How can I, on this Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion—when the Gospel tells me, “The Master has #need of it“—reconcile the many needs of my life, from the call for an economic ecology that honors the full complexity of our world as noted in Laudato si’, to the simple need at The Glenn for piglets to have a warm, safe environment, ample colostrum, and clean water, while my wife Kim and I continue to pray for a miracle for our son Daniel through the intercession of the Venerable Fulton J. Sheen, who reminds us that there is a beautiful, transformative need in the very passion that gives rise to life; how can I live out all these needs in faithful harmony❓
Lectio Divina on the word “need“
At the procession with palms – Gospel
Jesus proceeded on his journey up to Jerusalem.
As he drew near to Bethphage and Bethany
at the place called the Mount of Olives,
he sent two of his disciples.
He said, “Go into the village opposite you,
and as you enter it you will find a colt tethered
on which no one has ever sat.
Untie it and bring it here.
And if anyone should ask you,
‘Why are you untying it❓’
you will answer,
‘The Master has need of it.'”
So those who had been sent went off
and found everything just as he had told them.
And as they were untying the colt, its owners said to them,
“Why are you untying this colt❓”
They answered,
“The Master has need of it.“
So they brought it to Jesus,
threw their cloaks over the colt,
and helped Jesus to mount.
As he rode along,
the people were spreading their cloaks on the road;
and now as he was approaching the slope of the Mount of Olives,
the whole multitude of his disciples
began to praise God aloud with joy
for all the mighty deeds they had seen.
They proclaimed:
“Blessed is the king who comes
in the name of the Lord.
Peace in heaven
and glory in the highest.”
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him,
“Teacher, rebuke your disciples.”
He said in reply,
“I tell you, if they keep silent,
the stones will cry out!”
Reading I
There are mornings when the stillness before sunrise at The Glenn feels like a whispered invitation. The piglets stir, nudging for warmth, water, nourishment—each one expressing a simple need, unburdened by hesitation. And I, holding all my human frailty, also feel a deep need: that I might know how to speak to the weary. Not just with words, but with presence, with a love quiet enough to listen and bold enough to remain.
Responsorial Psalm
Some days, especially now with Daniel in hospice care, I find myself sitting in silence, feeling the sharp ache of need that cannot be soothed by anything this world can offer. My prayer echoes a deeper cry—My God, my God, why have you abandoned me❓—not as a loss of faith, but as a longing for closeness in suffering. I need to know that even when all feels distant, I am still held.
There are few things more beautiful in life than to see that deep passion of man for woman which begot children as the mutual incarnation of their love, transfigured into that deeper “passionless passion and wild tranquility” which is God.
Reading 2
Christ, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Instead, he emptied himself. There’s a humility in that I need to imitate—letting go of the illusion that control, answers, or strength on my own terms will sustain me. I need to surrender, again and again, to grace that meets me in weakness.
Verse Before the Gospel
In this season of Daniel’s life, I watch him move with patience through his days, and I am humbled by his courage. Christ became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Because of this, God greatly exalted him… That gives me hope. I need to remember that glory follows suffering—not as a prize, but as a promise woven into love’s very nature.
Gospel
When I look at certain priests who fail to comfort us—especially when they cancel the Eucharist—I hear in my heart: Father, forgive them, they know not what they do. I realize that I, too, often don’t know what I’m doing. I stumble in and out of grief, in and out of clarity. Still, I need to forgive, and I need to be forgiven. That is the rhythm of love.
In the quiet of our sorrow, I begin to understand that nothing is wasted—not our prayers, not our tears, not even our aching questions. Somehow, even the tender places of our lives, the ones we’d rather hide or avoid, are gathered up into a greater purpose. I don’t always see how, but I sense that our offering—our trust, our persistence, our love—is wanted, is needed. And so, when the Lord calls, I can only respond with open hands and an open heart, because:
Economic growth, for its part, tends to produce predictable reactions and a certain standardization with the aim of simplifying procedures and reducing costs.This suggests the need for an “economic ecology” capable of appealing to a broader vision of reality.
FROM PARAGRAPH 141 OF THE ENCYCLICAL LETTER LAUDATO SI’ OF THE HOLY FATHER FRANCIS ON CARE FOR OUR COMMON HOME