Pandemic Pietá

I’m at the front of the checkout line at the local drug store, just behind the yellow line, sporting my cherry print pandemic mask. The customer standing at the counter clutches the handles of his rollator—a walker with a seat. He looks to be in his 50’s, but he might be younger. Scraggly beard and hair, a leather pouch with a shoulder strap tucked under one arm. He looks worn down.

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A Love That Saves

A Homily for Wednesday in Holy Week

Margaret D. McGee

The Psalm sets the tone and lets us know right up front what kind of mess we’re in. “Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in deep mire … the flood sweeps over me … shame has covered my face … I am the subject of gossip for those who sit in the gate, and the drunkards make songs about me.”

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