Reflection for Sunday – May 17, 2026

Sonja LivingstonSunday Readings Homilies

Readings: Acts 1: 1-11; Ephesians 1: 17-23; Matthew 28: 16-20 
Preacher: Sonja Livingston

When I was twenty years old, I was arrested for protesting the Gulf War. I’d attended local and national demonstrations and eventually joined a group that sat in at Senator D’Amato’s office in the Federal Building. I was on fire with righteousness in those days, and if I’m being completely honest, I was also a tad smug. Looking back, it’s easy to see that my passion had at least as much to do with my own anger as it did with American foreign policy. Don’t get me wrong—I was then and am now against war and killing. But, while I admire that young woman who knew what was wrong and shouted it from the top of her lungs, it’s clear she was lugging around more than a peace sign.

These days, you’re more likely to find me in my backyard, breathing in the scent of lilacs than marching in DC. I do my best to infuse the small sweep of my life and my relationships with love. I try to pray and meditate, and to remember, as today’s Gospel reading reminds us, that God is with me always — whether I’m writing a poem, cooking an omelet or pulling weeds. But as much as I delight in the older woman I’ve become, the truth is she’s grown slightly comfortable, and perhaps even a bit complacent. These days, I spend so much time looking upward and inward, I often sidestep what needs doing in the real world.

Today’s readings traverse the tricky space between action and allowing, between prayer that opens us and the complacency that can replace it; between preaching the good news and succumbing to self-righteousness; between opening our hearts and walking around with raised fists. Learning to be patient and loving while working for justice isn’t easy. Most of us tend to favor one extreme and trying to balance these approaches can feel like a tightrope walk. The trick is to notice the tension or slack in the rope, shift our weight slightly to one side, then the other, as we move forward.

In the Acts of the Apostles, the disciples have just witnessed the most astounding scene. Jesus has ascended into heaven. They stand there, necks craned in a state of spellbound bewilderment, until the angels appear. Why are you standing there looking at the sky, they say to the disciples?  Sure, they’ve just experienced a massive miracle, but they are so transfixed, they’ve forgotten the world waiting for them. The problem doesn’t seem to be gazing at the sky so much as getting stuck in that posture. By contrast, the Gospel reading shows Jesus giving the disciples a very real and worldbound mission: go, make disciples, baptize, teach. This is a scene rooted in action, but before sending them out, Jesus says: I am with you always, thus, rooting their mission activism in presence.

Have you ever met a truly peaceful person? They radiate light even when they’re confronting injustice or challenging the status quo. They somehow manage to maintain a sense of great love and purpose in whatever situation they find themselves. Likewise, the true contemplative who regularly soaks in God’s presence can’t help but to serve as a testament to others. They carry warmth, patience and acceptance into the rooms and conversations they enter. They are torches bearing the light of God, which can never be contained.

It’s the same with us, of course. We “preach” our version of God by how we live. In the same way that holding a peace sign in a city park does not necessarily make me peaceful, sitting on a garden bench doesn’t automatically bring me closer to God.  Thomas Merton famously warned about monks who were not true contemplatives but merely introverts hiding from the world! Holding signs and sitting in prayer are simply us adopting postures and changing locations. What matters most is what we carry into the postures we inhabit—and, of course, what we carry back out.

Today’s readings don’t ask us to choose between action and contemplation. Instead, they remind us of the more challenging task of holding both at the same time. Jesus reminds us to be receptive enough to be filled by God’s presence and courageous enough to share the wonder of that presence with others.

It’s spring. The world is alive with the goodness of God. Let’s go ahead and marvel at the wide blue sky while finding new ways to share its utter transcendence with others.

Sonja Livingston
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