Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday IV-B (April 21, 2024)

Today is the fourth Sunday of Easter.  It is traditionally known as Good Shepherd Sunday, for the Gospel always speaks of Christ, the Good Shepherd.  This Sunday is also observed throughout the Church as the World Day of prayer for vocations.  Now we all have our particular vocation in life.  But the one common and first vocation we all share is to be holy.  “Be holy for I am holy”, says the L­ord.  The purpose of this annual world day of prayer is to pray especially for vocations to the priesthood and to the consecrated life—to ask the Lord of the harvest to send more labourers to his harvest.

          The word vocation means “call”, and so a vocation is a call—a call from God.  To hear God’s call, we have to listen—to keep our ears open, so we can hear God’s voice.  We live in a noisy, busy world, a world where many voices compete for our attention, and our allegiance.  Especially in our consumer society, everyone seems to be trying to sell us their product or service.  It’s very easy to be distracted and misled, not to be able to hear God’s voice.  That’s why we all need to find a quiet space in our daily lives, when we can be alone with God, to shut out the rest of the world, so we can listen to God, and hear his voice.

  If you ask someone the question, “What is prayer?”, the answer they usually give is that prayer is talking to God.  Well, that’s only half of it.  Prayer is a two-way street.  Yes, it’s talking to God, but it’s also listening to him.  It is communicating with God, union with God, or you could say, communion with God.  So we all really need to establish that relationship, that personal communion with the Lord in prayer, so we can hear his voice and respond to it.

          In today’s Gospel, Jesus says the good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.  And he adds that he himself lays down his life for them.  The good shepherd, in other words, makes a sacrifice.  He loves his sheep so much that he is willing to surrender all—even his own life, for the sake of his sheep.  Jesus, of course, did precisely this when he offered his life on the cross for the redemption of the world—a sacrifice which is made present, sacramentally, every time we celebrate Mass.

          A vocation involves sacrifice.  It demands that we give up something for a greater good.  And we do so out of love—love of God, and love of neighbour.  Someone called to the priesthood or consecrated life must sacrifice their own private will, and promise obedience to their bishop of superior.  While there is a certain loss of freedom involved in this, there is, on the other hand, a confidence and trust which comes from striving to do the will of God, instead of seeking a personal selfish goal.  To obey, one needs a sense of faith and trust in God’s loving providence, and a love of him that surpasses any personal self-seeking we might have.

          The charism, or gift, of celibacy also involves sacrifice.  But it provides a freedom to devote one’s life to working in the Lord’s vineyard, without the duties and responsibilities that are part of married life.  Celibacy is also a witness to and a sign of our belief in the next life, where men and women do not marry, but where the Church, as the bride of Christ, enters the eternal heavenly banquet prepared for us from the beginning of time.  So while there is sacrifice involved in accepting the gift of celibacy, there is also the joy of anticipating that heavenly union with Christ, even now, here on earth.

          So please, on this world day of prayer for vocations, we should renew our commitment to pray—not just once a year—but to pray every day of the year for more vocations, especially in our own diocese—to spread the Word of God to the ends of the earth.  For the harvest is indeed great, but the labourers, still far too few, especially here in Toronto.  And we commend all our prayers to the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary, who said “Yes” to God’s call, and ask her to pray for us and all our needs too.

 

 Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday III-B (April 14, 2024)

After he rose from the dead on Easter Sunday, Jesus did not go to heaven.  No, he appeared to his disciples on earth for forty days, up until his Ascension into heaven.  He appeared to them so they could see that he had truly risen from the dead.  In particular, he wanted them to realize that he had risen in his body.  He was not just some spirit, or ghost, but he had bodily risen from the dead.  That is why in today’s Gospel, we see Our Lord tell his apostles to touch him.  He showed them his hands and his feet, and even ate some fish with them so they could see he was not a ghost, but had flesh and bones.

          Our Lord knew he would only remain on earth with his disciples for forty days.  But he did not want to leave them alone after that period.  So he promised to send them the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, and he also left them the sacrament of his own flesh and blood—the Holy Eucharist—so that they could receive his Body.  And so the Holy Eucharist is really part of the resurrection of Christ.  For when we receive Holy Communion, we receive the Body of Christ—the Body that rose from the dead on Easter Sunday—the Body that ascended into heaven on the fortieth day.  Had no body risen from the dead, there would be no body for us to receive.

          And because Jesus rose from the dead on the first day of the week—Easter Sunday morning, Sunday became for Christians the Lord’s Day—our sabbath, our day of rest.  That is why Christians gathered together on Sunday to celebrate the Holy Eucharist, and to receive the Body of the risen Lord.

          In these fifty days of Eastertide, we are praying to receive the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.  It is above all the Spirit who can bend our hearts, open our minds, soften our stubbornness, mold us into the divine image of God, renew us to be more like Christ.  The Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead is the same Spirit who can raise us to a new and higher life in Christ.  Through baptism, we have been born again, we have become a new creation.  We are indeed children of the light.  We are called to walk in the light of Christ, to put behind us the darkness of sin, so we can truly be children of God, and show our love for God by obeying him and his commandments.

          The resurrection for us begins here on earth.  For we have to die to sin here and now, if we wish to rise with Christ, rise above our failings, our human weaknesses, rise above all that separates us from the life of the Spirit.

          So perhaps we could look at ourselves, and see how we can rise to a new life this Eastertide.  In what way can we show that Christ is risen in our own lives—that we have passed from death to new life.  In the Lord’s Prayer, we say “thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven”.  So even here on earth, we should be trying to lead a new life in the Risen Christ, a life that will show to others that Christ has truly risen in our minds and hearts and in our lives.  That his kingdom is here and now.  That He is our true love.  He, the Saviour of the world.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday II-B (April 7, 2024)                                   

Today’s Gospel begins in the evening of that same day, the first day of the week, that is, on Easter Sunday evening.  Jesus appears to his disciples.  He does so very much in concrete, physical terms, so they can see his hands, and his side.  He is not just some spirit, but he has truly, bodily risen from the dead.  And a week later, when the doubting Thomas demands to see, before he will believe, Jesus insists that he put his finger into the holes the nails made in his hands, and that Thomas put his hands into the hole made by the spear.  Later on in St. John’s Gospel, Jesus appears on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, and has breakfast with his disciples.  He eats some fish.  Again, John is stressing very much the fact that Our Lord bodily rose from the dead.  It was not just some spiritual event, or a figment of someone’s imagination.  Jesus truly, physically rose from the dead.

         And we too believe in the resurrection of the body, that is, that at the end of time, our bodies will rise from the grave, in glorified form, as did Our Lord’s, and be joined to our souls.  Just as Jesus bodily rose from the dead, and Mary was assumed body and soul into heaven, so too will our bodies rise on the last day.

When Jesus appears on Easter Sunday evening to his disciples, he greets them twice, with the words, “Peace be with you”.  He, of course, came to earth as the prince of peace, and at his birth the angels sang, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to people of good will”.  How fitting that now, at the climax of his earthly ministry, he continues the theme of peace.  He came to bring peace, to make peace between God and man, to reconcile fallen humanity to the Father.

In our world today, many people long for peace.  They long for peace because they find they are not at peace.  They are troubled, they are worried, they may be in conflict with their neighbour, or perhaps even with their family. There’s not an awful lot of peace to be found in our world whose values can never give us true peace. 

But Jesus wants to give us his peace—a peace the world can never give.  And to complete his mission, Jesus breathes on his apostles—he breathes the Holy Spirit upon them, and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.  If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained”.  In so doing, Our Lord, as a sign of his divine mercy, institutes the sacrament of penance.  He gives his apostles the gift of the Holy Spirit so that they can forgive sins.  They, in turn, would hand down this power, through the laying on of hands, in the sacrament of Holy Orders, to their successors, the bishops, and they, in turn, to the priests called to help them in their work.  The role of the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of sins is clear in the words of absolution the priest uses:  “God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son, has sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins”.  The Holy Spirit is in fact very much present and part of all the sacraments.  We first receive the gift of the Holy Spirit in baptism, when we are baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  The gift of the Spirit we receive for ourselves at baptism is strengthened at confirmation, so that we can bear witness to our faith before others.  But we know we fail, we sin, and so through the sacrament of penance, through confession, the Holy Spirit comes to forgive our sins when we repent and confess them.  It’s so important for our spiritual well-being that we go to confession regularly, that we seek and receive the gift of the Holy Spirit to forgive our sins.

We’re all familiar with the dramatic description of Pentecost in St. Luke’s Acts of the Apostles, when the Holy Spirit came down upon our Lady and the apostles gathered in prayer, fifty days after Easter.  St. John’s Gospel, which is today’s Gospel, was one of the last books written in the New Testament, and so John had time to reflect on the others.  His work is a more theological one than the others.  And so what he seems to describe today is a kind of Pentecost right on Easter Sunday—for he emphasizes the unity of the Resurrection and the sending of the Holy Spirit, both on Easter Sunday.

Then, in today’s Gospel, John moves forward a week to describe the incident with Thomas.  Though Thomas may have doubted initially, after he sees Jesus, Thomas makes the most explicit profession of faith in the whole New Testament when he addresses Jesus as “My Lord and my God”.  Jesus is truly God.  Though he also became man, Jesus was and is truly God—he has both a divine and a human nature.  As we say in the Creed:  Jesus is: “God from God, light from light, true God from true God.”

May we never doubt as Thomas did, but believe as Thomas also did—believe in Jesus Christ, our Lord and God, and in his power to forgive our sins, in his divine mercy, so that we too may enjoy the gift of true peace, a peace the world can never give.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday 2024                                          

We celebrate today what is the greatest feast of the Church's liturgical year—even more important than Christmas.  For today we celebrate the day Christ rose from the dead, the day Christ destroyed the power of death—not just for himself, but for us too.

          During his life on earth, Our Lord performed many miracles which were intended to help people believe he was truly God, truly divine.  And his own resurrection from the dead was the greatest miracle of them all.

          Death was not part of God's plan for humanity at the beginning.  There was no death in the garden of Eden.  It was paradise—like heaven, and would have gone on forever.  It was only through the sin of Adam and Eve that death entered the world.  Death was the punishment for their original sin.  They were cast out of paradise, and so, in the end, they had to die—the gates of heaven were closed.

          But God in his great love for us didn't want that to be the end of the story.  So he sent his only Son, Jesus Christ, the new Adam, born of Mary, the new Eve, so that by his passion, death and resurrection from the dead, he could pay the price of Adam's sin, and open the gates of heaven once again for those who believe in him and are faithful to him.  And so, as St. Paul writes in his letter to the Colossians (3:1-4):  "If you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.  Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth."  Look up to heaven where Christ is, in other words, and seek first that kingdom of heaven, and not the things, the attractions, the material treasures of this earth.

          When we profess our faith, the faith of the Church, we affirm our belief that Christ rose again on the third day.  This is one of the most fundamental tenets of our faith as Christians—our belief that Christ did indeed bodily rise from the dead.

          We also profess our belief in the resurrection of the body.  We believe that just as Christ bodily rose from the dead, so too will we, at the final judgment, when the souls of those who have died in Christ will be rejoined to their glorified bodies.  Just as Jesus rose from the dead, just as Mary was assumed body and soul into heaven, so too we believe that our bodies will also rise on the last day.

          Christianity is a religion of hope, of optimism.  You cannot be a pessimistic Christian.  It's a contradiction in terms.  For at the heart of our faith stands the risen Christ.  God did not create us to die, but he made us in his own image so we could live with him forever.  When God gives life, it is forever.

 God gives, God seeks life.  But so often, men and women seek death.  Christ, by his own death, destroyed the power of death to give us life forever.  That death was an act of the utmost love imaginable.  It was in fact love that destroyed death.  For the power of the love of God is stronger than the power of death.  Love is a creative force of the highest order.  Hatred, like death, only destroys.  Yet not even Christ himself could escape death.  He had to pass through it, as do we.  For, ironically, death is the gateway to life.  In a sense, you could say that the whole point of life is death.  For our whole lives here on earth are but a preparation for that moment when we too will have to pass through that gateway of death in order to enter everlasting life.  And when we make that journey, all we take with us is our faith, and the good works we have done during our lives here on earth.  Our large Paschal candle in front of the altar, which we always light for baptisms and for funerals, represents the risen Christ, a candle that remains there for the fifty days of Eastertide, right until the great feast of Pentecost.

          Today we celebrate the resurrection of Our Lord in a very special way.  But in fact every Sunday the Church celebrates the resurrection of Christ.  Every Sunday is for us Easter Sunday. 

          And so today we commit ourselves once more to our baptismal faith, the faith of the Church, the faith in which we have been baptized, and born again—our faith in the one God, our loving Father, in his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Spirit, who live and reign for all ages, world without end.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Palm Sunday – B (March 24, 2024)                        

We begin today the week we call Holy Week, the most important and solemn week of the Church’s liturgical year.  This is a very special week.  We should make a particular effort to observe it with reverence, with prayer, with the solemnity that befits it.

          Today is properly known as Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord.  For there is a double focus.  We begin with the blessing of the palms, remembering Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem as the Messiah.  But also we hear the account of Christ’s passion.  That is why red vestments are worn, the colour of the blood Our Lord shed for us.  We do well to consider just why Jesus had to suffer—why he had to die.  It was to atone for our sins, to pay the price of our disobedience with his own blood.  And so especially in this week, we should remember that our salvation, our hope of everlasting life was bought—not through any efforts on our own part, but with the price of Christ’s precious blood.  That is why we should express genuine sorrow for our sins, confess them, and do penance for them.  It is why Good Friday is a day of fasting and abstinence, and why every Friday is a day of penance.  We should resolve to put our sins behind us, and turn to Christ instead and obey him and his commandments, and resolve not to fall back into the sins that nailed Our Lord to the tree.

          At every Mass, at the end of the preface, we sing the same words the crowds sang in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.  For in the Sanctus we sing: “Hosanna in the highest, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”  If you listen to the words that lead up to the Sanctus, you’ll see they are usually to the effect: “and so we join the angels and saints in heaven, as they sing your glory forever—holy, holy, holy”.

          In the heavenly Jerusalem, that’s what it’s all about.  In heaven, all who have been invited to the banquet of the Lamb sing and praise him forever.  They sing Hosannas to the highest.  Our liturgy here on earth, indeed our whole life here below, is a witness to and a preparation for the next life.  So no matter how seemingly tragic the death of Christ on the cross, may we remember that he died so we could live, so we could rise with him, and join him in the heavenly Jerusalem, and there together with all the angels and saints sing his praises, sing Hosanna in the highest heaven for ever.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent V-B   March 17, 2024                                                     

In today’s Gospel, we see Jesus preparing his disciples for his coming death.  Indeed, he seems to be preparing himself for it as well: “Now my soul is troubled”, he says, and wonders whether he should ask his Father to save him from this hour

          Jesus, even though he was truly God, was also truly man.  And as a human being, he felt the same human emotions we would feel, confronted by the prospect of a terrible death.  Yet in his agony, he knew that he had to go through with it.  He had to suffer and die on the cross, because that was the very reason he came to earth, why he assumed our human nature, so that by his passion and death, he could redeem that nature.  He came so he could destroy the power of death forever.

          Our Lord also knew that his disciples would be afraid and disillusioned by his coming passion.  So he tries to explain to them that death is not the end.  “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit”.  The martyrs all knew this.  That is why we say the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.

          Those who love their life in this world lose it.  Our Lord asks us to detach ourselves from this world and its values, its glitter and gold, for everything on this earth is just a breath, a puff of air, vanity of vanities.  For this world will not last.  Our lives on this earth will come to an end.   So we need to have a spirit of detachment from the things, the people of this world, and not love our lives here below so much that we can’t let go—because some day soon we will have to let go of everything, of everyone here on earth.

          The trouble is we don’t want to let go.  We prefer what we can see here and now to what we can’t see in the future.  We fear death.  This is normal and understandable.  Even Jesus was troubled by it.  But death is not the end.  It is really only the beginning.  Our very nature reaches out for life beyond death.  Our human instinct reacts against the notion of death, of something that would be the end of us.  We want to live.  But in order to live, we have to die.  Death is the door through which we must, each of us pass some day.

          Christ, by his passion and death destroyed the power of death forever.  We believe that if we have been faithful to Christ, and died with him we will share in the eternal life he came to earth to gain for our sake.  He died so we could live.

          In these last few days of Lent, may we follow our Lord to Calvary, and do so with a spirit of detachment from this world, with our eyes fixed on the eternal values that endure forever, and always seek first the kingdom of God, and then everything else will take care of itself.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent IV-B (March 10, 2024)                          

The fourth Sunday of Lent is known traditionally as Laetare Sunday, which is the Latin word for Rejoice.  If you look in your Missal, you’ll see that this is the first word of today’s entrance antiphon:  Rejoice, Jerusalem.  As with Gaudete Sunday in Advent, the priest wears rose-coloured vestments, a break from the sadness of purple.  As another sign of joy, the organ can also be played on its own, apart from simply accompanying the singing.

          But why is the theme today that of rejoicing?  Quite simply, it is because Easter is drawing near.  We are coming ever closer to reliving the Paschal mystery—how Christ suffered and died for us to redeem us from our sins, and then rose from the dead.  All this he did in Jerusalem.  That’s why the entrance antiphon today says, “Rejoice, Jerusalem”, almost anticipating too the hosannas of Palm Sunday.

          The word Jerusalem means “city of peace.  In the first reading, we see how God punished the people of Israel for their infidelity, by destroying Jerusalem, and sending its citizens into exile into Babylon.  But in the end, God allowed his people to return to their home, to Jerusalem, and to rebuild the city and its temple.  The first reading recalls the rejoicing of the people of Israel at their return to Jerusalem (c. 538 B.C.).

          In the second reading, St. Paul gives us another reason to rejoice.  God who is rich in mercy saved us out of his great love.  Even though we were dead because of our sins, he made us alive again with Christ, and all of this through grace—a pure gift.  We did nothing to deserve the redemption.  Rather it was the work, the gift of God.  The Father sent his Son to be raised high on the cross, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal live.

          In our pride, we often like to think we’re self-sufficient, and that somehow we have earned whatever we are or may possess. But the truth is that all we are or have, right from our very life, to our faith, our families, our health, our intellect and skills, our material goods—they all come from God as a pure gift.  During Lent we need to reflect on the great gifts God has given us and rejoice.  God became one of us.  The Father sent his only Son to suffer and die for us on the cross to save us because he loved us so much—all as a pure gift.  We have been saved through the passion and merits of Jesus Christ.  And so we should show our gratitude by sharing what we have received—sharing our time, our talents, our gifts, our life with others.  That is how we will show our true faith, our true hope, and our true love.  Only then can we truly call ourselves Christians, authentic disciples of Jesus Christ.

          We’ve passed the half-way point of Lent, so it would be good to pause and see what kind of a Lent we’ve had so far.  Have we been praying more, have we been fasting in the broadest sense, by giving up sinful habits, have we been showing our love for our neighbour?  Or have we been rather lethargic about the whole thing, and not really done very much at all.

          Well, there’s still time.  Lent is a period of grace, which offers us many spiritual blessings if only we’re prepared to make the effort and sacrifice.  Now is the time to renew your resolve to deepen your relationship with God, and to repent to turn away from sin, and believe in the Gospel, to repeat the words we hear on Ash Wednesday when we receive the ashes.  There is still time to get to confession, to receive forgiveness for our sins, and the grace not to fall back into sin so easily in the future.

          So as we take time to rejoice this Laetare Sunday, and to look forward to Easter, let us also take time to look at our lives, to change, to return to Christ, and be faithful to the Gospel.

           

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday II-B Lent (February 25, 2024)

The second Sunday of Lent always has the account of the Transfiguration as its Gospel.  We celebrate the actual feast of the Transfiguration on August 6.  So it seems a bit odd to hear this brilliant, dazzling Gospel, full of light and joy, in the early part of Lent, a time when we’re supposed to be in a penitential mood.

Our Lord knew that he was going to be crucified, and would suffer a painful, excruciating death on the cross.  He knew what a demoralizing effect this would have on his disciples--how disoriented his passion and death would make them—what a tragedy the scandal of the cross would be for them after the Hosannas of Palm Sunday.  And so, to prepare them for the trials they would have to experience, Jesus led his closest followers up to a high mountain.  He chose the same three disciples who, later, would be privileged to witness his agony in the garden.

          He chose Peter, James and John to be the witnesses.  They who would see him suffer, would first receive the grace to see him glorified, so they could have the strength to understand and endure his passion.  He chose three so that their evidence would not be challenged.

          Our Lord was transfigured in their presence to strengthen their faith in him, in his divinity, so their faith would not be shaken.  In short, he wanted to offer them a glimpse of his resurrection.  The resurrection of Our Lord is at the very heart of our faith.  We profess it every time we recite the Creed, together with his ascension into heaven.  Indeed, throughout Lent, we are preparing to celebrate his rising from the dead on Easter Sunday.  Our Lord’s transfiguration in today’s Gospel was intended to give his closest disciples a glimpse of that miraculous event.

          And what a magnificent sight it must have been.  Our Lord’s face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.  So it’s not surprising that Peter should say: “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here”—good to be in the presence of God, wonderful to witness this great miracle.

 Well, we too are in the presence of God when we come together in the House of God.  For our Lord has said that where two or three are gathered in his name, there is he also. We know Jesus is present in his Word, in his priest, in the community of his faithful, and in a very special way, he is present in the sacrament of the most Holy Eucharist.

          On the holy mountain, our Lord’s external appearance was miraculously transfigured.  At every Mass, the bread and wine we offer are not transfigured externally, for they retain their outward form.  But that great miracle known as transubstantiation takes place.  The substance of the bread and wine change sacramentally into the Body and Blood of Christ, the risen, the glorified Christ. 

          And through our worthy participation in, and reception of, the Holy Eucharist, we pray that we too may be transfigured and become a new creation, especially during Lent.  For Lent is a time for us to be changed, for us to put behind our failings of the past, and become children of light, a time for our souls to be made new, to be transfigured with Christ, and molded into his divine image, that image in which we were created, and so become ever more divine, transformed into an ever greater degree of holiness and glory.

For through our worthy reception of the Eucharist here on earth, we receive a foretaste, a glimpse of the eternal heavenly banquet, where we will rejoice and sing praise in the presence of the risen, glorified Christ for all eternity.

          But before we make that journey to the highest heaven, we must first follow the way of the cross.  We must first suffer with Christ in order to rise with him.  And we do so with the full confidence that no matter how heavy our cross may seem here on earth, if we remain faithful to Christ and to his commandments, he will raise us up on the last day to the heights of heaven, to be transfigured, and live there with him forever.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent I-B (February 18, 2024)                               

Today is the first Sunday of Lent, an old English word which simply means spring.  Spring is a time of new birth, new life, and so it is a fitting name for this season when we prepare to celebrate the Paschal mystery—that is the passion, death and resurrection of Christ at Easter—that great solemnity of new life. 

There is a strong baptismal theme during Lent.  For we prepare through prayer and penance to recall our baptism in order to renew our baptismal promises at Easter.  As Lent involves a recognition of our failure to live up to our baptismal calling, it is a time of penance and conversion.  Purple is the colour of the season—a sad colour to reflect the sorrow we feel for our sins.  There are no flowers on or near the altar.  We deny ourselves the joy of the Gloria at Mass until Holy Thursday, when we have completed our penitential observance.  Nor do we sing Alleluia until we have undergone a conversion, and are ready to sing this chant with renewed meaning during the Easter Vigil.

          We prepare for some forty days, just as Jesus spent forty days in the desert, praying and fasting, so that he could strengthen himself for the devil’s temptations.  Temptation is very much a part of our human drama.  Temptation comes from Satan, not from God (James 1:13).  The devil is always there, trying to tempt us to sin.  Jesus was truly God, but he was also truly man, so even he did not escape temptation.  We too should expect to be tempted.  But as St. Paul writes, God will not let you be tempted beyond your ability to resist, and with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, you so may be able to endure it (1 Cor. 10:1). 

          Now to face the devil, to be able to resist temptation, we too need to be strengthened, to build ourselves up, to acquire a spirit of self-discipline, of self-control.  Just like an athlete trains to strengthen their skills and muscles, so too we need to develop our spiritual muscles, to strengthen our faith.  The three traditional means of doing so during Lent are prayer, fasting and almsgiving.

          We could all do with more personal prayer every day.  We could all make the effort to find more quality time to find our own spiritual desert, where we can be alone with God, to get away from the noise of the world, and develop a personal relationship with Our Lord. 

          Fasting is another means of developing our spiritual strength.  Through fasting we learn to control our appetites in the broadest sense—to control our desires, our inclinations.  If we can become masters of ourselves, then we will have the strength we need to say no to the devil, so we can say yes to Christ instead.  People talk about giving up this or that for Lent, and that’s fine.  But the greatest thing we can give up is sin.  Above all we should fast from sin, from doing things that offend God, that are against his commandments.

          Prayer and fasting are not, however, ends in themselves.  Through prayer and fasting we grow in love of God and love of neighbour.  We get our minds away from our own selfish needs and desires, so that we can become more conscious of God, and more conscious of the needs of our neighbours.  This is where almsgiving comes in, the third means by which we can have a good Lent, and grow in faith and spiritual strength, by caring for our neighbour and showing we love them.  That is the ultimate goal of prayer and fasting, to let us share our good fortune, share our blessings, our faith, above all, share our life with others.

          This Lent, let us show our love of God and love of neighbour by growing in prayer to God, and by performing some acts of self-denial so we can acquire that spirit of self-control, self-discipline, so when the serpent comes our way to tempt us, we will have the courage to say—go away, get lost.  And as we do, we continue to ask our heavenly Father each and every day, to lead us not into temptation, but to deliver us from every evil.  Amen.   

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday VI-B  (February 11, 2024)                    

Today’s Gospel continues the theme of healing we saw last week.   The leper who approaches Jesus does so with faith, which was always the prerequisite for healing.  “If you choose, you can make me clean”.   The leper has faith in the Lord’s power to heal, but he also recognizes that ultimately, it’s a question of what God’s will may be.   “If you choose”—sometimes God chooses to effect a physical cure, sometimes he doesn’t.

          Jesus, we’re told, was moved with pity when the man approached him.   He felt compassion for the leper.   Now the word compassion means, literally, to suffer with someone, and that is what Jesus did.   He suffered with this unfortunate man, just as he suffered with all of humanity.   He suffered to the point of accepting death on the cross to show his compassion for all sinners.

          And so Jesus stretches out his hand, and then touches the leper.   Now this is really very striking when you think about it.   Leprosy was and is a dreaded disease.   In Biblical times there was no real medical treatment, let alone cure, for leprosy.   This meant lepers had to live apart from the rest of the community, in a sort of quarantine, in leper colonies.   Nobody wanted to go near a leper, for fear of catching the illness, and certainly nobody would dream of touching a leper – nobody except Jesus.   Lepers were shunned and ostracized by society.   To their physical misfortune, there was added the emotional pain of rejection, abandonment, and isolation.

          But far from seeking to avoid contact with the leper, Jesus stretches out his hand and touches him.   He shows his compassion, his solidarity with the unfortunate man, by making this physical contact with him, by uniting himself with the leper, in an act of communion.

          Our God is not some distant abstract concept—not some far-off spirit, or philosophy, or idea.   No, our God is very personal God, a God who wanted to be close to us, to come down to our level, to be our Emmanuel, our God-with-us, to speak to us, to walk beside us on the road to Emmaus, to touch us, and to let us touch him, and ultimately, to let us crucify him.

          The Gospel today is really a reminder of the Incarnation, that God became man, God assumed our human condition, so that he could redeem the humanity he assumed, and raise it up to him.   He shared in our humanity so we could share in his divinity.

          “If you choose, you can make me clean”.   The choice of the word “clean” is significant.   Our Lord always sought not just physical healing, but above all, the healing of the whole person, body and soul.   Leprosy severely disfigures its unfortunate victims.   We are not always responsible for acquiring a physical disease.   But by definition, sin is an offence against God for which we are culpable, for which we are subjectively at fault.

          This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday.   We begin our annual observance of Lent—a time for conversion, a time for penance, a time for renewal, a time for prayer, a time for growth.  It’s a great opportunity for each one of us to approach Jesus, as did the leper, and say, “if you want to, you can cure me.”   Of course, Jesus wants to heal us, he wants us to be well again, free from spiritual ills.   Sin separates us from God, and from each other.   Through our sins, we ostracize ourselves from God and from each other.   Through our conversion, especially in the sacrament of penance, or confession, we can return to that community, reconciled and cleansed of our sins.   To do this, we must want that cure, we must want to be made clean, we must be willing to convert, to change, to abandon that which separates us from God, and to go before him, humbly, and ask forgiveness, and sin no more.

          In our world today, many have chosen to embark along the road of grave sin.   You could say a moral leprosy has gripped our world, a world which does not seem to want to be cured, but rather chooses to go further and further away from Christ.   The world is in need of healing, especially moral healing, and for that healing to be achieved, we need faith.   To have faith, you must believe in God, in the one God, who through the power of the Holy Spirit, became incarnate in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary, became incarnate, assumed our human flesh and blood so he could touch our flesh and heal us, and offer us his own flesh and blood in the sacrament of the Incarnation, the Holy Eucharist. This Lent, may we, like the good leper, go to the Lord, and ask him for that healing, for that spiritual renewal, for that new life.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday V-B (February 4, 2024)                        

In today’s Gospel, Jesus heals Simon’s mother-in-law.   He also cures many who were sick, and casts out many demons.   Throughout his public ministry, Our Lord healed the sick, whether it was the lepers, or paralytics, or the blind.  A prerequisite for the healing was faith: “Your faith has saved you”, he would say, and then effect a physical healing.

          All these physical cures were signs, which proved Jesus’ power to heal went far deeper.   It was not just the physical body he wanted to heal, but the whole person, body and soul.   The physical cure was intended to arouse a deepening of faith in the individual and those around them.   Our Lord’s first priority was always the spiritual healing of the person, for he wanted to save their souls above all.   And so in today’s Gospel, we are also told that Jesus cast out many demons from those who were possessed.

          As human beings, we tend to shy away from suffering.   We don’t like to be sick.   We want to be cured, and cured quickly, so we can get on with our lives.   We don’t want to labour in the world of pain.   We don’t, in other words, want to follow Christ all the way—in the messy part.   Yet the fact is that we wish to be true disciples of Christ, we have to follow him to Calvary too, we have to share in his passion in order to join him in his resurrection.   And so sometimes we have to accept a particular physical burden, a particular sickness or pain or suffering.   And while we may indeed pray to God and ask him to take this pain away from us so we can be physically well again, sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t.   He didn’t for St. Paul.  Whatever be his will, we need to accept it, and accept it with joy, for he may be calling us to follow him all the way, to share in his passion, calling us to offer up our suffering as a redemptive act for the salvation of the world.

          Illness can bring us closer to God for it increases our dependence on him.   It reminds us of our own mortality, that we cannot go it alone, that we cannot go on in this earthly life forever.   That death, which entered the world through original sin, awaits us one day.

          This is really what Job is saying in the first reading today:  “my life is a breath”—his days will soon come to an end.   His eye will never again see good.   Of course, Job had not yet received the revelation of Jesus Christ, and so he had not received the promise of a new life beyond the limits of this earthly one, a new life won by the new Adam, by his passion, death and resurrection.   Whatever pain we must endure here and now, whether the innocent suffering of the good man Job, or the physical pain of illness, or the numerous other crosses of one kind or another we all carry, they will come to an end, sooner than we think.   Just like Christ’s passion came to an end.   And if you’ve been through a painful physical experience and then come out of it, it’s amazing how quickly you do get over it, how quickly the memory of the pain can fade away, so you hardly remember you ever had it in the first place.

The pain a woman feels in giving birth is quickly forgotten when she rejoices to see her newborn child.   The pain of Good Friday fades before the glory of Easter Sunday.   That’s really what it’s like in terms of our whole earthly life.  The pain, the sorrow, the sickness, the cross will all be wiped away when we pass from this life and enter the eternal kingdom, when those who have suffered with Christ and been faithful to him will rise with him as well.   But to enter that kingdom we need to be at peace with God and with each other.   That is where spiritual healing comes in, the casting out of demons that Jesus effected in the Gospel.   We need to make sure that our souls are healthy and pure.   We do this through regularly prayer; we achieve this through the grace of the sacraments.   Naturally for those who are in a serious state of health, the sacrament of the anointing of the sick is a great source of healing and strength.   At times it may even lead to physical recovery.   It is not intended only for those who are dying, but for anyone suffering from a serious illness or of old age.

          The sacrament of penance, of confession, is an excellent means of seeking forgiveness and healing, freeing ourselves of the burdens, the mistakes, the failings of the past.  Worthy and frequent reception of the Holy Eucharist is another wonderful source of healing grace.  Indeed, each time before receiving Holy Communion, we repeat the words of the centurion:  “ Lord I am not worthy that you should come under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”   These are words of humility and faith.   Humility, because we indeed are unworthy, with all our faults and sins; but faith in the one who promised us that he came so we could have life and have it to the full.

          The Church, the Body of Christ, the communion of saints, is made up of sinners, of people in need of healing.   The Church is holy, and so we are holy to that extent, but we are still always in need of being purified, of being healed, of growing spiritually.   The important thing is to recognize that need of forgiveness, with humility and with faith, and to seek that healing from the same Jesus who came to heal the broken-hearted, to give new sight to the blind, to bring pardon and peace to the sinner.

          It is only the love of Christ that can heal us.   Only the love of Christ that can free us from all our pains here below, only the love of Christ that can raise us to a new world, where there will be no more weeping or pain, but only peace and joy with Jesus, our Saviour, our Redeemer, our Lord and our God.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday IV-B (January 28, 2024)     

St. Paul, in today’s second reading, speaks about the gift of celibacy, that is the gift of being able to lead a single, unmarried life in order to serve the Lord.  This kind of life has been, for many centuries, one of the distinguishing features of the Catholic priesthood in the west, and of the religious life.

          The ministerial priesthood derives from Jesus Christ, the supreme high priest of our faith, the “Holy One of God”, as today’s Gospel says.  And Jesus was celibate.  He did not marry.  Jesus did not accept the responsibilities of married life, but devoted himself in total obedience to the Father, to doing his will.  He was one with the Father, and fully united with him.  It is only fitting that the ordained priest who, unworthy though he be, represents Christ should also be celibate, unmarried.

          St. Paul gives as one advantage of this state the fact that an unmarried man can devote himself to the Lord’s affairs.  He need not worry about responsibilities towards wife and family, but is free to give all his time to Christ, to spreading the Gospel.  So too, in the case of religious, we can see the practical advantage of an unmarried woman not having to worry about looking after her husband, or raising a family, so as St. Paul writes, she may be holy in body and spirit, and be concerned about the affairs of the Lord.

          Certainly there is this practical consideration involved in the gift of celibacy.  But there is much more to it than that.  It’s not just a question of time and motion, of logistics.  Above all, the gift of celibacy has an eschatological significance.  Now that’s a rather long word—eschatological.  It’s a Greek word which simply means the last things.  We usually identify four last things:  death, judgment, heaven and hell.  The gift of celibacy is a reminder to us that in heaven, people do not marry, as they do here on earth.  They do not have the sorts of relations that we have in this life here below.  For in heaven, the only marriage is that of Christ to his bride, the Church.  In heaven, at the wedding feast of the Lamb, we hope and pray that we may be united to Christ.  And so  the unmarried life here on earth, involving total consecration to Christ and to him alone, is a preparation for and a witness to, our belief in he next life, in heaven, where life is very different from that on earth.

          One of our problems is that we don’t think enough about the next life.  We don’t think enough about what happens when we die.  What do you think they do all day in heaven?  Sleep?  Eat?  Watch television?  Surf the net?  I don’t think so, and Our Lord himself said, they don’t get married up there either.  Heaven is the wedding feast of the Lamb of God, Jesus Christ, where all those who have been invited to the banquet praise and worship the Lamb that was slain, and rose again—where all sing glory and praise to God most high, for all eternity.  We need to try to grasp some sense of the reality of heaven to realize how even here on earth we can prepare for that feast—prepare by regular prayer, regularly consecrating ourselves to Christ here and now, regularly freeing ourselves from the cares, the pleasures, the temptations of this world, realizing they are barriers to our entry into heaven.  The gift of celibacy is a witness to, and a reminder of, the next life, the supernatural destiny to which we are all called.  Or to put it another way, in heaven, everybody is celibate—not just the priests and religious, but everyone.  For in the next world, the children of the resurrection do not marry.

          The gift of celibacy is just that.  It is a charism—the Greek word meaning gift, a gift which enables a person to devote his or her life totally to Christ.  It is a gift to be prayed for.

          And we have before us the great example of so many who throughout the centuries were able to live that gift, including in particular, the example of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Mary is a great example to us of total consecration, of total devotion, total dedication to God.  In her chaste life, she showed she was truly the obedient handmaid of the Lord, and spouse of the Holy Spirit.  Her faith propelled her towards eternity, towards sharing the joys, the happiness of the heavenly kingdom with her divine son.  Her perpetual virginity was part of that longing and love of God above everyone and everything else.

          May we too, in whatever state of life we find ourselves, not lose sight of our common vocation, our common goal, to be holy as God is holy, and to join Mary, St. Joseph, St. Mark and all the saints, in God’s heavenly kingdom for all eternity, at the wedding banquet of Jesus Christ, our Lord and our God.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday III-B  (January 21, 2024)                                   

In today’s Gospel, we see Jesus call Simon Peter and his brother Andrew to follow him. So too with James, and his brother, St. John. They were fishermen, of course, but immediately left their nets and followed him.  As soon as Our Lord called them, they left their father and followed Jesus.

          What is striking about this is just how quick and unconditional was the response of these four to Our Lord’s call.  They didn’t know who he was, or really very much about him at all.  But they left their nets and families behind, without hesitation, without asking any questions, without any “buts” to follow him.

          Looking at it from a purely human standpoint, their immediate response is difficult to understand.  But seeing it with the eyes of faith, we have to conclude that it was God’s grace that moved them to respond so unequivocally.  God called them, and God gave them the grace, the insight, the courage—in short, the faith, to say Yes, to become the first priests of Jesus Christ.

          In our own time, Our Lord’s call to follow him in the priesthood has met with a strong response in some parts of the world.  But not, unfortunately, in ours—not in North America, nor in western Europe—materially affluent, but spiritually poor—where the number of vocations to the priesthood has continued to be low.  The relatively small number of ordinations each year is not sufficient to make up for the number of priests who retire or die, let alone to provide for the growth of the diocese, especially in the suburbs.  In addition, priests tend to be ordained older than they used to be, so they will serve for fewer years than those who were ordained in their mid-twenties in the past.  The shortage of priests has forced many dioceses in Canada, the United States, Europe and elsewhere to close parishes because of a shortage of priests. 

          One has to wonder why we do so poorly in vocations to the priesthood, for surely God is calling people to follow him, like he called the apostles in today’s Gospel.  Is it because of a general lack of faith, of prayer life—a lack of the consciousness of the majesty and mystery of God in our consumer world?  Is it because you cannot serve two masters, God and money, and our society puts a premium on the material?  Is it because of the gift of celibacy seem too hard to embrace?  Is it because people don’t pray for more vocations to the priesthood?  Jesus said we should ask the Lord of the harvest to send more labourers to his harvest.  Do we?  Have we bothered to pray for more vocations?  Do you ever pray for more priests?

          The basic call of the Gospel, for all people, is a call to holiness, and so it is a call to conversion, to change, to be holy.  That is the one vocation we all have in common.  Jesus began his public ministry with the words:  “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news”.  Wake up, in other words, open your ears, listen to the call, for time is running out.  Convert, change, repent, put behind you the past, and put on the mind of Christ instead.  Leave your nets behind.  Put behind you the ways of your past life.  Answer the call of Christ with that same immediacy, with that same love and trust in the Lord as did the apostles, and follow him, and serve him alone.  For only he can save you.  Only he can set you free.  Only he has the words of eternal life.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday II-B (January 14, 2024)                                  

In today’s first reading, we see the Lord calling Samuel.  Now if you think about it for a moment, the very idea of God’s giving you a call is really quite spectacular.  If a well-known personality were to phone you—a political leader, a sports figure, an entertainment celebrity—you’d probably be quite impressed.   But this is not just one of those.   It’s someone far greater—God himself, the creator and Lord of the universe.   He is calling you—like he calls Samuel.   What a great honour and privilege!   How quick we should be to listen.  So the first thing is you should be open to receive God’s call.  You’ll never hear God’s call if your ears are closed.  Now to listen, we have to be quiet.   We have to turn off all the noises of the world—the TV, internet, radio, people, anything and anyone who might shut God’s voice out of our mind.   We have to find a space of peace and quiet in order to be able to hear God’s call.   This is what Samuel did.

          Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was, when the call came.  He was serving in the temple, and when he hears the voice of the Lord, he doesn’t realize who it is.  When the Lord calls a fourth time, Samuel finally responds directly, with openness:   “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening”.   He is open to listen, to hear what God wants to say to him.    So often we are ready to talk to God, to tell him all we want him to hear from us, what’s on our mind—as if he didn’t know already.   We want him to listen to us.   But we don’t think of being quiet, and listening ourselves for a change—listening to God speak to us—listening to what’s on his mind.

          In the story of Samuel, we see that God is very persistent when he calls.   He doesn’t give up after the first try.   He calls Samuel four times in fact before he gets through.   And that was not to be the end of it, for as Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him, and let none of his words fall to the ground.   So God keeps calling us, until we answer.    He doesn’t give up.   And he calls us because he loves us.   Why do you call people?   You call them because you love them and want to speak with them, to share joys and sorrows with them.   A call, like a visit, is really an act of love, and God calls us because he loves us, and he keeps on calling us until we do answer—really until he calls us back to himself when we die, when he calls us back to the dust from which we came.   God doesn’t need us.   We need him.   He doesn’t have to call us, but he does because he loves us so much.   He wants our company.   He wants us to be in communion with him.   He wants us to be worthy to join him one day in heaven.

          Another thing about God’s call to Samuel is that Samuel wasn’t expecting it.   It came as a total surprise.   He didn’t even realize who was calling him—that it was God.   God can call us anywhere, anytime, for anything.   He likes to surprise us, just so we don’t forget he’s in charge.   He’s running the show.   So often we like to think we’re in control of things.   Our plans for God, get in the way of God’s will for us.   So God likes to surprise us when he calls.   Sometimes he calls us back from this life to himself when we may be least expecting it.

          When God calls Samuel or the disciples in the Gospel, they respond to God right away:   “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening”—or in the words of the Psalm:   “Here I am, Lord, I come to do your will”.   That’s really the same response to God’s call that Mary gave when the archangel Gabriel came to her.   She was not expecting God’s call.   It was a total surprise to her.   She was even troubled when she heard it.   But she said, “Yes, I am the humble handmaid of the Lord.   Let it be done according to thy word”.   We too should respond with that same spirit of faith, of love, and of humble obedience to God’s will.   For you cannot be neutral before the call of God.   You have to say, “Yes, Lord, I will follow you, where you want to me go”, or “No, thanks, I’ll do my own thing”.   You have to respond—yes or no—you can’t sit on the fence.   And the Lord tells us:   “He who is not with me, is against me”.

