Time this weekend.
 
And yet, in the Prayer Garden, the Hellebores—the “Lenten Roses”—are beginning to stir. Small signs of beauty. Small signs of life. I find myself needing that beauty today. The news coming in from all directions is overwhelming and unbearably sad. The killing in Minnesota was horrific to watch.
 
I am not one to share my politics. I was raised to believe such things were not discussed in polite company. Yet today I find myself in disbelief at what is happening in my country. I don’t understand. I don’t. I am saddened by the actions of people in power, and I feel an overwhelming heaviness that I am trying to fight.
 
I keep coming back to two simple words: Jesus wept.
 
I keep seeing the image of a car filled with little stuffed animals, belongings of children who will never hold their momma again. Jesus wept.
 
I keep thinking about the joy that family shared only days ago. A Christmas tree. Presents. Love and laughter. Now extinguished. Gone. Jesus wept.
 
Grief is not weakness. Grief is love.  It is necessary and even holy to feel sadness. It gives us space to pause, to breathe, to consider what must come next. So, this morning, in the gloom, I am searching for even the smallest glimmer of hope waiting in the darkness.
 
“But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint.”
—Isaiah 40:31
 
I do not have answers. The tears continue. The sadness stays. But I pray for change, for courage, for renewed hope. Not only for myself, but for this country and this world. I pray that we might grow in compassion. I pray for gentleness. I pray for kindness.
 
Kindness.