from Ryan Holiday of the Daily Stoic, on Love

 

Marcus Aurelius said that if you ever found anything better in life than courage, discipline, justice, and wisdom—the four virtues—it must be an extraordinary thing indeed. Which raises the question: is there anything better? Here’s one pretty extraordinary thing: Love. Sure, you could argue that love fits within the virtue of justice, but it’s notable how much the Stoics speak about it. Hecato said, “I can teach you a love potion made without any drugs, herbs, or special spell—if you would be loved, love.” Marcus himself writes in Meditations (grab our leatherbound edition here) that he learned from his teacher Sextus that the key to life was to be free of passion but full of love. Indeed, there is almost no situation that hatred improves, but love enhances nearly everything. Love transforms us. “Pure love, careless of all other things, kindles the soul,” Seneca said. It makes us selfless. It inspires us to be better. “In the end,” the Beatles wrote, “the love you take is equal to the love you make.” And that love gives our lives meaning. Love emboldens courage. It inspires discipline. It strengthens justice. It gives purpose to wisdom. It is an extraordinary thing indeed. ***

We WILL have in-person church today!

 ​Join us!

If you cannot join us in person, we will broadcast the service on YouTube live.  Go to our church's YouTube channel and you should see the live stream there.

https://www.youtube.com/@stmaryschurchcathedralroad/streams

Prayers

 

“Attentive One,

we come to you as weary people,

laid low by the grinding weight of

federal occupation.

Even before a word is on our lips, O Lord,

you know it completely.

The disappearances, you know.

The cries of those left behind, you know.

The school grounds turned battlefields, you know.

The truth-tellers dragged from their cars, you know.

The grief met with teargas and flashbangs, you know.

If we’re honest,

some days it feels as though

all we are doing

is holding our breath,

and wondering what we are to make of this moment.

Could it be, Holy One,

that even in the face of utter cruelty

something is waiting to be born—

like the moment when the seed,

planted in fertile ground,

is summoned forth—

by sun and water and grit—

to become something no regime can stop?

Could it be that this is the moment,

in the shadow of helicopters that circle day and night,

when compassion and courage,

empathy and wisdom,

understanding and LOOOOVVVVEEEE,

are finally given hospitable conditions

to change, to grow, to live?

Could it be that this is the moment

when that tender green,

that brilliant green,

pushes up through fear and ICE—

as if to signal

that nothing—

no mask, no order, no convoy—

will stand in the way of

abundant life

emerging?

Renewing Spirit,

we want to believe this is the moment.

But we need you to fill the spaces

of our disbelief and doubt.

We need you to bridge the chasm

between peacekeeping and peacemaking.

We need you to uproot the cynicism

that quietly feeds brutality.

And from detention cell to Signal chat,

we need you to bind your people together again.

Living Spirit,

the truth is that you can already see

a new world,

one we have not yet known.

May this be the moment, God of All,

when we catch a glimpse

of that world arising.”

The Reverend Ingrid Arneson Rasmussen 

A message from Bishop José McLoughlin of the Episcopal Diocese of Western North Carolina

 

View as Webpage January 30, 2026 My brothers and sisters in Christ, From a very young age, I saw how people treated my mother once they learned she was a Cuban immigrant. She was called a communist, told to go back to her country, and questioned why she was here at all. This current moment is deeply personal for me because I see my own family reflected in the people that are currently being targeted. I grew up with the reality of how easily people label and dehumanize those they see as “foreign.”  I am disturbed by the escalation of violence in the form of the mass detainment of individuals, largely targeted at the immigrant community, ramped up more recently by the killing of Renee Good and Alex Pretti, and even the detainment of several minors including Liam Conejo Ramos – a 5 year old boy. There are credible reports of abuse, malnutrition, and a lack of medical care in some of these detainment facilities.  Throughout my life, I have experienced and witnessed how we as human beings easily “other” those who are different from us, whether because of an ideology, a personal grievance, insecurity, or fear. We are witnessing and experiencing an abuse of power by many in positions of authority. In my years working in law enforcement I was trained to understand that my duty was, first and foremost, to serve and protect all with dignity. Many of the tactics being utilized are a systemic affront to the justice system and antithetical to the training I received. The Gospel reading assigned for this Sunday is Matthew 5, Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. As I was preparing my sermon, I was reminded of a video I recently saw from the Department of Homeland Security quoting “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called Sons of God,” layered over troubling imagery of ICE agents in action. The imagery in this video combined with this passage is a dangerous and vile twisting of scripture and in fact contradicts the teachings of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. Teargassing civil protesters is not peacemaking. Detaining people based on how they look or how they speak is not peacemaking. Peacemaking that requires coercive violence is no peace at all.  Shortly after I became your Bishop, I wrote a letter to the diocese expressing my concerns about the extremist march in Charlottesville in 2017. For me, the thread that runs through that moment until now is ultimately a symptom and tool of white Christian nationalism. I believe this to be the greatest threat to the Church, to our communities, and to this country. White Christian nationalism does not pursue peace for the sake of the Kingdom of God but pursues power for the sake of a man-made empire. White Christian nationalism perpetuates rhetoric and actions that “other” and demonize those on the margins, and justifies violence by declaring, “they are the enemy.” Yet Jesus, in the very same Sermon on the Mount, teaches, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matthew 5:43-44)  Our baptismal vow to respect the dignity of every human being is not theoretical. It is tested precisely when fear is loudest and when power is most tempted to forget the humanity of those it governs. Now, more than ever, people are asking me, "What do we do? Where do we begin?" Pray for the hurting, the isolated, the frightened. Pray for wisdom and sound judgment for all those in leadership. Pray for our first responders and all those who risk their lives to protect us. Stay informed and speak out. Call your representatives. Advocate for the rights and protection of the vulnerable in your community.  Understand and learn the needs of your community and work to address them. In doing so we address the symptoms of the larger failings in our policies. Maybe this begins with one act of kindness and solidarity for a neighbor. If you are able, I invite you to give generously to The Episcopal Church's Emergency Migration Ministry fund which was commended by our Presiding Bishop, The Most Rev. Sean Rowe in a note sent out earlier this week. My friends, let us stand shoulder to shoulder with each other in unity. Our baptism calls us to this work as the body of Christ, choosing the way of true peacemaking that begets love and dignity, and forsakes violence. May we move forward in boldness and in faith, trusting the Spirit to lead us.   Faithfully, The Rt. Rev. José A. McLoughlin Bishop The Episcopal Diocese of Western North Carolina 900B CentrePark Drive Asheville, NC 28805 www.diocesewnc.org

I am a product of long corridors

 "I am a product of long corridors, empty sunlit rooms, upstairs indoor silences, attics explored in solitude, distant noises of gurgling cisterns and pipes, and the noise of wind under the tiles. Also, of endless books. My father bought all the books he read and never got rid of any of them. There were books in the study, books in the drawing room, books in the cloakroom, books (two deep) in the great bookcase on the landing, books in a bedroom, books piled as high as my shoulder in the cistern attic, books of all kinds reflecting every transient stage of my parents’ interest, books readable and unreadable, books suitable for a child and books most emphatically not. Nothing was forbidden me. In the seemingly endless rainy afternoons I took volume after volume from the shelves. I had always the same certainty of finding a book that was new to me as a man who walks into a field has of finding a new blade of grass."

CS Lewis, Surprised By Joy'