          Now the devil, of course, wants us to say No.   He doesn’t even want us to be listening in the first place.   And if we should hear God’s call, the devil would like us to reject it—to find whatever excuse we need not to do what is God’s will for us.

          Now God’s call to everyone of us will be different.   He called Mary to be the Mother of God.   He called Samuel to be a prophet.   He called Simon Peter and Andrew to be his apostles.   God calls some to a particular vocation to his priesthood or some other ministry in the Church.   He calls others to be co-creators with him in married life, to provide for the growth of his family.   He calls many to serve their neighbours in special ways.   But there is one common goal to which he calls us all.   He calls every one of us to holiness:   “Be holy for I am holy, says the Lord”.   He calls us back to him at the end of our earthly lives.

          The call to holiness is what St. Paul is talking about in the second reading.   It is through baptism that we are called to be members of the Body of Christ, which is the Church.   And that body is sacred.   We, as members of that body should not defile the Body of Christ by our sins.   St. Paul in particular addresses the sins of the flesh in his letter to the Corinthians.   They did not believe in the resurrection of the body, but only in a spiritual resurrection.   So they didn’t see anything wrong with defiling their bodies.  But we need to keep our bodies holy if we wish to be true members of the Body of Christ.  So through our baptism, we are all called to holiness.

          Finally, it has to be said that God’s call is certainly a reason for joy and excitement.   We should respond to it with obedience and trust, but also with great joy and enthusiasm.   Mary rejoiced at God’s call to her.   She hurried to visit her cousin Elizabeth to share the good news.   We too should run with joy—joy because has chosen us, called us to be his holy people.   How fortunate we are to have receive the gift of the faith, to be called to share in the Holy Eucharist—the great gift of God himself.   How lucky to be called by God to share our spiritual gifts with others, to bring others to Christ, like John the Baptist did with Peter and Andrew.   And above all else, how privileged we are to have been called by God to join him—not just at the Holy Eucharist here on earth, but to the heavenly wedding banquet of the Lamb—called to be with God for all time.   For when God calls, when God gives life—it is forever!

 

Thoughts on the readings for the Solemnity of the Epiphany of Our Lord    2024          

The word “Epiphany” comes from the Greek word meaning “appearance” or “manifestation”.  Today we honour the revelation Our Lord made of himself to the wise men, or magi, who, inspired by almighty God, came to worship him and gave him presents.  Of the four evangelists, only St. Matthew relates the events described in today’s Gospel.  He says some “wise men” came to Jesus.  He does not name them, but by tradition, they have been known as Gaspar, Melchior and Balthasar.  Their remains are believed to have been taken to Cologne, Germany, and are enshrined in the cathedral there.    These were the first of the Gentiles, that is, the non-Jews, to come to see the King of the Jews.  That is really the main point of today’s feast.  Our Lord has come as Saviour of all peoples, of all nations, of whom the Magi were the first to come and worship Our Lord.

          The Catholic Church is the universal Church.  That is what the Greek word “Catholic” means—universal.  It is the Church for all peoples, of all nations, in every age and time—for the whole universe, in short, and with common, universal beliefs.  And we see the universality of God’s revelation through the visit of the magi who came to worship Jesus Christ, the founder and head of the Catholic Church.

          Over the centuries, we've tended to speak of these men as the "three kings".  In fact, St. Matthew identifies them as some "wise men", or magi.  The English word "magician" comes from the same root as magi.  You could describe them as astrologers, especially as they came "from the east", perhaps Mesopotamia, the home of astrology in the Hellenistic world.

          But they have left their astrology behind them now.  They no longer turn to the stars, but to Jesus Christ, the light of all nations.  Neither should we turn to superstitious practices involving the stars, such as horoscopes or numerology.  We should not let these sorts of ideas influence our daily lives, but turn, as did the magi, to Christ, our Redeemer, and let only His word, his light guide our lives. You can hardly say you're a follower of Christ, while at the same time believing and following horoscopes.

         St. Matthew doesn't say there were three wise men. He gives no number.  But over the years, the tradition developed that that's how many there were—perhaps due to the fact that three gifts are mentioned.  The gold signified the royalty, the regal power of Christ the King.  The incense was a sign of his divinity.  He was truly God as well as truly man.  And the myrrh was a symbol of the passion, the suffering Christ was to undergo, as he would be anointed with myrrh after his death.  But far more acceptable presents the magi offered were the dispositions they cherished in their hearts:  their fervent charity, signified by gold; their devotion, represented by the frankincense; and the unreserved sacrifice of themselves, shown by myrrh.

          In our own world today, we find so many people who may think of themselves as wise men and women who show a very different attitude towards Our Lord than did the wise men in the Gospel.  Far from dropping everything to go and worship Jesus as did the magi, many of the intellectual elites of our own day close their minds and hearts to God.  They consider themselves too sophisticated to worship the new-born Son of God.  They don’t have time for him in their lives.  Certainly they wouldn’t dream of offering him anything, let alone recognizing him as Lord and God.

          Though St. Matthew does not say the magi were kings, we’ve tended to think of them as such.  But how unlike the kings and queens and prime ministers and politicians and judges of our own day were the magi.  They had humility—the humility to recognize Christ, even as an infant, as being Lord and true King of the universe.  King Herod, on the other hand, tried to eliminate Jesus—very much like the rulers and judges of our own time who seek to eliminate Christianity from the public sphere.  The magi, on the other hand, knelt before Our Lord and paid him homage, and went considerably out of their way to do so.

At the start of this new year, may we too show the true wisdom and humility of the magi, and show our love and respect for Jesus Christ, for his divinity, and for his Gospel, and bow down and worship him, and offer him ourselves—our love (represented by the gold), our true devotion (shown by the frankincense), and our sacrifice (symbolized by the myrrh).  May we bow down and worship and adore Our Lord and Saviour, the Messiah, the light of all nations, the new-born King, Our Lord, and our God.

 

Thoughs on the readings for the Feast of the Holy Family (B) – December 31, 2023          

The Church observes the Sunday which falls between Christmas and New Year’s as the feast of the Holy Family.  In today’s Gospel, we see the Holy Family going to Jerusalem forty days after Our Lord’s birth, when Mary and Joseph presented him in the Temple.  It was the first time that Jesus was to enter the Temple, and it was really quite a dramatic event.  We see in the Temple the upright and devout man, Simeon.  It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die until he had set eyes on the Christ of the Lord.  Now the word “Christ” is simply the Greek term for the Hebrew word “Messiah”, the anointed one, the Saviour whom the Jewish people had been awaiting for centuries.

          When Mary and Joseph bring Jesus into the Temple Simeon takes the child into his arms, and recognizes the baby as the Messiah, for whose coming he and his people had been praying for so very long.  He sings the famous hymn known (from its first words in Latin) as the Nunc Dimitits—“Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace”—a hymn the Church continues to repeat every evening at Compline, the Night Prayer in the Breviary of the Liturgy of the Hours.  The hymn is a hymn of peace and of light.  For Simeon recognizes the light of the nations in his arms.  That is why when we celebrate the feast of the Presentation of the Lord on February 2, forty days after Christmas, we light candles, and why the feast has also been known as Candlemas.

          But the joy and light suddenly change.  For Simeon says to Mary that her child is destined to be a sign that is rejected, and a sword will pierce her own soul too.  This is a kind of second Annunciation to Mary, which completes the first annunciation she received from the angel Gabriel.  That announcement was full of happiness and joy.  But this annunciation foretells the darkness, the tragedy, the sorrow that lies ahead for the child and his mother.  Mary did not have to wait long to experience that sorrow, for the flight into Egypt would soon befall her.  And that sorrow, that sword which was to pierce her soul, would reach its climax when she had to suffer at the foot of the cross.

In our modern era, the institution of the family has suffered much.  The constant erosion of family values in our society, the steady stream of legislation and court decisions that attack the basic family values that are so central to the well-being of any society, have all taken their toll.  It comes as no surprise that those values should have deteriorated in direct proportion to the loss of the sense of God in our world, of the loss of reverence for the sacred, of the loss of faith, of the decline in prayer.

          The erosion of the family has caused much harm to society, and particularly to the children, the youngest, the weakest members of our human family.  Politicians and judges have failed to protect the unborn children, and so have tried to attack the growth and very existence of the human family.  They have challenged the very notion of the family as a lifelong communion of husband and wife and children.  The most recent effort now is to allow the outright killing of members of the human family who are considered to be somehow inferior either through health or age.  Politicians and judges are getting away with this because our society has drifted further and further away from God, and from his law, and his revelation and will for us.

          God must be at the heart of every family and society.  The holiness and faith of the Holy Family of Nazareth must be the model and strength of every family.  If we too make the Holy Family part of our family, part of our society, we can’t go wrong.  For then we will have the grace and strength of God himself in our midst, and the peace and joy that only He can give.

          It has been said many times, but it’s always worth repeating:  “The family that prays together, stays together”. That’s why it’s so important for families to make the effort to pray together, to make God the heart of your family.  God is the only one who can give your families the strength, the peace, the help that you need.  For with God, everything is possible, as the Holy Family of Nazareth knew so very well.  So let us resolve this New Year to spend more time with God in prayer, and to make the Holy Family part of our family as well.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Advent Sunday IV-B (December 24, 2023)

In today’s gospel, we hear the famous account of the Annunciation by the Archangel Gabriel to the Blessed Virgin Mary.  We celebrate the actual feast of the Annunciation on March 25, exactly nine months before the birth of Our Lord. 

          In today’s account, we are told that the angel was sent to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, and the virgin’s name was Mary.  Now already twice St. Luke tells us that Mary was a virgin—and he makes two more references to her virginity in this short account.  This is obviously the crucial element of this whole event—that Mary is to become a mother, even though she is a virgin—as foretold by the prophet Isaiah.  The laws of nature are about to be broken, by something no less that a great miracle—by the power of Him who is the author of nature—who is above nature—supernatural—God himself, for whom nothing is impossible.  We find ourselves, then, before something truly spectacular.  God is intervening in the course of human history in a dramatic and marvellous way.

          The angel enters and greets Mary with the words:  “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee”—words the Church has continued to repeat for two thousand years.  Mary is full of grace, because she is without sin, even without original sin because she herself was immaculately conceived, and so fit to be the temple, the dwelling place of God himself—who is all grace.

          She is told she must name him Jesus—a name which means Saviour.  Mary asks:  “How can this be, since I am a virgin?”  Remember, she was not yet married to St. Joseph, only engaged to him.  The angel tells her she will conceive through the power of the Holy Spirit—by the power, in other words, of God himself.  And to prove the power of God, the angel tells her that Elizabeth, Mary’s cousin, has herself conceived her first child—St. John the Baptist—in spite of her old age—“For nothing will be impossible with God”.

          And then the angel waits for Mary’s answer—he waits to see whether or not she will consent to be the mother of God—the mother of her own creator.  The angel will not wait forever—he must have an answer—surely not the answer the first woman, Eve gave—she who said no to God, who disobeyed God, and so brought sin into the world.  Eve was to have been the mother of all who live (which is what the name Eve means), but in fact she brought only death into the world, the death that is the consequence for sin.  Mary, the new Eve, the mother-to-be of the new man, the new Adam, gives the angel her answer:  “Here am I, the servant of the Lord:  let it be with me according to your word”.  Then the angel departed from her.  His work was done.  He received the answer for which he had hoped.  And so to the extent it depended on her, Mary’s fiat, her Yes, let it be done according to thy word, made the Incarnation possible—made it possible for God to become one of us, to assume our human condition.  The Word, which existed from the beginning became flesh.  And it did so through a great miracle, the virginal conception of Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit, and not by any human means.

          The tradition of the Church has been that Mary, who had consecrated her whole life to God, remained forever a virgin, for she was the spouse of the Holy Spirit.

          Like Mary, we too need to trust in the power of God, his power to do all things, no matter how impossible they may seem, to work miracles in our own lives.  And to do this, we need to have faith.  Mary was deeply troubled by the words of the angel.  She wondered how all this could come about.  But she had faith, and so she believed, she was the humble servant of the Lord, and so she said yes.  If we can say Yes to God, if we can have the faith to trust in his power in our own lives, then he can work miracles in us too—for nothing is impossible to God.  He came to us, so we could come to him.  He shared in our humanity, so we could share in his divinity.  That is what the Annunciation is all about—the miracle of the Incarnation—God becoming one of us to redeem us, so we could share eternal life with him forever.

          As we prepare to celebrate the great feast of Christmas, let’s try to grasp the miracle as it unfolds before us, as it unfolded before Mary.  What do you think she thought of all this—of all that was happening to her.  The tradition has been that Mary was very young—perhaps only sixteen or so.  What would have gone through her young mind?  We are told elsewhere that Mary pondered all these things in her heart, and we can be sure she pondered the message of the angel, how she was going to play so central a role in this great miracle, in the salvation of the human race.

          May we ask her to help us to discover the true meaning of Christmas, of the Incarnation for every one of us, as we ponder all these things in our own hearts too.      

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Advent III-B (December 17, 2023)                           

The Third Sunday of Advent is known traditionally as Gaudete Sunday—the Latin word for “rejoice”.  It is so called because of the opening words of the entrance antiphon: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again, I say, Rejoice! Indeed, the Lord is near”.  As for the similar Laetare Sunday in Lent, the priest wears rose or pink-coloured vestments, and we light the rose candle on the Advent wreath as a symbol of our joy.  We are happy because the Lord is coming to save us, and his coming is near.

We need to remember that Christianity is a religion of hope.  It is a contradiction in terms to be a pessimistic Christian.  For the Gospel of Christ is the Good News—that’s what the old English word “Gospel” means—Good News—the news that God in his love for us became incarnate, that is, he assumed our human flesh in order to redeem what he assumed, to save us, to give us the gift of eternal life.  So, by definition every true Christian should be an optimist.

          Having said that, it is a fact of life that there is much suffering in the world.  There is much injustice and evil.  Many of us have particular needs and burdens and crosses to carry in our lives.  And these can get us down sometimes, and we can become depressed.  But St. Paul in the second reading today tells us: “rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks tin all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”  So, don’t worry, he tells us, but pray to God to help you in your difficulty. 

Often people will try almost anything to sort out their problems, anything that is except praying.  If we do take prayer seriously, and find time to be with God in prayer, the result is that we grow in our knowledge of God.  We become close friends with him.  It’s true of any relationship. The more time you spend with someone, the better you get to know them. The more we get to know God, the more we grow in faith, because our knowledge of him leads us to trust in God.  We realize how wonderful he is, how powerful, how he holds everything in being, how he can do anything. Through prayer, we come to realize how much God loves us, how he will never let us down.  So, we grow in faith.  If we believe in Jesus who came down to earth to redeem us, and then rose from the dead on the third day, we can’t help but have hope and confidence in his great love for us and that he wants to give us the gift of eternal life.  And when we have the gift of hope, then the logical consequence is that we are filled with joy.  If you have the hope of eternal life with God, then surely you rejoice at this great news.  Prayer, then, leads to knowledge of God.  Knowledge to faith.  Faith to hope.  And our hope fills us with great joy.  And joy, in turn, gives us peace of heart, a peace the world can never give, a peace of being a child of God.

          The joy of the Christian, however, is not just any joy.  It is not a worldly happiness, or delight with the material pleasures or lures of this world.  Rather it is joy in the Lord.  That’s what we seek—to rejoice in the Lord, in his ways, in his commands, in his gifts, in his promises. We can never be truly happy by seeking out our own selfish desires. 

          If you look at the lives of the saints, you’ll see they all had two things in common.  First, they were cheerful; and secondly, they were generous.  There’s no such thing as an unhappy, miserable saint.  No, even the martyrs accepted their martyrdom with joy, knowing this was the gateway to eternal life.  And all the saints were generous—every saint was detached from the things of this world and was prepared to share whatever they had with others.  They were so generous as to be willing to give their own life for the sake of the Gospel.  That, after all, is what Christ did—he gave it all, and he did so, out of love, generous, boundless, unselfish love.  And all the saints followed his example.  They rejoiced in the Lord; they had faith in him, in his promises; and so they gave themselves to him who gave himself for us—to him who came down from heaven to come among us as a helpless child in a manger in Bethlehem.

          That’s what true love is all about.  And because God has loved us so much, we rejoice today and every day our lives.  And we look to his final coming, when he will bring to fulfilment all he has promised to us—when he will come again to call us to join him in his eternal kingdom of peace and joy.      

 

Thoughts on the readings for Advent Sunday II-B (December 10, 2023) 

Though Advent is a time of joyful expectation, it is also a penitential season.  Today’s Gospel stresses this penitential theme.  For we encounter the austere figure of John the Baptist, the voice crying out in the wilderness. John the Baptist’s role was to prepare the way for the Lord—he was the forerunner for the Messiah, and he sought to prepare the people for his coming by preaching penance and conversion.  John the Baptist is the bridge between the Old and the New Testaments.  He is the final prophetic voice to herald the coming of the Messiah, the Christ.  He is certainly an ascetic figure, both in terms of his appearance and of his life style, but above all by his message.

          In today’s Gospel, we see him preparing the way of the Lord by urging the people to repent and to undergo a baptism of repentance.  Now this baptism was not the Christian sacrament of baptism that we know.  Our Lord had not yet instituted that.  Indeed John himself says, “I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit”.  John’s baptism was really only a symbolic external ritual, which did not of itself achieve anything.  But it reflected the inner conversion of the penitent.  The word “baptism” is a Greek word meaning to immerse, or wash.  As the people walked down into the river Jordan and were bathed in its waters, they confessed their sins.  The washing, the bathing with water, signified a cleansing, a purification, a washing away of the spiritual dirt of their past, and a resolve to be better, to lead a new, holy life, faithful to God’s commandments.  The reason they were performing this act was to prepare for the coming of the Messiah and of his kingdom.  They were washing, baptizing themselves to be ready to greet him.

          The Christian sacrament of baptism is of a different and far greater order than the baptism of repentance of John.  For through Christian baptism, the stain of original sin is washed away, and the individual is born again of water and the Holy Spirit. They receive the gift of sanctifying grace, are incorporated into Christ, and become a member of the Church.  In the case of adults, baptism washes away all actual sins the individual may have committed up to that point in time as well.  But we know that in spite of this, there remains in us a tendency to commit sin, and inevitably we fail, we offend God, we sin.

          And so, our Lord in his mercy has provided us with the means of being reconciled to him after we offend him, even after baptism, through the sacrament of penance—confession.            As part of our own preparation for the coming of the Messiah, we too need to repent, to confess our sins, and to experience a true inner conversion of heart.  The best way to do this, of course, is through a good sacramental confession.  It takes honesty and humility to do this.  We need to look at our lives, our souls, candidly, and see how we may have offended God and our neighbor.  We need to have the courage to admit our failings, be sorry for them, and resolve not to repeat them.  And, indeed, to receive Holy Communion, we need to be in a state of grace, which is why it’s important to make confession a regular part of our spiritual lives.

          This Advent, let us also listen to the voice of John the Baptist, crying in the wilderness, calling us to prepare for the Lord’s coming, calling us to repent, to confess our sins, to begin a new life, so we can celebrate Christ’s coming this Christmas with a clean heart and a pure soul, with a new resolve to be faithful to Christ, and to his Gospel.

          May Mary, the Mother of God and Mother of the Church, help us to grow in holiness this Advent, and so draw ever closer to her divine Son, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Advent Sunday I-B (December 3, 2023)                                     

Today is the first Sunday of Advent, and so it is also the beginning of a new liturgical year.  It is known as Year B of the 3-year cycle of Sunday readings, which means that the Gospel, normally, is taken from the second evangelist, St. Mark

          The word “Advent”, as you know, means coming.  In these four weeks leading up to Christmas, we are preparing for the coming of Christ.  Now people tend to presume that the only coming we’re concerned about is the coming of Our Lord at Bethlehem as a small child.  The celebration of Christmas is certainly the climax of Advent.  But if you look at the Gospel today, it really has nothing to do with Christ’s first coming.  Rather it is concerned with his second coming, at the end of the world.  For at the start of Advent, we think more about Christ’s second coming, rather than his first.  We reflect on his coming at the end of time, when he will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, to establish his kingdom which will have no end.  St. Paul, in the second reading, points out we are waiting for that last day, and St. Mark, in the short Gospel passage, asks to “keep awake”, because “you do not know when the time will come”.  Don’t let the Lord come unexpectedly and find you asleep—so stay awake.  This, in fact, is the same theme we’ve been hearing for the last few weeks as we drew to the end of the Church’s liturgical year.

          Advent gives us an opportunity to prepare for Christ’s second coming by examining our lives and seeing how we can do better.  It gives us a chance to change for the better, by putting behind our sins of the past, and trying to lead a more holy life.  And so Advent, while it is, on the one hand, a season of joyful expectation as we patiently await the coming of Christ, it is also a penitential season, when we prepare for that second coming by putting our house in order.  To symbolize this penitential aspect of Advent, the priest wears purple vestments, a colour that reflects sadness for our sins.  We light a purple candle on the Advent wreath this first Sunday of Advent, on the second and fourth.  On the third, however, we take a bit of a break.  Rose or pink-coloured vestments are worn because we rejoice at Christ’s coming at Christmas being so very near.  That is why we light the pink candle on the third Sunday.  As another sign of the penitential nature of the season, we do not say or sing the Gloria at Mass.  Flowers are not placed on or near the altar.  Of course, Advent is a particularly good time to go to confession, to have the slate washed clean of our sins, to make an effort to turn away from our failings of the past, and welcome Christ when he comes with clean hearts—awake, with our lamps lit.

          So at the start of Advent, as we begin a new liturgical year in the Church, and prepare to celebrate the first coming of Christ and get ready for his second coming at the end of the world, we remember that between the first and the second, there is also a third coming, the coming which takes place in the present, the coming in grace, in our hearts, through prayer, through worthy reception of the sacraments, through acts of charity and penance.  Because Christ has come once, he will come again.  Indeed, he has never left, but is continuously present in his Church.

And so we need always to stay awake, and be ready for Christ when he comes to knock at our door, to call us back to him.  May Mary, the Mother of God be with us as we prepare for Christ this Advent, and join us as we prepare for his final coming at the end of time. 

 

Thoughts on the readings for the Solemnity of Christ the King – A (November 26, 2023)          

Today's Gospel passage is certainly one of the most dramatic and famous in all of Sacred Scripture.  Perhaps the best known artistic representation of it is Michelangelo’s fresco in the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican, before which new Popes are elected.  The Gospel presents us with Christ’s final coming as king and judge.  Now one of the prerogatives of a king is to judge.  When he was sent before Pontius Pilate, Our Lord allowed himself to be judged by ordinary men, so that by his passion he could destroy the power of death and gain for us the hope of everlasting life.  But when he comes again in glory at the end of time, it will be, as we profess in our Creed, himself to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.  It will be a kingdom, in the words of today’s preface, of truth and life, a kingdom of holiness and grace, a kingdom of justice, love and peace.

          Christ’s kingdom is not of this world, and Our Lord is not like the kings of this earth.  His crown was not made of jewels but of thorns.  He did not wear expensive robes, but the purple cloak the soldiers rudely forced upon him.  He sat not on a throne, but reigned from the cross.  He did not command scores of servants, but came himself as the one who serves, the suffering servant.  His kingdom was not of this world, and he certainly was not one of the kings of this earth. 

          But before his kingdom comes, there must first be a judgment, and judgment involves separation, as we see in the Gospel – the separation of the sheep from the goats, the good from the bad, the elect from the condemned.  There will indeed be a final general judgment at the end of time, with the consequent separation.  This necessarily involves a division between those who will accompany Christ into his heavenly kingdom, and those who will suffer eternal punishment.  That belief has been and continues to be part of our faith. 

          Today’s Gospel makes very clear what the fundamental basis or criterion will be for that judgment, for that separation, namely, our good works, our good deeds – whether we have, by our lives, shown we truly love, whether we have shown we truly love Christ by seeing him in our neighbour – feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, clothing the poor, visiting the sick.  This list, of course, is not exhaustive, and is really just a series of concrete examples.  There are certainly other ways we can show our love too – or our lack of it.  But the list does give us a pretty good idea of what is expected.  There is no place in Christ’s kingdom for those who never cared for their neighbours, and so never truly cared for Christ.

          And remember, Christ, as judge, is not like the judges and juries of this world.  He knows everything.  He can see inside our hearts.  You can’t fool him.  He knows all there is to know about every one of us.

          The feast of Christ the King was instituted in 1925 by Pope Pius XI.  It was an age when totalitarian dictatorships were beginning to spring up.  They were to plunge the world into a deadly war.  The feast reminds us very much of the primacy of Christ as King, over and above all the earthly rulers and kings and civil authorities – and that it is before him and his throne that, one day, we all must stand in judgment.

          We need to recognize the transcendent sovereignty of Our Lord above any claims any earthly ruler may make upon us – to realize that Christ the king and judge has the final say.  And we should want to seek Christ’s kingdom, to seek the things above where Christ is and not those here below – not the trinkets, the glitter, the money, the pleasures, the vanities this world has to offer, but seek rather the treasures of the kingdom of heaven, and everything else will take care of itself.

          For the prince of peace came into the world to redeem that world, so that all who believe in him might have eternal life in his kingdom.  And so long as we are prepared to follow in his footsteps, to share in his cross, and to see his face in the faces of our neighbours in need, we can hope to take our place in the kingdom where to serve is to reign, the kingdom where Christ is Lord and there reigns triumphant, for all ages.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXXIII-A (November 19, 2023)                     

Next Sunday, the Solemnity of Christ the King, is the final Sunday of the Church’s liturgical year.  So today, as last week, the readings direct our thoughts to the final coming of Christ as judge.  Today’s Gospel speaks of making good use of the talents God has given us, so we can render a good account of them when Christ does come.

          Now we all have talents.  God has given each of us certain gifts, or to use the Greek Biblical word for this, certain “charisms”.  God expects us to make use of these gifts or charisms, and not just bury them, hide them in the closet.  God has invested a lot in every one of us and he expects to get back not only his investment, but something more.

          The first thing to recognize about our talents or gifts is the obvious fact that they are precisely gifts.  All we have or are comes from God.  So we need always to be grateful to God for all the talents he has given each of us.  They will vary from person to person, but they complement each other; and if we work together, we can produce many fruits.  Just like the human body is made up of many parts, so too the Body of Christ has many members, each of whom contributes to the good of the whole.

          Out gifts from the Lord include personal abilities and skills, physical well-being, as well as the material blessings God has given us to share with others.  We have been blessed too with the gift of our family and friends.  We have the gift of being able to live here in our country. Above all we have received the gift of life and the gift of our faith, for which we should be very grateful.

          Though our personal gifts may vary from individual to individual, there is one which we all receive in exactly the same measure.  The gift of time.  We all get twenty-four hours of time every day.  Not one gets anymore, no one any less.  We’re all equally gifted when it comes to our time every day. 

          So what do you do with you time?  How do you spend this gift from God?  Do you work to the fullest?  Or are you lazy?  If you are a wife, are you like the wife today’s first reading from the Book of Proverbs describes?  If you are a husband, do you have time for your wife and family?  If you are in school, are you making the best use of your time to study and learn and grow in love of the Lord and your neighbour?  How much time do you spend watching television, or on your computer, and what sorts of things do you watch?  Do you have time for your health, to eat properly, to sleep adequately, to exercise and have some recreation for your physical and emotional well-being?

          How much time do you have for God, for your spiritual well-being?  We can easily make the mistake of finding time for so many activities and inactivities, yet find no time for God.  Of that twenty-four hours a day God gives you each day, how much do you return in being with him, in communion with him in prayer?  Some don’t have time to get to Mass every week, or to pray every day, especially in the mornings to start the day off on the right track, and in the evening when we usually are not so rushed and so should have more time to be with God.

          We each get the same twenty-four hours every day.  But we don’t all get the same number of days.  We don’t know just how many days we will receive.  This is why Jesus tells us to stay awake, because we do not know the day or the hour.  One of the most famous cities of antiquity is Pompey, just outside Naples in southern Italy.  When the volcano Vesuvius erupted two thousand years ago, and started gushing out its deadly lava, the inhabitants were totally taken by surprise as they met their death.  Pompey was notorious for its immorality.  That immorality has been frozen, as it were, for all to see, even centuries later.  The day of the Lord came upon them suddenly, like a thief in the night, when they were least expecting it.  How fitting that beside the ruins of the decadence of Pompey there arises today the dome of a basilica, dedicated to Our Lady of Pompey, Our Lady of the Holy Rosary, in stark contrast to that city of sin.  There arises now a reminder of the triumph of purity, of holiness, exemplified by Our Lady.

          Well, there’s no volcano beside Toronto, but there are many ways the day of the Lord can come upon us unexpectedly too.  Our Lord warns us of earthquakes, and famines, and plagues of disease, and other natural tragedies that can come upon as at any time.  The thing is, we never know when God will call us, to see what we’ve been done with the talents he has given us.  That is why we should always be ready to meet him, ready with our lives, filled with faith and good works, lives that have made use of the time and other talents God has given each of us, so that when the day of the Lord comes, we can show what we have done with them, and so enter into the joy of Christ’s heavenly kingdom.  For that kingdom is coming very soon.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXXII-A (November 12, 2023)         

We are at the end of the Church’s liturgical year, and so the readings for the next couple of weeks direct our thoughts to the last things, and in particular, to Christ’s final coming at the end of the world.  Such themes are in keeping with our thoughts and prayers for the dead in November.  Also this time of the year, we recall on this Remembrance Sunday in a special way all those who died in defence of their country in war.  But while we remember and pray for the dead, we also look at ourselves and see if we are ready for the moment when Christ will call us back to him as well.  That’s what today’s Gospel is about.

          In the Gospel parable, the wise virgins were ready for Christ.  They had their lamps and the oil.  The foolish ones had the lamps, but not the oil.  When Christ the bridegroom arrives, he only takes with him those who are ready.  He doesn’t wait around for the others.  It’s too late – they had their chance, and so he closes the door on them.

          Now what does this all-important oil, which is necessary to enter the kingdom of heaven, represent?  Well, we know that in order to get to heaven, to be ready to meet Christ, we should be in a state of grace – to have lived good and holy lives, and so the oil can be thought of as our good deeds – the fruits, the product of a life well-lived, following Our Lord’s commands.  Once he arrives, though, that’s it – it’s too late to start doing acts of charity, or giving alms, or doing acts of penance.  You should have done those earlier – you should have prepared yourself before to meet Our Lord.

          And so the message of the parable is to keep awake, for you know neither the day nor the hour when Christ will call at your door, to take you from this life.

          Human beings are created in the image of God.  They are made up of body and soul.  When we die, our soul is separated from our body.  The body begins to decay, but the soul lives on.  When we die, we are judged by God.  Each of us receives our individual judgement, a judgment we ourselves already decided by our lives.

          Now to enter heaven, you have to be totally clean and pure, as a newly-baptized infant is.  Most of us would not be so clean that upon our deaths, we would be ready to go straight to heaven.

          This is where purgatory comes in.  Purgatory is a state of preparation, of purification, of penance, where we wait to join Christ in his kingdom.  The souls in purgatory are happy souls because they have been judged worthy of heaven.  Yet they are saddened because they are still separated from Christ, and they suffer the pain of their sins for which they have not yet been forgiven or made satisfaction.  They are helped by the prayers, sacrifices, good works and acts of penance offered by us here on earth.  We pray in a special way in November for the dead.  In fact, the Church prays for the dead at every Mass in the Eucharistic prayer.

          But the state of purgatory is only temporary, and is destined to disappear when Christ comes again to establish his eternal kingdom.  At that second coming, the bodies of those who have died will rise again.  As St. Paul says in today’s second reading, when the trumpet sounds and the Lord comes down from heaven, “the dead in Christ will rise first.”  This is the belief we profess in the resurrection of the dead, the resurrection of the body – that our decaying bodies will rise again not in their corrupted form, but in a glorified way.  Just as Christ rose again from the dead, in a transfigured, glorified body, so too, will we.  He is our pattern.  The Father who raised his Son from the dead will raise our mortal bodies as well.

          Christians have always showed great respect for the bodies of those who have died because of our belief in the final resurrection of those bodies.  This respect was one of the characteristics which distinguished Christians from the pagans in the early days of the Church. Today, at funerals, we sprinkle the remains of the deceased with holy water, as a reminder that this body in baptism became the temple of God’s Holy Spirit.  We incense it as an additional sign of respect.

          At the final judgement, our souls will be reunited with our bodies, though our bodies will be changed, glorified, transfigured, and incorruptible.  For it is the whole person, body and soul who is called to eternal life with God.

          And so our thoughts should be up above – we should always have before us our eternal destiny, and have our minds fixed on the last things, and stay awake, because we do not know either the day or the hour.  So we will be ready to go out and meet Christ with our lamps lit, with a life of faith and good works – ready to meet him who said:  “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, shall not die forever”.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXXI-A (November 5, 2023)                    

Both the first reading and today’s Gospel remind us that we have one Father, God our Father in heaven, who created us and keeps us in being.  And so today, perhaps we could reflect on God as our Father. 

          The notion of God as Father carries with it the image of God as creator.  If you are a father, it means, by definition, that you have a child.  God is our Father because he made us.  He created us, and he it is who keeps us in being.  Our life, our very being, everything we have or are comes from him.  “Has not one God created us?”, the prophet Malachi asks in the first reading.  Our belief that God has in fact created us is referred to as “creationism”.  We profess it at the start of the Apostles’ Creed when we say:  I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.

          In modern times, as part of the secularization of our society, some have abandoned this creation theology, and turned instead to an evolutionist approach, the opinion that somehow we have developed from monkeys, or going back even further, that there was a big bang in the universe.  Well, we are not apes or monkeys.  We are human beings, created in the image of God.  We are made up of body and soul.  Evolutionists do not, and cannot address the issue of the origin of our soul.  We can say at the very least, that our soul, which is what distinguishes us from animals and makes us human beings, that soul is given to us by God our heavenly Father. 

As for our bodies, if you pursue the theory of evolution with respect to their origin, ultimately you go back to some big bang or some original entity.  This simply begs the question of where that came from, or who caused the big bang, which, of course, leads us right back to God our Father as creator.

When you look at the immensity of the universe and all the entities out there, and realize how unique our own planet earth is, to me it seems so obvious that only God could have created it and every living being on it, as we read in the Book of Genesis.

          Now if God is our Father, then that means we are his children.  Very young people may not have too much difficulty accepting that kind of a relationship with God.  But as we grow older, and enter adulthood, we don’t like to think of ourselves as children.  We’re grown up, after all, at least physically.  So it’s more difficult for us to think of ourselves as children of God.  Pride gets in the way, that first of the seven deadly sins, the pride that gives us a sense of superiority, that prevents our acknowledging our dependence as children of God our heavenly Father.

          Now the opposite virtue to the sin of pride is humility.  Jesus reminds us of that gift at the end of today’s Gospel passage:  “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted”.  Elsewhere he says that unless you become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

          It takes humility to accept that we are truly children before God our Father.  We are very small children, with very limited intelligence compared to the mind of God.  So it takes humility to accept the limitations that come from our mortality, to realize our inferiority compared to the almighty creator and ruler of the universe.

Children are dependents, and we depend so desperately on God.  That too we need to recognize.  We ask him to give us our daily bread—both in the physical and spiritual sense.  Only he can nourish us, only he can sustain us, only he can heal us.  We need him.  We can’t make it on our own.  Because God is our Father and we are his children, we depend on him for everything, whether we realize it or not.  Every good thing comes from God.

          Another aspect of the relationship between a father and his children is that of obedience—not a popular notion nowadays.  As children of God, we have a duty to obey God our Father, and his commandments.  The idea of obeying God is foreign to the modern view that we need to be totally free—free of God, free to do our own thing, free to sin, which, of course, means we become slaves of the devil.  Only by being obedient to God can we hope to be truly free, truly happy, truly at peace.  And no one knew this better than Mary, who was the humble handmaid of the Lord, totally obedient, and totally free.

          So much in terms of our relationship to God, looking at it from our end of things as children.  But let’s see it from God’s perspective.  If he is our Father, what does that mean from his viewpoint?  A father loves his children.  A father cares for them, looks after them.  God loves all he has created.  Our Father calls us to be with him always.  In the famous parable of the prodigal son, the Father runs out to meet his delinquent child as soon as the son comes to his senses and starts to go back home.  The Father loves us so much he’s willing to go more than halfway if we make that minimal effort to turn our hearts towards him.

          When the disciples asked Jesus how to pray, he, of course, taught them the Our Father, showing them how important it was to turn to God as children, and praying to him as our Father.  And if God is our father, it makes us brothers and sisters.  If we all share the same father, then we are all members of the same family.  How sad that so much of humanity spends so much of its time fighting and hating each other, when we are really all  members of the family of God.

          Let us ask Mary to bring all of her children to love one another, as brothers and sisters in Christ, and to love God as our common Father, with a love that has no end, a love that reaches out to eternity, to the supernatural destiny to which we have all been called.

 

Sunday XXX-A  (October 29, 2023)                             

 Today’s Gospel is short and to the point.  Our Lord summarizes all of the commandments of the law by reducing them to just two:  love of God, and love of neighbour.  This in no way diminishes or conflicts with the famous ten commandments God revealed to Moses.  We believe in only one God, although in three divine persons.  And the one God who revealed the ten commandments to Moses is the one and same God, although in a different person, who summarizes the ten into two.  I say “summarizes” because if you look at the first three of the commandments you see that they are concerned with love of God and the remaining seven, love of neighbour.

          It’s very easy to say we love God.  Love is not a feeling, though, but rather it is a way of living.  Our Lord says elsewhere, “if you love, me, keep my commandments”.  That’s how we prove we love God – not by having some nice feeling inside us, but by keeping his commandments, for to break the commandments is to sin, and to sin is to hurt God, to show we do not really love him – for we do not hurt those whom we love.

          To show we love God, first of all we must have no other gods before us, we must not swear or otherwise abuse God’s name, and we must keep holy the Lord’s day:  the first three of the commandments.  Again, it’s easy to say we have no other gods – but then what or who is really all-important for you in life?  Is it really Jesus?

          How much time for example do you spend with God every day?  I hope more than five or ten minutes.  If you’re spending many more hours watching television, at your computer or on other things, you shouldn’t be surprised if God begins to think he’s not number one in your life.  If we truly love someone, we want to be with them all the time, and talk to them, and listen to them.  The less time we want to spend with someone, the more likely it is we don’t really like the person.  So how much time do you spend with God?  Do you really love God?

          Then Our Lord tells us, the second commandment is you must love your neighbour as yourself – again, this is not just some warm feeling towards your neighbour, but concrete action – respect for your neighbour as a human being – honouring and obeying those in authority; not harbouring hateful thoughts or uttering unkind words, or engaging in acts or thoughts of violence or anger or hatred or impurity toward your neighbour.  Love is the opposite of selfishness.  Again, love is not just some abstract feeling, but true love proves itself by its acts, by its words, by its dignified thoughts.

          During this month of October, we have before us the example of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Mary was the Mother of the Word of God, and she received the Word into her heart – she meditated on the Word, and the Word became flesh in her womb.  Mary showed her love for God and for her neighbour, for she who was immaculately conceived free from the stain of original sin, retained that purity throughout her life, and never committed sin.  She showed she loved God by keeping his commandments.

          May we do likewise, and consecrate our lives to almighty God.  May we behave like the temples of God’s Holy Spirit that we, already, through our baptism, have become, and live lives that befit that great dignity to which we have been called – lives that prove we love God above all, and our neighbour, as ourself.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXIX-A (October 22, 2023)               

Today’s Gospel raises for us the question of the relationship of the Christian to the world.  Although our faith is something supernatural, which transcends the concrete reality around us, at the same time, we do live our faith here on this earth, in a particular time and place, within a civil society.  We cannot separate ourselves from that society.  Indeed, we are called to transform that society, by being the salt of the earth, the leaven, the light that cannot be hidden.  In short, we are in the world, but not of it.

          We do indeed derive many benefits from that society, from basics like having our garbage collected and roads maintained, to receiving health care, and fire and police protection.  It is only right and proper that we should pay our fair share towards the cost of these services we receive, so we do have a legitimate duty to pay our taxes.

          In today’s Gospel, the Pharisees ask Our Lord a trick question—whether it is permissible to pay taxes or not.  Jesus never explicitly answers this question.  Instead, he chooses to evade it by his answer, namely, he tells them to give back to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God.  Elsewhere, however, Jesus paid the temple tax for both himself and Peter (Mt 17:24-27).

          St. Paul in his letter to the Romans is quite clear about our general duty to pay taxes, and to submit to civil authority.  The great Christian saints always respected civil authority, to the extent that that authority stayed within its bounds, and did not seek to enter the domain of God and the Church.  And so the great English martyr, St. Thomas, More, the man for all seasons, went to the scaffold with the famous words on his lips:  “I die the King’s good servant, but God’s first”.  He indeed had served his king faithfully for many years, even as Lord Chancellor (or Prime Minister) of the realm.  But when Henry VIII wanted to make himself head of the Church in England, to justify his multiple marriages, and so supplant the rightful prerogatives of the Pope, St. Thomas knew that he could never go along with that, and so he, and many others, were martyred, because they knew the difference between what belonged to Caesar and what belonged to God.

          Unfortunately, over the centuries, throughout human history, many people have simply not had the courage to take a stand when it came to such issues of principle and faith.  There are relatively few people willing to put their neck on the line, as St. Thomas More did literally, for a question of moral principle.  The rest of us prefer to take the easy way out, to go with the tide, and to compromise our principles.  It’s interesting that More’s co-martyr was St John Fisher, bishop of the diocese of Rochester in England.  He was in fact the only English bishop who refused to go along with King Henry’s claims.  Only the bishop of the smallest, poorest diocese was willing to say No.  After his arrest, the Pope created John Fisher a cardinal, while he was in prison.

          Now in order to have the courage to take a stand, the courage to be good servants of our society, but always God’s first, we need to have strength, the strength that only God can give.  That strength comes to us through the Holy Spirit when we are confirmed.  We first receive the gift of the Holy Spirit at baptism.  In a sense, at baptism, that gift is for ourselves.  At confirmation we again receive the gift of the Holy Spirit, but this time, it is in a sense for others.  Our faith is strengthened, or confirmed, so that we can profess it before others, so we can bear witness to it before the rest of the world.

One of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit is wisdom, the wisdom which enables us to distinguish between what belongs to Caesar and what belongs to God, to discern the essential of life, what really matters, the things that lead us to God, and those which separate us from him.

