Divisions between people of different heritages in the Middle East, so painfully evident in Jesus' encounter with the Canaanite woman, are still with us some 2,000 years later. But a new song aims to heal that division.

Amid the public clashes of the struggle for racial equality, the African-American theologian Howard Thurman, who would influence Martin Luther King, Jr. insisted that clergy "never . . . lose their rooting in spiritual practices such as meditation, prayer, singing, celebration, and worship and silence.

Have you ever tried to teach someone to swim? That was part of my job description when I was a camp counselor back in high school. Some of the kids took to the water like little otters, slipping and swooshing around and having a ball. Others sank like the sand-filled milk bottles we used as anchors for the camp rowboats.

We all have someone in our lives whom we think walks on water because of something he or she did for us or a loved one: the teacher who finally got through; the doctor who saved a life; the cop who came to the rescue; the counselor who helped turn things around; the friend who lent a helping hand; the lawyer who restored a good name; the neighbor with a generous spirit; the foe with a forgiving heart.

The song "Like a Bridge Over Troubled Waters" by Simon and Garfunkel, based on an old Negro spiritual, offers a reassuring message of self-sacrificing love in the face of adversity: "Like a bridge over troubled waters, I will lay me down .

The call to God's people to renew the covenant with them, the prophet Isaiah says, came tucked into an invitation to the feast of God's wisdom. To feed someone is an act of love, and it's no coincidence that the renewal of God's love for God's people came at a table.

Neighbors call them the casserole ladies. When someone on the block passes away, the casserole ladies get the word out and soon there's a parade of women carrying covered dish dinners, pound cakes, hams, and other good food to the home of those who lost their loved one.

Today's gospel assures us that we will be fed and that nothing, not even Jesus' own grief, will separate us from God's love. Christ is always on call for us, ready to heal and console.

Mark Twain once wrote, "I have known many troubles in my life, most of which never happened." I'm sure that all of us have become very familiar with specific troubles that, in the end, never happened.

As a journalist gathered notes for a story on Msgr. Jack Egan, renowned labor priest, she could feel his eyes searching her face. Egan was 80 at the time and had already become a legend among Catholic activists as a man who spoke truth to power and fought racial discrimination and social injustice with the faith and ferocity of an Old Testament prophet.