Why We Use the Lectionary—and Sometimes Go Beyond It

Recently, someone asked me a thoughtful question:
Why do your communities sometimes follow the Catholic lectionary—and other times use different or additional Scripture readings?

I’m really grateful for this question, because it goes right to the heart of how we listen to God’s Word in our time.

First, let me say this clearly: we deeply value the lectionary. The cycle of readings that developed after the Second Vatican Council is a beautiful gift. It connects Catholics around the world and draws us into the life of Jesus in a shared rhythm.¹

In our inclusive Catholic communities, we often use these readings—especially during Advent, Lent, Easter, and other major feasts—because we cherish that connection to the wider Church.

And… we don’t always stop there.

Sometimes, in prayer and conversation, our community senses a call to expand or choose additional readings. Not because we’re dismissing the lectionary, but because we believe something simple and profound:

The Word of God is still speaking.

So we ask together:
What is the Spirit inviting us to hear—right here, right now?

At times, that leads us to include passages that aren’t often heard in Sunday liturgy, or that are shortened in ways that soften their impact. For example:

• In Romans 16, we meet Phoebe, named as a deacon, and Junia, called “prominent among the apostles.” Yet these verses are rarely proclaimed in Sunday liturgy.²
• In John 4, the Samaritan woman becomes one of the first evangelizers—yet her role as a theological voice is often underplayed.
• In Genesis 16 and 21, Hagar, a marginalized woman, names God as “the One who sees me.”³
• In Galatians 3:28, we hear that in Christ there is “no longer male and female”—a vision of equality that still challenges us today.

Sometimes we also include verses that the lectionary leaves out—especially when they speak about justice, inclusion, or challenge systems of exclusion.

And sometimes, we include additional readings that help us live the Gospel in today’s world.

These might be:

• A reflection from a contemporary theologian or spiritual writer
• A poem or prayer that speaks to justice, compassion, or healing
• A reading that highlights care for Earth, racial justice, gender equality, or peace-making
• Or even a brief community reflection that connects Scripture to lived experience

In this way, Scripture is not just something we hear—it becomes something we enter, reflect on, and live.

For us, this isn’t about choosing “favorite readings.” It’s about communal discernment—listening together for how the Gospel becomes a living word now.

It may help to remember that the earliest Christian communities didn’t have a fixed lectionary. They shared the stories of Jesus in ways that spoke directly to their lives. The lectionary came later—and it’s a beautiful development—but it’s not the only way the Spirit has guided the Church.⁴

So in a sense, we are holding both:

• a deep respect for tradition
• and a deep trust in the Spirit’s ongoing movement

Some people wonder if this affects unity. That’s a fair question. But unity has never meant everyone doing everything exactly the same way. From the beginning, there have been diverse expressions of faith and practice.

What unites us is deeper than uniformity. It is our shared desire to:
hear the Word, break it open, and live it.

At the end of the day, our goal is simple:
to create spaces where people can encounter a God who is alive, present, and still speaking—especially to those who have too often been left out.

Footnotes

1. Second Vatican Council, Sacrosanctum Concilium.
2. Romans 16:1–7; see Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her.
3. Genesis 16:13; see Elizabeth A. Johnson.
4. John Henry Newman, Development of Christian Doctrine.