          One of the titles of Mary is Our Lady Seat of Wisdom.  She had that gift of wisdom to seek the things above, the things that were of God, and not become engrossed in the affairs of this world.  May Mary, who conceived the Saviour of the world through the power of the Holy Spirit, and who, at Pentecost, prayed with the apostles for that same Holy Spirit to come down upon them, pray for us all, so that we may share in the fullness of the gifts of the Spirit, to learn to be the King’s good servants, but God’s always first.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXVIII-A (October 15, 2023)       

In today’s second reading, St. Paul is grateful that people once again care for how he’s making out.  He says he knows what it is to have little, and what it is to have plenty.  And he’s managed to get through all his afflictions with the help of God.  This is really just a continuation of last Sunday’s reading when St. Paul said:  “Don’t worry, but pray instead, and God will look after you.”

          The first reading, from the prophet Isaiah, offers us a glimpse of God’s loving providence.  The prophet speaks of God’s holy mountain, where God will prepare a rich banquet for all people, and it will be a banquet of plenty that will go on forever – because there will be no death.  Death will be swallowed up forever.  He’s speaking, of course, of the heavenly banquet, as does St. Mathew in today’s Gospel.

          Now the Eucharist we celebrate is a foretaste of that heavenly banquet.  The word “Eucharist” is a Greek word which really means thanksgiving.  The word “Thanks” occurs often in the Mass, especially during the Eucharistic prayer, the great prayer of thanksgiving.  And the fruit of that prayer is our participation in Holy Communion.  We share in Christ’s body and blood here on earth, in a sacramental way, to prepare us for that heavenly banquet, where there will be no more need for sacraments, because we will be in the everlasting presence of Jesus Christ.

 Now to enter that heavenly banquet, to be with Christ forever in heaven, we need to be found worthy.  In the Gospel today, Jesus complains that the wedding is ready, but those invited were not found worthy.  Not just anyone can enter that heavenly banquet.  Indeed, Our Lord notices a man who has managed to get in without a wedding robe, and he throws him out.  So what is this wedding robe that is needed to be a part of the festivities?  Well, it is the robe of righteousness.  It is the robe of worthiness.  It is the white garment of holiness, which we must wear to join the banquet, for nothing unclean can enter heaven.  We first received that garment at our baptism.  If you listen to the beautiful prayer the priest says after a child has been baptized, it goes like this:  “You have become a new creation and have clothed yourself in Christ.  See in this white garment, the outward sign of your Christian dignity.  With your family and friends to help you by word and example, bring that dignity unstained into the everlasting life of heaven.”  So that’s the garment, the white robe.  We receive it at baptism, when we are washed clean in the waters of new birth, new life in the spirit.  And we are called to wear that garment throughout our lives, and to arrive in that state of grace if we wish to enter that great heavenly feast.

          During our lives we may well stain that robe by our sins.  It’s so easy though to wash that robe clean again, by confessing those sins, and making up for them.  We can make up for our sins through daily prayer, through practising good works.  We can make up for our sins by acts of penance.

          So today, as we thank God for all the material fruits of the harvest, let us above all thank him for the gifts of the spirit we have received from him:  the gift of being born again in water and the Holy Spirit in baptism, of becoming part of his Body, the Body of Christ which is the Church.  Let us thank him for having redeemed us by his blood on the cross.  Thank him for the spiritual nourishment he has given us on our earthly pilgrimage, the gift of the Holy Eucharist, the bread of life, and thank him for having invited us to share in his heavenly banquet for all eternity, by calling us to be his sons and daughters, children of God, the God who made us, the God who keep us in being, and offers us a place at his table in his kingdom, if we arrive wearing that white garment of salvation.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXVII-A (October 8, 2023)                                           

St. Paul in his letter to the Philippians today offers us some very simple and good advice:  “Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus”.

          We all worry.  We worry about so many things.  We worry about our health, about money, our debts.  We worry about our jobs, or being without a job.  Students worry about school and exams.  We worry about our families.  It’s so natural for us to be anxious about one thing or another.  Our worries may be due to uncertainties about the future.  Or perhaps we may know only too well what coming, and that makes us worry.  We worry because we feel insecure, helpless, powerless to control the course of events.

          Well, St. Paul tells us in today’s second reading, not to worry, but to pray instead.  And if you do, he says, God will give you peace.  St. Paul, of all people, had plenty to worry about himself.  He was imprisoned numerous times, whipped, shipwrecked, and eventually beheaded.  But he says, “Don’t worry”.  In doing so, he is really simply echoing Our Lord’s own words in the Sermon on the Mount, when Jesus said:  “That is why I am telling you not to worry about your life, and what you are to eat, nor about your body, and how you are to clothe it.  Look at the birds in the sky.  They do not sow or reap or gather into barns; yet our heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not worth much more than they are?  …  So do not worry; do not say, ‘What are we to eat?  What are we to drink?  How are we to be clothed?’…Your heavenly Father knows you need them all.  Set your hearts on his kingdom first, …, and all these other things will be given you as well.”  (Mt 6:25 ff)

          If your worry is due to a feeling of helplessness, or powerlessness, inability to control the course of events, what better, than to place all our trust in almighty God, the omnipotent, all-powerful creator of the universe?  With God on our side, who can be against us?  As St. Paul writes elsewhere, “When I am weak, then I am strong, for the grace of God is all I need”.  If you worry because you don’t know what the future holds in store, then place your trust in Christ yesterday and today, the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega, to whom all time belongs, and all the ages.

          Jesus worried too in the Garden of Gethsemene.  So what did he do in his agony?  He spent the whole night in earnest prayer to his Father.  Mary was troubled too when she heard the great message of the Archangel Gabriel, that she would conceive and bear a son, even though still a virgin.  You can be sure she worried when Jesus disappeared for three days when he was only twelve.  But Mary had faith in God, and she put her trust in him, because she was a woman of faith and prayer.

          There are many different kinds of prayer and ways of praying.  But whatever method you select, the important thing always is to make the effort, to take the time to pray.

          October is the month traditionally dedicated to Our Lady of the Most Holy Rosary.  The Rosary is a beautiful prayer we can say every day, to help get our minds off our worries, to help give us a sense of security, of serenity, of peace.  It only takes about fifteen or twenty minutes a day, but it can give us so much help in return.  Many people have rosaries at home, but they don’t always pray with them.  Why not turn to the Queen of Peace so you too can receive the gift of peace, and try to free yourself of your worries. 

          So, yes, there may be much to be concerned about in our own lives, and in the lives of those around us, or about events in the world.  But if we have faith, and hope in God, and love him with all our heart, and place our trust in him, we will have the gift of peace, knowing that in the end, all things shall be well—that everything will work out for the best.  So no matter what your problem, try not to worry, but pray instead, and God will be with you—to the end.

 

Thoughts on he readings for Sunday XXVI-A (October 1, 2023)

St. Matthew’s message today is really quite simple and obvious.  It is really the basic message of the whole Gospel.  It is about conversion, repentance, change.  It’s about practising Christianity not with our lips, but by our deeds.  It’s about humility and hypocrisy. 

          Often we hear people proclaim their good intentions, like the second son does in today’s Gospel.  They make their New Year’s or Lenten resolutions.  But then they go off and ignore them, they go back to being the way they were before.  They may have never even meant what they promised they would do in the first place.  It was all just a show.

          Then there are those who are like the first son.  At least they’re honest when they say no, they’re not going to do anything good.  But then they have a change of heart.  They repent, they convert, and go ahead and perform the good work which, at first, they said they were against.

          That’s what God wants us to do too.  He wants us to be willing to see our mistakes, our faults, our failings, our sins.  He wants us to have the honesty and the humility to admit them, and the then the courage to correct them, to do the right thing in the end.  For that is what really matters, whether in the end we die in a state of grace, reconciled to God, or whether, in the end, we die in a state of stubborn sin.

          Now the trouble is that some people lack the humility to swallow their pride and decide – never mind what I thought or said before.  I’m going to do the right thing in the end.  I’m going to take the high ground, and rise above it all.

          People can be very stubborn at times and generally people have difficulty coping with change.  We become creatures of habit, even to the point that we become habitual sinners – committing the same sins over and over again.  We’re caught in a cycle of sin.  There are many people who are carrying with them the burden of sins from the past, sins accumulated over many years, sins that have not been forgiven because forgiveness has not been sought in confession.  And they are the ones who suffer for it.

          The greatest of the seven deadly sins is pride.  It is the root of every sin because ultimately it is a challenge to God of his right to expect our obedience of him and his commandments.  The opposite virtue of pride is humility.  That is what the second reading is all about today.  It speaks of the great example of humility of Our Lord, who lowered himself to assume our human condition, to become our servant, to the point of accepting death on the cross, a death he did not deserve, a death he suffered for our sins.  That is true humility, and lowliness of heart.  All the saints sought to imitate Christ in his humility, especially Mary, who was the humble handmaid of the Lord.

          So to change to convert, to repent, to get out of the rut, we need the gift of humility, to bend our stubborn hearts to see our failings, to seek God’s forgiveness, so we can start again, reconciled with God and neighbour, and begin a new life in the Spirit, so we can see clearly enough to take the plank out of our own eye first, before we spot the splinter in our neighbour’s.  We’re always good at seeing other people’s faults, and so slow to see our own, to admit our own need of forgiveness.

          We all need the Holy Spirit to come into our hearts to warm them, moisten them, bend them, cleanse them, heal them, guide them, enlighten them, and give them new life.  As our young people prepare over the next few months to receive the gifts of the Holy Spirit at Confirmation, let us all pray for those same gifts.  We first received the Holy Spirit in our baptism.  That Spirit was strengthened at confirmation, and through the power of that same Spirit our sins are forgiven.

          So come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful, enkindle in them the fire of your love.  Send forth your Spirit, and they shall be created, and you will renew the face of the earth.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXV-A (September 24, 2023)      

In the early Church, one of the issues which arose concerned the admission of the Gentiles, that is the non-Jews, into the Church.  The most obvious meaning of today’s Gospel parable is that the Gentiles, the latecomers, as it were, are to be treated equally in the kingdom of heaven with the people of Israel.  Our Lord’s kingdom is for everyone, for all peoples – not just for those whom he called first.  Or to put it another way, whether you’re baptized as a small baby, or whether you are received into the Church on your death-bed, everyone in the kingdom of heaven enjoys the same supernatural happiness, no matter what time they join, provided of course that they die in a state of grace, at peace with Christ.

          But let’s take a closer look at the parable.  The landowner goes out at daybreak, 6:00 a.m., to hire workers for his vineyard.  The workers who had no fixed employment would gather every day in the town square, ready to work for whomever would hire them.  The landowner agrees to pay them the usual daily wage.  Then he goes out at 9:00 a.m., take others on, and promises them the same usual daily wage.  He repeats the process at noon, at 3:00 p.m., and finally at 5:00 p.m., the eleventh hour.  The landowner, who, of course, represents God our Father, is very persistent.  He goes out five separate times, looking for people for his vineyard.  God is always searching for people, calling them to follow him into his kingdom.  He has lots of invitations and is willing to take people even at the last hour.  But unfortunately, many people say “no thanks”.

          Then comes the payoff.  Those who worked only for an hour get the same daily wage as those who worked all day, and of course the latter start to grumble.  A bit like “I’ve been a Catholic all my life, and lived a good life and practised my faith, and prayed and attended and supported the Church”, why should I get the same reward as the person who may have led a bad life, but then suddenly had a death-bed conversion at the last hour?

          Part of the answer to this question lies in the nature of the wage the landowner, God our Father, offers us.  It is the usual daily wage.  All the workers get the same, their daily bread – a sufficiency, in other words.  So too those blessed enough to receive the reward of the kingdom of heaven.  You can’t receive two heavens, or three heavens, or a quarter of heaven – it’s all or nothing.  Heaven is all you could possibly want – it’s more than a sufficiency.  Either you enjoy the beatific vision and are with God forever, or you’re not.  There’s no half-way house.  In a sense what the early workers say is that if they get the usual daily wage, the latecomers should only get a fraction – not enough to get by on for a day.  Not really a very kind thought.  Like saying someone who has a death-bed conversion should not get to heaven.

          When the landowner asks those he hires at the eleventh hour why they’ve been standing idle all day, they answer:  “because no one has hired us”.  It’s not their fault they’re unemployed.  They were there all day, waiting for work, but no one came to call them.  It was through the persistence and kindness of the landowner, that they were hired in the end.  Really a pure gift from him, as was the generous wage they received.

          We all need to acknowledge and remind ourselves just how much our own faith is about 1 per cent effort on our part, and 99 per cent gift from God.  If you were baptized as a child, whose idea was that?  Not yours.  It was a pure gift.  If you converted to the faith as an adult, that too was through the grace of almighty God.  Look at St. Paul’s famous conversion on the road to Damascus – entirely a pure gift to a man who had devoted his life to persecuting Christians.  But the martyrdom, the blood and prayers of St. Stephen earned the grace of the conversion of St. Paul.

          God’s gift of salvation is purely gratuitous.  We do nothing really to earn it.  Who was scourged at the pillar? Who crowned with thorns?  Who suffered the passion? Who was nailed to the cross? You or Jesus?  Our redemption was a pure gift to us, earned through the merits of Jesus Christ, true God and true man.

          “Are you envious, because I am generous?” asks the landowner.  This is precisely the point.  God is generous – to each and every one of us.  We have nothing to complain about if, in our limited human way of looking at things he seems to favour some more than others.  We should rejoice instead that he has loved us all so much to give us the gift of faith that has brought us here to Mass today.  For as the prophet Isaiah reminds us in today’s first reading:  “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.  For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXIV-A (September 17, 2023)       

Today’s Gospel parable on forgiveness is one of the clearest, and most demanding related by Our Lord.  The king in the parable represents God, our heavenly Father, who is willing to forgive an enormous debt – the debt we all owe to God for our sins.  But even though he is ready to wipe the slate clean, are we willing in our turn to follow his example of mercy – or are we like the servant who demands every last penny of the relatively small amount he is owed by his fellow servant?  The conclusion of the parable is only too clear:  unless we, in our turn, forgive others, we cannot expect forgiveness from God for our own sins.  Or, as the Lord, himself taught us to pray:  “forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us”.  God promises us:  “Yes, I will forgive you, if you forgive your neighbour”.  But the other side of that coin is that if you don’t forgive your neigbour, “neither will I forgive you”.  The judgment you give, will be the judgment you receive.  Blessed are the merciful, for they shall have mercy shown them.

          Forgiveness is not always easy.  If we have been hurt, especially if we feel we have been innocent ourselves yet had something done against us, it is only natural that we should feel injury and pain.  And it can be very difficult to bring ourselves to forgive.  But, you know, it’s sometimes said that “forgiveness is for the forgiver”.  The one who forgives is the one who benefits more than anyone else.  The reason is that if you don’t forgive, if you carry the burden of the injury with you, the anger, the bitterness, the resentment, the chip on your shoulder, you are the one who suffers.  You are the one who pays the price.  We need to heal our bad memories, bury the past, and let go, let go of the pain, the hurt, the injury and move on.  And then we will be free – we will be the ones to benefit, because forgiveness is for the forgiver.

          And if you can bring yourself to forgive those whom you might regard as your enemies, then by doing so, you pour heaping coals of fire on them – you put them to shame by your virtue, your mercy and compassion.  It’s amazing just what kind of effect a sincere word of forgiveness can have on someone who may have hurt you.

          Now forgiveness isn’t easy – it involves making an effort – a sacrifice – swallowing your pride.  Often the passage of time can help us to forgive, as the memory of the hurt falls further and further behind, into the past.  Yet the longer we delay, the longer we ourselves suffer.  And if we have been injured, in a sense we can never go back to square one – we cannot pretend the injury never took place.  Our relationship has moved ahead in time, to a new level.  And even in that new relationship, aware of the past hurt, and that, in a sense, things can never be exactly the same again, we are still called to forgive and even forget.

          And if you still have trouble bringing yourself to forgive, then you can do no better that to look at Our Lord on the cross.  No one was ever more innocent, that Jesus.  No one ever more unjustly tortured and hurt than he.  Yet what were Our Lord’s words from the cross?  “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do”.  Not only did he forgive, but he made excuses for them.  And if he could forgive those who nailed him to the cross, should not we do the same, for our injuries that are so paltry, so pale compared to his?  We, who are so guilty ourselves when compared to the sinless, holy one of God?  And if you’re trying to bring yourself to forgive someone, it doesn’t hurt to look at your own life – to entertain the possibility that, yes, you may have hurt someone, you may be in need of forgiveness yourself, yes, you need mercy.  It helps to put things in perspective to realize our own power to hurt others.

          That is why it is so important for us to seek forgiveness from almighty God through regular reception of the sacrament of penance – to have our own slate of sin washed clean by the words of absolution.  Why carry around so much baggage with you?  Get rid of it, bring it to confession, and receive the Lord’s forgiveness.  Feel what it’s like to be able to begin again.  Then it will be easier to forgive those who may have hurt you.

          The emphasis on forgiveness and mercy is really one of the most visible characteristics of Christianity.  St. Francis of Assisi puts it well in his famous hymn:

“Lord, make me a channel of your peace

…where there is hatred, let me sow love

where there is injury, let me sow pardon.

…Because it is in giving that we receive,

it is in forgiving that we are forgiven,

and in dying that we are born into eternal life.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXIII-A (September 10, 2023)                         

Today’s first reading from the prophet Ezekiel speaks of the importance of correction, and the duty we have to warn those whom we see to be doing wrong, in order that they may have a chance to mend their ways, and be saved.  We see that theme in the Gospel too.

          Correcting someone else is not an easy thing.  First of all, it should be done in a spirit of humility, and not in judgement.  We need to recognize that we’re not perfect ourselves.  Indeed, we may well have more faults than the person whom we’re trying to correct.  As Jesus says, take the plank out of your own eye first, so you may then be able to see clearly the splinter in your neighbour’s eye.

          Let’s say we have tried to make sure we’re not being judgmental or hypocritical, that the plank is out of our own eye first, and in humility and charity feel our neighbour is in need of correction.  What should we do?  Does Jesus say we should go behind our neighbour’s back, or above their head, and complain or gossip to someone else about them?  No, the first thing Jesus tells us is to go to them first, alone, between your two selves.  It’s such a common reaction, though, when we feel someone has hurt us or done something wrong, not to approach them directly about it, but instead to go to someone  else.  That’s not the Christian way.   It’s not the way we ourselves would like to be treated.  Give the person you feel is in the wrong a chance to reply to you.

          For sometimes when we think another has wronged us, we are mistaken.  And when we go and speak with them and find out all the facts, we seek how wrong we were.  We see that we judged rashly, and were unfair to our neighbour.  The devil, remember, is always trying to breed misunderstanding, hostility, and division among people.  He seeks to destroy unity and relationships.  Don’t give in to him.  Realize he is at work and try to rise above him.  Be quick to praise, and slow to condemn.

          Jesus also said:  Judge not and you will not be judged.  The judgment you measure, will be the one you receive.  And ultimately Christ is the one and only judge, for only he has all the facts, only he can look inside each one of our hearts, and see what’s really there. 

          So let’s try to avoid going behind people’s backs and talking or gossiping about them.  That is not Christian or charitable.  If you want to help someone with positive correction, you have to have the humility, the honesty, and the charity to do it face to face, after correcting yourself.  Of course, too, we need to show restraint and proportion in correction.  Relationships, indeed some marriages, have been destroyed because one party failed to show balance and restraint in correcting the other.

          In the area of constructive correction, parents have an important responsibility towards their children.  A child needs to learn the difference between what is right and what is wrong, needs to have proper Christian values implanted in their mind, and needs to learn to live by the Gospel.  And the best teacher, is, of course, example. All we can do is hope and pray that during this new school year, more children, through the example of their parents, may discover Jesus Christ and his Way.

          Our Lord did not set out to win a popularity contest.  As a popular figure, he was a failure.  Rather he came as a prophetic voice, the Word of God, to call people to repentance, to call them to correct their own faults, their sins, and to follow him and his commandments.  And what thanks did he get?  Well, they nailed him to the cross.  And “they” includes “us”, for through our own sins, we all share in responsibility for Christ’s death on that cross.

          Our Lord calls us to repentance, to conversion, to put behind us all the failings and sins of the past, and begin a new life, a life faithful to Him and his Way.  I often quote one of Cardinal Newman’s famous sayings:  In heaven above it is different; but here below, to live is to change, and to be perfect is to have changed often.  So let us look at ourselves and see how we can grow in perfection, grow in love of God and love of neighbour, so we can be found worthy one day to join our Blessed Mother, St. Joseph, St. Mark, and all the saints, in Christ’s heavenly kingdom forever.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXII-A  (September 3, 2023)                       

 Today’s readings raise the question for us of the relationship between the Christian believer and the world.  Christians inevitably must live in the world – with all its imperfections and pitfalls, with all its temptations and dangers, the world with all its non-believers and indeed those even hostile to the faith. 

Conflict between the world and the believer is nothing new.  The prophet Jeremiah, who lived in the seventh century before Christ, complains in today’s first reading that the “word of the Lord has become for me a reproach and derision all day long”.  He adds that he used to say he would not think about the Lord, and not speak in his name anymore, because it caused him so much trouble.  But then he felt a fire burning in his heart, and he could not restrain it -  he could not keep the word of God inside him.  It had to come out, in other words, even though it would mean yet more trouble for Jeremiah.

          St. Paul, as we know, faced repeated imprisonment, beatings and attacks because he preached the word of God in a hostile world.  And yet, he asks us in today’s second reading, to present our bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God.  We live in a society which, far from extolling the virtues of penance or sacrifice, constantly tells us to spend and enjoy – pleasure at all costs, without limit.  But St. Paul adds:  “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.”  Don’t do what the world does – rather do what Christ wants, follow him, and not the world.

          And we see Our Lord in today’s Gospel having to reprimand Peter for the same thing:  “for you are thinking not as God does, but as humans do”, he tells him.  When Our Lord foretold his coming passion and death, Peter objected and said this must not happen to him.  Now Peter meant well.  He wanted Our Lord to avoid the sacrifice of the cross – he wanted the easy way out, as he would when things got difficult and he denied three times that he was a disciple of Christ.  In the end, Peter repented for that cowardice and himself died a martyr’s death.  But how typical of us all, to opt for the easy way, to turn our backs on Christ to deny our faith, rather than face the world, rather than take on the world.

          But Our Lord asks, so what if you do win the whole world, what will you gain, if you ruin your life?  What is more important – being on good terms with the world, or saving your life? 

          As followers of Christ, we must carry the cross with Jesus.  He asks us in the Gospel: What do you have to offer in exchange for your life?  What do we have to offer in exchange for our eternal lives in heaven?  What crosses, what persecutions, what sacrifices have we made for Christ?  If we have nothing to offer, if we’ve been having an easy time, then perhaps we should examine our lives to see if we’re not taking the easy way out too often, compromising our faith on issues we know are a bit too controversial, turning our back on Catholic teaching so we won’t be criticized by the world.  But if we do take a strong stand, as Christ would have, then we will be attacked, as Jesus was, attacked from within and from without our community.

          It’s never easy to take a stand for our faith.  It wasn’t easy for Jesus either.  Before his passion, he prayed so hard on the Mount of Olives that his sweat fell like great drops of blood.  We too can strengthen ourselves with constant prayer as Jesus did, and with regular reception of the sacraments, especially confession and Communion, so God’s grace can be with us.  Through confirmation, we are strengthened in a special way by receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit to bear witness to our faith before others.  If we let him, the Holy Spirit will put words into our mouth when we speak.  God asks a lot, but in his generosity and mercy, he helps us a lot too – if we let him.  We are never alone.  God is always there at our side, ready to help us if only we ask him, in prayer.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXI-A  (August 27, 2023)         

The well-known Gospel passage we have just heard is one of the most frequently used to prove the primacy Our Lord conferred on St. Peter.  When Jesus asks his disciples that most basic question, “who am I?”, it is only Peter who comes up with the right answer – that Jesus is the Christ, that is the Greek word for the Hebrew word “Messiah”, the Saviour the Jewish people had been awaiting for centuries.  Now Our Lord says the only way Peter could have known who he was, was if God the Father had revealed it to him, and so Jesus chooses Peter to be the rock, the foundation, the head of his Church on earth.  He is to be the first among the apostles.  And as a sign of his authority, Our Lord symbolically entrusts to him the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and gives him authority to bind and to loose.

          Our Lord knew that his life on earth would soon come to an end, and he knew that his Church would need someone to lead it after he was gone.  That was to be the task of the twelve apostles as a whole who were, in fact, the first bishops of the Church.  He also knew that, inevitably, there would be differences of views, and disagreements, and so there had to be a final authority – someone who would have the final say, and someone who would provide the leadership for the leaders themselves.  And so he chose St. Peter for this task.

          Now just as Jesus knew that he would not remain on earth forever, neither would Peter and the other apostles.  And so it was his intent that the structure he established should be continued through their successors.  Throughout the centuries, the authority of the apostles has been handed down through the sacrament of Holy Orders by the imposition of hands to the bishops, the successors of the apostles. 

          We know that God loves his Church, and so he guides it, especially through the Holy Spirit.  God will never allow his beloved Church to go wrong on a fundamental matter of faith or morals, and so the Church as a whole enjoys the charism, or gift, of infallibility.  God won’t let the Church go astray.  And this should give us great confidence.

          And before all the temptations and snares the devil puts before the world and before the Church, we have in today’s Gospel that most magnificent promise from Jesus, from God himself, that the gates of hell can never, never hold out against it, that Satan and all his empty works and promises can never triumph over the Church.  Even though the serpent will strike at its heel, the Church, with Mary as its mother, will crush its head.  The Church and the world are going through a difficult time of purification.  But in the end, we know that good will triumph over evil, because Christ by his passion, death and resurrection, has conquered Satan for all time.

          And so if we wish to share in that great victory of good over evil, of holiness over sin, of life over death, we need to keep the faith, the faith of the Church, the faith of Peter.  And if we keep the faith, that rock will never fail us, and one day we too will join Jesus the Christ, the Messiah, the Son of the living God, in his eternal kingdom forever.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XX-A  (August 20 2023)                               

It’s quite natural for us to feel proud that we’re Catholics.  But when you think about it, what have most of us done to deserve our faith?  Why are you or I Catholics?  The reason why, in most cases, is that one or both of our parents were Catholics and they saw to it that we were baptized into the faith.  Our faith, in other words, was a pure gift to us – God’s grace.  So we should always thank God for this wonderful gift.

          But God loves everyone, including those who have never heard of him.  This is really the message of today’s first reading, from the prophet Isaiah.  The people of Israel had come to think that God had chosen them – and only them – for himself, to the exclusion of all others.  But Isaiah reminds them that God’s house will be called a house of prayer for all peoples – not just those of Israel.  And he will save all those who believe in him and love him and obey him and his commandments.

          St. Paul, in the second reading, points out that he has been sent to the Gentiles, that is the non-Jews, to bring them closer to God.  Through doing so, he hopes he may also bring his own people to be reconciled with the Lord as well.  God is a God of mercy – both to those whom he first called but have wandered away, as also to the newcomers to the faith.  Paul himself, of course, received the gift of belief through God’s grace, on the occasion of his conversion while on the road to Damascus.  It was through God’s mercy and love that he came to believe in Christ Jesus, and not through anything he had done.  For in fact he was a persecutor of the Christians.

          And we see God’s reaching out to all people in today’s Gospel.  A Canaanite woman comes to Jesus to ask him to cure her daughter.  Now the Canaanites were not Jews;  indeed they were hereditary enemies of Israel.  Yet this Canaanite woman comes up to Jesus, addressed him as Son of David, and asks him to have pity on her.  She is persistent in her pleading, and so Jesus grants her wish.  Why?  Because, he says, “Woman, great is your faith!  Let it be done for you as you wish”.  This so-called pagan had received the grace of faith in Christ.

          How ironic that in last Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus criticized Peter for being a man of little faith, while this week, he praises the Canaanite woman for having great faith.  She had probably never seen Jesus before, but had only heard of him.  Yet she came to find him, and then pleaded with him to heal her daughter.

          We should never think we’ve got it made just because we may have been born into the faith.  But we should thank God for his great gift to us, and show that gratitude by living our faith fully.  And if we fail, we need to remember that our God is a God of love and mercy, and is always willing to take us back, and give us another chance, as he did with Peter, if we are willing to confess our sins, and ask his forgiveness.

          Our Lord showed his love and mercy to a woman who was not of his race.  We too need to reach out and embrace those of different backgrounds from our own.  Heaven is not segregated into different neighbourhoods; it’s not divided into different racial or ethnic districts.  All of God’s children are there united together at the wedding feast of the Lamb who was slain, of Jesus Christ who died on the cross for all people.  We dare not call God our Father unless we are prepared to see all of his children, whatever their race, as our brothers and sisters in the Lord.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XIX-A (August 13, 2023)                              

St. Peter, the fisherman from Galilee, was quite an impulsive person.  In today’s Gospel, for example, we see Peter jump out of the boat and start to walk on the water towards Jesus, while the other disciples remain in the boat.  Later on, when Our Lord is arrested, it is Peter who draws his sword and wounds the high priest’s servant, cutting off his right ear.  And when Our Lord appears on the shores of the Sea of Galilee after his resurrection, it is Peter, who jumps out of the boat into the water to get to Jesus on the shore, while the other disciples wait in the boat.

          Peter was a man of great energy and enthusiasm, and had much love for his Master.  The Gospel writers hold Peter in great respect, for when they list the names of the apostles, his name always comes first.  It was on Peter the rock that Our Lord said he would build his Church, over which the gates of hell would not prevail.

          So it seems a bit strange in today’s Gospel to see this rock sinking, especially when Jesus explains that the reason why is that Peter was a man of little faith, a man who doubted.  And this is not the only time Peter showed his lack of faith.

          When Jesus cured the epileptic, he told Peter and the disciples the reason they could not cure him was because they had so little faith.  “If your faith were the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’, and it would move – nothing would be impossible for you”.

          We remember too that Jesus on his way to the Mount of Olives predicted that all his disciples would lose faith in him.  But with his usual self-confidence, Peter spoke up and said, “though all lose faith in you, I will never lose faith.  Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you”.  As we know, Peter was to do just that, and disown Jesus three times.

          Why was Peter so lacking in faith?  Why did he disown our Lord?  And why is our own faith not stronger than it is?  Why do we disown Christ so often – disown him by our conduct, by our sins, by our infidelity to him?  For an answer, perhaps we could return to Gethsemene for a moment.  Jesus goes to pray in the garden, and asks Peter, James and John to stay awake.  In fact, they all fall asleep.  They can’t manage to stay awake even for an hour.  “You should be awake and praying not to be put to the test”, Jesus tells them.  A second time he goes away to pray.  But they fall asleep again, and Our Lord must try a third time.  Instead of staying with Jesus in prayer for an hour, Peter fell asleep.  He failed to prepare himself for the challenge that was to come.  So it’s not surprising he denied Christ three times shortly afterwards.

          So to grow in faith, we must pray.  If we do spend time with God in daily prayer, and establish a personal relationship with him, we will grow in faith, and we will receive all we ask for in prayer that is in accord with God’s will.

          If you look at the start of today’s Gospel, Jesus sends the crowds away and then goes up into the hills to pray.  In Gethsemene, Jesus prayed so hard that his sweat fell like great drops of blood.  If Jesus who was the divine Son of God and without sin, felt the need to pray, felt the need to spend so much of his time with his Father in prayer, then don’t we need to pray too, we who are so sinful, so much weaker than Our Lord?  If he did it, shouldn’t we who claim to be his disciples, his followers?  And the more we do pray, the more our faith will grow.

          Prayer is the most characteristically human act any one of us can perform.  There is nothing more natural than for a human being to spend time in prayer with God—our creator, our redeemer, our friend.

          The road to Christ is not always an easy one.  Like Peter, we may be very keen and enthusiastic at the start. We may boldly step forward along the path that leads to Christ.  But we will not go far before we too, like Peter, will feel the force of the wind, when we too will be put to the test.  If we are to keep going, and withstand all the temptations, all the attacks, all the burdens that we as disciples of Christ must face, then we will have to be men and women and children of prayer.

          And if we do that, the wind will drop, the seas will subside, the storms will pass, and, like Elijah in the first reading we too will hear the sound of a gentle breeze, the gentle breeze that is the Holy Spirit and the peace that only Christ can give.

 

Thoughts on the readings for the Feast of the Transfiguration of Our Lord (August 6, 2023)

Our Lord knew that he was going to be crucified, and would suffer a painful, excruciating death on the cross.  He knew what a demoralizing effect this would have on his disciples—how disoriented his passion and death would make them—what a tragedy the scandal of the cross would be for them after the Hosannas of Palm Sunday.  And so, to prepare them for the trials they would have to experience, Jesus led his closest followers up to a high mountain.  He chose the same three disciples who, later, would be privileged to witness his agony in the garden. They who would see him suffer, would first receive the grace to see him glorified, so they could have the strength to understand and endure his passion.  He chose three so that their evidence would not be challenged.

          Our Lord was transfigured in their presence to strengthen their faith in him, in his divinity, so their faith would not be shaken.  In short, he wanted to offer them a glimpse of his resurrection.  Our Lord wanted to make clear that he was the Son of God, that he was divine, and so the voice of the Father identifies Jesus as his Son, the beloved.  And he wanted to reveal that he was the Messiah, the culmination of the whole Old Testament, of the Law and the Prophets, and so the three witnesses become five.  Moses and Elijah represent the books of the Law and all the prophets of the old covenant, to show that Jesus is the fullness of the revelation of the Father.  He is the climax of the Old Testament, and would soon seal the new covenant with his blood on the cross.

            And what a magnificent sight it must have been.  Our Lord’s face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.  So it’s not surprising that Peter should say:  “It is wonderful for us to be here”—wonderful to be in the presence of God, wonderful to witness this great miracle.  Well, we too are in the presence of God here today, in the House of God.  Our Lord has said that where two or three are gathered in his name, there is he also.  We have gathered together here in his name, in his House, the House of God.  We know Jesus is present in his Word, in his unworthy priest, in the community of his faithful, and in a very special way, he is present in the sacrament of the most Holy Eucharist.

On the holy mountain, our Lord’s external appearance was miraculously transfigured.  Here at this and at every Mass, the bread and wine we offer are not transfigured externally, for they retain their outward form.  But that great miracle known as transubstantiation takes place.  The substance of the bread and wine change sacramentally into the Body and Blood of Christ, the risen, the glorified Christ.  And so it is indeed wonderful for us to be here, wonderful to be present at such a great miracle.  And not only that, but if we are Catholics, and in a state of grace, we can actually receive the Body and Blood of Christ in Holy Communion

          For through our worthy reception of the Eucharist here on earth, we receive a foretaste, a glimpse of the eternal heavenly banquet, where we will rejoice and sing praise in the presence of the glorified Christ for ever.

          And our prayer today is that we too may be transfigured and become a new creation—that we may share in the divinity and glory of him who humbled himself to share in our humanity, and that we may live new, transfigured lives—holy lives, lives that befit those who have become temples of God’s Holy Spirit, of those who have been redeemed by the blood of Christ.

          In our own lives, we know only too well that life is lived, not on the mountain-tops, not on the peaks and hills, not in a continuous state of euphoria.  Alas, no, life is lived rather in the valleys, in our day-to-day trials, responsibilities and work—our repetitious daily routine.  Our mountain-top experiences are few and far between.  But when we find ourselves in the valleys, in the day-to-day challenges of this valley of tears, we need to turn to Jesus and listen to him, to his voice, to the Good News he offers us, to the hope of everlasting life he promises to his disciples, to that eternal happiness in the kingdom of heaven where all is light and there is no darkness, or sin, where every valley shall be exalted, and every hill laid low, where all will be one in him, and he in us.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XVII-A  (July 30, 2023)                                 

In today’s first reading, God appears to King Solomon, and, in a dream, says to him, “Ask what I should give you”.  Now if God appeared to you in a dream, and asked you what you would like him to give you, what would your answer be?  A new house, a million dollars, a new car, a great vacation – or would you choose a more human value and ask for a happy marriage, good children – or perhaps you would like fine health and a long life?  What would you ask for – what would be the most important thing you would like God to give you?

          Solomon knew what he wanted:  “Give your servant…an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil”.  He asked God for wisdom, in other words, wisdom so that he could be a good king.  It pleased the Lord that he had not asked for long life or riches or the death of his enemies, but rather understanding to discern what is right, and so God granted him his wish – and this is the origin of the proverbial wisdom of Solomon.

          God’s question forced Solomon to identify his priorities – what values were the most important for him.  That is something we all need to do – to be able to discern the essentials – what comes first, from the secondary, the trivial, the vain.  That’s really what today’s Gospel is all about too.  The person who finds a treasure hidden in the field is quite happy to sell off everything he owns, just so he can buy the field with its treasure.  The merchant too sells everything he owns, just to buy a fine pearl of great value.  And so it is with the kingdom of heaven – it is such a great treasure, it is of such value, that we too should be prepared to give up everything and everyone else in order to attain it.  The kingdom of heaven demands total renunciation on our part, and that we should make that renunciation with zeal – the kind of speed and enthusiasm the finder and merchant show.  They can’t wait to give up everything else, just to acquire the field and the pearl.

          These parables raise the question of priorities, of values, of identifying what is all-important for us, and how far we are prepared to go to achieve those values and priorities.

          We know that in order to pass through the gateway to the kingdom of heaven, we need to be worthy, in a state of grace.  Through living holy lives close to God, being regular in the sacramental practice of our faith, doing good deeds, repenting and seeking God’s forgiveness when we fail, we can achieve that state of grace.  Throughout our lives, we constantly form ourselves by our acts, by our decisions.  The parable of the wheat and weeds we heard in last Sunday’s Gospel has really the same theme as today’s parable of the dragnet of fish.  Good and evil co-exist side by side during our lives on earth, but in the end, there is a judgment, a separation, when the angels separate the wicked from the just.

          In order to choose to do good and not to do evil, we need to pray for the gift of wisdom, the gift of discernment, the same gift for which Solomon asked God – the knowledge of what is right and what is wrong, of what brings us closer to God, and what takes us further and further away from him.  This wisdom is one of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit we received at our confirmation.  We need to renew and use that gift daily in our lives. 

          One of the many titles of Mary is, Our Lady, Seat of Wisdom – Sedes Sapientiae.  Mary knew the difference between good and evil, and she knew what happiness, what treasure lay in store for those who choose the pearl of great value, of good over evil.  May we too follow her faithful example, and seek her intercession, to do the same.  Our Lady, Seat of Wisdom, pray for us.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XVI-A (July 23, 2023)                                             

Today’s Gospel parable of the wheat and the weeds reminds us of the simultaneous existence of good and evil in the world.  We are often confronted by this mystery of how God allows both good and evil to co-exist, side by side.  Sometimes we can find ourselves confused and perplexed by this.  How can a merciful, loving God allow so much evil to exist, allow so many innocent people to suffer?

          To attempt to find an answer, we must, first of all, remember that God has created each of us in his own divine image.  That means he has given us the gift of free will.  Every one of us is free to do good, or free to do evil.  Naturally, God wants us to love and obey him.  But you can’t force anyone to love.  A puppet or a robot is incapable of love, because it is incapable of acting freely.  Only human beings can love because only human beings are free, created in the image of God.  But this freedom to love carries with it the freedom to hate, to reject God, to do evil.  We know only too well that while some people use their freedom to love, honour and obey God, others freely choose to say No to God, and to harm their neighbour.  God most certainly does not desire such evil, but he permits it, he tolerates it as the price for giving us the gift of free will.  Evil in the world is caused by those who freely choose to reject Christ and his commandments.

          God is patient, and so he allows the wheat and the weeds to co-exist, to grow together, at least for a time.  He watches the good wheat grow ever bigger, ever stronger, ever more beautiful.  He sees his kingdom rising from a small mustard seed to become a plant so large that the birds of the air can shelter in its branches.

 As for the weeds, the evil, God is patient, too, for a time.  He hopes for repentance, for change.  He is always ready to forgive the sinner who repents, who stops committing sin.  God permits evil to remain with the good, hoping for a change, for conversion.  But ultimately, God permits evil in this world only because he knows it will not last.  He knows that all evil in this world is only temporary.  In the end, all the righteous, all the innocent who have suffered unjustly, will be rewarded in heaven, and the wicked will be punished.  Indeed, God the Father allowed his only Son to suffer, to be the victim of evil in this world.  No one was ever more innocent, no one more sinless, more holy than Jesus.  Yet he was subjected to the cruel and unjust torture of the cross.  Why?  So that by his suffering, death and resurrection, he could redeem us.  The greatest injustice ultimately led to the greatest good. 

          The parable of the wheat and the weeds reminds us that while in this world the good and bad are allowed to exist together, at the end of the world, at the harvest, there is a separation, a judgment, for judgment involves the separation of the good from the bad.  In the Creed, we profess every Sunday our belief that Our Lord will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.  He will separate the wheat from the chaff, and purify the kingdom entirely.  Those who have been faithful to him, who have exercised their free will to love, honour and obey the Lord, will be rewarded with a place in the kingdom of heaven.  But those who do evil, they will never be fit to enter that kingdom.

          Our whole lives are a constant drama, a drama between the wheat and the weeds.  We constantly make choices, decisions—whether to say Yes or to say No to God, whether to exercise our free will to do good, or to do evil.  And act by act, deed by deed, we form ourselves in a particular way, so that we are always either growing closer and closer to God, or turning further and further away from him.

          Mary had to exercise her free will too when the angel appeared to her.   No one was going to force her to agree to be the Mother of God.  But in spite of all the difficulties this would entail, Mary chose to obey, to say Yes.  She chose to submit her will because she had already chosen to believe.  The more we too believe, the more our faith will grow.  And the more we give our assent of the intellect, the easier it will be for us to give our assent of the will, too, and obey God and his commandments.  That is how we prove that we love God who says, “If you love me, keep my commandments”.  And that is how we prove ourselves worthy to join in the eternal harvest of the heavenly kingdom that will have no end.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XV-A (July 16, 2023)           

In today’s first reading, we hear of the power of the word that goes from the mouth of God.  And in the Gospel, Our Lord relates a parable describing the various ways his word is received by different people.  We know from the author of the letter to the Hebrews that at various times in the past and in various different ways, God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets.  But in our own time, he has spoken to us through his Son.  Jesus Christ is the fullness of the revelation of the Father.  He is the Word of God, the Word made flesh.  And the Word speaks to us, and seeks to make his power felt in our lives.

          Now we all know that it is quite pointless to speak to someone who will not listen.  It’s like talking to a stone wall.  You don’t get anywhere.  Or the person may be listening physically to you, with their ears, but their heart has become a stone wall.  They have no intention of letting the word touch their heart.  They are so set in their ways, nothing will budge them—not even the Word of God.     

