Mass is a family, chosen for us, not by us: My Table Is Spread: The brother and sister I would never claim are here, beside me, and I must claim them or admit that what I profess is a lie.
MGB: The man in the blankets and the cathecumen in the sweats are the Christ hidden in those we would help. How badly we treat the Lord when we meet him in our lives. It is no wonder we no longer meet him at Mass either. We have clever ways of helping, like distributing food that is about to rot to food banks or providing old clothes for them to wear. We are to visit the Lord in prison, but oh how he is fed by Sheriff Joe Arpao and CCA. Been to a shelter lately? We should remember who we are feeding, clothing and housing. Maybe we would buy fresh food, new clothes and better shelters, along with more humane prisons.
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