In the name of God who, through the Word and in the Spirit, creates, redeems and sanctifies. Amen.
When standing in my home region of Appalachia – one the most bio-diverse parts of our planet – one easily see how it is a right and good and joyful thing always and everywhere to give thanks to God, the creator of heaven and earth.
in this – “one of God’s awesome cathedrals” –
with today’s psalmist:
“Sing praise to your name, Most High
and proclaim your kindness at dawn
and your faithfulness throughout the night” (Psalm 92:2-3).
vibrancy of the creation, of which our scriptures speak, manifests itself in
leaves become stained glass,
and song-birds…angelic chorus,
and misty mountain haze…holy incense
Here the kingdom of God, of which Christ speaks about in today’s gospel, this reign of God or dream of God, seems to be here already…almost.
the integral ecology of which Pope Francis speaks, that would have us bursting
out into songs in praise,
and where humans recognize our proper place in creation,
is gravely absent in the destruction of Appalachian communities and waterways
And so we still have good reason to pray: Thy kingdom come.
with me one of my favorite ways of telling today’s gospel parable: sitting in
the grass next to my urban parish’s community garden, in a circle of children
who will soon plant seeds of squash and cucumber that we will later harvest in
the summer and offer to the people in our city.
there in the grass with some simple Godly Play,
Montessori-inspired materials – just some felt and some wood, we remember that:
There was once
someone who did such amazing things and who said such awesome things that people
found the courage to follow him. And as they followed him, they heard him
speaking of a kingdom, but it certainly wasn’t the kingdom they were living in,
or like any kingdom they had ever visited, or like any one they had heard of.
So one day they had to ask him: What is this kingdom of God like? And once when
they asked him he said,
of God – this dream of God for creation – is like a mustard seed, a seed so
small that if it were on my finger here, we could barely see it. And one day a
person took that seed and planted it in the ground. And it began to grow, and
to grow, and to grow until the birds of the air came and made their nests in
In the circle
of children we then wonder playfully about this story. I wonder if the person
planting the seed has a name, and what that person is doing while the seed is
growing. And of the tree, and the nests, and this entire whole place…what could
it really be? And have we ever drawn this close to a place like this?
visual mystery, with seeds in our hands, we come to see that the reign of God
starts so small, and yet grows so grand. We draw close to God in the mystery of
it all as we come to receive the reign of God, offered by Jesus to us today in
a couple of sentences about some seeds.
spaciousness of this parable invites our participation, compels our participation.
and the Corinthians, we can claim with confidence that “We are always
courageous” (2 Cor 5:6) while here in this earthly life.
individuals respond to life calls to live close to the land and the people,
embodying an integral ecology, walking by nothing more than faith and certainly
not by sight (2 Cor 5:7)….Friends, we can say, “And yet we are courageous” (2
members of the Catholic Committee of Appalachia
craft the People’s Pastoral listening
to the voice, “the magisterium of the poor and the earth,” and when they write
letters against racism and child abuse, and for the protection of streams… building
on decades of fidelity to Christ in this region…Friends, let us say, “We are
artists create memorials to mountain eco-systems that have long been destroyed permanently
by mountaintop removal…
Let us say, “And yet we are courageous.”
When communities organize food co-ops in food deserts, fight drug epidemics, and demand just wages and good schools… Let us say, “And we are always courageous.”
participation of the unfolding of divine work in our lives, let us keep
humility though, and remember, in familiar terms, that
“We plant seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development…
For we are workers not master builders, ministers not messiahs,
prophets of a future not our own.”
Inspired by this let us take time this week to spend time in one of God’s awesome cathedrals, where trees are temple pillars. Let us draw close to the One who tells the truth at slant in parable form and who compels our participation in the unfolding of the divine story. Let’s do so with courage and gratitude, wherever we are in the mundane existence of our daily lives. Amen.
These words are borrowed from At Home in the Web of Life (Catholic Committee of Appalachia, 1995), as quoted in The Telling Takes Us Home: Taking Our Place in the Stories that Shape Us (Catholic Committee of Appalachia, 2015) on page 11: “To live in these mountains and forests, and with their trees and plants and animals, is truly to dwell in Earth’s community of life, as one of God’s awesome cathedrals. In this magnificent work of God’s creation, • misty mountain haze is holy incense, • tall tree trunks are temple pillars, • sun-splashed leaves are stained glass, • and song-birds are angelic choirs.”
 See Pope Francis, Laudato Si [On Care for Our Common Home], sec. 11.
 See The Telling Takes Us Home, 36.
 These paragraphs describing how the preacher has presented today’s gospel with young people rely on “The Parable of the Mustard Seed” as found in Jerome Berryman’s The Complete Guide to Godly Play: Volume 3, Revised and Expanded (Church Publishing, 2017).
 The Catholic Committee of Appalachia (CCA) is a faith-based network raising a prophet voice for Appalachia. Read their publications and more at https://ccappal.org/.
 See, for instance, the work of Christopher Santer (http://www.christophersanter.com/mountains/).
 The full text of this prayer by Ken Untener can be accessed at http://www.usccb.org/prayer-and-worship/prayers-and-devotions/prayers/prophets-of-a-future-not-our-own.cfm.
 Cf. Emily Dickinson: “Tell all the truth but tell it slant — / Success in Circuit lies / Too bright for our infirm Delight / The Truth's superb surprise / As Lightning to the Children eased / With explanation kind / The Truth must dazzle gradually / Or every man be blind.”
Alyssa Pasternak Post
Alyssa Pasternak Post earned her bachelors degree in Theology from Wheeling Jesuit University and her Masters in Theological Studies from the University of Dayton. Post-college Alyssa served in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps at WomenRising in Jersey City, New Jersey, followed by a few years as a theology teacher at St. Dominic Academy in Jersey City and later at Archbishop Alter High School in Dayton, Ohio. She also facilitated theology courses on the subjects of morality, prayer and Catholic social teaching for The Virtual Learning Community for Faith Formation at the University of Dayton.
Alyssa’s Master’s thesis – “Dare to Speak:” This Land Is Home to Me from Idea to Proclamation (May 1973 – February 1975) and Beyond – studies the history and theology of the first pastoral letter from the Catholic Committee of Appalachia (CCA). It can be accessed at https://etd.ohiolink.edu/ap/10?0::NO:10:P10_ACCESSION_NUM:dayton1303843106. Alyssa served on the committee for the writing of the CCA’s most recent pastoral letter The Telling Takes Us Home (2015).
Having lived most of her life in West Virginia, she now resides in Pennsylvania with her husband and their two young daughters. Alyssa presently serves of the Director of Children, Youth and Family Ministries at Saint James Episcopal Church. She writes on occasion for Godly Play, Women in Theology and Ignatian Solidarity Network’s Just Parenting. When finding balance in life, Alyssa loves the way that playing with her children and being in nature draw her into the joy of present moment.