          Our Lord wants very much to speak to us, and to let his Word transform our lives.  But do we let him?  Do we listen to him?  To take one obvious example, do we listen to the Word of God when it is read in Church at Mass—or is our mind elsewhere?  We have the texts for the readings in the Sunday Missal, after all.  It’s a good idea to have a look at these, before and after Mass.  Apart from Mass, though, do we ever make any effort to read the Word of God, in the Sacred Scriptures, on our own?  For God speaks to us through them.

          Also, do we listen to God speaking to us in private prayer?  We live in a very noisy world that constantly tries to drown out the Word of God.  We know that if we want to hear what someone is trying to tell us, not only do we need to listen, but we have to cut out all the background interference—turn off the TV, log off the internet, put away our cell phone.  We need peace, we need quiet, we need to find our own private space, where we can be alone with God and listen to him—with no noise to get in our way.  It’s so important for us every day to find that bit of peace and quiet, that spiritual desert where we can listen to God in prayer.

          Summer is a season when we tend to have more free time than during the rest of the year.  So let’s make a special effort to find time to be with God in prayer.  The summer is an opportunity for recreation, relaxation, refreshment, yes, but also it is a time for reflection, a time to pause, and rest, and think about where we are going, what is happening to our lives.  And to listen, to listen to the Word of God, to God speaking to us in prayer.  Prayer, the saints have all discovered, is something you never get tired of.  It grows on you, because you can never get tired of God or of his Word.  Prayer is the one thing to which you can get addicted without fear.  You can’t go wrong by praying. 

          So especially this summer, do try to plant that rich soil in your life in which to receive the Word of God—that rich soil of peace and quiet that will yield a rich harvest. 

          When the angel left her, Mary pondered all these things in her heart, on the words that had been spoken to her.  May we too follow her example, and ponder God’s word in our hearts as well.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XIV-A  (July 9, 2023)                                   

In today’s Gospel, Our Lord blesses his Father for revealing his truths – not so much to the learned and the clever, but rather to mere children.  We know too that elsewhere Jesus says, “unless you become like little children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven”.  Now by “children”, Our Lord means those who have a child-like faith, that is, those who are trusting, who believe, who are not suspicious or set up barriers.  He is praising the innocence of children who are too young to raise objections when he invites them to follow him.

          While the Gospel message does have a great depth and mystery to it, and while, at St. John writes, there are not enough books in the whole world to contain all that Jesus did and said, at the same time, the Gospel was intended for the people of God – for all of us – not just for a small handful or elite.  And the Gospel message, in spite of its depth, is really very simple – really very basic – so simple, a child can understand it.  It is basically love God, and love your neighbour as yourself.  What could be simpler?  And if we are prepared to accept it, with the trust and humility of little children, who look up to their loving Father in heaven, then we will find just how easy is the yoke and light the burden of that Gospel of salvation.

          Now the trouble is that some people really don’t want to accept the obvious.  They try to get around the plain truths of revelation.  And it seems sometimes that the more learned and clever they are, the more contorted become their attempts to avoid the Gospel message.  Intellectual pride replaces humble trust.  It gets to the point where some remarkably well-educated theologians end up being the greatest disbelievers, denying truths that any ordinary Catholic, even any child would be happy to accept.  Truths like the fact that God is the creator of the universe – that God made us; that Jesus is true God and true man; that he was miraculously conceived in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary by the power of the Holy Spirit; that he rose from the dead on the third day; that he will come again to judge us all at the end, and put some on his left and some on his right; that he founded his Church; that he instituted the seven sacraments, including the Holy Eucharist, through which we truly receive the gift of Christ’s Body and Blood; that he wants us to show we love him by obeying his commandments, being obedient to his will; that the Blessed Virgin Mary was immaculately conceived and is the Mother of God and Mother of the Church.  These are all basic truths of our faith which the ordinary faithful people of God have cherished and believed, but which, at times some of the learned and clever have tried to deny.

          You see the trouble with people who are too learned or too clever can be their tendency towards pride and arrogance, an arrogance that closes them off from God, to the point where they feel they know better than God, that they’re above his commandments.  This was precisely the sin of the fallen angels.  For ordinary people, on the other hand, it is often easier to espouse the virtue of humility, that lowliness, that poverty of spirit, that littleness of a small child.

          God always favours the humble and the lowly, as Mary proclaimed in her song, the Magnificat.  Mary was not learned or clever in the world’s sense of those terms – rather she radiated the child-like faith of the humble handmaid of the Lord.  And in this, she did no more that follow the way of her own Son.  Jesus, even though he was the Son of God, the King of Kings, lived a life of humility, poverty, and lowliness – and he asked us to learn from him, who was meek and lowly of heart.  As we heard in the first reading today, he came as a king, yes, but “humble and riding on a donkey”.  The whole message of Jesus, of his Gospel, was to turn upside down the values of the world, and so he says it’s not the learned, the clever of this world who know what it’s all about – no, it’s the ordinary, humble people, the children of this world, who have grasped the true meaning of life.

        “Come to me, all you who labour, and are overburdened, and I will give you rest”, invites Jesus in today’s Gospel.  If we do, if we run to him like trusting children, the children of God that we are, then we will share the joy and happiness of being God’s children, not only in this life, but even more, in his heavenly banquet in the life to come.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XIII-A (July 2, 2023)

In today’s Gospel, Our Lord speaks about being a disciple, that is, one of his followers.  He asks for total commitment to him from his disciples, even to the point of placing love of him above love of family:  “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me”.  In an ideal situation, this should not cause problems.  If all members of a family are disciples of Christ, then there is a common purpose, a community of love, so all will understand that their first love must always be Jesus.  The difficulties arise where there is lacking this common faith, where one member of a family may be devoted to Our Lord, and his Way, whereas the others are not.  This can cause disagreement and division, because you cannot be neutral before the message of the Gospel.  Either you accept it, or you reject it.  And so there can be pain and suffering when families are divided over their response to Christ.  But the true disciple must always put their love for Our Lord first, above their family, even when it hurts.

          And Christianity can hurt sometimes.  There is pain involved in being a follower of Christ.  As Our Lord says:  “whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me”.  Just as there is no Christ without a cross, so there can be no true follower, no true disciple of Christ who does not have their own cross to bear.  In fact, the symbol of Christianity is precisely the cross.  It’s tragic that in our secular age, even this sacred symbol has been subjected to misuse and abuse by those who reject the faith.  But true Christians know how central the cross is to our faith, so that we wear it proudly, with respect, and display it in our homes and Churches.

          The true disciple of Christ must share in that redemptive suffering—not suffering for the sake of suffering, but suffering for a greater good—for the good of the redemption, that is, paying the price, atoning for sin.  Every sin injures God, and every sin must be atoned, made up.  Jesus did this above all by his passion and death on Good Friday.  But we are all called to share in that act of redemption through our own sacrifices, our own penances, our own self-denial, our own cross.

          In fact, if you read the lives of the saints, it’s quite striking how many of them suffered the cross of rejection by those closest to them.  The great mystic, St. John of the Cross, was also imprisoned by his own Carmelite religious order.  St. Teresa of Avila once said, “Oh, my Lord, how true it is that whoever works for you is paid in troubles!  And what a precious price to those who love you if we understand its value”.

          So don’t be afraid of the cross.  Don’t be afraid to take up your cross every day, for our cross will be found above all in our day-to-day trials, and responsibilities.  Embrace the cross as a true disciple of Christ, the way he did, knowing that Our Lord is always there at our side to help us carry our burdens.  And if we fail, he is also there to pick us up, so we can continue along our way—to Calvary, yes, but also beyond.  For the cross is where heaven meets earth, and so it truly is the gateway to eternity.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XII-A (June 25, 2023)

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells his twelve apostles:  “Do not be afraid”.  Now fear is a very common and natural human emotion.  Our Lord knew that as his disciples went out into the hostile world to proclaim his Gospel, they would encounter difficulties.  Some would be imprisoned, and even die for their faith.  So inevitably, they would be afraid.

          He tries, therefore, to reassure them.  “Do not fear those who kill the body, but cannot kill the soul”.  Don’t be afraid, because God loves you much more than he loves the sparrows.  He looks after them, so he’ll look after you even more.  So don’t be afraid, it’ll be all right.  It is a message for us too.

          Whatever threats or persecutions, or harm may come to you in this life, they will come to an end.  If you have been faithful to God on earth, he will give you your eternal reward in heaven above.  So keep your minds fixed on the eternal, heavenly kingdom, where there will be no fear, but only joy in the presence of God.

          In our own personal lives, we can experience fear for many reasons.  Some may be afraid because of health concerns, or they may have financial problems, perhaps because they are unemployed. Others fear because of difficulties within their families or for the sake of those close to them.  Others are afraid of death. 

          But Jesus says, don’t be afraid.  For perfect love casts out all fear.  If we truly love God, if our faith is that strong that we have a close, personal relationship with our Lord, then how can we possibly fear?  For we know God loves us more than we can ever imagine.  We know he will never let us down in the end, no matter how bad things may seem at the time.  Certainly, we will have our cross, our burdens to bear, and yes, there will be some pain.  We will face anxieties from time to time.  But all these will end.  The true disciple of Christ has faith and hope, the optimism to see the light of Christ at the end of every tunnel.  You cannot be a pessimistic Christian.

          The opposite of fear is courage.  This is one of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit we receive at Confirmation.  The apostles were very much afraid before Pentecost.  Peter, who was called to be first among them, denied Our Lord three times out of fear.  At the foot of the cross, only Mary and John had the courage to remain with Jesus to the very end.  The others all abandoned him and ran away because of fear.  But after Pentecost, after they received the gift of the Holy Spirit to strengthen them in their faith, they had the courage to go out to the ends of the earth to proclaim the Gospel of Christ, and even to die for it.  What a change!  We too have received that same gift of the Holy Spirit, so we too should show it.

          The devil, of course, always wants the opposite.  If Jesus says, “Do not be afraid”, you can be sure the devil wants you to fear, to doubt, to be weak, and so fall under his power.  Terrorists thrive on fear.  They seek to destabilize society by outrageous criminal conduct so they can exercise power over people.  This is why the attitude of the true disciple of Christ is one of courage and strength.

          When St. Thomas More, the man for all seasons, was imprisoned in the Tower of London, awaiting his execution, he wrote to his beloved daughter saying:  “Nothing whatever happens, except what God wills, and it shall be for the best.”  His faith was strong enough that he could rise above the prospect of being beheaded to see that somehow his martyrdom would be for the best.  So he went to the place of execution as the King’s good servant, but God’s first.

          When the archangel Gabriel came to Mary, she was troubled at first, and so the angel assured her:  “Do not be afraid”, as he also said to St. Joseph.  For nothing is impossible to God.  And that’s really the point.  It is when we feel the weakest, that we are the strongest.  For then we abandon trust in our own limited strength, and put our faith and trust instead in the power of almighty God himself.

          So don’t be afraid.  Have faith in the power of God to get you through whatever challenges you may face.  Have hope in the bright future that awaits all those who are true disciples of Christ, obedient to his commandments.  Have love, the love of God that casts out all fear, the love that enables you to accept the burdens of this life, knowing they will not last, knowing that, with God’s grace, everything will work out for the best in the end.  For Christianity, truly, has a happy ending.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XI-A (June 18, 2023)                                     

In today’s second reading, St. Paul writes that God loved us so much that even though we were sinners, Christ died for us on the cross.  It would have been something if he had given up his life for the good.  But Jesus died not for the righteous, but for sinful humanity.  That’s how great was his love for us.

          As you know, the month of June is dedicated traditionally to devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.  Last Friday was the actual feast—Friday, because Jesus died on Good Friday for us.  His heart was pierced by a lance.  It stopped beating for us on Good Friday.  Blood and water flowed from his side—symbols of baptism and the Holy Eucharist.  And to his sacred heart, Our Lord invites us all to draw near.  It is a heart of love, and a heart of mercy.  He wishes to draw all people into his divine heart, so that they may be purified of all the sins that separate them from him.

          The sad thing is that many people have closed their hearts to Jesus.  Their hearts are cold and have hardened to his call to come to him.  The trouble is that if they don’t go to Jesus, who else is there?  What’s the alternative?  The devil, of course, also calls, and invites people to follow him, and many do.

          This is why Jesus tells us in today’s Gospel of the need for more shepherds to help to guide the flock of Christ to the pastures of the Good Shepherd.  And so Our Lord  asks us to pray for more vocations, for more priests, for more workers in his vineyard.

          The twelve apostles he called came from differing walks of life.  They were very ordinary people.  They had their strengths and weaknesses.  One even betrayed Our Lord.  But Jesus called them, in spite of their limitations, because he knew that his grace, his power working through them would be enough.  And from that group of twelve, the faith spread after Pentecost to the ends of the earth.

          Our Lord also gave us that magnificent promise that the gates of hell would never prevail against the Church.  And so we should live our faith with confidence and hope and not be afraid.  Christ is our shepherd, and he will never abandon us.  He calls us to himself, to his Sacred Heart, and invites us to put all that separates us from him and from each other behind us.  He calls us to be reconciled to him and to our neighbour.  His heart of love and divine mercy is there for all to see and experience.

          The heart is a symbol both of life and of love.  Physically, to see if someone is alive or not, we feel their pulse, to determine if their heart is still functioning.  The heart becomes identified with life itself.  And the heart has not just this physical significance.  But also at the emotional level, we see in the heart the symbol of love, of warmth, of tenderness, of compassion.

          God our Father became incarnate in his Son, Jesus Christ, who, while remaining God, became man, a physical man, with a physical heart.  The heart of Jesus was formed by the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Through his virginal conception and birth from Mary, did his human heart begin to start beating.  And through the heart of his divine Son, God our Father approaches our hearts, those poor human hearts that are tried in so many ways—yet hearts which are confident in the power and mercy of God.

          Our Lord’s heart is always open for us, even if our hearts at times are closed to him.  If we compare our hearts to his, we see how pale, how cold, how closed they are in comparison.  But through accepting God’s love for us, through accepting the gift of Christ’s Body and Blood in the Holy Eucharist, we too can grow in love, and our hearts can begin to reflect the love of Our Lord’s own Sacred Heart, the heart that was pierced for our sins.  Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Corpus Christi - A (June 11, 2023)

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of Corpus Christi, the Body of Christ, a feast instituted back in the year 1264 by Pope Urban IV (Transiturus Deus).  According to tradition, he did so following the miracle of Bolsena, a small Italian town near Orvieto, where the Pope was staying at the time.  A German priest had doubts about the doctrine that during Mass, the bread and wine actually become in substance the Body and Blood of Christ.  This priest decided to make a pilgrimage to Rome to overcome his doubts.  On his way down from Germany through central Italy, he stopped at Bolsena and celebrated Mass there.  While doing so, the host is said to have turned into real flesh, which began to drip blood onto the corporal, the square white cloth that is placed in the centre of the altar.  This corporal was taken at once to Orvieto, the nearby town where Pope Urban was staying, and he decided to institute the Feast of Corpus Christi, and also began work on the beautiful cathedral of Orvieto to enshrine this precious relic, which is still displayed there to this day.  We honour today Our Lord’s real presence in the sacrament of the Most Holy Eucharist.

          The Eucharist is part of the mystery of the Incarnation, that is, of the fact that God wanted to become one of us.  He didn’t want to remain some distant, invisible spirit.  No, he wanted to reveal himself to us in the most personal, intimate and concrete manner possible.  And so the Word became flesh, and lived among us, and we saw his glory.

          But Our Lord knew he was destined to suffer, to die, and to rise again, and then to ascend into heaven.  In order not to abandon his disciples, he instituted the Holy Eucharist, so that even after his death and resurrection, he could continue to be present to them in a concrete, tangible, form.  This sacrament would also be a memorial of his suffering and death, a communion with his Body and Blood, and through it, his unique sacrifice on Calvary would be made present again.

          Our Lord knew too that his followers would hunger for him after he left them.  Hunger is a natural part of being a human being.  We can all feel an emptiness, a void, a vacuum in our purely material earthly existence.  We know that the things, the pleasures, the people of this world can never fully satisfy us.  We know that our inner hearts seek for something more, something greater.  We are constantly reaching out into the beyond, into eternity, towards the supernatural, towards the divine.

          And who can satisfy this hunger of ours, this thirst, but he who is the fountain of living waters, he who gives us the Bread of Life.  It is the Bread of Life because it is the gift of his own Body and Blood, shed on the cross for our sins, to win for us the hope of everlasting life.  Anyone who eats this bread will live forever, for that bread is Christ’s flesh, given for the life of the world.

          The celebration of the Eucharistic sacrifice is a great mystery, a mystery of faith.  We believe that at the words of consecration, pronounced by the priest, the bread and wine, though retaining their outward appearance and taste, become in substance the Body and Blood of Christ.  It is a mystery we call “transubstantiation”, a term which simply means that the substance of the bread and wine is changed.  And so when we come up to receive Holy Communion, we truly receive the Body and Blood of Our Lord.  That is why when the priest or minister says, “The Body of Christ”, we should answer “Amen”—a word which simply means, “Yes, I believe, I am truly receiving the Body of Christ”.  And so we in fact receive what we already are.

          It is sad that in recent years, there has been a loss of the sense of the sacred, of the supernatural, of the mystery in the celebration of our liturgy.  We should never let the offering of the Holy Eucharist become trivial or irreverent, or forget the nature of the great work we perform through our participation in the Eucharistic sacrifice.  We need to remember where we are when we come together for Mass.  It is the House of God, and so we need to dress and conduct ourselves accordingly.  We should arrive on time for this important meeting with the Lord, and stay until the end.  We should prepare for that meeting by being in a state of grace, with pure hearts, to receive Our Saviour.  As a practical matter, this means we should get to confession regularly, especially if we find ourselves in serious sin.  During the Mass, we should make the effort to be attentive, participating in the prayers and hymns, listening and reflecting upon the Word of God.

          And so on this great feast, may we renew our appreciation and reverence of the most Holy Eucharist, of the sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ:

          Lord Jesus, may we come to you and never hunger;

          Believe in you and never thirst;

          Eat your Body, and never die.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Trinity Sunday A (June 4, 2023)                              

We celebrate today what is perhaps the most fundamental mystery of our faith, our belief in the Most Holy Trinity.  And we do well to acknowledge at the outset that we stand before a great mystery, one our mortal minds can never hope to understand fully in this life, but which, all the same, we should try to penetrate, if only slightly.  It is a mystery of faith.  So the starting point must always be our faith, our belief, in one God in three divine persons, a faith we profess every time we recite the Creed.

          In fact, if you look at either of the two Creeds, you will see that their structure is Trinitarian, divided into three parts.  First, we affirm our belief in God the Father, creator of heaven and earth; then in his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, who became incarnate, that is, assumed our human flesh, in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary; and finally we profess our faith in the Holy Spirit, who proceeds from the Father and the Son.  The Father is God; Jesus Christ, the Son is God; the Holy Spirit is God.

          Now I find that some people are uncertain about the divinity of Our Lord.  Jesus is the Son of God, and precisely, because he is the Son of God, he too is of the same substance, of the same nature, one in being, with the Father:  God from God, light from light, true God from true God, as we say in the Creed.  And So, Jesus Christ is truly God.  All the miracles Our Lord performed were intended to show to those around him that he wasn’t just a human being, but truly divine—changing the water in wine at Cana, for example; walking on the water at the Sea of Galilee; multiplying the loaves and fish to feed the five thousand; raising Lazarus from the dead, and so on.  But Jesus is also man.  For he has two natures, a human nature and a divine nature.  He is both God and man.  God from the beginning, but in time, he assumed our human flesh when he became one of us at the Incarnation, when he was conceived in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary by the power of the Holy Spirit.

          God is love, as we know, and God our Father loves us more than we can possibly imagine.  Now if you love someone, naturally you want to speak to the one you love.  That is precisely what God our Father has done.  Out of love for us, he has spoken to us—and how do you speak, but with words.  That is how God has spoken to us too—through His Word, the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ his Son.

          Now any son has to be conceived—and Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was conceived too—but not by any human means.  For when the Father spoke the Word, what did he use?  What do we use when we speak?  We need to have breath.  That’s where the Holy Spirit comes in.  For the word “spirit” really just means breath.  It is the breath the Father uses to speak his Word to us.  And so Jesus, the Son of God, was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit.  The Father and the Son love one another with a boundless love.  This love is the Holy Spirit, which we profess in the Creed, proceeds from the Father and the Son.

          I began by acknowledging that we find ourselves before a great mystery.  On the one hand, we need to balance our belief in one and only one God, with the fact that this one God has revealed himself to us by becoming one of us in the person of Jesus Christ, conceived through the power of the Holy Spirit.  It is our goal to come to know this blessed, most Holy Trinity, even as they know us.  And though we shall never achieve such knowledge in this world, where we walk by faith and not by sight, we hope and pray that we may be found worthy to do so in the next.

          And so on this Trinity Sunday, we pray:  Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Pentecost Sunday A  (May 28, 2023)             

The fifty days of Eastertide reach their climax today on the great feast of Pentecost, a Greek word meaning “the fiftieth day”.  It was the day, as we hear in the first reading, on which the Holy Spirit, in the form of tongues of fire, came down to rest upon Our Lady and the apostles gathered in prayer.  The priest wears red Mass vestments today, symbolizing the colour of fire, and since it is the last day of Eastertide, we proclaim the double Alleluia at the dismissal.

          The apostles had gathered in the Upper Room in prayer after Our Lord’s Ascension into heaven.  He had promised to send them the Holy Spirit, so as not to leave them as orphans.  Perhaps that is the first point we can make.  The outpouring of the Holy Spirit was the fruit of prayer, continuous prayer.  It didn’t just happen.  Rather Mary and the apostles prayed intensely to receive this great gift.  We too, if we wish to be filled with the Spirit, filled with the gifts and fruits of the Spirit, also need to pray to receive that outpouring with that same degree of fervour and intensity.

          How appropriate that Mary should have been there.  Mary conceived the Saviour of the world through the power of the Holy Spirit, and so became the Mother of God.  Now she was to become the Mother of the Church, which was born on Pentecost Sunday as a result of the descent of that same Holy Spirit.  Mary has been called the spouse of the Spirit, and rightly so, for she was wedded to that divine life-giving gift of God himself.  She chose, as St. Paul in the second reading, urges us also to choose to live by the Spirit, and not by the desires of the flesh.  For the two are opposed to each other.  We, who through our baptism, becomes temples of God’s Holy Spirit, are called to let the Spirit be our way of life, and not seek the lures of the flesh.

          The great manifestation of the Spirit at Pentecost was certainly a magnificent and dramatic event—the sound of the rush of violent wind, the tongues of fire coming down, the apostles’ being given the gift of speaking in different languages.  It is somewhat reminiscent of the excitement and glory of Our Lord’s Transfiguration on Mount Tabor.  In our own case, however, we are not likely to receive the Spirit in such a dramatic way.  We are more likely to welcome the Spirit as Elijah did (1 Kg 19:9)—not in the earthquake, or the mighty wind, or the fire, but rather in the sound of a gentle breeze, a gentle, quiet voice, a soft breath.  For as we know, our life is lived more in the valleys than on the mountain tops.  But if we open our hearts to receive the Spirt, if we pray to receive the gift of the Spirit, our prayers will not be in vain.  The Spirit will come to us, in one way or another for God is always faithful to his people and to his promise. 

          And when the Spirit comes, the Spirit will provide us with an answer to our particular needs.  In the case of the apostles who were to go out to the world and preach the Gospel of Christ, they received a spiritual strengthening, courage, as well as the gift of speaking foreign tongues.  This was an obvious practical need for their mission, and so they were given what they needed.  Some of us need the gift of the spirit of forgiveness, the Spirit who gives us pardon and peace for our sins in the sacrament of confession.  Remember that on Easter Sunday evening, Jesus appeared to his apostles, breathed on them, and said: “Receive the Holy Spirit.  For those whose sins you forgive, they are forgiven”, and so he instituted the sacrament of penance.  It was a kind of Pentecost right on Easter Sunday itself, as interpreted by St. John’s Gospel.

          Some will seek and receive the spirit of healing, whether physical healing or a spiritual healing of their souls.  Others will seek and receive the spirit of peace, freeing them from the pain of hostility or anger or bitterness, or anxiety.  For some the Spirit will bend their wills and hearts, to free them from the burden of rigidity. 

          The Spirit gives to each one who asks according to their particular need.  The spirit offers many gifts and so has many names.  He is called the Spirit of God, the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father and the Son, the upright Spirit, the guiding Spirit.  But his chief and distinguishing name is Holy Spirit.  And ultimately, that is what we are all called to be—holy.  The more the Holy Spirit lives in us, the more we too will be holy.  People will see the Spirit is living in us by the way we practise our faith.  Just as Mary, who was wedded to the Spirit of God, and not to the flesh of the earth, exuded holiness and sanctity, so too the more we show our love for the spirit and seek the spiritual gifts, the more we also will become holy, truly, the holy people of God.

          And filled with the Spirit of holiness we will then, like the apostles, be able to go out and transform the word, to recreate a new world, to help to establish the kingdom of God here on earth.     

          And so today, we pray:

Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of Your faithful, and kindle in them the fire of Your Love.  Send forth Your Spirit, and they shall be created; and You shall renew the face of the earth.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Ascension Sunday - A  (May 21, 2023)     

For forty days after his resurrection, Our Lord appeared to his disciples and spoke to them about the kingdom of God.  Just as he had spent forty days in the desert after his baptism before he began his own public ministry, so now he spent forty days with his apostles to prepare them for theirs.

          To encourage and strengthen them even more for the great mission he had planned for them, he promised to send the power of the Holy Spirit upon the apostles so that they would be his witnesses to the ends of the earth.  And then, almost to prove he could and would do it, he gave a spectacular demonstration of his divinity by being lifted up to heaven.  Now there is not the slightest reason to doubt the literal truth of the ascension into heaven.  It is related several times in the New Testament.  After all, if Christ could rise from the dead, why could he not ascend into heaven as well?  We profess our belief in the ascension in the Creed, and we recall it in the Eucharistic prayer. 

          But what is its significance?  The ascension marks the point in time when Christ completed his earthly appearances after his resurrection, and so brought his visible ministry on earth to a close.  But at a more theological level, the ascension marks the exaltation, the glorification of Jesus.  His human nature was taken up to heaven, and from there, he now exercises all power in heaven and on earth.  The risen Christ, in the humanity he assumed in becoming one of us, returned to his Father who sent him.  He will return to earth only once, at the end of time, at the parousia, when, as we profess in the Creed, he will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.

          Today’s Gospel passage is very short, but very much to the point.  Before he ascends to heaven, Jesus commissions his apostles.  He tells them to go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Holy Trinity.  The word “apostle” means someone who is sent.  That is what Our Lord does—he sends his apostles out to spread the Gospel to the ends of the earth.

          Our faith, in other words, is not something we are to keep to ourselves.  It is not some gift we keep to hide from others.  It’s not like solving a great mystery, and then keeping the answer to ourselves.  No, we are called to share it with others—to actively go out and make disciples of all nations.  By its very nature, then, our faith is missionary.  We are to spread the Good News, the Gospel, to all people, all nations, to the whole world.

          It is through the sacrament of baptism that we do in fact become Catholics, that we are incorporated into the Body of Christ, which is the Church.  So in commissioning them, Our Lord directs his apostles to baptize the nations in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. 

          It is not, of course, our Lord’s will that we go out and baptize indiscriminately.  First, there must be some sign of faith.  In the case of a child, we look to the Catholic parents to supply that faith.  In the case of adults, there must be some study, preparation, and spiritual growth to prepare for Christian initiation.  So we don’t rush people, and we certainly don’t force people to be baptized, any more than we force them to marry.  At the same time, since baptism is such a great gift, we certainly encourage people to seek this great gift of new life when they are ready to receive it.

          But baptism is not just a one-off event.  It is not a one-day experience, any more than marriage is just the wedding day itself.  That is why Our Lord goes on to say in today’s Gospel, that his apostles should teach all nations to obey “everything that I have commanded you”.  Being baptized, becoming a Christian, involves following a lifestyle that is in keeping with the commandments of God.  Baptism is a gift that carries with it duties, obligations, responsibilities.  We must be faithful to Christ, obey the commandments, as Jesus said in last Sunday’s Gospel:  “if you love me, keep my commandments”.

          At times we may find it difficult to live up to our baptismal calling.  That is why Our Lord’s final words in today’s Gospel are:  “And remember, I am with you always until the end of the age.”  Jesus is always with us, at our side, to help us, to guide us, to support us, if only we will let him, if only we will open ourselves to his presence through prayer.

          And what a source of inspiration that must have been for the apostles, to see the Lord go up to heaven, with shouts of joy, to ascend with trumpet blast.  Rising form the dead was one thing, and a great miracle.  But Jesus rose only to walk on this earth.  It was only on the fortieth day that he thrilled his disciples by letting them see him go up, ascend into heaven.  What great joy they must have felt at this wonderful spectacle.  What hope it must have put into their hearts, hope that where he the head had gone, there we the flock would hope one day to follow.

          And so our prayer today is very simply:  where Christ our head has preceded us in glory, there we the body hope one day to follow.  May we look to the things above, and seek the heavenly values, so we may draw ever closer to the risen Christ, who has taken his place at the right hand of the Father in heaven, so that we may one day join him there too.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday VI-A (May 14, 2023)

The fifty days of Eastertide reach their climax on the great feast of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descended upon Mary and the apostles gathered in prayer.  So during this period we too are praying to receive that gift.  In today’s first reading, we see Peter and John in Samaria.  The people there had been baptized, but not yet confirmed.  So the apostles pray that they might receive the Holy Spirit, and then they lay hands on them, in effect conferring the sacrament of confirmation upon them.

          In today’s Gospel, Jesus also promises to send the Holy Spirit upon his disciples.  He will not leave them orphans, he will not leave them alone, but will send the Spirit of truth to be with them.

          But he asks them to show their love by keeping his commandments.  We tend to use the word “love” a great deal—perhaps rather superficially at times.  In a sense, we seem to follow in a rather simplistic way St. Augustine’s famous remark:  love and do what you wish (ama et fac quod vis).  We know that all love comes from God, because God is love.  That is our starting point.  It was out of love that God created the world, and you and me to live in it.  It is out of love that he keeps us in being.  And it was out of love that God our Father sent his only Son into the world to be the lamb of sacrifice to take our sins away.  God loved us so much that he allowed his only Son to die on the cross to redeem us from our sins.  “A man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends”.  That is what Our Lord did for us.

          Love is an unconditional giving of self for another—an abandoning of one’s own pleasures or comforts for the sake of someone else.  Simply put, it is the opposite of selfishness.  When we examine our own human notions of what we call love, we see how inadequate they are compared to God’s love for us.  Our world is driven by selfishness, by pleasure, by self-interest.  There is a lack of respect for the dignity of the other, whether in the area of human rights, where people are persecuted or otherwise deprived of their basic civil liberties; whether in the field of commerce, where people seek to take advantage of the other by cheating, dishonesty or fraud; or in the area of sexual activity, where human beings are degraded and exploited, and become mere sex objects.  How far removed are such acts of selfishness from the example of love, of self-sacrifice, of giving that Our Lord offered to us as an example to follow.

          In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us we can show our love for him by keeping his commandments.  We show we love God by our acts—not just by what we say with our lips.  St. Augustine also said we must move from a love of self that excludes God, to a love of God that excludes self.  We see such love in the lives of the martyrs and saints of the Church throughout the centuries.  So yes, love and do what you will, but love as a Christian who shows their love by obeying God’s commands, and then and only then, do what you will.

          In this month of May, the month of Mary, we can look to the example of the love of the Mother of God—of her pure, generous love for her son, and for us too.  We can see in her holiness, in her obedience to the will of God and his commands, and of her sacrifice and sorrow, an example and source of inspiration for us all.

          Mary prayed for the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost.  Let us ask her to pray with and for us so that we too may receive that Spirit of truth and love.  For as St. Paul writes, there are three things that last:  faith, hope and love, and the greatest of these is love.  It is by love that we reach out to eternity, to the everlasting life that awaits those who love and remain in God’s love, by keeping his commandments.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday V-A (May 7, 2023)

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Believe in God, believe also in me”.  These are very consoling words from today’s Gospel, words Our Lord addressed to his disciples, but words intended for us too.  For we all have hearts that are troubled. We all suffer from anxiety of one kind or another.  There always seems to be a dark cloud on the horizon.  It may be our health, or our financial affairs, or our job, perhaps there are problems in our family.  Or it may be world events that cause us to fear.  There’s always something.

          Our Lord’s response to our concerns is very simple.  He tells us, “Don’t worry, but trust in me”.  Sometimes we can profess Christianity on the outside, but when it comes to day-to-day life, when the going gets tough, our faith can be challenged.  But Christianity is above all a religion of hope.  We are particularly conscious of this during Eastertide, when we have Christ’s resurrection before us in so prominent a way.  You cannot be a pessimistic Christian.  That is a contradiction in terms. 

          Our religion is above all a person, Jesus of Nazareth, who today asks us all to place our trust in Him, who rose from the dead on the third day.

          Now the word “trust” is really just another word for “faith”.  Have faith in God still, and have faith in me.  Trust in me.  The way we get to have faith or trust in any person is by knowing them.  You cannot trust a stranger.  You have to know someone well before you can trust them.  The better we get to know Jesus, the more we will trust him.  Now getting to know anyone takes time – it involves establishing a relationship with them.  This is where prayer comes in.  For it is above all through daily prayer that we can establish a personal relationship with Our Lord.  That’s why it’s so important to find time for prayer each and every day.  The more we pray, the more we will get to know Jesus, the more we will trust him and have faith in him.  If your faith were the size of a mustard seed, he tells us, you would say to this mountain move, and it would.  The more our faith grows, the more trust we have in God, and the less we will worry – the less will our hearts be troubled, and the more we will live in union with him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

          Mary had trust in God.  Even when she found herself in an inexplicable predicament.  Here she was, engaged to Joseph, yet with child not begotten by any human means.  Who would believe that an angel appeared to her with the message we know so well?  But Mary, though she was disturbed at first by the angel’s words, was a woman of prayer and faith.  She had trust in God, and so she did not worry in the end.  She did not let her heart be troubled.  She knew God.  She knew his power.  She knew that nothing is impossible for him.  She knew his love for her, and that whatever sword might pierce her heart, God would never abandon her.  So she accepted to be the Mother of God, she who was the daughter of her Son, agreed to become the Mother of her own Creator.

          May is a month dedicated in a special way to Our Lady.  May is a month of spring, of new life, new flowers.  It is a breath of fresh warm air after the cold bleakness of winter.  How fitting that is should also be the month of Mary.

          May provides us with an opportunity to renew our devotion to the Mother of God, especially through the daily recitation of the Holy Rosary, that compendium of the Gospel.  May we see in Mary a model of our own vocation, of trust in God, of faith in God, and may we her children never hesitate to turn to her in prayer and to ask her intercession in our every need.  She will not turn us down for she loves us.  Jesus her Son will not turn us down either, for he loves us more that we can ever imagine.

          So let us live our faith as true Christians with that hope, that trust that befits our vocation.  Don’t be stifled by your troubles.  We all have troubles, every one of us – and we always will.  Let’s not be so naïve as to think we will ever escape them completely in this life.  There’ll always be something.  But to get through them, we must trust in God, trust in his love for us, trust in him who tells us he is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, the second person of the most Holy Trinity, through whom everything was made, who is the origin of all life, and who promises us eternal life with him in his heavenly kingdom.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday IV-A (April 30, 2023)

Today is the fourth Sunday of Easter.  It is traditionally known as Good Shepherd Sunday, for the Gospel always speaks of Christ, the Good Shepherd.  This Sunday is also observed throughout the Church as the World Day of prayer for vocations.  Now we all have our particular vocation in life.  But the one common and first vocation we all share is to be holy.  “Be holy for I am holy”, says the L­ord.  The purpose of this annual world day of prayer is to pray especially for vocations to the priesthood and to the consecrated life—to ask the Lord of the harvest to send more labourers to his harvest.

          The word vocation means “call”, and so a vocation is a call—a call from God.  To hear God’s call, we have to listen—to keep our ears open, so we can hear God’s voice.  We live in a noisy, busy world, a world where many voices compete for our attention, and our allegiance.  Especially in our consumer society, everyone seems to be trying to sell us their product or service.  It’s very easy to be distracted and misled, not to be able to hear God’s voice.  That’s why we all need to find a quiet space in our daily lives, when we can be alone with God, to shut out the rest of the world, so we can listen to God, and hear his voice.

  If you ask someone the question, “What is prayer?”, the answer they usually give is that prayer is talking to God.  Well, that’s only half of it.  Prayer is a two-way street.  Yes, it’s talking to God, but it’s also listening to him.  It is communicating with God, union with God, or you could say, communion with God.  So we all really need to establish that relationship, that personal communion with the Lord in prayer, so we can hear his voice and respond to it.

          Jesus, the good shepherd, lays down his life for his sheep.  He makes a sacrifice.  He loves his sheep so much that he is willing to surrender all—even his own life, for the sake of his sheep.  Jesus, of course, did precisely this when he offered his life on the cross for the redemption of the world—a sacrifice which is made present, sacramentally, every time we celebrate Mass.

          A vocation involves sacrifice.  It demands that we give up something for a greater good.  And we do so out of love—love of God, and love of neighbour.  Someone called to the priesthood or consecrated life must sacrifice their own private will, and promise obedience to their bishop of superior.  While there is a certain loss of freedom involved in this, there is, on the other hand, a confidence and trust which comes from striving to do the will of God, instead of seeking a personal selfish goal.  To obey, one needs a sense of faith and trust in God’s loving providence, and a love of him that surpasses any personal self-seeking we might have.

          The charism, or gift, of celibacy also involves sacrifice.  But it provides a freedom to devote one’s life to working in the Lord’s vineyard, without the duties and responsibilities that are part of married life.  Celibacy is also a witness to and a sign of our belief in the next life, where men and women do not marry, but where the Church, as the bride of Christ, enters the eternal heavenly banquet prepared for us from the beginning of time.  So while there is sacrifice involved in accepting the gift of celibacy, there is also the joy of anticipating that heavenly union with Christ, even now, here on earth.

          So please, on this world day of prayer for vocations, we should renew our commitment to pray—not just once a year—but to pray every day of the year for more vocations, especially in our own diocese—to spread the Word of God to the ends of the earth.  For the harvest is indeed great, but the labourers, still far too few, especially here in Toronto.  And we commend all our prayers to the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary, who said “Yes” to God’s call, and ask her to pray for us and all our needs too.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday III-A (April 23, 2023)

Today’s Gospel is about the presence of Christ, and recognizing him—recognizing that Jesus is present in our midst.  It’s interesting that the disciples fail to identify Jesus when he first comes to them.  They were sad, we’re told—just like we can be sad without Our Lord.  As he talks to them and explains the Scriptures, their hearts begin to burn within them.  They don’t want him to leave.  They urge him to stay.  His presence, his teaching, his Word has so inspired them that they’re no longer sad, but excited to be with Jesus, even though still they don’t know who he is.  It is only at the breaking of bread, when Our Lord reminds them of the Last Supper, that they finally recognize him.

          You know, Jesus is always there beside us, walking along with us, guiding us, even though we don’t see him, even though we don’t always realize he’s there.  Perhaps because our minds are somewhere else.  Maybe we’re thinking of other things, have other values before us.  Perhaps we’re not conscious of his presence because he’s not number one in our lives.  But he’s always there.  He’s our closest, dearest friend.  That’s why it’s so important for us to be conscious of his presence, and to open ourselves to him, and then our hearts too will burn with excitement and joy.

          It is especially during Mass that Jesus is present to us—in four ways.  First of all, he is present in his priest.  The priest’s role is to represent Christ, to take his place, unworthy though he be.  Our Lord wanted his flock to have priests who would take his place as shepherds of his flock, who would lead and teach his flock, and pray for the flock.  He wanted priests who would pronounce the same words he did at the Last Supper, the first Mass—priests who would continue to offer Mass, to do this in memory of him, as he asked.  And so we do—not just on Sundays, but every day of the year, following Our Lord’s command.  So Jesus is present at Mass in his priest who offers the sacrifice of the Eucharist as he did.

          Secondly, Jesus is present in his Word—in the Sacred Scriptures.  When passages from the Bible, the Scriptures, are read at Mass, we are listening to the Word of God.  It is Jesus speaking to us in the Gospel.  And so he is very much present in his word, talking to us.  That is why we should listen, attentively, to the Word of God during Mass.

          He is also present in the parish community, gathered to celebrate the Holy Eucharist.  For Our Lord has said that where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I also, present in their midst.  When we come together as a parish community every week, and indeed even every day, in his name, to pray and to offer the sacrifice of the Holy Mass, Jesus is present among us in our parish community.

          Finally, in a very special way, Jesus is present in Holy Communion.  For he said at the Last Supper:  This is my Body, this is my Blood.  So he is present, sacramentally, in the Holy Eucharist.  This means if we are Catholics, and in a state of grace, at peace with Christ and with each other, we can welcome and receive Jesus inside our own bodies when we receive him in Holy Communion.  And when we do receive the Body of Christ, we are receiving what we in fact already are.  For we are the Body of Christ—the Church is Christ’s Body—He is the head, and we are the members of that body, a community of believers, joined together through baptism and united in prayer and worship of Jesus Christ, our Lord and our God.

          May we always recognize Jesus’ presence at the breaking of bread during Mass, when we come together as a parish community every week.  May Jesus be a part of our community, a part of our life.  And then we will never be sad, for that sadness will turn into joy, the joy of knowing that God himself is with us—yes, even to the end of time.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday II-A (April 16, 2023)                                

Today’s Gospel begins in the evening of that same day, the first day of the week, that is, on Easter Sunday evening.  Jesus appears to his disciples.  He does so very much in concrete, physical terms, so they can see his hands, and his side.  He is not just some spirit, but he has truly, bodily risen from the dead.  And a week later, when the doubting Thomas demands to see, before he will believe, Jesus insists that he put his finger into the holes the nails made in his hands, and that Thomas put his hands into the hole made by the spear.  Later on in St. John’s Gospel, Jesus appears on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, and has breakfast with his disciples.  He eats some fish.  Again, John is stressing very much the fact that Our Lord bodily rose from the dead.  It was not just some spiritual event, or a figment of someone’s imagination.  Jesus truly, physically rose from the dead.

         And we too believe in the resurrection of the body, that is, that at the end of time, our bodies will rise from the grave, in glorified form, as did Our Lord’s, and be joined to our souls.  Just as Jesus bodily rose from the dead, and Mary was assumed body and soul into heaven, so too will our bodies rise on the last day.

         When Jesus appears on Easter Sunday evening to his disciples, he greets them twice, with the words, “Peace be with you”.  He, of course, came to earth as the prince of peace, and at his birth the angels sang, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to people of good will”.  How fitting that now, at the climax of his earthly ministry, he continues the theme of peace.  He came to bring peace, to make peace between God and man, to reconcile fallen humanity to the Father.

