This is the third installment in the 1517 articles series, “What Makes a Saint?”
The Church speaks not with the cleverness of men, but with the breath of God.
I always imagined dying a faithful death for Christ would mean burning at the stake. Now, I suspect it will mean dying in my bed of natural causes.

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On the one hand, forgiving as Jesus commands us feels impossible. But on the other hand, forgiving as we have been forgiven is the most natural thing in the world
We did not say “Goodbye” to our son on the day of his burial. We said, “Luke, we’ll see you soon.”
Faith is like a horse with blinders because it only beholds God’s promise. It is obsessed with what God has already said.
We set our minds on things above, but our feet are firmly planted in the stuff of earth, our hands open to the treasure which is our neighbor.
According to the Law, everyone will be judged by their own deeds, on his own work. So, before the judgment of God we only have our own works to boast in and not our neighbor’s. But the Gospel shows us a wonderful exception.
God excludes our boasting out of his abundant mercy.
The sacrifice of Jesus stands completed, once for all, and we believe in the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.
On this Maundy Thursday, in particular, let the “for you” of Christ’s gifts dominate.
The promise is rooted in the fact that the only way we can endure any ounce of suffering in this life is because Jesus Christ is tending the soil of our lives.
As the greater and more faithful Son of God, Jesus did what the Israelites could not do. Neither can we.
Death is not the continuation of an adventure; death is being planted in the ground. The adventure belongs to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.
The foundation of the faith Paul wants you to cling to is not an abstract principle, but a human body: the human body of Jesus, that once was a corpse, and now is alive forever more.