         In our world today, many people long for peace.  They long for peace because they find they are not at peace.  They are troubled, they are worried, they may be in conflict with their neighbour, or perhaps even with their family. There’s not an awful lot of peace to be found in our world whose values can never give us true peace. 

         But Jesus wants to give us his peace—a peace the world can never give.  And to complete his mission, Jesus breathes on his apostles—he breathes the Holy Spirit upon them, and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.  If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained”.  In so doing, Our Lord, as a sign of his divine mercy, institutes the sacrament of penance.  He gives his apostles the gift of the Holy Spirit so that they can forgive sins.  They, in turn, would hand down this power, through the laying on of hands, in the sacrament of Holy Orders, to their successors, the bishops, and they, in turn, to the priests called to help them in their work.  The role of the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of sins is clear in the words of absolution the priest uses:  “God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son, has sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins”.  The Holy Spirit is in fact very much present and part of all the sacraments.  We first receive the gift of the Holy Spirit in baptism, when we are baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  The gift of the Spirit we receive for ourselves at baptism is strengthened at confirmation, so that we can bear witness to our faith before others.  But we know we fail, we sin, and so through the sacrament of penance, through confession, the Holy Spirit comes to forgive our sins when we repent and confess them.  It’s so important for our spiritual well-being that we go to confession regularly, that we seek and receive the gift of the Holy Spirit to forgive our sins.

         We’re all familiar with the dramatic description of Pentecost in St. Luke’s Acts of the Apostles, when the Holy Spirit came down upon our Lady and the apostles gathered in prayer, fifty days after Easter.  St. John’s Gospel, which is today’s Gospel, was one of the last books written in the New Testament, and so John had time to reflect on the others.  His work is a more theological one than the others.  And so what he seems to describe today is a kind of Pentecost right on Easter Sunday—for he emphasizes the unity of the Resurrection and the sending of the Holy Spirit, both on Easter Sunday.

        Then, in today’s Gospel, John moves forward a week to describe the incident with Thomas.  Though Thomas may have doubted initially, after he sees Jesus, Thomas makes the most explicit profession of faith in the whole New Testament when he addresses Jesus as “My Lord and my God”.  Jesus is truly God.  Though he also became man, Jesus was and is truly God—he has both a divine and a human nature.  As we say in the Creed:  Jesus is: “God from God, light from light, true God from true God.”

        May we never doubt as Thomas did, but believe as Thomas also did—believe in Jesus Christ, our Lord and God, and in his power to forgive our sins, in his divine mercy, so that we too may enjoy the gift of true peace, a peace the world can never give.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday, April 9, 2023                                                                 

We celebrate today what is the greatest feast of the Church's liturgical year—even more important than Christmas.  For today we celebrate the day Christ rose from the dead, the day Christ destroyed the power of death—not just for himself, but for us too.

          During his life on earth, Our Lord performed many miracles which were intended to help people believe he was truly God, truly divine.  And his own resurrection from the dead was the greatest miracle of them all.

          Death was not part of God's plan for humanity at the beginning.  There was no death in the garden of Eden.  It was paradise—like heaven, and would have gone on forever.  It was only through the sin of Adam and Eve that death entered the world.  Death was the punishment for their original sin.  They were cast out of paradise, and so, in the end, they had to die—the gates of heaven were closed.

          But God in his great love for us didn't want that to be the end of the story.  So he sent his only Son, Jesus Christ, the new Adam, born of Mary, the new Eve, so that by his passion, death and resurrection from the dead, he could pay the price of Adam's sin, and open the gates of heaven once again for those who believe in him and are faithful to him.  And so, as St. Paul writes in his letter to the Colossians (3:1-4):  "If you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.  Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth."  Look up to heaven where Christ is, in other words, and seek first that kingdom of heaven, and not the things, the attractions, the material treasures of this earth.

          When we profess our faith, the faith of the Church, we affirm our belief that Christ rose again on the third day.  This is one of the most fundamental tenets of our faith as Christians—our belief that Christ did indeed bodily rise from the dead.

          We also profess our belief in the resurrection of the body.  We believe that just as Christ bodily rose from the dead, so too will we, at the final judgment, when the souls of those who have died in Christ will be rejoined to their glorified bodies.  Just as Jesus rose from the dead, just as Mary was assumed body and soul into heaven, so too we believe that our bodies will also rise on the last day.

          Christianity is a religion of hope, of optimism.  You cannot be a pessimistic Christian.  It's a contradiction in terms.  For at the heart of our faith stands the risen Christ.  God did not create us to die, but he made us in his own image so we could live with him forever.  When God gives life, it is forever.

          God gives, God seeks life.  But so often, men and women seek death.  Christ, by his own death, destroyed the power of death to give us life forever.  That death was an act of the utmost love imaginable.  It was in fact love that destroyed death.  For the power of the love of God is stronger than the power of death.  Love is a creative force of the highest order.  Hatred, like death, only destroys.  Yet not even Christ himself could escape death.  He had to pass through it, as do we.  For, ironically, death is the gateway to life.  In a sense, you could say that the whole point of life is death.  For our whole lives here on earth are but a preparation for that moment when we too will have to pass through that gateway of death in order to enter everlasting life.  And when we make that journey, all we take with us is our faith, and the good works we have done during our lives here on earth.  Our large Paschal candle in front of the altar, which we always light for baptisms and for funerals, represents the risen Christ, a candle that remains there for the fifty days of Eastertide, right until the great feast of Pentecost.

          Today we celebrate the resurrection of Our Lord in a very special way.  But in fact every Sunday the Church celebrates the resurrection of Christ.  Every Sunday is for us Easter Sunday. 

          And so today we commit ourselves once more to our baptismal faith, the faith of the Church, the faith in which we have been baptized, and born again—our faith in the one God, our loving Father, in his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Spirit, who live and reign for all ages, world without end.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Palm Sunday - A (April 2, 2023)                                      

We begin today the week we call Holy Week, the most important and solemn week of the Church’s liturgical year.  This is a very special week.  We should make a particular effort to observe it with reverence, with prayer, with the solemnity that befits it.

          Today is properly known as Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord.  For there is a double focus.  We begin with the blessing of the palms, remembering Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem as the Messiah.  But also we hear the account of Christ’s passion.  That is why red vestments are worn, the colour of the blood Our Lord shed for us.  We do well to consider just why Jesus had to suffer—why he had to die.  It was to atone for our sins, to pay the price of our disobedience with his own blood.  And so especially in this week, we should remember that our salvation, our hope of everlasting life was bought—not through any efforts on our own part, but with the price of Christ’s precious blood.  That is why we should express genuine sorrow for our sins, confess them, and do penance for them.  It is why Good Friday is a day of fasting and abstinence, and why every Friday is a day of penance.  We should resolve to put our sins behind us, and turn to Christ instead and obey him and his commandments, and resolve not to fall back into the sins that nailed Our Lord to the tree.

          At every Mass, at the end of the preface, we sing the same words the crowds sang in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.  For in the Sanctus we sing: “Hosanna in the highest, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”  If you listen to the words that lead up to the Sanctus, you’ll see they are usually to the effect: “and so we join the angels and saints in heaven, as they sing your glory forever—holy, holy, holy”.

          In the heavenly Jerusalem, that’s what it’s all about.  In heaven, all who have been invited to the banquet of the Lamb sing and praise him forever.  They sing Hosannas to the highest.  Our liturgy here on earth, indeed our whole life here below, is a witness to and a preparation for the next life.  So no matter how seemingly tragic the death of Christ on the cross, may we remember that he died so we could live, so we could rise with him, and join him in the heavenly Jerusalem, and there together with all the angels and saints sing his praises, sing Hosanna in the highest heaven for ever.  Amen.T

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent V-A (March 26, 2023)

St. John, in his Gospel, outlines seven miracles Our Lord performed—the first one being the changing of the water into wine at the wedding feast of Cana, and the seventh, and final one, the raising of Lazarus from the dead, which we have just heard described in today’s Gospel.  This was the greatest miracle Jesus had performed to date.  Like all the others, it was intended to excite faith and belief in him as being truly God.  We are told at the end of the account, that many of the Jews who had come and seen what Jesus did, believed in him.  That’s where today’s excerpt stops.  But if you keep reading the next few verses, you see that while many believed, others went to report to the Pharisees what Jesus had done.  And they, far from believing in him, felt threatened.  They decided, in fact, to kill him.  So a miracle of life, which was a source of great joy for some, was to lead others to hatred, and to seek death.

          It’s not as if Jesus didn’t know this might happen.  At the start of today’s Gospel, when Our Lord proposes to go to Judaea to see Lazarus, the disciples say to him:  “the people there were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?”  So he knew he was going into hostile territory.  Thomas, who has had the misfortune of being known as the doubting Thomas, shows his more courageous and faithful side when he says to his fellow disciples:  “let us also go, that we may die with him”.  He says more than he realizes.  He is thinking of the present danger to Christ in Judaea, and proclaims his willingness to share this peril.  But his words sum up the common destiny of all Christians:  to die with Christ, so we can rise with him as well.  Later on, Thomas was in fact to die a martyr’s death in India.

          Death was not part of God’s plan in the beginning.  There was no death in the Garden of Eden.  Death came into the world as the penalty for Adam and Eve’s original sin.  And so we all have to die.  In a sense, you could say the whole point of life is death.  For our lives here on earth are but a preparation for that moment when we too will leave this world and everything and everyone in it behind, to meet Our Lord and our judge.

          Christ, through his passion, death and resurrection destroyed the power of death to give us the hope of new life.  He instituted the seven sacraments, including the sacrament of baptism.  Through baptism, we die to sin, to the past, and we are born again into a new life of grace.  That’s really what happens to Lazarus.  He dies, only to be born again.  He passes from death to a new life.  It’s like the man born blind in last Sunday’s Gospel who passed form the darkness of blindness into the new life and light of Christ.

          Lazarus, though, was raised to life only on this earth.  He would have to die again.  But we believe in something even greater.  For we believe that if we have been faithful to Christ and died with him, we will be raised, not back to this life here on earth as Lazarus was.  No.  Rather we will be raised to new life in the eternal heavenly kingdom prepared for us from the beginning, to live there with the risen Lord for all time.

          And so our lives here on earth should be a preparation for that passover each of us will have to make one day.  And we prepare for that meeting with Christ by leading holy lives—being regular in daily prayer, regular in receiving the sacraments worthily, especially confession and Holy Communion, being obedient to God’s commandments, practising good works and acts of penance.  That’s how we prepare for our own passover form death in this life to meeting Christ in the next.

          God seeks life.  But humans, so often, seek death—just like Herod who sought to kill the prince of peace as soon as he was born, or the people who wanted to stone Jesus to death, or the Pharisees who sought to and did kill him in the end.  Men and women and even young people so often seek death.  But love is stronger than death.  And if we have true love in us, love of God, love of neighbour, love of self, we will never seek death.  For it was the power of love that defeated death when Christ rose from the grave on the third day.  And those who believe in him, will truly, never die.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent IV-A (March 19, 2023)                    

In today’s Gospel, St. John offers us another moving and richly symbolic account.  The story of how Jesus gives sight to the man born blind has a strong baptismal imagery, and that is one reason why it is presented to us during Lent.  For Lent is a time when we prepare to re-live the Paschal mystery, that is, Christ’s passover from death to life, paying the price of Adam and Eve’s sin, and enabling us to have the stain of their original sin washed away in the waters of baptism.

          The man in the Gospel was blind from birth – like we are born with the stain of original sin.  The Pharisees try to attribute the blind man’s condition to sin, either his or his parents, but Jesus states that neither this man nor his parents sinned.  Similarly we are born into this world with original sin – not because of anything we or our parents have done, but rather because of the consequences of Adam and Eve’s disobedience.

          Our Lord heals the blind man by mixing his saliva with earth.  In a sense you could say he anoints the man’s eyes with this mud.  He then asks the man to wash in a pool.  It is a type of baptismal ritual – taking the earth and mixing it with the spirit of God, and then bathing, washing the eyes clean with water, so they can see.  It’s just like being washed clean of sin in the waters of baptism.  And in the baptismal rite, there is an anointing with holy oil both before and after the actual baptism or washing with water.

          Through baptism, we enter a new life, we are born again in water and the spirit.  And that is precisely what happens to this man.  Imagine if you had been born blind from birth, never having seen anything or anyone, and then suddenly, one day, as an adult, the whole world opens up for you, and you can see everything and everyone.  Truly that would be a wonderful new birth, a brand new life.  That’s what happens in baptism.  That’s what happened to this man.  And at the end of the baptismal ceremony, we light a candle, as a sign of the light of Christ, who said “I am the light of the world”.  The newly-baptized child or adult has been enlightened by Christ, and is to live as a child of the light, putting behind them the darkness of sin.

          The Pharisees, of course, don’t like all this healing.  They don’t actually confront Jesus until the end of the account, and then only indirectly.  But during the narrative, the man born blind is in a sense on trial.  He is challenged by the Pharisees, the enemies of Christ, just as any Christian disciple living faithfully in the world is called upon to bear witness to Christ, and to take the flack for it.  But the real defendant in the confrontations between the blind man and the Pharisees is Jesus.  He, in a sense, is being tried in absentia.  But the judges are divided.  They want to find him guilty of breaking the Sabbath laws for healing the blind man, yet on the other hand, they stumble over that fact that what he did was a magnificent good work, so how can it be wrong?  As the beggar says to them:  “If this man were not from God, he could do nothing”.

          It’s interesting to see the evolution in the blind man’s understanding of who this person is who has healed him.  There is a clear progression in his knowledge.  First, he refers to him as “the man called Jesus”.  Then, to the Pharisees, he says:  “he is a prophet”.  So we’ve moved from ordinary man to prophet.  Next, the blind man infuriates the Pharisees by asking them, “Do you also want to become his disciples”?  So the beggar has now become a follower of Christ, his disciple.  Finally, when Jesus asks him, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”, one of the titles of the Messiah, and then identifies himself as the Messiah, the beggar proclaims, “Lord, I believe”.  And he worships him.  We worship only God, and so the combined act of worshipping and addressing Jesus as “Lord” shows the man has realized finally that Jesus is God, the Lord, and so he worships him.  His understanding of who this person is has progressed from an ordinary man, to prophet, to The Lord.  He believes in Jesus as the Messiah, the Saviour of the world.

          The beggar who started out in a condition of infirmity, having been born again into a new life by the light of Christ, grows in courage and strength as he stands up for Christ against the Pharisees of the establishment.  The blind man gives us a good example of how we too need to bear witness to Christ before others.  For we too have been enlightened by Christ in our baptism.  We too are called to defend Our Lord whenever we find him being tried in our presence in absentia.

          May the light of Christ which we have received in baptism never be extinguished in our hearts, but may it shine brightly for all to see – above all by our good works, and our love for God and for our neighbour.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent III-A   (March 12, 2023)                    

Today’s Gospel story is one of the most sublime in the New Testament.  Of the four evangelists, only St. John relates it, and coming from him, we can be sure there is more to it than might appear on the surface.

          A Samaritan woman came to draw water.  Not just any woman, but a Samaritan woman.  Now the Samaritans did not belong to the Jewish nation.  In fact, the Jews hated them.  No Jew would have dreamt of requesting water of a Samaritan, for they considered Samaritans, and their utensils for eating and drinking, to be unclean.  Not only that, but it was unheard of for a rabbi to speak with familiarity in public to a woman – any woman, even a Jewish woman.  And so, when the disciples return to Jesus, we are told they were surprised to find him speaking to a woman.  That seemed to astonish them even more than the fact it was a Samaritan.  We might do well to remember this as just one example of Our Lord’s not hesitating to overturn the accepted social customs of his own day when he wished to do so.

          The Gospels present the Samaritans favourably.  For example, Our Lord relates the parable of the Good Samaritan.  Only this foreigner proves himself a neighbour to the traveler who had been robbed on the road to Jericho (Lk 10).  Then, when the ten lepers are healed (Lk 17), it is only the Samaritan who comes back to thank Jesus.  “The other nine, where are they?  It seems that no one has come back to give praise to God, except this foreigner.”

          And it was a Samaritan woman, a foreigner, that Our Lord asked:  “Give me a drink.”  She reveals her shock immediately.  “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?”  Now the woman is a deliberate symbol.  She is not a Jew, so she is not a symbol of the Jewish people.  Rather, she represents the Gentiles.  She is a symbol of all the nations, of all peoples, of you and me.  In short, she is a symbol of the Church.  At the end of the account, the Samaritans believe in Jesus, and they know, we are told, that he really is “the Saviour of the world” – not just King of Israel, but the saviour of the whole world, whom they represent.

          Our Lord asks her for a drink of water, but his real thirst is for this woman’s faith, as he thirsts for our faith.  Jesus says to her:  “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink’, you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.”  The poor woman really doesn’t understand that Our Lord is speaking on a totally different level, and she thinks he is still after the water in the well.  “Sir, you have no bucket” – how could you get this living water?  She has a bucket, but then she knows that a Jew would never touch a Samaritan’s bucket, so how is he to drink the water? She still thinking at a purely natural level, she hasn’t grasped the supernatural dimension of the conversation as yet.

          Then Our Lord explains:  this water in the well won’t satisfy your thirst.  “But the one who drinks of the water that I will give will never be thirsty.  The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”  Our Lord is speaking here of the waters of baptism, and indeed the Gospels for the next two Sundays have baptismal themes.  But the woman still can’t really grasp his message.  Jesus then shows he has supernatural knowledge of the woman’s life and background, and she begins to believe he is a prophet.  The Our Lord identifies himself to her as the Messiah, the Hebrew word for the Greek title “Christ”.  “I am he, the one who is speaking to you”, says Jesus.

          The woman, amazed at how much this man knows about her, races back to bring her friends to see Jesus.  “He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”, she wonders.  She leaves her water jar behind.  She’s no longer interested in the well.  She came to draw water, but she has now discovered something, someone much greater.  Now that she has come to the source of living water, she needs no other.  She had asked for that water of which Jesus spoke, which would satisfy her thirst, and remove the need for her to have to come to the well to draw this ordinary water again and again.  It was, after all, a laborious and tiring process.  You couldn’t just turn on the tap in those days like we do today.  If you had to go and carry a heavy bucket of water every time you needed some, you’d be pretty tired.  But her weariness is suddenly transformed when she discovers the one who said, “Come to me all you who labour and are overburdened, and I will give you rest.”  She has discovered the fountain of living water, from whose side on the cross, blood and water would flow, symbol of the Eucharist and of the waters of baptism.

          And then the Samaritans come flocking to Our Lord, representing the nations of the whole world, the first fruits of the harvest, and they beg Jesus to stay with them.  They believe, on their own, that he really is the Saviour – not just of the Jews, but of the whole world.

          Water is necessary for life.  Every plant, every animal, every human being needs water to live.  In the desert, the people of Israel complained to Moses of their thirst, and so he struck the rock and water flowed for the people to drink, as we heard in the first reading.  Well, just as we need, and God provides, water for our physical well-being, so too we need water for our spiritual life.  We need to be born again of water and the spirit in baptism.  Water purifies, water cleanses – washes us clean from the stain of original sin; water refreshes, water satisfies our thirst, it flows forever.  And water is a symbol of the Holy Spirit, the Spirit we receive in our Christian baptism, which gives us the hope of eternal life.  And as St. Paul writes in the second reading, this hope does not disappoint us, because the love of God has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit which has been given to us.

          May we always seek the living water that Our Lord offers us.  For he is offering us his gift, the gift of the Holy Spirit.  May we drink of this water and so never be thirsty again, and may that water turn into a spring inside us, gushing up to eternal life. 

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent II-A (March 5, 2023)

The second Sunday of Lent always has the account of the Transfiguration as its Gospel.  We celebrate the actual feast of the Transfiguration on August 6.  So it seems a bit odd to hear this brilliant, dazzling Gospel, full of light and joy, in the early part of Lent, a time when we’re supposed to be in a penitential mood.

           Our Lord knew that he was going to be crucified, and would suffer a painful, excruciating death on the cross.  He knew what a demoralizing effect this would have on his disciples--how disoriented his passion and death would make them—what a tragedy the scandal of the cross would be for them after the Hosannas of Palm Sunday.  And so, to prepare them for the trials they would have to experience, Jesus led his closest followers up to a high mountain.  He chose the same three disciples who, later, would be privileged to witness his agony in the garden.

          He chose Peter, James and John to be the witnesses.  They who would see him suffer, would first receive the grace to see him glorified, so they could have the strength to understand and endure his passion.  He chose three so that their evidence would not be challenged.

          Our Lord was transfigured in their presence to strengthen their faith in him, in his divinity, so their faith would not be shaken.  In short, he wanted to offer them a glimpse of his resurrection.  The resurrection of Our Lord is at the very heart of our faith.  We profess it every time we recite the Creed, together with his ascension into heaven.  Indeed, throughout Lent, we are preparing to celebrate his rising from the dead on Easter Sunday.  Our Lord’s transfiguration in today’s Gospel was intended to give his closest disciples a glimpse of that miraculous event.

          And what a magnificent sight it must have been.  Our Lord’s face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.  So it’s not surprising that Peter should say: “Lord, it is good for us to be here”—good to be in the presence of God, wonderful to witness this great miracle.

          Well, we too are in the presence of God here today, in the House of God.  Our Lord has said that where two or three are gathered in his name, there is he also.  We have gathered together here in his name, in his House, the House of God.  We know Jesus is present in his Word, in his priest, in the community of his faithful, and in a very special way, he is present in the sacrament of the most Holy Eucharist.

          On the holy mountain, our Lord’s external appearance was miraculously transfigured.  Here at this and at every Mass, the bread and wine we offer are not transfigured externally, for they retain their outward form.  But that great miracle known as transubstantiation takes place.  The substance of the bread and wine change sacramentally into the Body and Blood of Christ, the risen, the glorified Christ.  And so it is indeed wonderful for us to be here, wonderful to be present at such a great miracle.  And not only that, but if we are Catholics, and in a state of grace, we can actually receive the Body and Blood of Christ in Holy Communion

          And through our worthy participation in, and reception of, the Holy Eucharist, we pray that we too may be transfigured and become a new creation, especially during Lent.  For Lent is a time for us to be changed, for us to put behind our failings of the past, and become children of light, a time for our souls to be made new, to be transfigured with Christ, and molded into his divine image, that image in which we were created, and so become ever more divine, transformed into an ever greater degree of holiness and glory.

For through our worthy reception of the Eucharist here on earth, we receive a foretaste, a glimpse of the eternal heavenly banquet, where we will rejoice and sing praise in the presence of the risen, glorified Christ for all eternity.

          But before we make that journey to the highest heaven, we must first follow the way of the cross.  We must first suffer with Christ in order to rise with him.  And we do so with the full confidence that no matter how heavy our cross may seem here on earth, if we remain faithful to Christ and to his commandments, he will raise us up on the last day to the heights of heaven, to be transfigured, and live there with him forever.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent I-A (February 26, 2023)

On this first Sunday of Lent, the readings present us with a parallel between the first man and woman, Adam and Eve, and Jesus Christ, the new Adam, born of Mary, the new Eve.  God created man in his own image, and so he conferred upon him the gift of free will.  This is central to our identity as human beings.  We are not robots or puppets.  No, we are human beings endowed with the gift of free will, and so we are responsible for what we think and say and do.  We can say Yes to God and to his commandments, or, like Adam and Eve, we can say No.  And we must answer for the way in which we choose to exercise our free will.

          The reason God gave us free will is really very simple.  He wanted us to love him.  and love cannot be forced – love has to be a free act.  You cannot make anyone love.  God wants so very much for us to love him, but he doesn’t force us.  He leaves it up to us.  This means we have the freedom not to love, the freedom to hate, to turn our backs on God, the freedom to choose to follow the devil instead, with all his empty works and promises.

          We see the serpent, the devil, tempting Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, in the first reading.  He tempts them with the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

          Then in the Gospel, we see a parallel temptation.  The devil tempts Christ.  First, to satisfy his hunger, he tempts Our Lord to use his divine power to fulfill his ordinary human needs for material food.  Jesus had been fasting in the desert for forty days, and so he would have been hungry.  Then, there is the second temptation to put God to the test, to stage a spectacular miracle – a kind of dramatic publicity stunt.  Finally, there is the third temptation for Our Lord to be a secular Messiah, to have all the kingdoms of this world and all their material splendor.

          Before all of these, Christ says no.  He tells Satan to get lost.  The first man, Adam, gave in to the devil’s temptation, and so, as St. Paul, writes in the second reading, through the fall, the sin of one man, death entered the world.  But through the merits of the new man, Jesus Christ, divine grace has given us the free gift of the hope of life everlasting.  

          Throughout our lives, we too will have to face temptations placed before us.  The devil is always there with his lies and tricks.  Even Christ was tempted, even he did not escape temptations, nor did any of the saints.  When temptations appear, remember that they do not come from God, but from the devil.  And God does not allow us to be tempted beyond our ability to resist.  We always have the power, the free will to say no to the temptation.  Temptations will come in many forms, from many sources, and often they will be very subtle.  Little by little the more we get into the habit of saying No to God and Yes to the devil, the greater the sins we will find ourselves committing.

          So we have to learn to say no to the devil and say yes to Christ.  And to do that we need to have that spirit of self-control, or self-discipline.  This is one reason for practising some form of self-denial, especially during Lent, so we can acquire that ability to control our desires, our inclinations, our feelings, so that when the serpent comes our way, and offers us some suggestion, something pleasing to look at, we will not consent to it, we will not commit sin, but rather have the courage, the strength to say – be off Satan.  Our Lord himself prayed and fasted forty days and nights in the wilderness before he was tempted.  He prepared to face that temptation by strengthening himself spiritually so that he would reject the devil’s tricks.

          During this Lent, perhaps we too could resolve to grow in prayer and practise some form of self-denial, to acquire that same kind of spiritual strength.  Remember we’re not doing this as an end in itself, but so that we can say yes to Christ, so we can show our true love for God and for our neighbour.

          For it is only by exercising our gift of free will to live a holy life, obedient to God’s commandments, that we can ever gain the hope of peace and happiness in this life, and eternal happiness with God in the next, that eternal life which the new Adam earned for us by his sacrifice on the cross.  And so every day, we ask our heavenly Father,  to “lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  Amen.”

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday VII-A (February 19, 2023)                               

In today’s Gospel, Our Lord continues his sermon on the mount—that dramatic call to conversion to his followers.

          Today we begin with the question of vengeance – an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.  The purpose of this particular precept from the Old Testament was not in fact intended to obtain full vengeance.  On the contrary, it was intended to limit the retribution of those greedy for satisfaction.  What the old precept did was to say:  “don’t ask any more than an eye for an eye, or a tooth for a tooth”.  Don’t go overboard, don’t get carried away and seek more than can possibly be justified.  Far from being an exacting precept, its aim was to limit retaliation.

          But in considering it, we should remember also the famous passage from Deuteronomy:  “vengeance is mine”, says the Lord (32:25).  It is not for us to seek vengeance.  And in the New Testament, Our Lord goes further.   He says that even an eye for an eye is too much.  For vengeance, he substitutes forgiveness.  Turn the other cheek if someone strikes you – don’t retaliate, he says.  If someone sues you, don’t fight back.  Suffer the injury, the pain.  That is precisely what Christ himself did during his trial and passion.  As always, he asks no more of us than he himself was prepared to give.  Indeed, it is what all the martyrs and saints did who followed the example of the innocent Lamb of God. 

          The question of vengeance is really but a part of the broader question of our attitude to those who make life difficult for us.  How does Jesus ask us to respond to such people?  “But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you… For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? … And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others?”

          The point is that, as Christians, we’re supposed to be different.  We’re supposed to be distinguishable from the rest of society.  We are to be the salt of the earth, and it is our light that must shine in the sight of others.  But does it?  Christ certainly loved his enemies and prayed for those who persecuted him, as did all the saints of the Church.  But how about us?  Do we love those whom we regard as our enemies?  Do we pray for them?  Have we ever tried to?  It’s amazing what might happen if we did.

          Of course, it’s never easy.  It involves effort and sacrifice and humility on our part.  But that’s really what Christianity is all about.  “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect”, Jesus asks.       

          That is really Our Lord’s message.  It is a call to perfection, to holiness, and so to change, to conversion.  He reminds us not to be mediocre, lackluster Christians, not like salt that has lost its taste, not to be satisfied with a half-hearted effort.  Rather we are called to grow continually in perfection.  “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy” – words from today’s first reading.  Through our baptism, we have been consecrated to God, set apart forever.  We are no longer of this world, but have become temples of God’s Holy Spirit.  That temple is sacred, and we are that temple.  We need to live and act in a manner that befits our state of consecration to God, and not just act and live like the rest of the world, not like the pagans and tax collectors of Christ’s time.  Rather we need to do and to be the exceptional – to distinguish ourselves from the rest of society.

          It’s often been said that the trouble with Christianity is that it’s never really been tried.  Take the sermon on the mount, and only the small part we’ve heard today.  The Christian world – let alone the rest of the world – has never been and is not ready now to live according to this ethic.  That’s the problem.  We don’t want to let go of the values of this world, we cling to our attitudes and prejudices, and bigotries.  We don’t want to change.  It’s so hard for us to let go of the grudges we have against others, to turn the other cheek, to love our enemies, to get the chip off our shoulder, so hard for us to be holy, to be like Christ, to grow in perfection.

          This coming Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent.  Perhaps we could try to set some practical goal for ourselves this Lent.  Perhaps we could try to heal a broken relationship with someone we know, making peace with them; perhaps we could free ourselves of the burden of a past injury by forgiving, and healing that memory.  If we can identify even one concrete goal this Lent in terms of our attitude towards a neighbour, then we will be the winners, we will be the better for it, and able to celebrate this coming Easter with renewed spirit and joy.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday VI-A (February 12, 2023)      

In today’s Gospel, Our Lord continues his sermon on the mount.  He goes into some very specific details as to the kind of life he expects his disciples to follow.  But first he reminds us that he has not come to abolish the law or the prophets, but to fulfill them.  The God who first revealed his law to Moses and who spoke to his people through the prophets is the one and same God who reveals himself in Jesus Christ, who is himself the fullness of revelation.  Our Lord not only confirms the validity of the ten commandments, but he tries to deepen their meaning for us.

          For example, he says that not only does the fifth commandment forbid killing, it forbids all violence against another, whether in thought or in word or in deed.  We can sin not only by our actions, but also by our tongues, and by what thoughts go through our minds.  For what we say and think ultimately comes from our hearts, where all evil intentions have their source.  The gravity of our sins relates primarily to the intentions of our heart, rather than to the external acts in themselves.  

          And so we offend against the fifth commandment by having thoughts of violence, feelings of hatred against our neighbour.  For hate is the opposite of love, and anger is one of the seven deadly sins.  One problem with the aggressive and violent feeling of anger is that it does as much harm to us as to the other person, if not more.  We are the ones who suffer when we get worked up inside and torture ourselves with these feelings, more so that does the other person.  If we can free ourselves of such emotions, we will be the better for it, freed of that burden.

          Not only should we try therefore to control our thoughts of anger and hatred, but we also need to watch our tongues.  Hostile feelings can lead to the use of violent and unkind language.  We can end up calling people hurtful names.  Don’t insult your neighbour, Jesus says.  Don’t call them names.  Be reconciled with your neighbour.  So there’s a lot to think about in the fifth commandment.

          The same is true of the sixth.  Not only does it forbid actual acts of adultery, but any impure thoughts or words or deeds are included in it.  Again, it’s a question of what comes from our hearts.

          This is why Jesus talks about custody of the eyes, and the need to avoid sin through looking or thinking about impure things.  In recent years, the standards in the media have gone down, so that even in what we might think of as mainline newspapers and television and radio programs, we are often exposed to many impure images and ideas and now, of course, especially on the internet.  This is why we need to have a spirit of self-discipline, of self-control, in order to close our minds and eyes to such improper images and thoughts.  We will never be able to escape temptation.  The devil is always trying to persuade us to sin.  This is why we need to have a strong spiritual life in order to be able to say No to sin when it tempts us, and Yes to Christ, and to his way instead.        

          Finally, Jesus deals with the question of oaths and swearing – again, a sin of speech, of misuse of the tongue.  You don’t need to swear or to use God’s name to make a point.  Just be honest.  Don’t lie, give your honest word – that’s enough.  Don’t misuse the great gift of speech God has given you.

          We might just observe that in today’s first reading, the writer reminds us that God does not ask the impossible.  “If you choose, you can keep the commandments, …and to act faithfully is a matter of your own choice.”  We can choose life, or we can choose death, we can choose fire or water.  We have been created in God’s image, endowed by him with the gift of free will – the freedom to obey, to say Yes, or the freedom to disobey, to commit sin, to say No to Christ.  If we obey, we will be happy, as the response to today’s Psalm tells us:  “Blessed are those who walk in the law of the Lord.”  For God’s wisdom is far greater than any human philosophy.

 So don’t give in to the world.  Follow rather the Word of God, Jesus Christ, and his commandments, his wisdom, and you will gain the greatest peace and happiness you can possibly imagine in this life, and eternal happiness in the next.

 

Thoughts on the readings for unday V-A (February 5, 2023)                            

In today’s Gospel, Our Lord tells his followers:  “You are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world”, and he speaks these words to us as well.  But he warns that we must not become tasteless.  We must, in other words, be the leaven of society, witnesses to Christ and to his Gospel, wherever and before whomever we find ourselves.

          The crowds who came to hear Jesus came from many different backgrounds, and from many different walks of life—just as you do.  These people would return to their different homes, their different jobs, different schools, as you do after Mass.  They, like us, are called to be the salt of the earth, the light of the world—called to try to bring the message Christ’s Gospel to all people.  Individually, we can only reach a limited number of people.  But together, the total number of people we come across every week is enormous.  We have tremendous potential to touch the lives of so many of our neighbours—wherever we find them—whether at home, at work, at school, or at play.  And it is our duty, as Catholics, to be the salt of the earth, to be identifiable, effective, to influence the minds and hearts of those we meet, to bring them closer to Christ and to his Gospel—not to be closet Catholics, not to go through life incognito, but to be the light of the world.

          It’s interesting that Jesus uses the imagery of salt.  Salt has properties as a preservative, it is a seasoning element, and gives a particular, somewhat bitter taste.  We even use salt to melt snow and ice.  I think you could say there is a certain edge to it, a certain power or force.  Inevitably, if we are to bring Christ’s Gospel to others, it will be a challenge to them, which is perhaps why salt is a good choice of imagery over some of the others Our Lord could have chosen.       But he adds another image:  You are the light of the world, … let your light shine before human beings.  Our Lord tells us you don’t put a light where no one can see it.  We should not go through life as if somehow we were ashamed of our faith.  We often encounter representatives of other religious groups who may come to our door.  They are not afraid to evangelize and be seen for what they are.  So often Catholics tend to be almost embarrassed by their faith, or perhaps just a bit afraid like St. Peter, who told Christ how much he loved him, and would never disown him yet when the crunch came, did just that—and three times to boot.

          What do we do when the crunch comes?  Do we hide in our closets, deny Christ, hide our light under the bed.  When people say things against Christ or against the Church and its teachings in our presence, do we remain silent, or do we speak up and affirm our belief in Our Lord and his teachings?  Let your light shine before others, so that, Jesus says, “they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven”.

          This brings us to the final point.  Our Lord makes it clear that faith is not enough.  Our faith must lead to good works.  The kind of good works the prophet Isaiah talks about in the first reading.  You show you’re a Christian by sharing your bread with the hungry, sheltering the homeless, clothing the naked, not hiding from your own kin, relieving the oppressed.  Show your care for the poor and needy.  Be generous with your material possessions, but also with your attitudes, your judgments, with your heart.

          If you do that, then Isaiah says your light shall break forth like the dawn, rise in the darkness.  Our good works give credibility to our faith.  They show we are genuine, we are for real, we truly do believe.

          For Christianity is not some intellectual theory, or an academic philosophy.  It is a religion of good works.  Christian show they are the salt of the earth, the light of the world, through the good works they perform in this life for their neighbours.

          And through our good works, we do no more than follow in the footsteps of Christ himself who came to earth to perform the greatest work of all.  Christ who was himself, the way, the truth and the life, by his passion, death and resurrection redeemed humanity from our sins.  He accomplished that great act of sacrifice to show his true love for us.  And that sacrifice is made present sacramentally at every Mass we offer.  Through our presence and participation at Mass today, we too are a light for the world.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday IV-A  (January 29, 2023)  

Today’s Gospel presents us with the Beatitudes, which constitute the famous start of Our Lord’s Sermon on the Mount.  Jesus clearly seeks to direct his listeners’ attention to the kingdom of heaven, and how different it is from earthly values.  We need to remember that the people were expecting a Messiah.  But they envisaged an earthly ruler, who would overthrow—with force even—the existing civil order, and establish his own kingdom on earth.  It was a nationalist and political Messiah they had in mind.  In today’s terms, one might describe him as a revolutionary.  It is in this context that we should examine the eight beatitudes in St. Matthew’s Gospel, to see just how surprised his hearers would have been when Our Lord described what kind of kingdom he had in mind.  He was a revolutionary, all right, but not in the political-military terms they imagined.  Rather he proposed a revolution of values, of morals, of attitudes—a revolution of the heart, and not a coup d’état.

          “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven”.  How strange those words must have sounded to people who had been raised on the value system that made wealth and prosperity a sign of God’s favour and blessing.  Of course, everyone wanted to be as wealthy as they could—to have as much money and power as possible.  Sound familiar?  But Jesus turns their value system upside down.  How blessed, not the rich, but how blessed the “poor in spirit”, the humble—not the proud, arrogant, but the lowly, the little people of the world, the kind of people Zephaniah talks about in today’s first reading. 

          “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted”.  Those who may not have the passing joys of this world, but are poor in their spirits.  They shall be comforted in the kingdom of eternal happiness.

          “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth”.  Everyone knew that might was right.  How can you have a revolution without force, without violence?  But it was not aggression Our Lord came to teach, but rather he asked us to “learn from me, for I am gentle and humble of heart”.

          “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for the will be filled”.  So often in the Old Testament, the prophets were perplexed by the problem of innocent suffering.  Our Lord assures us, though, that if we persevere in what is right, then, in the end, good will triumph over evil.  We will be satisfied.

          “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy”.  To a people accustomed to hearing about an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, what’s all this about mercy?  Our Lord asks is to be merciful---“Let him who has not sinned cast the first stone.”

          “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God”.  It’s not the externals that matter.  It’s not those who make a show on the outside and trumpet their virtues.  No, it is inner worth that matters, those who are pure, clean in heart, who will see God.

          “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God”—those who seek to reconcile division, whether in the family, or in the work place, or in society.  Jesus calls us to be at peace with him and with each other.

          “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake”.  Those who stand up for Christ, even when it hurts, even when it means having to be politically incorrect and having to endure unfair criticism.  Theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

          In the Beatitudes, Our Lord tells us, as he told the crowds on the hillside, I am not of this world.  My kingdom is not of this world.  No, I have come to offer you a new, better world, a kingdom of gentleness, lowliness, of mercy, purity of heart, of righteousness, of humility, of peace.  So don’t seek the values of this earth, don’t store up treasures here below, or seek the pleasures of this world.  They won’t make you happy.  Happiness comes from being at one with God.

          And all the virtues of the beatitudes were practised by Our Lord himself, and by his blessed mother.  He, the carpenter’s son, was poor in spirit, he was gentle, he mourned over Jerusalem and the lost sheep, he hungered for what was right, he was merciful, pure in heart, the prince of peace, yet abused and persecuted, and had all kinds of calumny spoken against him.

          Yet, he said, weep not for me, but for yourselves and your children.  For he knew that though he had to suffer and die in this world, he would rise on the third day, to enter the kingdom prepared for all time, where he now sits to reward those who have also chosen to die to this world, to its values, to its kingdoms, and chosen instead to join his revolution of the heart—the greatest revolution the world has ever known.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday III-A (January 22, 2023)

Nowadays we often hear of firms laying off workers.  Indeed, restructuring has been part of our society for some time.  People find that, all of a sudden, they are out of a job, and have to look for a new one.  It's been suggested that people entering the work force in our current economy should not expect to hold any one job for the rest of their lives, but rather plan to change positions several times during their working careers.

          Such a change can be difficult and traumatic.  Moving is never easy.  But sometimes the change can be for the better—it can lead to new opportunities.

          In today’s Gospel, Jesus comes across two fishermen—Simon Peter and Andrew.  He tells them, on the spot, to leave their jobs—to forget about being fishermen.  Follow me, instead, he tells them.  What’s striking is their response.  Instead of laughing, or telling him to get lost, or simply making up some excuses, we are told that “immediately they left their nets and followed him”. 

          You have to wonder about their reaction.  Somehow I doubt that we would have been so quick to respond to the Lord’s call.  Perhaps, they had heard about his preaching.  Perhaps there was something about his presence, his face, his eyes, that made them do it.  But for whatever reason, they did.  They had the faith to leave everything and everyone behind to follow the Lamb of God, to start on a new career.  They were, in short, willing to change.  They weren’t so stuck in their rut, so stubborn, that they could not respond to Our Lord’s invitation to rise to a greater calling.

          We are told that Jesus began his preaching with the words, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near”.  Repent means to change, to convert, to turn away from the past.  That is, in fact, what these apostles did.  They repented of their past, and turned to follow Christ instead.

          Our Lord calls us to do the same.  He calls us to turn away from our past, and follow him and his Way, his commandments, to turn over a new leaf, to embark on a new vocation, a new calling, of fidelity to him and his Gospel.  I often quote Cardinal Newman’s famous saying:  In heaven above it is different; but here below, to live is to change, and to be perfect, is to have changed often.

          If there’s anything more remarkable than the immediacy with which the apostles left their nets behind to follow Christ, it is the fact he called them in the first place.  If you were going to set up what would be a large, international organization, that would preach salvation to the ends of the earth—who would you pick to be on your leadership team—who would you pick for your key inner circle, for that is what the apostles were to become?  Would you have gone down to the lake to pick up a few fishermen?  Or a tax collector, like St. Matthew.  Or much later on, St. Paul, a tent-maker, and a persecutor of the Christians?  Somehow I think we would have looked elsewhere.  But Jesus didn’t.  He didn’t because he knew that it would be his power working through his chosen instruments that would enable them to fulfil his mission.  So it didn’t matter that these men were not educated, or that they had human limitations, or were weak—remember St. Peter was to deny Christ three times.  What mattered was that God’s grace, God’s power would be working through them.  And from this small group of twelve, the Church would spread to the whole world to include well over a billion baptized Catholics today.

          The same is true for us too.  Sometimes we can feel we are weak, we have limitations ourselves, we have faults.  What can we do—we’re not as good, as strong, as capable as someone else.  Well, again, that doesn’t matter, if we just put our faith and trust in God, and let him work in and through us, then all will be possible.  As the Archangel Gabriel said to Mary, "nothing is impossible for God”.

          The Lord calls us, as he called the first apostles.  Let us be ready to answer his call with that same immediacy and faith, not worrying about our weaknesses, but trusting in the divine power of God.  And then we too will be able to move mountains, and achieve the seemingly impossible.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday II-A  (January 5, 2023)    

This year we are in Year A of the three-year Sunday cycle, so normally the Gospel is taken from St. Matthew.  But today, as an exception, it is from St. John.  Of all the evangelists, St. John is perhaps the most explicit in presenting the divinity of Christ.  His Gospel was written about thirty years after the other three.  So he had an opportunity to study and reflect upon the others’ work, before he wrote his own.  The Gospel according to St. John is written not so much at a historical level, but more as a theological work.  And because it seems to soar to the heavens in its expression, like an eagle, the traditional emblem of St. John has been the eagle.

          In today’s Gospel, St. John describes the baptism of Jesus.  It is really the first time we see Our Lord as an adult.  Apart from the infancy narratives, there is the episode where the twelve-year-old Jesus is found teaching in the temple in St. Luke’s Gospel.  But we hear no more of him during these hidden years until, around the age of thirty, he comes to be baptized by John the Baptist.  This event marks the start of Our Lord’s public ministry, and the end of John’s.

          Baptism is the first of the seven sacraments instituted by Christ, and in many respects, it is the most important.  It is necessary to be baptized before you can receive any of the others.  You could say that on the day of your baptism, you were born again in water and the spirit.  Now we all know and celebrate the date of our birthday.  But do you know the day on which you were baptized, and born again?  Do you celebrate that day?  At the very least, we should be aware of the day, and try to attach as much importance to our birthday in the Church that will never end, as we do to our birthday into this passing world.

          It used to be that for the sacrament of confirmation, you chose another name—a confirmation name.  Nowadays, however, we do not do this.  People keep their baptismal name for confirmation, to emphasize the importance of baptism, and to show the link between these two sacraments of Christian initiation. 

          But the gifts and privileges of baptism carry with them duties and responsibilities too.  Through baptism, we become temples of God’s Holy Spirit.  We are called, as St. Paul writes in today’s second reading, to be saints.  For through our baptism we become part of the communion of saints, the saints here on earth, part of that communion together with the saints in heaven, and the holy souls in purgatory.

          But we know that though called to be saints, we don’t always measure up to that challenge.  The communion of saints is made up of sinners.  But the truly great saints of history were those who had the humility, the honesty, the courage to admit they were sinners, and then tried to do something about it—by conversion, by change, by putting their past sins behind them in confession, and beginning a new life in Christ.  It has been said that every saint has a past; and every sinner a future.

          That is our challenge too.  We also need to recommit ourselves to Jesus Christ and live as children of the light and be true saints, true baptized members of the Body of Christ that is the Church. As baptized members of the Church, we have the duty to keep holy the Lord’s day by participating in Mass every weekend.  We have a duty to get to confession regularly, and to confess our grave sins at least once a year.  We have the duty to study and deepen our knowledge of the Catholic faith, so we can discuss it intelligently with others.  We have a duty to observe the marriage laws of the Church.  We have the duty to see that our children are baptized and raised in the Catholic faith.  We are obliged to support the Church.  We are called to do penance, especially on Fridays throughout the year, and during the season of Lent in particular.  Finally, we have a duty to evangelize, to participate in the missionary spirit of the Church, to share our faith with others, to bring others to the Catholic faith.

          And so at the start of another new year, let us recommit ourselves once more to our baptismal faith, so we can indeed be good examples of that faith to others, so that we too can lead them to Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.

 

Thoughts on the readings for the Solemnity of the Epiphany of Our Lord   (January 8, 2023)

The word “Epiphany” comes from the Greek word meaning “appearance” or “manifestation”.  Today we honour the revelation Our Lord made of himself to the wise men, or magi, who, inspired by almighty God, came to worship him and gave him presents.  Of the four evangelists, only St. Matthew relates the events described in today’s Gospel.  He says some “wise men” came to Jesus.  He does not name them, but by tradition, they have been known as Gaspar, Melchior and Balthasar.  Their remains are believed to have been taken to Cologne, Germany, and are enshrined in the cathedral there.    These were the first of the Gentiles, that is, the non-Jews, to come to see the King of the Jews.  That is really the main point of today’s feast.  Our Lord has come as Saviour of all peoples, of all nations, of whom the Magi were the first to come and worship Our Lord.

          The Catholic Church is the universal Church.  That is what the Greek word “Catholic” means—universal.  It is the Church for all peoples, of all nations, in every age and time—for the whole universe, in short, and with common, universal beliefs.  And we see the universality of God’s revelation through the visit of the magi who came to worship Jesus Christ, the founder and head of the Catholic Church.

          Over the centuries, we've tended to speak of these men as the "three kings".  In fact, St. Matthew identifies them as some "wise men", or magi.  The English word "magician" comes from the same root as magi.  You could describe them as astrologers, especially as they came "from the east", perhaps Mesopotamia, the home of astrology in the Hellenistic world.

          But they have left their astrology behind them now.  They no longer turn to the stars, but to Jesus Christ, the light of all nations.  Neither should we turn to superstitious practices involving the stars, such as horoscopes or numerology.  We should not let these sorts of ideas influence our daily lives, but turn, as did the magi, to Christ, our Redeemer, and let only His word, his light guide our lives. You can hardly say you're a follower of Christ, while at the same time believing and following horoscopes.      

         St. Matthew doesn't say there were three wise men. He gives no number.  But over the years, the tradition developed that that's how many there were—perhaps due to the fact that three gifts are mentioned.  The gold signified the royalty, the regal power of Christ the King.  The incense was a sign of his divinity.  He was truly God as well as truly man.  And the myrrh was a symbol of the passion, the suffering Christ was to undergo, as he would be anointed with myrrh after his death.  But far more acceptable presents the magi offered were the dispositions they cherished in their hearts:  their fervent charity, signified by gold; their devotion, represented by the frankincense; and the unreserved sacrifice of themselves, shown by myrrh.

          In our own world today, we find so many people who may think of themselves as wise men and women who show a very different attitude towards Our Lord than did the wise men in the Gospel.  Far from dropping everything to go and worship Jesus as did the magi, many of the intellectual elites of our own day close their minds and hearts to God.  They consider themselves too sophisticated to worship the new-born Son of God.  They don’t have time for him in their lives.  Certainly they wouldn’t dream of offering him anything, let alone recognizing him as Lord and God.

          Though St. Matthew does not say the magi were kings, we’ve tended to think of them as such.  But how unlike the kings and queens and prime ministers and politicians and judges of our own day were the magi.  They had humility—the humility to recognize Christ, even as an infant, as being Lord and true King of the universe.  King Herod, on the other hand, tried to eliminate Jesus—very much like the rulers and judges of our own time who seek to eliminate Christianity from the public sphere.  The magi, on the other hand, knelt before Our Lord and paid him homage, and went considerably out of their way to do so.

          At the start of this new year, may we too show the true wisdom and humility of the magi, and show our love and respect for Jesus Christ, for his divinity, and for his Gospel, and bow down and worship him, and offer him ourselves—our love (represented by the gold), our true devotion (shown by the frankincense), and our sacrifice (symbolized by the myrrh).  May we bow down and worship and adore Our Lord and Saviour, the Messiah, the light of all nations, the new-born King, Our Lord, and our God.

 

Thoughts on the readings for January 1, 2023  (Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God)       

We begin today a new year, 2023, A.D., Anno Domini, the Year of the Lord, for we count our years, of course, from when Jesus was born. 

          Though one year has come to an end, a new one begins.  We like to wonder what the new year will have in store for us.  Will it bring happiness, success in our lives, good fortune?  Or will we face challenges, failures, sadness and disappointment?  For most of us, it will probably be some of both.

          In a sense, you could say it was the same with Mary.  On the one hand, she experienced great joy at becoming the Mother of God.  But there was no room for her at the inn.  The Holy Family had to flee to Egypt to escape Herod.  And no doubt she was haunted by Simeon’s prophecy that a sword would pierce her own soul too.  This prophecy was delivered on the occasion of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, forty days after his birth,

          Mary was able to face these challenges because she had faith—faith in God and in his love for her.  She knew that nothing is impossible to God, as the Archangel Gabriel had told her at the Annunciation.  She knew that no matter what challenges and trials might come her way, somehow everything would work out in the end.

          We too need to have that same kind of faith and trust in God’s divine providence as this new year begins.  We need to take to heart the angel’s words to Mary: “Do not be afraid”.  Fear is not the mark of a Christian.  True love and true faith cast out fear.  Yes, we need to have respect for God as creator and judge of the world, and that is what we mean by the reverential “fear of the Lord” that is one of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit we receive at confirmation.  But precisely because we hold in respect the power of almighty God, we know that as our loving heavenly Father he will not let us down.  So we should not worry about what the future may hold in store for us, as if God who made us and keeps us in being didn’t care what happened to us.  Of course he does.  So though, like Mary, we will have our moments of great joy, and moments too of sorrow, we need to begin this new year in a spirit of faith and trust in God’s love for us.  And then we need not fear.  For nothing whatever happens except what God wills, and it shall be for the best.

           January 1st is above all the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God.  How fitting that at the start of this new year, our thoughts should turn towards Mary, who gave birth to Jesus Christ over 2000 years ago.  She is mother of God because she is the mother of Jesus, and Jesus is God:  God from God, light from light, true God from true God—as we say every week in the Nicene Creed.  And that makes Mary the Mother of God, the mother, then, of her own creator, and so daughter of her son.

          It is hard to explain this truth by purely natural means, because we find ourselves before a mystery and a miracle, before the supernatural.  God became man through the power of the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Her virginal conception of the Saviour was, quite simply, a miracle—a supernatural event, a work of God himself, for whom nothing is impossible.

          Catholics have in fact four main beliefs about Mary.  First, that she is truly the Mother of God.  Secondly, that she herself was immaculately conceived, in the womb of her mother, St. Anne, free from the stain of original sin.  We celebrate that event on December 8^th.  Thirdly, we believe that Mary was and remained forever a virgin.  Finally, we believe that at the end of her earthly life, Mary was assumed body and soul into heaven, to reign there as Queen of heaven, and first among the communion of Saints.  We celebrate the Assumption on August 15^th.

          And it is from her place in heaven that Mary continues her work in the plan of redemption—above all by means of her powerful intercession for us—her prayers, her mediation on our behalf—because she is not only Mother of God, she is also Mother of the Church.  She is our mother, and she loves us as a mother.  That is why it is so important for us to ask Mary to pray for us sinners here on earth.

          And so on this World Day of Prayer for Peace, we can ask Mary, the Queen of Peace to pray for peace in our world, and for peace in our own hearts.  May this new year bring us peace and happiness. And may we be at peace with Christ, the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, to whom all time belongs, the Lord of all ages.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Christmas (A) (December 25, 2022)

The shepherds took it in turns to watch their flocks at night, and it was during the night that the angel of the Lord appeared to them to announce the news of great joy—the birth of the Saviour, Christ the Lord. 

         We know the birth of any child is an event of great rejoicing.  But this was not just any child.  It was Jesus of Nazareth, the Saviour of the world.  Jesus came to save the whole world, but there was no room for him at the inn—the doors were closed.  So he had to settle for a manger in one of the caves outside Bethlehem, used by the shepherds.  It was to the same shepherds that the great birth was first announced—not to the rich or powerful rulers of the world—not to the high and mighty, but in St. Luke’s Gospel, Christ’s birth is announced to the poor, the little, the simple, the pure of heart, the shepherds who watched their flocks at night.

          And then, so as to confirm the angel’s message, a great throng of the heavenly host began to sing the words we know so well at Mass:  Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people of good will.  Combined with the great joy at his birth is the peace our Saviour brings:  he who is the prince of peace, born of her who is the Queen of Peace. 

          What we are celebrating tonight/today is the birth of Our Lord, Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Saviour of the world—the fact that God decided to become one of us.  Our God is not some distant far-off spirit—not some impersonal being or philosophy or idea.  No, our God is a person, who wanted to be close to us, to come down to our level, to be our Emmanuel, our God-with-us.  So he became one of us, he assumed our human flesh, he shared in our humanity so that we could share in his divinity; and so that by allowing that humanity to be nailed to the cross, he could redeem the humanity he had assumed.  He wanted to show his complete solidarity with us.

          Christmas is about Christ.  We should keep the Christ in Christmas.  And Christmas is also about the Mass.  The word Christmas is made up of two words—Christ and Mass.  It’s wonderful we’ve all come together to be at Mass today, on this great feast.  But we should want to experience the peace, the joy, the blessings of Jesus Christ each and every week. 

          God loves us so much, and has done so much for us.  He wants to be our Emmanuel, our God-with-us, as close as a little baby in our arms.  Surely we can return that love.  That’s all he wants, for us to show we love him, by keeping his commandments, by praying to him every day, and by coming together as his family on his day, the Lord’s Day, every week, to give him praise and worship as did the shepherds and the magi. 

         So on this Christmas eve/day, may we recommit ourselves once more to Jesus Christ, who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  May we recommit ourselves to follow him and no other.  May we place our faith and hope in the Good News he brings to us tonight, so that when he comes again, he may find us watching in prayer, living a life of faith, filled with good works, with love of God and love of neighbour. 

         So on this great feast, I would like to wish you and your families, the love, the hope, the joy, the peace—in short, the life, that only Christ can give.  A very Blessed and Holy Christmas to you all.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Advent IV-A (December 18, 2022)          

As you know, the word Advent means coming, and for the first three weeks of Advent, the liturgy focuses on Christ’s second coming, at the end of the world, to judge the living and the dead.  But in this final week before Christmas, we turn to celebrate his first coming, when he was born.  Only two of the four evangelists, Matthew and Luke, give us an infancy narrative, that is, a description of Our Lord’s birth.  Mark’s Gospel says nothing; while John presents a more theological exposition of how the Word of God became flesh, incarnate.

 In today’s Gospel, Matthew points out that Mary was engaged to Joseph, so that they were not yet married.  But before they lived together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit.  Now this would have put Joseph in a rather awkward position, to say the least.  His fiancée, whose virtue he never doubted, was going to have a baby, which he had not fathered.  And so St. Matthew tells us, that Joseph, being a righteous man and wanting to spare Mary embarrassment, decided to dismiss her quietly, that is, he had decided to call the marriage off.

          He had made up his mind to do this, when the angel of the Lord appears to him in a dream.  Now the word “angel” comes from a Greek word, which simply means messenger.  Angels in the Bible are really messengers from God, and in a sense are often manifestations of him.  The angel tells Joseph:  “do not be afraid”—just like the angel Gabriel says to Mary in St. Luke’s account of the annunciation.  “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife”, that is, don’t be afraid to marry her, because she has conceived what is in her from the Holy Spirit.  So for the second time, St. Matthew tells us that Mary has conceived by the Holy Spirit.  “She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins”.  The name “Jesus” simply means Saviour in Hebrew, just as the Greek word Christ, which is the same as the Hebrew term “Messiah”, means “the anointed one”.

          The Jewish people were expecting the long-awaited Messiah, the King of the House of David, who would be born in Bethlehem, the City of David, and who would be the Saviour of his people.  And that promise of salvation was now being fulfilled.  St. Matthew quotes the prophecy of Isaiah, a prophecy we heard in the first reading:     “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Immanuel”, which means “God is with us”.    And so for the third time in this short passage, St. Matthew emphasizes Mary’s virginity.  Her virginal conception of Jesus is the great sign that something extraordinary is taking place—the great salvific event is beginning to unfold before our eyes, the long-awaited Messiah is coming into the world.  The laws of nature are being broken—by the supernatural.  It is a miraculous conception, and miracles come from God Himself—God who is creator and author of all life and nature. 

We see here the creative power of God at work, God’s intervening in human history to assume our human flesh.  This he had to do in order to be our Saviour and redeemer, to be our God with us, our Emmanuel.  Only one who was united with us, who shared our human nature could redeem that nature from its sins, so that we could be born again, reborn in the same Spirit through whom Christ was conceived.  God shared in our humanity, so that we could share in his divinity.

          And so today we are reminded that through our baptism, we too are temples of God’s Holy Spirit, and so we should live lives that befit that singular state—lives of holiness and purity—lives that look to the example of Our Lady.  The constant tradition and teaching of the Church has been that not only was Mary a virgin at her Son’s birth, but that she remained perpetually a virgin—she remained forever a sign of total, utter consecration to God, and to God alone.

          What a challenge to our world today is Mary’s virginity, a great reminder of the life of the Spirit, of the life of grace, of the next world, of the supernatural dimension of human existence.  How fitting that the Word of God should choose to make his momentous entry into our human world by such a miracle in the womb of her who enjoyed the fullness of grace, and who remained forever the handmaid of the Lord. 

          O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary.  Pray for us O holy Mother of God.  That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Advent III-A (December 11, 2022)   

The Third Sunday of Advent is known traditionally as Gaudete Sunday—the Latin word for “rejoice”.  It is so called because of the opening words of the entrance antiphon: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again, I say, Rejoice! Indeed, the Lord is near”.  As for the similar Laetare Sunday in Lent, the priest wears rose or pink-coloured vestments, and we light the rose candle on the Advent wreath as a symbol of our joy.  We are happy because the Lord is coming to save us, and his coming is near.

          In today’s first reading, the prophet Isaiah, who wrote hundreds of years before the coming of Christ, was already almost in ecstasy at the thought that the Lord would come.  He tells his people to strengthen their weak hands, to make firm their feeble knees, to have courage, and not be afraid, for the Lord is coming, coming to save you, and the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped, and the lame will leap like a deer, sorrow and sighing will be replaced with joy and gladness.  So even at that great distance back in time, Isaiah told the people to rejoice at the coming of the Messiah.  I wonder if we get that excited, and if not, what this says about our values and attitudes—whether in our modern age, we’ve become too sophisticated to get enthusiastic about the coming of Jesus.

          In the second reading, St. James asks his friends to be patient until the Lord does come.  Don’t lose heart, because his coming will be soon.  The early Christians expected Christ’s second coming as judge at the Parousia to take place in their own lifetime.  James cautions them against expecting Jesus too soon.  Be patient.  Anything worthwhile is worth waiting for—and we know just how much Christ is worth waiting for.

          And in today’s Gospel, as last week, we see St. John the Baptist.  In a sense, you could say that he is the patron saint of Advent.  He was the son of Zechariah, the priest, and Elizabeth, a cousin of Mary.  His birth was announced by the Archangel Gabriel who said that Elizabeth would bear a child, even though she was already in old age.  We begin to see that something extraordinary is taking place, a miracle is beginning to unfold before our eyes.  God is intervening in human history.

          Then John appears as a preacher on the river Jordan, as we saw in last week’s Gospel, preaching repentance and baptism, because the kingdom of God is near.  St. John, with humility typical of every saint, realized that he must decrease and Christ increase.  He preached Christ, and not himself.  In the end, he was imprisoned and beheaded for denouncing the adulterous incestuous marriage of Herold Antipas.  He died a martyr, witnessing to the law of God.

          In today’s Gospel, we see John in prison.  He sends his disciples to ask Jesus whether he is the one who is to come, or is there someone else.  Now this may seem a bit strange at first sight.  It almost looks like John was beginning to have doubts, the same John who first identified Jesus as the Messiah.  The explanation may be that many had come to expect a more political Messiah than Our Lord turned out to be—a more aggressive, temporal leader, who would establish a kingdom on this earth.  Even John may have expected something along these lines.  But Jesus, quoting from Isaiah, reminds John of the true nature of his kingdom.  It is one of healing and cleansing.  The blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, the Good News is proclaimed to the poor.

          Blessedness, happiness, then, comes with faith in Christ.  If you want to be happy, if you wish to rejoice, keep the faith, keep your faith in Christ.  That was Our Lord’s message to John the Baptist—rejoice, even in prison, rejoice, and keep your faith, for that’s all you’ve got, and all you need!  It will get you through your troubles, for it will ultimately lead you to heaven.  That’s what Jesus meant when he said that even though John was the greatest born of woman, the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.  Our Lord was not contrasting persons, but rather places.  The kingdom of heaven and those in it are far superior to anything this world has to offer.  That was the hope Jesus offered to John—the great hope of an everlasting kingdom in heaven.  It is the same hope he offers us as well.  And that is why we rejoice, and we too should keep the faith, the faith that promises also to us the same gift of life everlasting.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Advent Sunday II-A (December 4, 2022) 

Though Advent is a time of joyful expectation, it is also a penitential season.  Today’s Gospel stresses this penitential theme.  For we encounter the austere figure of John the Baptist, the voice crying out in the wilderness:  “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near”.  Repent means to turn back, convert, change—put behind you the sins of the past, and become someone new, different, better, holier—a new creation.

          John the Baptist is the bridge between the Old and the New Testaments.  He is the final prophetic voice to herald the coming of the Messiah, the Christ.  He is certainly an ascetic figure, both in terms of his appearance and of his life style, but above all by his message.

          In today’s Gospel, we see him preparing the way of the Lord by urging the people to repent and to undergo a baptism of repentance.  Now this baptism was not the Christian sacrament of baptism that we know.  Our Lord had not yet instituted that.  Indeed John himself says, “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me…He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire”.  John’s baptism was really only a symbolic external ritual, which did not of itself achieve anything.  But it reflected the inner conversion of the penitent.  The word “baptism” is a Greek word meaning to immerse, or wash.  As the people walked down into the river Jordan and were bathed in its waters, they confessed their sins.  The washing, the bathing with water, signified a cleansing, a purification, a washing away of the spiritual dirt of their past, and a resolve to be better, to lead a new, holy life, faithful to God’s commandments.  The reason they were performing this act was to prepare for the coming of the Messiah and of his kingdom.  They were washing, baptizing themselves to be ready to greet him.

          Even the Pharisees and Sadducees came to be baptized, but they did not impress John.  He obviously regarded them as hypocrites, and condemns them in no uncertain terms.  Yes, they wanted to go through the motions of being baptized, but there was no inner conversion to go with it—no true repentance, and so the baptism was going to be insincere.  John sees through the hypocrisy of the Pharisees and denounces them, rather bluntly.

          As part of our own preparation for the coming of the Messiah, we too need to repent, to confess our sins, and to experience a true inner conversion of heart.  The best way to do this, of course, is through a good sacramental confession.  It takes honesty and humility to do this.  We need to look at our lives, our souls, candidly, and see how we may have offended God and our neighbor.  We need to have the courage to admit our failings, be sorry for them, and resolve not to repeat them.  And, indeed, to receive Holy Communion, we need to be in a state of grace, which is why it’s important to make confession a regular part of our spiritual lives.

          This Advent, let us also listen to the voice of John the Baptist, crying in the wilderness, calling us to prepare for the Lord’s coming, calling us to repent, to confess our sins, to begin a new life, so we can celebrate Christ’s coming this Christmas with a clean heart and a pure soul, with a new resolve to be faithful to Christ, and to his Gospel.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Advent Sunday I-A (November 27, 2022)          

Today is the first Sunday of Advent, and so it is also the beginning of a new liturgical year.  It is known as Year A of the 3-year cycle of Sunday readings, which means that the Gospel, normally, is taken from the first evangelist, St. Matthew.

          The word “Advent”, as you know, means coming.  In these four weeks leading up to Christmas, we are preparing for the coming of Christ.  Now people tend to presume that the only coming we’re concerned about is the coming of Our Lord at Bethlehem as a small child.  The celebration of Christmas is certainly the climax of Advent.  But if you look at the Gospel today, it really has nothing to do with Christ’s first coming.  Rather it is concerned with his second coming, at the end of the world.  St. Matthew tells us to stay awake, because you do not know the day when the Lord is coming.   At the start of Advent, we think more about Christ’s second coming, rather than his first.  We reflect on his coming at the end of time, when he will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, to establish his kingdom which will have no end.  St. Paul, in the second reading, also exhorts us to prepare.  Now is the moment for you to wake from sleep.  Don’t let the Lord come unexpectedly, so stay awake. 

          Advent gives us an opportunity to prepare for Christ’s second coming by examining our lives and seeing how we can do better.  It gives us a chance to change for the better, by putting behind our sins of the past, and trying to lead a more holy life.  And so Advent, while it is, on the one hand, a season of joyful expectation as we patiently await the coming of Christ, it is also a penitential season, when we prepare for that second coming by putting our house in order.  To symbolize this penitential aspect of Advent, the priest wears purple vestments, a colour that reflects sadness for our sins.  We light a purple candle on the Advent wreath this first Sunday of Advent, on the second and fourth.  On the third, however, we take a bit of a break.  Rose or pink-coloured vestments are worn because we rejoice at Christ’s coming at Christmas being so very near.   As another sign of the penitential nature of the season, we do not say or sing the Gloria at Mass.  Flowers are not placed on or near the altar.  Though the organ is allowed to play on its own, it is more subdued in mood than normal.  Of course, Advent is a particularly good time to go to confession, to have the slate washed clean of our sins, to make an effort to turn away from our failings of the past, and welcome Christ when he comes with clean hearts—awake, with our lamps lit.

          Conversion, of course, involves a change of lifestyle.  That’s what St. Paul talks about in the second reading.  He lists some specific areas for conversion and growth.  First he mentions the problem of drunkenness.  We could include here the whole question of substance abuse in the broadest sense, which continues to be a problem in our society.  This season is a time for many parties, and St. Paul’s words are a timely reminder of the need to be responsible in how we conduct ourselves during this time.

          St. Paul also condemns debauchery and licentiousness.  Here again, the prevalence of sexual permissiveness in our age is only too apparent.  The sexual faculty has been given to us by God to be used responsibly, only within a valid marriage between husband and wife, open always to the gift of new life.

          Thirdly, St. Paul asks us not to engage in quarrelling and jealousy.  Be generous, kind to others.  Don’t talk about them behind their backs.  Don’t gossip.  Don’t covet what others have.  They can’t take it with them, and neither can you.  Seek rather the spiritual riches of heaven.

          Advent is often described as a period of joyful expectation.  The idea of expectation involves the notion of waiting.  A lot of our life is spent waiting.  We wait for the bus to come, for the traffic lights to change, we wait in line at the supermarket or bank, we wait to be served in a restaurant.  A person who has been ill waits to be brought back to health; a mother waits for her child to be born; we work and wait until we can retire and collect our pension.  We wait for the Lord to call us back to the dust from which we came.  The people of Israel waited for centuries for the coming of the Messiah, the Christ, their Saviour. 

          Waiting involves the virtue of patience, a word which comes from the Latin verb to suffer.  So a patient person is a suffering person.  The great example of patience is Christ on the cross, waiting, suffering until he died.  Mary too waited for the Messiah too.

          So at the start of Advent, as we begin a new liturgical year in the Church, and prepare to celebrate the first coming of Christ and get ready for his second coming at the end of the world, we remember that between the first and the second, there is also a third coming, the coming which takes place in the present, the coming in grace, in our hearts, through prayer, through worthy reception of the sacraments, through acts of charity and penance.  Because Christ has come once, he will come again.  Indeed, he has never left, but is continuously present in his Church.  For this reason, Advent must be taken in the fullest sense:  past, present, and future. And so we need always to stay awake, and be ready for Christ when he comes to knock at our door, to call us back to him.  May Mary, the Mother of God be with us as we prepare for Christ this Advent, and join us as we prepare for his final coming at the end of time. 

 

Thoughts on the readings for the Solemnity of Christ the King - C (November 20, 2022)        

Today is the Solemnity of Christ the King.  It is the final Sunday of the Church’s liturgical year, next Sunday being the start of Advent.   We celebrate today the all-embracing authority of Our Lord, Jesus Christ, which will lead all to seek the peace of Christ in his kingdom.

     Now the whole idea of a king is simply that of a ruler, someone who governs a kingdom.  Christ’s kingdom, we know, is not of this world, and Christ is not like the kings of this earth.  His crown was not made of jewels but of thorns.  He did not wear expensive robes, but the purple cloak the soldiers rudely forced upon him.  He sat not on a throne, but reigned from the cross.  He did not command scores of servants, but came himself as the one who serves, the suffering servant.  His kingdom was not of this world, and he certainly was not one of the kings of this world.

         It is good to remember that the kings of this world, those who hold temporal power, are all subject to the one Lord of all ages.  It is so easy for the leaders of states to believe that they are almost gods themselves.  Today’s feast is a useful reminder to all the leaders of the world that one day they will have to render account to their Lord and ruler, to the one whose subjects they are, to Christ the King.  For at the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow, in heaven and on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

        This world is in fact but a temporary sojourn for us, and today’s feast reminds us of our ultimate destiny.  We all get far too easily engrossed in the cares, the affairs of this world.  This is understandable.    But our problems here below should not blind us to our ultimate destiny, to join him who is above in his kingdom.  We all have our burdens, our crosses to carry in this world.  We shouldn’t let these get us down, or depress us.  We should rather look ahead, and remember the overpowering love of God for us, and how short-lived our troubles are here below.  And we should not get so obsessed with success in this world, with making it in the eyes of the kings here below, with material prosperity, that we forget about the need to please the King of kings above.  We worry so much about our appearances, how we look in the eyes of others, whether at work or at school, or in our social contacts, before our friends and relatives—putting on a good appearance.  If only we could make the same effort to see we are beautiful in the eyes of God—that our hearts are pure before him, and our souls unstained.

        Christ’s kingdom is a spiritual kingdom: “blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven”, he tells us.  It is not meant for the proud, the arrogant, the boastful, the inflated—but the humble, the weak, the unassuming, the poor in spirit--those who become like innocent, little children, so they can enter the kingdom of God.

        So many people seek what the kingdoms of this world have to offer them:  their glitter and gold, their prestige, their fame.  But can the trinkets and toys of our consumer age give us true peace and happiness?  Can they give us the hope of everlasting life?  Can the temptations of this earth ever satisfy our inner longing for him who is all-good, all holy?

        Let us remember that one of the powers of a king is to judge.  And Christ the King is coming to judge, to separate, to divide, to put some on his left and others on his right; to divide all of us on the basis of whether we have been faithful and true to him, to the end, or whether we have chosen selfishness instead, and sought the kingdoms of this world—whether we have chosen to yield to the temptations of the prince of this world rather than to obey the commands of the King of heaven and earth. It is to only one of the two thieves that Christ says:  “Truly, I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”  He does not say that to the other, only to the one who was repentant at the end, and died in a state of grace, at peace with Christ, only to him does our Lord pronounce those tremendous words.

        And that is our prayer today as well.  That we may persevere to the end, and seek the things above, where Christ is, and not those here below.  That we may strive to attain, not what this world has to offer, but rather seek the treasures of the kingdom of heaven, a kingdom of truth and life, a kingdom of holiness and grace, a kingdom of justice, love and peace.

        For the prince of peace came into the world to redeem the world, so that all who believe in him might have eternal life in his kingdom.  And if we are prepared to drink the cup that he drank, and be baptized with the baptism with which Christ was baptized, if we are prepared to suffer with him and to serve with him, then we can hope to take our places in the kingdom where to serve is to reign, and where Christ the King is Lord and there reigns triumphant, for all ages.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXXIII-C (November 13, 2022)     

We are coming to the end of the Church’s liturgical year.  For next Sunday, the Solemnity of Christ, the King, is the final Sunday of the year, before we begin a new one with the first Sunday of Advent.  As this year draws to a close, today’s readings look ahead to the final day, to the end of the world, to the second coming of Jesus Christ.  “See, the day is coming, burning like an oven”, writes the prophet Malachi in the first reading.  His book is placed as the final one of the Old Testament.  Like so many prophets before and after him, Malachi was troubled by the problem of evil.  How is it that the just suffer, while the wicked prosper?  His answer is that almighty God is coming to judge the people of the earth, so that the good, those who fear the name of God, will receive their reward, while the evil, the arrogant, will, to use his words, be burnt up.

          Whenever we recite the creed, we profess our belief that Christ will come again to judge the living and the dead.  Now judgment involves separation.  It means, as we know from the famous passage in St. Matthew’s Gospel, that Christ will place some on his left hand, and others on his right.  There will be a division.  The consequence of the fact that God has created us in his own image, endowed us with the gift of free will, is that we have the freedom, by our lives to accept him, or to reject his Gospel.  And so, as Malachi tells us, those who do evil will face the judgment of almighty God.

          Now the devil, of course, wants you to think there’s no accountability for sin—that everyone gets to heaven.  So it doesn’t matter what you do.  You can sin all you want, but you won’t be punished for it.  That’s what he tells you.  But that’s not what Jesus said.  It was, after all, only to one of the two thieves crucified with him that Christ promised, “today you will be with me in paradise”.  He did not say that to the other.  The good thief, to whom next Sunday’s Gospel refers, made a perfect act of contrition, of repentance at the end, and so he was saved.  For we believe in the reward of life everlasting n heaven for those who have persevered to the end in a life of faith, filled with good works, and died at peace with Christ.  God wants everyone to be saved, and invites us all to join him at his heavenly banquet, but he forces no one.

          Now before this coming judgment, this separation, St Luke asks us to be patient and to persevere:  “By your endurance you will gain your souls.”  The people of his time expected Our Lord’s second coming, the Parousia, to be imminent.  Some even seemed to give up working or doing anything constructive.  That’s why St. Paul in his letter warns them not to stop, but to keep on working.  Waiting for the Lord is no reason for laziness or sloth.  We do not know the day or the hour.  Of course, we’d like him to come soon.  Of course, we’d like to be freed of our troubles, of our crosses, of our sufferings, of our daily heavy burdens.  Of course, we’d like to receive our eternal reward.  So it was with the early Christians.  But St. Luke warns them, before Christ comes, nation will fight against nation, kingdom against kingdom.  There will be earthquakes and famine.  But your endurance will win you your lives.  We will have to face much evil, injustice, and natural disasters.  Like Malachi, we may become perplexed by the problem of evil and innocent suffering.  But, also like him, we need to realize how transitory are the trials and tribulations of this world, because the Lord is coming, God is coming, to judge the peoples of the earth, and to set up his eternal kingdom in heaven. 

          Our best preparation for Christ’s second coming is to lead a holy life to the end.  We need to persevere in our daily prayer life, to grow in our personal relationship with Christ.  We need to receive the sacraments regularly, and worthily.  We need to be obedient to God’s commandments, for Jesus tells us, if you love me, then keep my commandments.  We need to pray for the grace of final perseverance, so that we don’t give up when the going gets tough, but remain faithful, to the end, for it is our state of grace at the end that ultimately matters—that determines what Christ’s judgment will be. 

          So stay awake, and be ready, ready to meet Christ, ready for his coming judgment, ready to meet him even today if he should call, ready by living a holy life, a life of faith and good works, filled with love of God and love of your neighbour.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXXII-C (November 6, 2022)

Both the first reading and today’s Gospel invite us to reflect on our belief in the resurrection of the dead and in its nature.  It seems timely to do so in November when we make a special effort to pray for those who have gone before us, and also as we remember all our veterans on Remembrance Day.

          Whenever we recite the Creed, we profess our belief in the resurrection of the dead.  At death, our body begins to decay.  But that is not the end of us, for our soul lives on.  At the end of the world, when Christ comes again to judge the living and the dead, at the universal judgment, we believe that our bodies will rise from the dead and be reunited to our souls, and we will be one again.  As human beings, we are neither simply spirit, nor are we just physical bodies.  Rather we are uniquely created and distinguished as human beings by both body and soul.  And at the end of the world, our bodies will be reunited once more to those souls.

          Now, mind you, they will not be the decayed dust and ashes, but rather glorified, beautiful bodies.  Just as Christ’s body, when he rose from the dead, was not the tortured, mutilated, crucified body, but the glorious risen body, so too will we be transformed.  Our limited human minds cannot understand just how this will happen, or just what we will be like.  But we have the example of Our Lord himself, whose body, and just spirit, rose from the dead.  Indeed we know that Mary too, at the end of her earthly life, was assumed body and soul into heaven.  It was unthinkable that she, who kept her body free from the corruption of sin during her earthly life, should suffer corruption after her death.

          Because Christians from the earliest times believed in the resurrection of the body, they treated the bodies of those who died with great respect.  It was, in fact, one of the distinguishing characteristics of Christians.

          In today’s Gospel, our Lord points out that the kingdom to which we hope to rise one day is not of this world.  Here our bodies and our souls can sometimes be at odds with each other:  the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.  Our bodies can be the instruments of sin.  It is the physical body ultimately that steals, that fights, that kills, that lies, that commits adultery.  In heaven, there will be none of that, and there is no room for those intent on sin.  Rather our bodies will gaze on the Lamb of God at his heavenly banquet, and we will be the bride of Christ, united in praising and worshipping him for all eternity.  So if we wish to be part of that great wedding feast of the Lamb, we must learn to control our bodies here below, to use them for the glory of God, as the faithful brothers did in the first reading.  Jesus Christ assumed our human flesh—he took our human body to himself, so that he could redeem that humanity.  Through baptism, our bodies have become temples of God’s Holy Spirit.  They have been sanctified, and so we should live in a manner worthy of that great calling.

          Proper respect for our human body means we do not mutilate it, or harm it.  We need to take care of our bodies—not as an end in itself, of course, but rather so that we as human beings can reflect in some pale manner, the God in whose image we have been created.

          Our earthly bodies with their earthly appetites and imperfections will, one day, come to an end.  Our enemies may even kill this earthly body of ours, as we see happen in the first reading, and indeed as the soldiers crucified the body of Christ.  But that is not the end, for our soul lives on, and one day, if we have been faithful to Christ, if we have used our bodies for the glory of his name, if our bodies have truly been temples of God’s Holy Spirit, then those bodies will rise again, to be reunited with our souls, to join Christ at his heavenly banquet. 

So let us look to the things above, to our supernatural destiny, and live a life of faith and good works to bring that destiny to its glorious fulfilment, where the spirit and the flesh will be one, in union with each other, and united with the Most Holy Trinity for all eternity.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXXI-C (October 30, 2022)

Today’s Gospel is a story of conversion and repentance.  Zacchaeus almost reminds us of Ebenezer Scrooge.  He was a rich, chief tax collector, and so would have been detested by the people.  It’s almost as if Our Lord deliberately chose this prominent despised man for a conversion experience so as to achieve the maximum impact on the community.  Zacchaeus, in a sense, is the last person the people would have expected to turn over a new leaf, and suddenly become kind and generous.

          There is an interesting interaction between Jesus and Zacchaeus.  Initially, it is Our Lord who comes to Jericho.  He’s the one who pays a visit—he gets the ball rolling.  But once Zacchaeus learns that Our Lord has come, he wants to see him.  You could say he’s drawn to Our Lord—he’s being pulled by a magnet.  Or, in other words, God’s grace is at work.  God is calling Zacchaeus to him.  And then, Our Lord goes for the jugular.  He invites himself to stay at the tax collector’s house.  He is aggressively taking the lead.  The response of Zacchaeus is immediate and total.  He offers to give up half of his possessions to the poor, and pay back four times anyone he has defrauded.  Our Lord’s bold advance to this sinner is met with an equally bold response.  The final line of the Gospel passage really summarizes the whole episode.   “For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”

  God is searching for man.  Now it may have seemed that Zacchaeus was the one searching for God.  He was trying to see Jesus, and even climbed up into a tree to do so.  But all along, it was Our Lord who was really searching for Zacchaeus, trying to save his soul.  The onlookers don’t understand, and don’t like the fact that Jesus is fraternizing with this sinner.  But they don’t get the point.  It’s not the healthy who need the doctor, but the sick.

          In the same way, God is searching for us too.  God wants to come into our homes as well, and stay with us.  He wants to be part of our family.  And he wants us to change too—for the better.  And he tries, like a magnet, to draw us ever closer to him.

          There are many ways he can do this.  Some are obvious, some more subtle.  In the case of Zacchaeus, it was pretty bold and clear.  But God can call us to him in other ways.  Sometimes there may be a dramatic or tragic event that can draw us closer to God.  It can  remind us of our mortality, of how fragile, how brief is our life here on earth, how totally dependent in the end we are all on God, how our life hangs by a thread, how much we really do need God.  Many in our society have tried to live without God in their homes, without prayer, without the sacraments, without obeying God’s commandments, without caring for their neighbour.  The reality is that we are but creatures, mortals, and depend entirely on God our heavenly Father for our existence.

          So perhaps we can try to refocus our lives on Jesus—to make the effort to try to search for him as Zacchaeus did—to make Christ the centre of our lives, as he is the centre of human history, and the centre of the universe.  If we recognize Jesus as the Way, the Truth and the Life, no one can ever harm us, and we need have no fear.  “Do not be afraid”, he says, “for I am with you until the end of time.”

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXX-C (October 23, 2022)                                 (

          Today's Gospel clearly presents the theme of humility.  The tax collector had the humility to acknowledge that he was indeed a sinner.  He recognized his faults, his need of forgiveness.  And so, unlike the proud and righteous Pharisee who could see nothing wrong with himself, the tax collector beat his breast and cried, “God, be merciful to me a sinner”.

Our modern world has lost its consciousness of sin because it has lost its consciousness of God.  We have forgotten that God has given us his law, and he expects us to obey his commandments.  “If you love me, keep my commandments”, Jesus tells us.  But many do not, and forget, too, that in order to receive Holy Communion, they need to be in a state of grace.  We too need to have the humility, the lowliness of heart of the tax collector and recognize our own need of forgiveness.  We need to reconcile ourselves with God, and with each other, in the sacrament of penance, confession, so that we may be worthy to receive the Holy Eucharist, the Bread of Life. 

None of us is perfect.  We are all sinners.  The Catholic Church, the communion of saints, is made up of sinners.  But what the great saints had in common is that they had the humility to admit they were sinners, and to confess their sins, and to try to be better—to put behind them the failures of the past, and try to be faithful to Christ.  St. Augustine is but one good example of a man who led a very sinful past, but, thanks to the prayers of his mother St. Monica, repented of his previous ways, and became one of the greatest saints in the history of the Church.  It’s been said that every saint has a past, and every sinner, a future.

          When Jesus forgave the woman he had caught committing adultery, he said to her:  “Go, and sin no more”.  Yes, he forgave her, but he told her not to do it again.  He asked her to change her life.

          The Church established by Christ continues his work today.  We continue to preach his Gospel.  We continue to preach his commandments.  We continue to proclaim his mercy and forgiveness, especially in the sacrament of penance to the sinner who repents.

          And we do so out of love.  We seek to help people to find him who is the Way, the Truth and the Life.  This means we have to call a spade a spade, we have to call a sin, a sin.  There are people whose hearts and ears are closed, and they do not want to hear the Good News, but prefer instead to remain in their sin.  But our hope and prayer is that they will have the humility and courage to change, and so enter upon the path of holiness to which we are all called.

          Pride is the first of the seven deadly sins, and the root of all the others. It was the original sin of Adam and Eve. It was the sin of the fallen angels. Its opposite is the virtue of humility. A humble person is a lowly person, for that is what the word humble, literally means. A humble person becomes a servant to others. That is why Jesus says to his disciples: “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”  

          That is what Jesus did. He lowered himself, gave up the glory that was his, as the divine Son of God, and assumed our human condition, to die on the cross for our sins, to be our servant. He sacrificed his life for us, out of humility. Mary was a humble person too, as were all the saints. They recognized their unworthiness in the sight of the greatness of almighty God. Humble people are peaceful people, and so they are happy people. The proud, the arrogant are never at peace, because they never have enough. The more our society, our world, our nation has turned away from Christ, from the humble, suffering servant, the more we have turned instead to hostility and hatred, bigotry and division, bickering and fighting, and so we have lost that peace which only Christ can give.

          Mary was the humble handmaid of the Lord, and is now crowned in heaven as Queen.  May we seek to follow her example of lowliness, as we ask her to pray for us sinners, from her place in heaven, now and at the hour of our death.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXIX-C (October 16, 2022)

Today’s Gospel speaks about the importance and efficacy of prayer.  Our Lord describes a judge in terms that are hardly flattering.  This judge neither fears God, nor has respect for people.  What’s worse, is that he knows it, and admits it.  He is, in our contemporary terms, completely secularized. 

          A widow seeks justice from him.  Remember that in Biblical times widows were very poor indeed, so that the judge’s initial refusal to help her out is particularly disturbing.  But the widow keeps pestering him, and eventually, the judge gives in, and listens to her case, rather than being worn out by her pleading.  Our Lord points out that if this good-for-nothing judge is willing to answer the pleas of this widow, how much more is God our loving heavenly Father to his children who call to him.

          Prayer is always effective.  It always bears fruit.  The time we spend in prayer is never wasted.  But we need to remember that God always answers prayer in his own way, and in his own time, but always in way that is best for us in the end, even though we may not see it right away.  We live in an instant age, and sometimes we expect instant answers to our prayer.  That’s not always possible.  Like the widow, we need to be patient, and persistent in our prayer, and not give up.  We need to remember that we are not praying to an unjust judge, but to our loving heavenly Father, who knows our needs even before we state them to him, and who loves us beyond all our imagining.  So we need to have faith and trust in God when we pray to him, knowing our prayers will not be in vain.

          We live in a busy world.  Sadly many people do not find enough time for prayer in their daily lives.  They spend hours every day in front of screens of one kind or another, television, computer, cell phone, but leave very little for the Lord.  We need to get away from the noise and activity around us, and find that spiritual desert to be alone with God in prayer.   During this month of October, for example, we could make a special effort to pray the Rosary every day.  And the greatest prayer of all is, of course, the Mass.  That is why we should make a special effort to attend Mass at least every week, and, if we are in a state of grace, receive, worthily, the Holy Eucharist, the Bread of Life.

          Getting back to the Gospel passage, Jesus finishes with a troubling remark.  We know that he will come again at the end of the world to judge the living and the dead—the second coming.  But he says, “And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”  Our post-Christian society has so departed from the Gospel of Christ, that it is a very relevant question directed at our world of today.  So many people have drifted away from the faith.  Our politicians and judges have rejected the teaching of Christ in the laws they have imposed upon us.  The words of Christ are a direct challenge to our contemporary culture. 

          But we know Our Lord is coming, and we, at least, should be ready for him.  We should strive to be faithful to his commandments, to his Gospel, to his will, so that when he does come again, we can offer him our faith, so we may be found worthy to join him in his eternal heavenly kingdom, a kingdom that will have no end.   

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXVIII-C  (October 9, 2022)                    

Today’s Gospel seems very appropriate on this Thanksgiving weekend.  St. Luke tries to stress the importance of giving thanks to God for all the gifts we have received from him.  Leprosy was a horrible disease, and when the lepers saw they were cured, they were overjoyed.  Perhaps because of their excitement they forgot to say thank you.  Only one out of ten did.  If we look at ourselves, how often do we thank God for his gifts to us—it may be that we only remember to do so one time out of ten.

          It’s interesting that at the end of the passage, Jesus says to the one leper who did thank him:  “Your faith has made you well”.  He seems to suggest the reason you remembered to come back and thank me is because you believed in God.  You realized that God is the creator and author of all life.  He keeps the whole universe in being.  He can do anything for nothing is impossible for God.  That leper alone, because of his faith, remembered that whatever blessings we enjoy in this life come from God, and not from us.  It takes humility to say “thank you”, to realize that we depend on God—that He made us, and He keeps us in being. 

          It’s easy to be thankful when things are going well, and we seem to be blessed.  But there are times in life when we will face challenges.  Life is not always easy.  We need to have the faith and the humility to say thank you to God, and to each other—even when the going gets hard.  For God loves us always, and sometimes precisely because he loves us, he allows us to go through a difficult period, to lead us to a greater purpose.  So we need to thank him even then. 

You may be familiar with the Old Testament figure of Job.  He was an exceptionally good and successful man.  God praised Job in front of Satan.  But Satan said he’s good because he’s well off.  Take everything away from him, and then see if he still praises you.  Well that’s what happened.  Job lost everything.  But when disaster struck Job, and he was sitting on his dung heap, he never rejected God.  He simply said: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, naked I shall return.  The Lord gives, the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord”.  He praised God even in his adversity.  In the end God rewarded Job for his faith, and gave him even more than he had before.

St. Thomas More, the “man for all seasons”, was Chancellor, or we would say today Prime Minister of England.  King Henry VIII declared himself head of the Church in England, and asked everyone to recognize him as such.  But St. Thomas More knew that in conscience he could never do that.  So he was arrested, tried and beheaded for being faithful to his Catholic beliefs.  He went to his death saying he was “the King’s good servant, but God’s first”.

While imprisoned in the Tower of London awaiting his execution, St. Thomas More never despaired, but prayed instead: “Thank you, Lord, for all you have given me; thank you for all you have taken away from me; thank you, for all you have left me.”

          So even when challenges come our way, let’s not be discouraged or ungrateful, but have faith and hope and trust in God, and thank him for those experiences too.  For they have a purpose and meaning, and can lead us closer to God, the God who loves us more than we can imagine, and who will never let us down.  Every cloud has a silver lining.

          One wonderful way we have of thanking God for all our blessings is to find time to be with him in daily prayer.  We need to get away from the noise of the world, away from all the screens that surround us, television, computer, phones, and be alone with God in prayer.  Through daily prayer, we can humbly thank God for all he has done for us.

Another word for Mass is “Eucharist”, a Greek word which simply means “thanksgiving”.  So every Mass, every Eucharist is a thanksgiving to God.  If you listen to the prayers at Mass, you’ll hear how often the word “thanks” comes up—especially in the Eucharistic prayer.  And after we receive Holy Communion, the Holy Eucharist, we have a wonderful opportunity to thank God for this great gift of Himself, and for all of his blessings.

October is also the month of Mary and the holy Rosary.  Mary was the humble handmaid of the Lord.  When she heard the great news from the Archangel Gabriel that she would become the Mother of God, even though still a virgin, she sang the great song of the Magnificat—praising and thanking God for the great honour he had given her, yet remembering she was but his lowly servant.  We can thank God by finding time to say the Rosary daily, especially during this month.  It is an extremely powerful prayer.

          So today we give thanks to you, Almighty God, and call upon your name.  We give thanks to you for all your blessings, you who live and reign, for ever and ever, world without end.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXVII-C (October 2, 2022)

In today’s Gospel, the apostles ask the Lord, “increase our faith”.  There are times when our faith may feel weak—when we are challenged by events or people around us, but somehow can’t rise up to meet that challenge.  St. Peter, for example, boasted of his love for Jesus.  But when he was confronted, he denied Christ three times.  In the end, though, he came back and died a martyr’s death for his Saviour.  In fact, apart from John, all of the apostles got scared and lost faith.  For at the foot of the cross, only Mary and St. John remained to be with Our Lord at his crucifixion.  After Pentecost, however, when, with Mary’s prayers, the Holy Spirit came down upon the apostles, their faith was strengthened, and they went out and preached the Gospel to the ends of the world, and gave their lives for Christ.

          So faith is not something static, but dynamic.  Sometimes it is strong, other times, weak.  When difficult events come into our lives, they can be a test for our faith.  If someone dies who is close to us, if we lose our job, or run into a financial crisis, if we become seriously ill or have an accident, if some natural disaster strikes, people’s faith can be shaken if it has no foundation, no rock to endure the storm.  Some people’s faith is challenged by others—by those who go around knocking on doors, for example, to try to get them to doubt their faith.  Sometimes the influence is more subtle, when those around us try to get us to compromise our beliefs, to go with the crowd, to be politically correct, instead of authentically true to our faith.

          Now the very nature of faith is that it is not the same as certainty.  If you can see something with your eyes, then it’s not a question of faith at all.  In heaven, faith will be superfluous, for we shall see the face of God.  All that which we believe and see only with the eyes of faith here below will have come to perfection in heaven.  But on earth, everything is not laid out neatly for us.  We encounter traps, and temptations and challenges to our faith.

          So we need to be able to keep our minds and hearts fixed on God and on his eternal promises, no matter what may come our way.  How?  Above all through prayer, and through worthy reception of the sacraments.  Through prayer, we establish a close personal friendship with God.  He becomes a close, intimate friend, someone we can trust, someone we know will never let us down or abandon us, no matter what may come our way.  Prayer gives us a consciousness of the presence of God in our lives, and trust in his divine providence.  Regular reception of the sacraments will also strengthen our faith.

          The month of October is dedicated traditionally to Our Lady of the Rosary.  During it, we seek especially to rekindle our devotion to the Mother of God, by faithfully praying the Rosary.  The actual feast falls on October 7^th.  Mary had faith.  She believed in the promise made her by the Lord.  She believed in that nothing was impossible for God, the creator and author of nature.  In spite of the many sorrows she endured, Mary kept the faith.  Let us ask Our Blessed Mother, especially in this month of October, to help us keep the faith, as she did—to have faith in God, for whom everything is possible, and who will never let us down, if only we place all our trust in him. 

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXVI-C  (September 25, 2022)          

Today’s Gospel is indeed a very famous passage from St. Luke.  To understand it, we need to identify what the rich man’s sin was.  Why did he end up in hell?  It was not merely because he was rich.  There is no suggestion that the rich man, or Dives, as he is known in Latin, acquired his fortune dishonestly.  Wealth in itself is not sinful.  But it can lead to sin.  People who are rich often tend to be proud, and pride is the first of the seven deadly sins and the root of all the others.  Material wealth can lead to a feeling of superiority, self-sufficiency, autonomy.  The rich can get into the habit of thinking they have everything, and what they don’t, they can buy.  So what do they need God for?  He becomes irrelevant to them.  They have no time for God, no place for him in their lives.

          Material wealth can lead to insensitivity to the poor, blindness to the needs and suffering of others.  That’s what we see here.  Dives, the rich man, wore expensive clothes, he feasted magnificently every day.  Lazarus, on the other hand, had no food or clothes or shelter to speak of.  But his real poverty was not material.  Mother Teresa once said that loneliness and the feeling of being abandoned were the greatest poverty.  That was the real poverty of Lazarus and the real sin of Dives.  Lazarus was alone, an outcast, no one cared for him, he had no human companions, only the dogs who licked his sores.  Humanity had left him alone and dejected.

          Dives, meanwhile, did not feast magnificently every day by himself.  For one thing, he had his five brothers.  But because of his riches, he had forgotten about God, and  forgotten about Lazarus.  His sin was his abandonment of Lazarus, his apathy, his blind indifference to the agony of the poor man at his door.  Dives had turned his back on the man who was really his sixth brother. 

          But after their deaths, it is Dives who ends up alone, and it is Lazarus who enjoys the company of Abraham in heaven.  True wealth lies not in things, not in food or clothes, but in friendship with God.  And to live with God forever in heaven is the greatest wealth imaginable.

          Now as you listen to this account, with whom do you identify?  Do you regard yourself as the rich man or the poor man?   In terms of the living conditions of the third world, we are all rich.  We may complain about our taxes or pay or prices, but in terms of the economic standards of the greater part of humanity, we are all at the top end of the scale.  We are privileged to live in one of the richest countries of the world, in material terms.  So what is our attitude to the poor?  Have we abandoned Lazarus?  Do we give him any scraps from our table?

          A great gulf is fixed between Dives and Lazarus in the next life, just as there was a big gulf during their times on earth—between the have and the have-nots, between the first and the third world.  And it seems to be the case that the rich are still getting richer in our world, and the poor are still getting poorer. 

          When you die, you do not take your material wealth with you.  All you take is your faith and the good deeds you have done during your life here on earth—the compassion, the love, the generosity, the faith you have practiced.

          All the material blessings we enjoy are a gift from God—for a time.  We should thank him for them, and realize they are not ours but God’s.  We are but stewards—we only have temporary use of them for a short time.  And when we die, we will have to account for what we’ve done with them.  So there’s no point getting attached to these things, to money.  On the contrary, we should cultivate an attitude of detachment from all the material surroundings which we temporarily enjoy during our earthly life.

          Mary knew this truth only too well.  Mary was poor and humble.  She did not seek after the riches of this world, for she had found the spiritual pearl of great value through her faith in God.  May she help us to detach ourselves from this passing world and seek the supernatural treasures of heaven.  In short, let us ask her to help us to act justly, love tenderly, and walk humbly with our God.         

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXV-C (September 18, 2022)

Throughout this year, we have been listening to excerpts from St. Luke.  One of the characteristics of his Gospel is the particular stress St. Luke places on spiritual values over material possessions.  He, even more than the other evangelists, warns us against love of money.  The episode in today’s Gospel, for example, is not found in the other evangelists.

          At first sight, we might be puzzled just why the master praises the dishonest steward, who reduced the first debtor’s bond from 100 measures of oil to 50, and the second from 100 measures of wheat to 80.  Chances are, though, that all the steward did was to reduce the excessive interest he had charged on the loan, and which would have ended up in his own pocket.  Oil was worth more than wheat, then as now, and so interest rates were higher for it—in this case 100 per cent, compared to 25 per cent for the wheat.  Naturally, the debtors were happy, because they were released form paying the exorbitant interest.  The master was happy, because he got his principal back.  And the steward was happy, because he had made friends with the debtors, and pleased his master. 

The steward looked ahead.  He looked to the future, and could see the writing on the wall.  He knew he’d be in big trouble if he didn’t act quickly.  When Our Lord says the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light, he seems to suggest that we too should exercise that same kind of ingenuity when it comes to the spiritual.  We too should act quickly, plan ahead, think to the future, to the coming judgment of the judge who tells us in the first reading:  “Surely, I will never forget any of their deeds”.  We should put our souls in order, make sure that we have paid back our debts to God, made friends with him, reconciled ourselves to him, and forgiven our own debtors, if we ourselves expect to receive forgiveness from God for our own sins.

          But that is not the only message we have today.  In a sense, the other message is, don’t put yourself into the steward’s predicament in the first place.  Prevention is the best cure.  Don’t be greedy for money.  For you cannot be the servant of two masters.  You cannot be the slave both of God and money.  You can’t take it with you when you go, and you never know when you will have to go.  That is why we need to have a spirit of detachment from the things of this earth, and not be possessed by our possessions.

          Money, or material goods, are not in themselves evil.  But the difficulties arise when we become their slave, and they become our God—when we hunger for money at the expense of everything else.  The love of money is the root of so much evil, for people commit so many sins to get it.  This is what Amos condemns in the first reading.  He was the prophet par excellence of social justice, and he is particularly critical of those who cheat and swindle the poor, who would like to do business even on the Sabbath, just like today. 

          If we love money, and seek it first, if that is our priority, then inevitably we forget about God.  "No slave can serve two masters;  …[he] will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other”.  If we put money first, then we leave ourselves open to being dishonest, or lying, or even outright stealing, or indeed ultimately even killing for money.  Some people do that too.

          Today’s Gospel gives us a choice—two alternatives, God or money.  There is no third choice offered, no compromise that permits us to serve both God and money.  This highlights one of our major weaknesses as human beings.  We’d always like to have it both ways.  We’d like to have our cake and eat it too.  We don’t want values reduced to a choice of either/or, because we’d like to have both/and.

          So we compromise.  We say we’re Christians, but it ends up being “pick and choose Christianity”.  I’ll pick and choose which of God’s commandments I’ll follow, and when, and which I’ll ignore.  Well, Christ has said he will choose too.  He will choose some, and put them on his right hand, and the others he will put on his left.  He will choose those who have acknowledged him as their Lord and God to join him in heaven, but not those who have freely rejected him.

          Yes, God wants everyone to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth, as we heard in St. Paul’s letter to Timothy.  But he forces no one, because he has created us in his own divine image.  He has given us the freedom to choose him, to say Yes, or the freedom to say No, and reject the salvation only he can offer.

          Mary chose to say Yes.  She chose to be the humble servant of the Lord.  Through her example and prayers may we choose the same.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXIV-C (September 11, 2022)          

The parable of the prodigal son we have just heard is one of the best known in all of Sacred Scripture.  It is only found, however, in St. Luke’s Gospel, for his is very much the Gospel of mercy.

          I think we all know the basic thrust of the parable.  The younger son cannot wait for his father to die.  He wants his inheritance, and now—while the father is still alive even.  He seems to think that happiness lies in wealth—in things, in material pleasures, rather than in a warm relationship with his loving father.  He prefers his father’s money to his father’s love, so he leaves his father, and goes off and wastes everything—and low and behold, he finds that money doesn’t buy happiness, and he feels miserable.

          But then he comes to his senses.  And so the son decides to return and to confess to his father.  “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you.”  We see here the stages of the sacrament of penance.  First, there is sorrow or contrition.  Next, there is the confession of the sin.  Now in order to be sorry for our sins, we must first have the humility to admit we have sinned.  And there’s the problem.  Our world has lost its consciousness of sin, because it has lost its consciousness of God.

          The problem nowadays is that people have been deceived into thinking everything they do is all right, everyone will get to heaven, even though that’s not what God has said.  And so, they lack that consciousness of sin, that humility to admit they are sinners, that they’re not perfect, that they need to go to confession and ask forgiveness.  If they do, then God our loving Father is only too willing to run out and welcome them in his arms, as the father in today’s parable welcomes his younger son.  God is only too willing to forgive the sinner who repents, who says he’s sorry, and will not sin again.

          So far so good.  But then we see the elder son.  When he hears the celebration, he is angry and upset, and says to his father:  “Listen!  For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends”.  He’s so upset that he can’t even bring himself to refer to his brother as “my brother”, but instead refers to him with the words:  “this son of yours”, when he should have called him “my brother”.

          Well, what about the elder son.  Does he have a point?  To be upset over all the celebrations?  Or is he being jealous and mean-minded?  Let’s look again at what he says.  “For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command.”  Do you believe him?  Remember the father in the parable represents God, so what he elder son is really saying is, “Look, I have never sinned against you—I’m perfect”.  Well, we know no one is perfect.  We are all sinners, we all fail, as St. John writes—“ If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” (l John 1:8)   Of course, the elder son has sinned, but he lacks the humility to admit it.  He doesn’t see his need for forgiveness.  He is blind to his own failings.  The great virtue of the younger son is that he came to his senses and saw how bad he was, and asked for reconciliation.  If the elder son can swallow his pride and ask for forgiveness for his sins, then he also will be able to join the celebration, to receive God’s pardon and peace.

          So where does that leave us?  Which son are we like?  The one who admits he is a sinner and confesses his sin, and asks for forgiveness, and is reconciled?  Or are we like the one who says he has never sinned, doesn’t need to be forgiven, and so he can’t be a part of the celebration of forgiveness.

          May we all have the humility and honesty to admit we’re not perfect, but are sinners too.  May we echo the words of the younger son:  “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you,”  so that we too can receive the gift of forgiveness and reconciliation, especially through the sacrament of penance in confession.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXIII-C  (September 4, 2022)                        

 At first sight, the opening lines of today’s Gospel may seem rather harsh to us.  “Whoever comes to me and does not hate their father and mother, spouse and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even their life itself, cannot be my disciple”.  I think we can say that Our Lord’s words lose in the translation.  It would be more accurate to say Our Lord insists that his disciples should get their priorities right and love Him first, before anyone else, and then only secondarily their father, mother, spouse, children, or whomever.  He doesn’t want us to hate our relations, but to love him first and above all.

It’s all a question of priorities and perspective.  We need to detach ourselves from our purely earthly, human values and relations to recognize the primacy of the demand involved in following Christ.  We should not get so immersed in our earthly life that we forget we live in a supernatural order, and that a proper relationship to the creator of that order, God himself, must be our first priority.

          And it is in this context that Our Lord adds:  “So…whoever of you does not give up all their possessions cannot be my disciple”.  It’s a question of total surrender to Christ, giving up all our earthly possessions, for the sake of his heavenly kingdom.  It is a radical, fundamental decision for each one of us—to give up all for the sake of Christ.  And that is why such a decision cannot be superficial or impulsive, but one we need to consider seriously.  We need to count the cost to see if we are prepared to pay the price of following Christ, of being his disciple.  This is why Our Lord relates the parable about building the tower.  We should not begin to build the tower unless we’re sure we know how much it will cost, and that we are then prepared to finish it.  So too the parable of the king marching off to battle.  First, he needs to sit down and calculate whether he can win or not.  Deciding to be a disciple of Christ is so momentous a decision that we really need to think about it, and realize just what the cost is, just how much Christ demands of us. 

He says he wants us to give up all, and to detach ourselves from all.  The word “disciple” means follower, and if we want to follow Christ, we must include in the cost, the price of the cross.  “Whoever does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple”.  Just as there is no Christ without a cross, so there can be no disciple, no follower of Christ who does not follow him to Calvary, carrying his own cross.  To follow Christ means to give up everything, just like he did—to give until it hurts.  And so often it’s easier for us to give up what we have, than what we are.  It’s not just a stripping of the externals that Christ wants.  He wants our hearts: “let your hearts be broken, not your garments torn”.  Give up what you have, but even more, give up what you are—proud, bitter, unforgiving, hateful, prejudiced, selfish, in short, sinful.

          We see St. Paul make such a concrete demand of Philemon in today’s second reading, which is St. Paul’s shortest letter in the New Testament.  It is a private letter he wrote to an individual.  He writes as a prisoner of Christ, in chains—he’s in jail, which shows how far he was prepared to go, what price he was willing to pay to be a disciple of Christ.

          He has with him a slave, named Onesmius (which means “useful”).  Now there were many millions of slaves in the Roman Empire in Biblical times.  If you read the whole letter, it seems that Onesimus stole something, and ran away from his master, Philemon.  But then when Onesimus met Paul, he became a Christian.  St. Paul sends him back to Philemon, and asks him to take Onesimus back, and not punish him.  Take him back, he asks, “no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother—especially to me but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord.  So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me.”   St. Paul is asking Philemon to give up the master/slave relationship he had before, and instead, now to look upon Onesimus as an equal, as a brother in the Lord.  And in those times, that was making a radical demand of Philemon, asking him to show in concrete terms that he was truly a Christian, prepared to put the Gospel into practice in his own life, where it affected him, in his own house, to look beyond the earthly, social class structure to the supernatural order, where all are equal in the eyes of God, to count the cost of being a Christian.

          We need to detach ourselves from this concrete visible world and its values, its wisdom, and realize there is a far greater order, the supernatural order, and that the wisdom of God is far greater than our own.  “For who can learn the counsel of God, Or who can discern what the Lord wills?” asks Solomon in the first reading  All our earthly values and words are but a breath, a shadow, compared to the real wisdom of God.

          God’s wisdom is not ours.  The cross seems folly to our human way of looking at things.  Giving up all, not just some, but all of our possessions seems too high a price to pay for discipleship, especially in a world which measures your worth by how much money you have, how many things you have acquired, how much grain is stored in your barns.  But Christ gave up all, to the point of giving up his own life—and not for the innocent, not for the good, but for the guilty, for the sinful.  Why would anyone dream of doing such a thing?  We know the answer.  He did it out of love for us—out of love he offered his life on the cross to redeem us from our sins.  And that act of sacrifice is made present sacramentally once again at this and at every Mass we celebrate.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXII-C (August 28, 2022)

The theme of humility is quite apparent in today’s readings.  Now the word humility comes from the Latin adjective humilis, which means low, and humus, the word for ground.  A humble person, then, is a lowly person—one who lowers himself to the ground, as it were.  St. Augustine once wrote that all of Christian religion can be summed up in humility (Tota Christiana religio humilitas est).

          But it is difficult for us to be humble, because our natural inclinations tend towards the direct opposite—pride—which is the first of the seven deadly sins and the root of all the others.  Pride was the sin of the fallen angels who thought themselves better than God, and so turned against him to become devils.  It was Adam and Eve’s sin too.  They wanted to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, so that they would be lik­e gods.  So Adam and Eve, the creatures, tried to make themselves like God, their creator.  They who were made of the lowly dust of the earth wanted to reach out beyond their bounds to become like the maker of heaven and earth.

          So the sin of pride goes back a long way.  And, I would suggest, th­is is the first area where we fail in humility.  We don’t like to admit we are created.  We don’t like to admit there’s someone above us—God, the Creator of heaven and earth, of you and me.  We like to think we’re in control, especially in this scientific age, where we want to control life itself and its transmission, right to the point of artificially trying to bring it into being in a test tube.  Many in our society lack the humility to acknowledge the very existence of God, of the supreme author of life itself.  Many refuse to accept there is a God who made them, and who revealed his laws, his will to us, for our benefit, and to which we are subject.

          So that’s the first main area where the modern age lacks humility.  We try to push God out of the picture, out of the driver’s seat.  We forget that God created us and he keeps all of his creation in being, and that we depend on Him.  We need God a lot more than he needs us.  As St. Augustine also once said:  “Fool that I was, I left the nest, imagining myself able to fly; and I fell to the ground".  We too fall to the ground if we try to go it alone, without God in the picture.

          Then, secondly, we fail in the area of our relationships with others.  We like to think we’re better than our neighbor.  We look down on those around us.  Some people even try to take advantage of those around them.  Our lack of humility leads us to judge our neighbours, as we forget that Christ is the sole judge, because only he sees inside everyone’s hearts.  So our lack of humility can lead us to sin against our neighbour.

          That leads us into the third area our lack of humility shows up.  It takes humility to admit you have sinned, that you’ve done wrong.  Sin, by definition, is an offence against God.  To admit you’ve sinned, you’ve got to first acknowledge the existence of God and of his law.  If you lack that consciousness, then you won’t admit to any sin.  But even those who do profess their belief in God and in his law, can be reluctant to confess they are sinners.  Humility is the basic precondition for contrition.  You can’t be sorry unless you’ve got the humility to admit you’ve done something for which you should be sorry. 

          Of course, if we want examples of humility, we need only look to the lives of the saints, and especially to the life of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  At the Visitation, she gave us that beautiful song of humility, the Magnificat—“my soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord”.  She doesn’t sing her own praises, but the Lord’s, “because he has looked upon his lowly handmaid”.  Mary, even though the Mother of God, the mother of her own Creator, the sinless Eve, had the humility to sing God’s praises, and not her own.

          And Mary’s son, even though he was God, emptied himself, lowered himself to assume the condition of a slave, and became one of us.  He stripped himself of the divine glory that was his to become our servant, to wash our feet, the feet that walk the dust of this lowly earth, and to die a humiliating death on the cross for our sins.  “Learn from me”, he says, “for I am gentle and humble of heart”.

          And so, if we wish to be pleasing in the sight of God, we too must lower ourselves, strip ourselves of our pride, our self-reliance, and acknowledge God our Father as our Creator, his Son as our judge, and realize that all we are and all we have comes from God, who, one day, will call us back to the dust of this lowly earth from which we came.  And to prepare for that meeting, we should heed our Lord’s words:  “For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself, will be exalted”.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXI-C (August 21, 2022)

In today’s Gospel, Jesus asks us to strive to enter through the narrow door.  The narrow door is not the easy road.  It is not the way of the world.  Rather it is the door to Calvary.  Jesus himself gave us his example to follow.  He accepted suffering, rejection and scorn from his own people in order to bear witness to the truth, to the Gospel of Life.

          The great sixteenth century Spanish mystic and poet, St. John of the Cross, became a member of the Carmelite order.  Because of his efforts to reform that order, he suffered much under its hands, facing even imprisonment for a time.  The trials he had to face, the persecution, the hostility, earned him the title “of the cross”, because of the heavy cross he had to bear during his short life of forty-nine years.  But it was a life which produced some of the deepest and most profound spiritual writings in the history of the Church.

          St. John knew there were unfathomable depths to be discovered in Christ.  He is like a rich mine, with many recesses, containing many treasures.  But to get to those great treasures of wisdom, you must first pass through the pain of suffering.  The soul which truly longs for divine wisdom first longs for suffering, that it may enter more deeply into the mystery of the cross.  For the door through which one may enter into the riches of Christ’s wisdom is the narrow door of the cross.  Many long for the delights to which that door leads, but few they are indeed who are prepared to pass through it.

          In our own lives, we tend to shy away from the unpleasant, the painful, the whole notion of penance and sacrifice.  But that precisely is the narrow gate to eternity.  For if we wish to be true disciples, true followers of Christ, we must walk with Christ along the road to Calvary, and enter the narrow gate of the cross to reach the eternal happiness of the heavenly banquet of the Risen Lord.

          There’s a similar theme in the second reading today.  The letter to the Hebrews speaks about painful trials we experience in our lives.  We all face periods of suffering—whether in the area of our health, or personal or family relations, perhaps economic difficulties, or some work-related problems.  Even people of faith may

sometimes ask the question:  “Why, Lord, are you doing this to me?”  Well, we shouldn’t blame God for all our troubles.  We may have only ourselves to blame, or indeed, someone else may have caused the problem.  It is true, though, to say that God allows us to suffer these difficulties, just as he allowed his Son to suffer on the cross.  By doing so, we are sharing, albeit in a very paltry way, in Christ’s redemptive passion.  We are drawing closer to Christ, becoming more like Him, so we can truly claim to be disciples of our Saviour who carried the cross for our salvation.

          Often we can look back on our trials and see the purpose God had in mind for us.  At other times, we may not be able to do so.  We may have to admit that we just don’t know what God’s motive was, at least from the horizon of this limited earthly world.  But we do know our God loves us as he loved his own Son.  He loves us more than we can possibly imagine.  And if he allows us to suffer, it is out of love for us, to bring us closer to him, to fulfil his plan for us, whatever that may be.  And no matter how great the pain we face in this life, we know, of course, that it will not last.  It will come to an end, just as this world will come to an end--just as Christ’s passion on the cross came to an end.  And to those faithful who have shared in that passion, God will raise them up, as he raised his Son from the dead, so we may all share in the eternal joy of Christ’s heavenly kingdom, a kingdom that will never end.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XX-C (August 14, 2022)

In today’s first reading, we see the prophet Jeremiah being thrown down into a well, so as to kill him.  And why?  Well, for one thing, he had foretold the destruction of Jerusalem, and so was accused of demoralizing the soldiers and people.  But he had also spoken out against the sins of the people.  The real problem was that Jeremiah spoke the truth, and sometimes the truth hurts, and some people would rather not listen to it, so they close their ears to the truth, and even try to prevent others from hearing it.  And so they tried to silence Jeremiah, just like they tried to silence Our Lord.

          Through our baptism, we are all called to be prophets.  We all have to speak up for what is right, to stand up for our faith.  And most importantly of all, we have to proclaim that there is a truth, that there is an objective right and wrong, that there is a divinely-revealed morality, revealed by God, through Sacred Scripture and in Sacred Tradition.

          This is never easy, because, as I said a moment ago, the truth hurts.  You will get yourself into hot water if you preach the truth, just like Jeremiah did—just like Christ did.  St. John the Baptist was executed because he preached the truth, as was St. Thomas More, and many saints before and after.  But that is our duty, because only the truth will set us free—not lies, not half-truths, not political compromises, but only the truth saves, because only Jesus saves, and he is the Way, the Truth and the Life.  He and no other.

 The letter to the Hebrews today urges us to persevere, in spite of challenges that will come our way.   We should not give up, we should not lose heart when the attacks come—and come they will—make no mistake about that.  We should keep running the race against the evil one, against sin.  And we do not run alone, for we have the saints and the whole Church running at our side to help us when the going gets rough.  We have the sacraments to give us strength, and especially, we have Our Lord beside us, who, we know, will never fail us, anymore than he failed Jeremiah.  In the end Jeremiah was rescued from the well, just like another Old Testament figure, Joseph, whose brothers threw him into a well too.

          “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth?  No, I tell you, but rather division”.  Our Lord’s words in today’s Gospel may both shock and disturb us.  He is, after all, the Prince of Peace, born of Mary, the Queen of Peace.  At his birth, the angels sang, “Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to people of good will”.  He was born, as it was foretold the Messiah would be, during a period of peace.  So why does he surprise and disturb us by saying he has not come to bring peace at all, but division?  And indeed, division even within families, he says.

          The simple answer is that before Christ, before the message of his Gospel, you cannot be neutral.  You can’t sit on the fence.  You have to say Yes, I accept Jesus Christ and his Gospel, or no thank you.  I don’t.  I refuse to follow Christ.  And because we are endowed with the gift of free will, some people say Yes, others No.  And this is what causes division—even within families.  For we know only too well from our own experience that within our families there is division between those who are living a life faithful to Christ, and obedient to his commandments, and those who are not.  How painful for parents who may have tried very hard to give their children a good example to see those children having drifted away from the faith.  How difficult for us to see within our families members who are living lives that are a rejection of the Gospel. 

          Christ tells us he has come to bring fire to the earth.  It is not some gentle flame, but a blazing fire.  It is a purifying fire, a cleansing fire, a fire that lights up all the darkness of sin and division.  It is the fire of the Holy Spirit.  And those who have received the Holy Spirit, enjoy the fruits of that Spirit, including the gift of peace.

          So we pray today for all who are separated from Christ, that the Holy Spirit may indeed come down upon them, that the fire of the Spirit will cleanse them, and put new life into them, and end the division, that enmity between them and God.  May Mary, the Queen of Peace, through her powerful intercession bring about a new age of peace and unity in the world, in the Church, and especially within our families.  May the world make peace with Christ, and so enjoy the gift of his peace, not just in this world, but in the life to come.

          “Do you suppose that I am here to bring peace on earth?”  I think we need to underline the words “on earth”.  On earth there will never be true peace.  As Our Lord says elsewhere, there will always be wars and persecutions and famines and poverty in this earthly world.  But his kingdom is not of this world.  His is a heavenly kingdom of justice and peace.  And he offers us the gift of peace in his heavenly kingdom, where there will be no division or war or hatred or famine, but all will be united, in communion, at the heavenly banquet, in praise and worship of the Lamb of God.

          And those who are truly following Christ, who are making the effort to be faithful to him, to obey his commandments, they enjoy the gift of inner peace even now.  If we are close to Christ, then we enjoy his peace.  But if we are in sin, we will never be at peace, for to sin is to be at war with God.  Sin can never give us true happiness or peace.  Only by following Christ and his commandments, can we hope to be at peace, to enjoy the peace the world can never give.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XIX – C   (August 7, 2022)                            

In today’s Gospel, St. Luke warns us to be ready, dressed for action, awake and waiting.    Why?  Because the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.  He is coming as a judge, to judge us on the kind of life we have lived.  Now there’s always been a certain tension between faith and good works.  In the letter to the Hebrews, we hear much about faith, with specific reference to the faith of Abraham.  By faith, Abraham set out for a far country, not knowing where he was going, and it was by faith that Abraham offered up his first son Isaac in sacrifice to God.

          But the word faith can be a rather abstract concept.  It’s easy to use the word carelessly or superficially—a bit like the word “love”.  Faith, we know, must lead to action, to good works.  As St. James writes, with his usual bluntness, in his epistle:  if someone who has never done a single good act claims he has faith, will that faith save him?  If someone is in need of clothes or food, and you wish them well without giving them the bare necessities of life, then what good is that?  Faith without good deeds is useless.

          Yes, we need faith, but if we truly have it, we will also have the good works to show for it.  Faith and good works go together.

          Now another point to remember is that faith, by definition, is not certainty.  If you are certain of something, then that’s the end of the matter.  You don’t need to accept it as a matter of faith.  But even the most spiritual, most devoted and learned saints, in the end, have had to make a leap in the dark—a leap of faith.  In heaven, we will see with the eyes of vision, but here below, we see only with the eyes of faith.  “You believe because you can see me, Thomas, happy are those who have not seen and yet believe”.  Thomas couldn’t quite bring himself to have faith, he couldn’t quite make that leap.  He needed to see the nails made in Our Lord’s hands, and had to put his finger into the holes they made, and his hand into Christ’s side—otherwise he refused to believe.  We’d all like to have everything neatly laid out in front of us, so we too could touch and see and feel our beliefs.  But that’s not the way it is.  We cannot see God.  But we believe in God, because we have faith.  Faith is our personal response to God’s call to us.  And at the end of the day, we all need to make that leap of faith.

          We grow in faith through developing a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.  You can’t have faith in someone you don’t know.  You don’t trust strangers.  It’s the same with God.  To have faith in God, you’ve got to know him.  And the way you get to know him is through spending time with him—in prayer—every day—developing a personal relationship with him, so you will love and trust him, and realize just how much he loves you and how much he cares for you.

          Mary had great faith, but then she pondered and prayed and meditated on the Word of God every day.  Her close personal friendship with God enabled her to make that great leap of faith to believe that, even though a virgin, she could truly be the Mother of her own Creator.  For nothing is impossible to God.

          May we too grow in faith, like Mary, and have the kind of faith that will move mountains, the kind of faith that will enable us to be ready to meet our Lord when he comes, with our lamps lit, with the light of faith and good works, shining brightly for all to see.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XVIII-C (July 31, 2022)             

“Vanity of vanities, all is vanity”, as we heard in the first reading this morning/evening. Now the English word vanity is a translation from the original Hebrew word for breath or vapour or mist—something that just blows away, that is illusory, a delusion, something that cannot last—that is empty, has no substance.  And what is this vanity?  Well, the things, the pleasures, the values of this world.  And St. Paul gives us some examples in the second reading—things which belong to earthly life—greed, impurity, evil desire, lies.  He adds that we should rather seek the things that are above, where Christ is, and not look to things on earth.  And finally, St. Luke, whose Gospel shows so much favouritism towards the poor and lowly, also warns against the pursuit of material security, of storing up treasure hoards for oneself, instead of making oneself rich in the sight of God.

          One of our fundamental needs as human beings is security, and we show this in so many ways.  We take out insurance policies, for example, on our house, our car, or on our lives.  We carry a spare tire in case we get a flat.  We invest in pension plans, so we’ll have some security when we retire.  We save up money for a rainy day.

          But for many people security is a purely material concept.  It becomes identified with having enough money, and money becomes everything.  People begin to think life is meaningless without money.  And we never seem to have enough of it, so we try to get more and more.  For some people, money becomes their God, and they’ll do anything for it—lie, cheat, take advantage of their fellow human beings to get it.  Some people even kill for money.

          But those who believe that happiness lies in material possessions are, of course, sadly mistaken.  Those who seek possessions end up being possessed themselves.  They become slaves to money, prisoners of their own wealth.

          Now material goods and money, in themselves, are not evil.  God has given us these for our well-being.  But the problem arises when we get our priorities wrong, when we put money and things ahead of God and people.  Whatever earthly resources have been given to us are given to us as stewards, for a fixed term only.  For some day, we will have to account for what we’ve done with what God has given to us.  Have we been selfish, and kept everything for ourselves, instead of sharing our material blessings with the less fortunate?  If so, then we are poor indeed.  Poor in faith, poor in love, poor in the hope of eternal life.

          At the end of the day, we all know you can’t take it with you, because of death—that great equalizer.  We all must die, rich and poor alike, and death is the same for every one of us.  You can’t escape it, you can’t buy your way out of it, nor out of the judgment that follows.  Death is the great equalizer, and the only thing you take with you when you die is your faith and the good works you have done during your life on earth—the sharing, the generosity, the compassion, the kindness, the good stewardship of the possessions with which God has blessed you on earth.  That is what you take with you when you die, and only that.  Not the grain stored up in your barns, but the love poured out of your heart during your life.  That is the only true security on which our lives should be based.  It’s not a question of what you have, but what you are.  So we should worry less about having more and more, and concentrate instead on being more and more—being more Christian, more loving, more sharing, more generous.

          If we get our priorities right, God will take care of us.  He knows our needs better than we do, and he will never abandon us, if we place our trust in him.  Fill your barns not with grain, but with love—love of God and love of neighbour, and give your grain away.  And then you will indeed be rich in the sight of God.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XVII-C (July 24, 2022)

In today’s first reading, Abraham pleads with God to spare Sodom, a city notorious for its sexual immorality, even if only a handful of good men are to be found there.  He starts with fifty, and gradually tests God to see how far he can go.  He stops at ten.  God agrees not to destroy the city if he finds ten just men.  Abraham does not dare go lower than ten.  But in fact, we know that God did destroy Sodom and Gomorrah.  So there weren’t even ten decent people to be found there.

          The city of Sodom, of course, has given us the name for the sin called sodomy.  Sodomy is a grave sin, and God showed what he thought of it by destroying these two cities.

          God is a just God.  He is merciful to the sinner who repents.  But he punishes the sinner who stubbornly persists in their sin.  That is only just.  That is fair.  Now the Old Testament tended to view responsibility as being collective, more so than individual.  Another way of looking at the first reading is that Abraham is pleading for God not to punish any individuals who may be innocent.  Don’t lump everybody all together.  In fact, God did spare Lot and his family when he destroyed Sodom.  You could also say that Abraham is asking God if a very small number of good people can redeem the sinful majority.  Can the virtue of a few redeem the sins of the many?  In a sense, this is a prefiguration of the New Testament, when God sent his only Son, who by his passion and death on the cross, redeemed humanity from its sins.  The sacrifice of one individual, Jesus Christ, saved those who deserved to die for their sins.

          In the Sunday readings, the first reading and Gospel normally are related in terms of theme.  The first reading prefigures the Gospel.  The Responsorial Psalm is so called, not because of the response we all repeat, but rather because the Psalm as a whole is a response to the first reading, and echoes its theme.  (The second reading usually is independent and is not intended to relate to the others.)

          What the readings have in common today is the theme of persistence in prayer, intercession.  Abraham pleads with God.  He is persistent.  He begs God to spare Sodom if only a few god men are found there.  It is like Jesus interceding for humanity on the cross for our sins.

          Prayer is so very important for all of us.  We all need to make time for prayer in our lives, to ask God for all our needs and for those around us.  God always answers prayers of petition, if we submit them to his will.  The trouble is that often we don’t know what’s best for us.  Our mortal minds are, by definition, limited.  God knows better than we do, so we may not get exactly what we ask.  God likes to surprise us.  He’s the God of surprises.  So yes, the one who asks always receives, but may receive something better than what they asked for.  The one who searches, always finds, but it may be something greater than what they were searching for.  The one who knocks will always have the door opened for them, but there may be a surprise on the other side of the door.  I’m sure we’ve all had the experience of praying hard for something, and being perhaps disappointed when it seemed our prayers weren’t answered, or they were answered differently from how we had hoped.  But then, later on, we could look back and understand why things turned out the way they did.  God had something greater in mind for us than we imagined.  So if we are patient, and persevere, and in our prayer always ask, as Jesus did, not my will, but your will be done, our prayers will be answered—answered by our loving Father who loves us more than we can ever imagine, and will never let us down.  God always answers our prayer, but in his own way, in his own time, but in the way that is best for us in the end.

          So let us always, like Abraham, be willing to pray to God, to intercede with God, not just for ourselves but for others.   Through prayer, we can change the course of history, and the course of history has been changed throughout the centuries by means of fervent prayer.  And the greatest prayer of all, of course, is the Mass.  That’s why it’s especially important to make the effort to get to Mass every week.  Let’s get our priorities right in life.  Put God first, prayer first, the Mass first, and you can’t go wrong.  Seek first the kingdom of God, and everything else will take care of itself.  

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XVI-C (July 17, 2022)

In today’s first reading and in the Gospel, we see two separate scenes of hospitality.  In the excerpt from the Book of Genesis, the Lord appears to Abraham.  Actually, if you listened carefully to the first reading, you should have been a bit confused as to just how many guests Abraham had.  We are told, first that “the Lord”, singular, appears to him.  Then, however, Abraham sees three men standing near him.  But when he addresses them, he uses the singular, “My Lord”.  But then he invites them to refresh “yourselves”, and it is “they” who reply.  Finally, one says, “I” shall return to you again next year.  So was it one or was it three?

          Well, we can say it was both, because the Church traditionally has seen in this account a revelation of the Most Holy Trinity.  God is one, but in three divine persons, and so the Lord, the one God comes to Abraham, but as three persons.  And not only is it a revelation of the Trinity, but to some extent, also a prefiguration of the Holy Eucharist, for the Trinitarian visitor sits at able and eats bread.  There is a famous Russian icon that depicts this meeting, showing the three visitors as three angels, eating around a table, with a cup in the centre, and the oak tree in the background.

          Then we see a second scene of hospitality in the Gospel, when Jesus visits Martha and Mary.  Now whenever we hear the Gospel of Martha and Mary, our sympathies seem quite naturally to be with Martha, who did all the hard work, but seemed to lose out in the end.

          In fact, while Our Lord says Mary chose the better part, he does not say that what Martha did was bad or wrong.  Indeed, Martha is a saint of the Church, whose feast day falls on July 29.  Our Lord is not contrasting industry or service with idleness.  Rather he is saying the good is the enemy of the best, in that what Martha did was good, Mary chose the better part, to listen to Our Lord, to what he had to say, to waste time with God.

          Now work is important and very necessary, but so is rest.  We all need to take a breath, to stop and pause for a break.  Even God rested on the seventh day.  And we as Christians need to rest too.  The Church asks us to rest on the Lord’s Day, the first day of the week, the day Christ rose form the dead, and the day the Holy Spirit came down upon Our Lady and the apostles at Pentecost.  Sunday is special.  We should keep it that way—above all by getting to Mass, and avoiding unnecessary labour.  Sunday is an ideal day to spend with our families, to spend time with God—to take a breath and honour him who has given us life and breath.  It’s so sad to hear people say they don’t have time to go to Mass because they’re busy.  Well we need to make time for God in our lives, to get our priorities right, to put God first.  If we seek first the kingdom of God, everything else will take care of itself. 

          And this is true not only of Sundays, but every day—we need to make an effort to set aside some time to be with God.  I know that for many this is not easy, I know many have responsibilities at home and at work, and the day is long.  But it’s almost even more important for people who are busy, people who are Martha’s, to stop running around and just sit for a few minutes at Our Lord’s feet and pray.

          Mary chose the better part because she did on earth what we all hope to do one day in heaven—where there will be no need to run around and worry about the dirty dishes.  No, there we will be in the everlasting presence of almighty God, and contemplate and worship and praise his majesty forever.  As St. Augustine once asked:  “In heaven, will you find any hungry to feed?  Any thirsty to whom you may offer drink?  Any sick to visit?  Any quarrelling to reconcile?  Any dead to bury?

          None of these will be there, but only what Mary has chosen.  There we shall be fed, we shall not feed others.”

          And so what Mary chose here will be full and perfect there.  The Lord himself says of his servants, he will have them sit at his table, and he will come and serve them.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XV-C  (July 10, 2022)                                 

Of all the evangelists, only St. Luke relates the famous parable of the Good Samaritan.  He tells us that a man was on his way “down” from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers.  Now the word “down” is more than appropriate, because while Jerusalem is some 2500 feet above sea level, Jericho is about 800 feet below sea level.  So to travel this distance of twenty-four miles between the two cities involved a considerable descent through desert territory, even below sea level.  It was literally in the depths of the desert that the unfortunate man was left to die.

          A priest comes along, but he passes by.  A Levite, that is someone who, though not a priest, would have had a ministerial function in the sanctuary, also passes by.  Both of them would have been Jews, as implicitly was the man who had been robbed.  A Samaritan, however, does stop to help.   The Jews regarded Samaritans with hostility, and with contempt.  They were enemies so much so that when Our Lord asks the lawyer which of these three was a neighbour to the man who had been robbed, the lawyer can’t even bring himself to pronounce the name “Samaritan”, but only refers to “the one who showed him mercy”.

          Our Lord relates this parable in reply to the lawyer’s question, “who is my neighbour”.   The one who proves himself a neighbor, the hated Samaritan, does so because he took pity on the man who had been robbed.  The Samaritan was “moved with pity” when he saw the victim.  The first two passers-by felt nothing for the wounded man who was their brother.  But the Samaritan had compassion, a Latin word which means literally to suffer with another, or as in the Greek equivalent, sympathy, to feel pity with another.

          Now the opposite of compassion or sympathy is apathy—when we are without feeling, when we are indifferent, insensitive, when we couldn’t care less, when we don’t want to get involved.  Apathy is one of the dangers many good people face in our society today.  We live in an age where vocal minorities get all the headlines, where small but active pressure groups seem to control the media.  For too long many good people have been apathetic.  They have refused to get involved, and passed by on the other side.  The silent majority has remained just that—silent.

          Now the trouble with getting involved is that there is a risk. You have to get your hands dirty, you lose some of your comfort—it’s inconvenient, you have to give up your time, even maybe some of your money—in extreme cases, even perhaps your life.  But that’s what the Good Samaritan did.  It is because we want to protect our own well-being that so many individuals, and even so many countries pass by on the other side.  They don’t feel compassion for the suffering, for the persecuted, the oppressed, the hungry, the sick.  It’s none of my business.  I don’t want to look.  I don’t want to know.

          The good is the enemy of the best.  The two passers-by who did just that, passed by, were both going to do something good.  But the better thing would have been for them to stop and do something good now for the innocent victim left alone in the desert.

          The parable tries to answer the question, “Who is my neighbour”.  Your neighbour is the person who is near you.  Charity, in other words, begins at home—close by—in your immediate surroundings, though of course, it doesn’t have to end there.  At times we may feel helpless to do much about events taking place far away.  But at the very least, we should not ignore those in need right around us—perhaps even those living within our own home.  We do have a duty to care for those far away, of course, but let’s not forget either those who are near us--our immediate neighbours, the people we pass by every day.

          Jesus got so involved that he even let himself be crucified.  He couldn’t pass by without showing how he felt, and doing something about it.  When, for example, he heard that his friend Lazarus had died, Jesus wept—for he had a heart, he had feeling, he had compassion.

          May we too have a heart, and feel for our neighbours, and even our enemies.  May we never pass by those left by the side of the road, abandoned and alone.  We need to be willing to get our hands wet, as Christ got his wet, with his own blood, on the cross.

          So whatever good we can do, let us do it now.  We may not get another chance, for we may not pass this way, along the road to Jericho again.  As Our Lord tells us, “whatsoever you did to the least of my brothers, you did it to me”.

                                     

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XIV-C  (July 3, 2022)        

If you were to try to identify a common theme in today’s readings, it would perhaps be that of peace.  In the Gospel, Jesus tells his disciples that when they enter a house, they should first say:  “Peace to this house”.  St. Paul, in the second reading, writes that for those who follow Christ, “peace be upon them”.  Even in the first reading, the prophet Isaiah begins with the words:  “Rejoice with Jerusalem”—which literally means city of Peace.

            Peace is one of the twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit.  If the Spirit is in us, then we show it by being at peace.  Unfortunately, many people nowadays do not enjoy this gift.  They are troubled, they are afraid or anxious, they harbor feelings of hatred towards others.  Even within the family unit, peace can often be an elusive goal.  There can be tensions, indeed even disorder within a household.  At a national or global level, we can see a full range of flashpoints in the world, where there is hostility or even outright war.  We can feel helpless at times when we see pointless violence in our city.

          Peace is a fruit of the Holy Spirit, and it is a gift from God to those who live by the Spirit.  It is a hallmark of the heavenly Jerusalem.

          Now the devil, of course, does not want peace.  Satan tries to create disorder, misunderstanding, conflict, division.  He seeks to separate people from and against each other.  To resist him, we need to have the spiritual strength that comes from being close to God.  We achieve that intimacy above all through prayer and the worthy reception of the sacraments.  The summer months are a period when we usually have more free time, when we’re not so rushed, when we can enjoy a break from our usual routine, and have some time for recreation.  Indeed the very word “re-creation” literally means to create anew.  That is something we can try to do this summer—to find time to re-create ourselves, by trying to draw closer to Christ in prayer.  We live in a busy and noisy world, with lots of activity and distractions.  That’s why we need to find some quality time, to get away from it all, and find a quiet, peaceful setting, where we can be alone with God—to speak and listen to him, to re-charge our spiritual batteries, to establish peace between ourselves and Christ. 

          What prevents peace, of course, is sin, for it puts us at war with God.  It is only by following Christ and his commandments that we can be truly happy, and truly at peace.  The words of absolution the priest uses in the sacrament of confession include the phrase:  “through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace”.  The two go together.  Without forgiveness, without putting the sin that offends God behind us, we cannot hope to be truly reconciled with God and with our neighbour.

          The world, its values, its agenda, cannot give us peace.  Only Christ can.  And if we have that inner peace which comes from being true, faithful and obedient to Christ, then we will have the strength to endure whatever challenges may come our way in this life.  For we will have our eyes fixed on the heavenly Jerusalem (the heavenly City of Peace), where all shall be well—the kingdom of truth and life, the kingdom of holiness and grace, the kingdom of justice, love and peace.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XIII-C (June 26, 2022)              

If you look at St. Luke’s Gospel, which we are hearing this year, you’ll see there’s a constant movement in it towards Jerusalem.  And so in today’s excerpts, for example, we’re told twice that, “Jesus set his face to go to Jerusalem”. 

          But he finds the going tough.  The Samaritans do not welcome Our Lord’s disciples.  St. James and his brother St. John, propose that fire come down from heaven to consume the hostile Samaritans.  It’s one reason why James and John were known as “sons of thunder”.  But Jesus says no to fire from heaven.

          Then he asks someone to follow him.  But the man wants to bury his father first.  This, of course, is a good thing. Our Lord does not intend to speak against such a revered practice.  His comment, “Let the dead bury their own dead”, is not meant literally.  He means let those who are spiritually dead, bury the physically dead.  Those who are spiritually alive should go out and proclaim the kingdom of God.

          Then there is the man who wants to follow Christ, but wants to go home to say goodbye first.  Again, this is a good thing.  But the good is the enemy of the best.  What Our Lord tries to emphasize is the urgency of responding to his call, and that our response should be unequivocal.  No “ifs”, “ands”, or “buts”—no conditions.  Just say Yes, and follow me—now—he says.

          Human beings, of course, prefer to procrastinate.  The word “procrastinate” contains the Latin adverb “cras” which means “tomorrow”.  We put off until tomorrow our good intentions.  The great St. Augustine, in the earlier stages of his conversion process, prayed, “Lord, make me holy, but not yet”; “give me chastity, but by halves”.   The trouble is that we don’t know if there will be a tomorrow for us here on earth, if God will grant us another day.  That’s why we have to make the decision now, today, to say Yes to Christ.

          St. Paul, in the second reading, speaks of the same issue when he describes the tension between the spirit and the flesh.  The desires of the flesh are opposed to the spirit.  Our spirit may be willing, but our flesh can be weak at times.  We can be slow, hesitate, set conditions, when God calls us to follow him now—when he calls us to obey him, and stop sinning today, and not tomorrow.

          Our life here below consists in a never-ending series of choices.  We are always confronted with having to say Yes or No to God.  The devil is very much there, tempting us to say No.  There is a constant duel inside us, between what we know we should do, and what Satan tries to get us to choose instead, a constant tension between the spirit and the flesh.

          As Catholics, our faith should inform that choice.  We should look at what our core beliefs are, what is essential to us, to help make that choice.  For we cannot be neutral before the Gospel.  We cannot sit on the fence.  We have to make a choice—Yes or No to Christ—to follow Him and his way, or to follow those who reject Christ and his way.  For there’s no middle ground between life and death.

          Through regular prayer, through regular and worthy reception of the sacraments, through performing acts of charity and of penance, we can strengthen ourselves spiritually to be able to say Yes to God—to show our true love for him and for our neighbour.  It may not be easy.  It may take time, as it did for St. Augustine.  But because we never know if we will be around here tomorrow, Jesus calls us to say yes now—this instant.  That's why he says don't worry about the burying the dead, don't worry about saying your good-byes at home—don't look back once you've started on your way.  But rather raise your mind and heart and eyes up to the heavenly Jerusalem, and march forward boldly, with courage and with faith, to your true eternal home.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Corpus Christi - C (June 19, 2022)

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of Corpus Christi, the Body of Christ, a feast instituted back in the year 1264 by Pope Urban IV (Transiturus Deus).  According to tradition, he did so following the miracle of Bolsena, a small Italian town near Orvieto, where the Pope was staying at the time.  A German priest had doubts about the doctrine that during Mass, the bread and wine actually become in substance the Body and Blood of Christ.  This priest decided to make a pilgrimage to Rome to overcome his doubts.  On his way down from Germany through central Italy, he stopped at Bolsena and celebrated Mass there.  While doing so, the host is said to have turned into real flesh, which began to drip blood onto the corporal, the square white cloth that is placed in the centre of the altar.  This corporal was taken at once to Orvieto, the nearby town where Pope Urban was staying, and he decided to institute the Feast of Corpus Christi, and also began work on the beautiful cathedral of Orvieto to enshrine this precious relic, which is still displayed there to this day.  We honour today Our Lord’s real presence in the sacrament of the Most Holy Eucharist.

          The Eucharist is part of the mystery of the Incarnation, that is, of the fact that God wanted to become one of us.  He didn’t want to remain some distant, invisible spirit.  No, he wanted to reveal himself to us in the most personal, intimate and concrete manner possible.  And so the Word became flesh, and lived among us, and we saw his glory.

          But Our Lord knew he was destined to suffer, to die, and to rise again, and then to ascend into heaven.  In order not to abandon his disciples, he instituted the Holy Eucharist, as we heard in the second reading, so that even after his death and resurrection, he could continue to be present to them in a concrete, tangible, form.  This sacrament would also be a memorial of his suffering and death, a communion with his Body and Blood, and through it, his unique sacrifice on Calvary would be made present again.

          Our Lord knew too that his followers would hunger for him after he left them.  Hunger is a natural part of being a human being.  We can all feel an emptiness, a void, a vacuum in our purely material earthly existence.  We know that the things, the pleasures, the people of this world can never fully satisfy us.  We know that our inner hearts seek for something more, something greater.  We are constantly reaching out into the beyond, into eternity, towards the supernatural, towards the divine.

          And who can satisfy this hunger of ours, this thirst, but he who is the fountain of living waters, he who gives us the Bread of Life.  It is the Bread of Life because it is the gift of his own Body and Blood, shed on the cross for our sins, to win for us the hope of everlasting life.  Anyone who eats this bread will live forever, for that bread is Christ’s flesh, given for the life of the world.

          The celebration of the Eucharistic sacrifice is a great mystery, a mystery of faith.  We believe that at the words of consecration, pronounced by the priest, the bread and wine, though retaining their outward appearance and taste, become in substance the Body and Blood of Christ.  It is a mystery we call “transubstantiation”, a term which simply means that the substance of the bread and wine is changed.  And so when we come up to receive Holy Communion, we truly receive the Body and Blood of Our Lord.  That is why when the priest or minister says, “The Body of Christ”, we should answer “Amen”—a word which simply means, “Yes, I believe, I am truly receiving the Body of Christ”.  And so we in fact receive what we already are.

          It is sad that in recent years, there has been a loss of the sense of the sacred, of the supernatural, of the mystery in the celebration of our liturgy.  We should never let the offering of the Holy Eucharist become trivial or irreverent, or forget the nature of the great work we perform through our participation in the Eucharistic sacrifice.  We need to remember where we are when we come together for Mass.  It is the House of God, and so we need to dress and conduct ourselves accordingly.  We should arrive on time for this important meeting with the Lord, and stay until the end.  We should prepare for that meeting by being in a state of grace, with pure hearts, to receive Our Saviour.  As a practical matter, this means we should get to confession regularly, especially if we find ourselves in serious sin.  During the Mass, we should make the effort to be attentive, participating in the prayers and hymns, listening and reflecting upon the Word of God.

          And so on this great feast, may we renew our appreciation and reverence of the most Holy Eucharist, of the sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ:

          Lord Jesus, may we come to you and never hunger;

          Believe in you and never thirst;

          Eat your Body, and never die.  Amen.

 

Trinity Sunday C (June 12, 2022)                           

We celebrate today what is perhaps the most fundamental mystery of our faith, our belief in the Most Holy Trinity.  And we do well to acknowledge at the outset that we stand before a great mystery, one our mortal minds can never hope to understand fully in this life, but which, all the same, we should try to penetrate, if only slightly.  It is a mystery of faith.  So the starting point must always be our faith, our belief, in one God in three divine persons, a faith we profess every time we recite the Creed.

          In fact, if you look at either of the two Creeds, you will see that their structure is Trinitarian, divided into three parts.  First, we affirm our belief in God the Father, creator of heaven and earth; then in his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, who became incarnate, that is, assumed our human flesh, in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary; and finally we profess our faith in the Holy Spirit, who proceeds from the Father and the Son.  The Father is God; Jesus Christ, the Son is God; the Holy Spirit is God.

          Now I find that some people are uncertain about the divinity of Our Lord.  Jesus is the Son of God, and precisely, because he is the Son of God, he too is of the same substance, of the same nature, one in being, with the Father:  God from God, light from light, true God from true God, as we say in the Creed.  And So, Jesus Christ is truly God.  All the miracles Our Lord performed were intended to show to those around him that he wasn’t just a human being, but truly divine—changing the water in wine at Cana, for example; walking on the water at the Sea of Galilee; multiplying the loaves and fish to feed the 5000; raising Lazarus from the dead, and so on.  But Jesus is also man.  For he has two natures, a human nature and a divine nature.  He is both God and man.  God from the beginning, but in time, he assumed our human flesh when he became one of us at the Incarnation, when he was conceived in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary by the power of the Holy Spirit.

          God is love, as we know, and God our Father loves us more than we can possibly imagine.  Now if you love someone, naturally you want to speak to the one you love.  That is precisely what God our Father has done.  Out of love for us, he has spoken to us—and how do you speak, but with words.  That is how God has spoken to us too—through His Word, the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ his Son.

          Now any son has to be conceived—and Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was conceived too—but not by any human means.  For when the Father spoke the Word, what did he use?  What do we use when we speak?  We need to have breath.  That’s where the Holy Spirit comes in.  For the word “spirit” really just means breath.  It is the breath the Father uses to speak his Word to us.  And so Jesus, the Son of God, was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit.  The Father and the Son love one another with a boundless love.  This love is the Holy Spirit, which we profess in the Creed, proceeds from the Father and the Son.

          I began by acknowledging that we find ourselves before a great mystery.  On the one hand, we need to balance our belief in one and only one God, with the fact that this one God has revealed himself to us by becoming one of us in the person of Jesus Christ, conceived through the power of the Holy Spirit.  It is our goal to come to know this blessed, most Holy Trinity, even as they know us.  And though we shall never achieve such knowledge in this world, where we walk by faith and not by sight, we hope and pray that we may be found worthy to do so in the next.

          And so on this Trinity Sunday, we pray:  Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end.  Amen.

 

Pentecost Sunday C  (June 5, 2022)                          

The fifty days of Eastertide reach their climax today on the great feast of Pentecost, a Greek word meaning “the fiftieth day”.  It was the day, as we heard in the first reading, on which the Holy Spirit, in the form of tongues of fire, came down to rest upon Our Lady and the apostles gathered in prayer.  The priest wears red Mass vestments today, symbolizing the colour of fire, and since it is the last day of Eastertide, we sing the double Alleluia at the dismissal.

          The apostles had gathered in the Upper Room in prayer after Our Lord’s Ascension into heaven.  He had promised to send them the Holy Spirit, so as not to leave them as orphans.  Perhaps that is the first point we can make.  The outpouring of the Holy Spirit was the fruit of prayer, continuous prayer.  It didn’t just happen.  Rather Mary and the apostles prayed intensely to receive this great gift.  We too, if we wish to be filled with the Spirit, filled with the gifts and fruits of the Spirit, also need to pray to receive that outpouring with that same degree of fervour and intensity.

          How appropriate that Mary should have been there.  Mary conceived the Saviour of the world through the power of the Holy Spirit, and so became the Mother of God.  Now she was to become the Mother of the Church, which was born on Pentecost Sunday as a result of the descent of that same Holy Spirit.  Mary has been called the spouse of the Spirit, and rightly so, for she was wedded to that divine life-giving gift of God himself.  She chose, as St. Paul in the second reading, urges us also to choose to live by the Spirit, and not by the desires of the flesh.  For the two are opposed to each other.  We, who through our baptism, becomes temples of God’s Holy Spirit, are called to let the Spirit be our way of life, and not seek the lures of the flesh.

          The great manifestation of the Spirit at Pentecost was certainly a magnificent and dramatic event—the sound of the rush of violent wind, the tongues of fire coming down, the apostles’ being given the gift of speaking in different languages.  It is somewhat reminiscent of the excitement and glory of Our Lord’s Transfiguration on Mount Tabor.  In our own case, however, we are not likely to receive the Spirit in such a dramatic way.  We are more likely to welcome the Spirit as Elijah did (1 Kg 19:9)—not in the earthquake, or the mighty wind, or the fire, but rather in the sound of a gentle breeze, a gentle, quiet voice, a soft breath.  For as we know, our life is lived more in the valleys than on the mountain tops.  But if we open our hearts to receive the Spirt, if we pray to receive the gift of the Spirit, our prayers will not be in vain.  The Spirit will come to us, in one way or another for God is always faithful to his people and to his promise. 

          And when the Spirit comes, the Spirit will provide us with an answer to our particular needs.  In the case of the apostles who were to go out to the world and preach the Gospel of Christ, they received a spiritual strengthening, courage, as well as the gift of speaking foreign tongues.  This was an obvious practical need for their mission, and so they were given what they needed.  Some of us need the gift of the spirit of forgiveness, the Spirit who gives us pardon and peace for our sins in the sacrament of confession.  Remember that on Easter Sunday evening, Jesus appeared to his apostles, breathed on them, and said: “Receive the Holy Spirit.  For those whose sins you forgive, they are forgiven”, and so he instituted the sacrament of penance.  It was a kind of Pentecost right on Easter Sunday itself, as interpreted by St. John’s Gospel.

          Some will seek and receive the spirit of healing, whether physical healing or a spiritual healing of their souls.  Others will seek and receive the spirit of peace, freeing them from the pain of hostility or anger or bitterness, or anxiety.  For some the Spirit will bend their wills and hearts, to free them from the burden of rigidity. 

          The Spirit gives to each one who asks according to their particular need.  The spirit offers many gifts and so has many names.  He is called the Spirit of God, the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father and the Son, the upright Spirit, the guiding Spirit.  But his chief and distinguishing name is Holy Spirit.  And ultimately, that is what we are all called to be—holy.  The more the Holy Spirit lives in us, the more we too will be holy.  People will see the Spirit is living in us by the way we practise our faith.  Just as Mary, who was wedded to the Spirit of God, and not to the flesh of the earth, exuded holiness and sanctity, so too the more we show our love for the spirit and seek the spiritual gifts, the more we also will become holy, truly, the holy people of God.

          And filled with the Spirit of holiness we will then, like the apostles, be able to go out and transform the word, to recreate a new world, to help to establish the kingdom of God here on earth.     

          And so today, we pray:

Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of Your faithful, and kindle in them the fire of Your Love.  Send forth Your Spirit, and they shall be created; and You shall renew the face of the earth.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Ascension Sunday C (May 29, 2022)                             

For forty days after his resurrection, Our Lord appeared to his disciples and spoke to them about the kingdom of God.  Just as he had spent forty days in the desert after his baptism before he began his own public ministry, so now he spent forty days with his apostles to prepare them for theirs.

          To encourage and strengthen them even more for the great mission he had planned for them, he promised to send the power of the Holy Spirit upon the apostles so that they would be his witnesses to the ends of the earth.  And then, almost to prove he could and would do it, he gave a spectacular demonstration of his divinity by being lifted up to heaven.  Now there is not the slightest reason to doubt the literal truth of the ascension into heaven.  It is related several times in the New Testament.  After all, if Christ could rise from the dead, why could he not ascend into heaven as well?  We profess our belief in the ascension in the Creed, and we recall it in the Eucharistic prayer. 

But what is its significance?  The ascension marks the point in time when Christ completed his earthly appearances after his resurrection, and so brought his visible ministry on earth to a close.  But at a more theological level, the ascension marks the exaltation, the glorification of Jesus.  His human nature was taken up to heaven, and from there, he now exercises all power in heaven and on earth.  The risen Christ, in the humanity he assumed in becoming one of us, returned to his Father who sent him.  He will return to earth only once, at the end of time, at the parousia, when, as we profess in the Creed, he will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.

Our Lord never really left heaven when he came down to us, for he has always been with the Father.  And he did not leave us when he ascended into heaven again—because he is our head, and we are his body, the Body of Christ.  He is always present in our midst, for he assures us that “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I also".” And he is present in a particularly special way in the sacrament of his Body and Blood, the most Holy Eucharist.

And what a source of inspiration that must have been for the apostles, to see the Lord go up to heaven, with shouts of joy, to ascend with trumpet blast.  Rising form the dead was one thing, and a great miracle.  But Jesus rose only to walk on this earth.  It was only on the fortieth day that he thrilled his disciples by letting them see him go up, ascend into heaven.  What great joy they must have felt at this wonderful spectacle.  What hope it must have put into their hearts, hope that where he the head had gone, there we the flock would hope one day to follow.

And so on this Ascension Sunday, our thoughts today should be on heaven.  One of our problems is we don’t spend enough time thinking about heaven. We’re too involved in our daily earthly activities.  We spend too little time with God in prayer.  We need to make time for prayer in our life, to show we love God, and want to spend time with him—even eternity. 

And so our prayer today is very simply:  where Christ our head has preceded us in glory, there we the body hope one day to follow.  May we look to the things above, and seek the heavenly values, so we may draw ever closer to the risen Christ, who has taken his place at the right hand of the Father in heaven, so that we may one day join him there too.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday VI-C (May 22, 2022)

Though we are in the fifty days of Eastertide, we need to remember that the words in today’s Gospel were spoken by Jesus before he died.  He wanted to assure and strengthen his disciples before his passion so that they would not despair when he was arrested and crucified.  And so he tells them: “Do not let your hearts be troubled; and do not let them be afraid”.  They are words intended for us as well.

          How natural for us, however, whose faith is weak to be afraid.  Even those with faith, at times, suffer from anxiety.  When the archangel Gabriel appears to the aging Elizabeth to foretell the birth of John the Baptist, he says the same words to her: “Do not be afraid”.  Even to Mary, when he announces the incredible news that she is to give birth to the Saviour of the world, though remaining a virgin, Gabriel again repeats: “Do not be afraid”.

          So it is perfectly natural for us to worry, to be anxious as to what the future holds in store, at what may happen when difficulties or challenges or tragedies come our way.  Our hearts may be troubled over financial issues, difficulties at work, concerns about our health.  We may worry about our families, our friends, or what the future may hold in store.  We may be troubled by world events—wars, diseases, or natural disasters.  As we grow older, we may even fear death.

          Yet Christianity is a religion of optimism.  You cannot be a pessimistic Christian.  That is a contraction in terms.  Ours is a religion of hope, of promise, with the resurrection of Christ at its centre—represented by the large Paschal candle we have here beside the altar for the fifty days of Eastertide.

          In today’s Gospel, Jesus promises: “the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything and remind you of all that I have said to you.”  The whole of Eastertide is really a preparation for Pentecost, for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit.  Before they received the gift of the Spirit, the apostles were afraid too.  Peter, after all, denied Christ three times.  Then, apart from St. John, all the apostles abandoned Our Lord to die alone on the cross.  Only Mary and John were there to support him.  But after they received the gift of the Holy Spirit, the apostles were fired with zeal, and boldly went out to the ends of the earth to proclaim the Gospel of the Risen Christ.  What a change the Holy Spirit made to them!

          We first receive the gift of the Spirit at our baptism.  That gift is strengthened at confirmation, so that we may give witness to our faith, publicly, before others.  These days leading up to Pentecost provide us with an opportunity to pray to receive that outpouring of the Holy Spirit in our lives, to strengthen our faith, so that we may have the courage the Holy Spirit gives, so that we may be strong and have no fear, whatever the future may hold in store.

          The Holy Spirit came down upon Mary at the Annunciation when she conceived her divine Son by the power of the Spirit.  And so one of her titles is Spouse of the Spirit.  Mary also prayed with the apostles in the Upper Room for the Holy Spirit to come down upon them at Pentecost, when the Church was born, and so she is the Mother of the Church.  May she pray for us as well, so that we too can receive that same strengthening of our faith, so that we may have the hope of true Christians, and so never be afraid.  Come Holy Spirit, come through the powerful intercession of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, your well-beloved spouse.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday V-C (May 15, 2022)

Today’s Gospel is a very challenging one, because Our Lord asks us the impossible.  For he asks us to love one another “just as I have loved you”.  Now no one could possibly love as much as God loves.  No human being could love us as much as Jesus did—by enduring the passion, by allowing himself to be crucified for our sake.  He who was totally innocent, the sinless lamb of God, went to the cross to save us from our sins.  That’s how much Jesus loved us, and we can never duplicate the magnitude of that love.  Yet, all the same, that is our goal.  It is the ideal towards which we should strive.  For Jesus also tells us, “You must be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect”.  We need high standards, for Christianity is a religion with extremely high standards.   But many people still haven’t grasped the demands of the Gospel.  They have not really attempted to love one another as Christ loved us.

          Certainly the Church does give us the example of so many saints who did their best to live up to our Lord’s command.  Yet they would be the first to admit their own failings and weaknesses.  But the important thing is that they tried to live that kind of true love.  And when they failed, they were prepared to admit it, and to confess their sins regularly, to seek God’s forgiveness and grace to help them try harder the next time.  They tried to live up to a true love that involves sacrifice, self-denial, giving up something for the sake of another.  True love is the opposite of selfishness.  The one who loves cares not for themselves, but puts their neighbour first.

          The word “love” is one of the most overworked words in our modern vocabulary. People are always talking of love.  Songs are written about it.  Movies are produced on love themes.  Yet we live in a society where true love is not always apparent.  When you turn on the television, you see violence and killing.  Every day in the news we hear of stories where hatred has triumphed over love.  Above all, where is the love for God and for his commandments in our world today?  True love involves respect, respect for the dignity of the human being from conception unto natural death.  Love demands acknowledging the rights and needs of your neighbour, not just looking out for your own selfish needs.  For selfishness is the opposite of love.

          Perhaps one of the problems is that people have so separated themselves from God that they have lost sight of God’s love for them.  They don’t see how much God loves them, and how valuable they are in his eyes.  And because they don’t feel his love for them, they can’t imitate God’s love for others.

          Another problem is that people confuse love with feeling.  They think, mistakenly, that infatuation or feelings of passion are the same thing as love.  But love is not so much a feeling as a conscious decision, a conscious way of life, a positive effort to make sacrifices, to surrender one’s own will for the sake of another.  If it doesn’t hurt, it’s not love. 

          In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us why he asks us to love one another as he has loved us: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples”.  It’s a question of credibility, in other words.  We can’t very well call ourselves Christians if we are not loving by our deeds, and we won’t be able to draw many people to Christ if we do not by our own example show we are trying to love as he loved.

          During these fifty days of Eastertide, we are preparing for the great feast of Pentecost.  Perhaps we could pray especially that the Holy Spirit may come into our hearts and lives this year, so we can be truly loving people, so we can try to love as Christ loved, so people might actually mistake us for being Christians—true disciples of Him who loved, even unto death.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday IV-C (Good Shepherd Sunday) (May 8, 2022)

Today is the fourth Sunday of Easter.  It is traditionally known as Good Shepherd Sunday, for the Gospel always speaks of Christ, the Good Shepherd.  This Sunday is also observed throughout the Church as the World Day of prayer for vocations.  We all have our particular vocation in life.  But the one common and first vocation we all share is to be holy.  “Be holy for I am holy”, says the Lord.  The purpose of this annual world day of prayer is to pray especially for vocations to the priesthood and to the religious life—to ask the Lord of the harvest to send more labourers to his harvest.

           In today’s Gospel, Jesus says, “my sheep hear my voice”.  The word vocation means “call”, and so a vocation is a call—a call from God.  To hear God’s call, we have to listen—to keep our ears open, so we can hear God’s voice.  We live in a noisy, busy world, a world where many voices compete for our attention, and our allegiance.  Especially in our consumer society, everyone seems to be trying to sell us their product or service.  It’s very easy to be distracted and misled, not to be able to hear God’s voice.  That’s why we all need to find a quiet space in our daily lives, when we can be alone with God, to shut out the rest of the world, so we can listen to God, and hear his voice.

           If you ask someone the question, “What is prayer?”, the answer they usually give is that prayer is talking to God.  Well, that’s only half of it.  Prayer is a two-way street.  Yes, it’s talking to God, but it’s also listening to him.  It is communicating with God, union with God, or you could say, communion with God.  So we all really need to establish that relationship, that personal communion with the Lord in prayer, so we can hear his voice and respond to it.

          “I know them, and they follow me”.  Of course, God knows us, of course he knows to what particular vocation he calls every one of his children.  “And they follow me”.  If they are truly his sheep, truly part of the flock of the Good Shepherd, they will follow his voice, wherever he calls.  Why?  Because “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish”, Jesus says.  No one can offer us eternal life except Christ who rose from the dead.  All the trinkets of this world, all the material goods, the worldly fame and prestige, all the lures, the temptations of this earth—they will not last.  They are finite, they come to an end, just as this world will come to an end—sooner than we think.  Only Christ, the Good Shepherd, offers us pastures in a kingdom that is eternal.

          With that kind of a promise, it’s amazing that far more people don’t offer themselves to Christ, to serve him in a religious vocation.  It’s so striking, year after year, to look at the hundreds and thousands of graduates in so many of the professions, and yet to see so few, barely a handful, of new priests.  On Saturday, May 14, four men are being ordained to the priesthood at St. Michael’s Cathedral for service in our diocese.  Four, of course, is nowhere near enough to compensate for the priests who retire or die, let alone for the growth of the diocese, especially in the suburbs.  So why don’t more people offer themselves?

           A vocation involves sacrifice.  It demands that we give up something for a greater good.  And we do so out of love—love of God, and love of neighbour.  Someone called to the priesthood or religious life must sacrifice their own private will, and promise obedience to their bishop of superior.  While there is a certain loss of freedom involved in this, there is, on the other hand, a confidence and trust which comes from striving to do the will of God, instead of seeking a personal selfish goal.  To obey one needs a sense of faith and trust in God’s loving providence, and a love of him that surpasses any personal self-seeking we might have.

          The charism, or gift, of celibacy also involves sacrifice.  But it provides a freedom to devote one’s life to working in the Lord’s vineyard, without the duties and responsibilities that are part of married life.  Celibacy is also a witness to and a sign of our belief in the next life, where men and women do not marry, but where the Church, as the bride of Christ, enters the eternal heavenly banquet prepared for us from the beginning of time.  So while there is sacrifice involved in accepting the gift of celibacy, there is also the joy of anticipating that heavenly union with Christ, even now, here on earth.

          But in the materially affluent so-called first world, we seem to have other priorities, other gods who claim our love.  We seem here to have closed our ears to hearing the voice, the call of God.   We end up relying on priests who come to the diocese from other countries to fill the gap. 

          So please, on this world day of prayer for vocations, we should renew our commitment to pray—not just once a year—but to pray often for more vocations, especially here in our own diocese.  For the harvest is indeed great, but the labourers, still far too few.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday III-C  (May 1, 2022)                                     

As today’s Gospel opens, we see that the disciples have gone back to Galilee, and have returned to their work as fishermen.  It’s almost as if they’ve missed the whole point of Our Lord’s coming.  Certainly he did not intend for them to go back to their former occupation, but rather wanted them to spread the Gospel.  But, as always, they seem to have been a bit slow to realize just what he wanted them to do.  St. Peter plays his typical role as the impetuous leader.  He’s the first to say he’s going fishing, and then the others agree to accompany him out onto the lake.  And when they see Jesus standing on the shore, it’s St. Peter who first recognizes him, and the same Peter who takes the initiative and jumps into the water, racing out to meet Jesus.

          When the disciples drop the net, as Our Lord asks, they catch a large quantity—the net is full of big fish, and it’s not broken.  The atmosphere is one of surplus, of over-flowing generosity, of fullness received from the Lord.  As Jesus takes the bread and fish, we see a sign of the Holy Eucharist.  Our Lord offers his disciples their daily bread, with all their needs being met with abundant generosity.  There is too an indication that these fishermen will spread out their nets to reach the fullness of humanity, all men and women of every race and nation, for the net is full of fish.

          And then we have the famous question to Peter, which is a bit of a trick question.  Because Peter had previously boasted to Jesus before the passion that he would never lose faith, but then denied Our Lord three times, he is asked: “Do you love me more than these?”  Peter knows he denied Christ before, so rather than make the same over-confident comparison with the other disciples, this time he simply and humbly states his genuine love for Christ: “Yes Lord: you know that I love you”.  He avoids directly answering the question put to him.  Jesus doesn’t push the comparison the second or third time round, but settles for a simple, “Do you love me?”  Because Peter had denied Christ three times, he is now asked to affirm his loyalty the same number.  And after each reply, Jesus confers on St. Peter the duty to look after and feed his sheep.

          Our Lord never said it would be easy.  At the end of today’s Gospel, he asks Peter to follow him all the way—even to death.  He warns Peter that he will have to lay down his life for love of Christ.  This St. Peter did.  He was crucified himself in the end.  He made the ultimate sacrifice in the footsteps of his master.  Even though he had earlier denied Christ, he repented, and more than made up for his earlier denial.  He kept the faith, even unto death.

          May we too keep the faith, the faith of the Church, so we too can join Peter and all the saints in Christ’s glorious heavenly kingdom, a kingdom that will have no end.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday II-C (Divine Mercy) (April 24, 2022)

Today’s Gospel begins in the evening of that same day, the first day of the week, that is, on Easter Sunday evening.  Jesus appears to his disciples.  He does so very much in concrete, physical terms, so they can see his hands, and his side.  He is not just some spirit, but he has truly, bodily risen from the dead.  And a week later, when the doubting Thomas demands to see before he will believe, Jesus insists that he put his finger into the holes the nails made in his hands, and that Thomas put his hands into the hole made by the spear.  Later on in St. John’s Gospel, Jesus appears on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, and has breakfast with his disciples.  He eats some fish.  Again, John is stressing very much the fact that Our Lord bodily rose from the dead.  It was not just some spiritual event, or a figment of someone’s imagination.  Jesus truly, physically rose from the dead.

         And we too believe in the resurrection of the body, that is, that at the end of time, our bodies will rise from the grave, in glorified form, as did Our Lord’s, and be joined to our souls.  Just as Jesus rose from the dead, and Mary was assumed body and soul into heaven, so too will our bodies rise on the last day.

When Jesus appears on Easter Sunday evening to his disciples, he greets them twice, with the words, “Peace be with you”.  He, of course, came to earth as the prince of peace, and at his birth the angels sang, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to people of good will”.  How fitting that now, at the climax of his earthly ministry, he continues the theme of peace.  He came to bring peace, to make peace between God and man, to reconcile fallen humanity to the Father.

In our world today, many people long for peace.  They long for peace because they find they are not at peace.  They are troubled, they are worried, they may be in conflict with their neighbour, or perhaps even with their family. There’s not an awful lot of peace to be found in our world whose values can never give us true peace. 

But Jesus wants to give us his peace—a peace the world can never give.  And to complete his mission, Jesus breathes on his apostles—he breathes the Holy Spirit upon them, and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.  If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained”.  In so doing, Our Lord, as a sign of his divine mercy, institutes the sacrament of penance.  He gives his apostles the gift of the Holy Spirit so that they can forgive sins.  They, in turn, would hand down this power, through the laying on of hands, in the sacrament of Holy Orders, to their successors, the bishops, and they, in turn, to the priests called to help them in their work.  The role of the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of sins is clear in the words of absolution the priest uses:  “God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son, has sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins”.  The Holy Spirit is in fact very much present and part of all the sacraments.  We first receive the gift of the Holy Spirit in baptism, when we are baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  The gift of the Spirit we receive for ourselves at baptism is strengthened at confirmation, so that we can bear witness to our faith before others.  But we know we fail, we sin, and so through the sacrament of penance, through confession, the Holy Spirit comes to forgive our sins when we repent and confess them.  It’s so important for our spiritual well-being that we go to confession regularly, that we seek and receive the gift of the Holy Spirit to forgive our sins.

We’re all familiar with the dramatic description of Pentecost in St. Luke’s Acts of the Apostles, when the Holy Spirit came down upon our Lady and the apostles gathered in prayer, fifty days after Easter.  St. John’s Gospel, which we heard today, was one of the last books written in the New Testament, and so John had time to reflect on the others.  His work is a more theological one than the others.  And so what he seems to describe today is a kind of Pentecost right on Easter Sunday—for he emphasizes the unity of the Resurrection and the sending of the Holy Spirit, both on Easter Sunday.

Then, in today’s Gospel, John moves forward a week to describe the meeting with Thomas.  Though Thomas may have doubted initially, after he sees Jesus, Thomas makes the most explicit profession of faith in the whole New Testament when he addresses him as “My Lord and my God”.  Jesus is truly God.  Though he also became man, Jesus was and is truly God—he has both a divine and a human nature.  As we say in the Creed:  Jesus is: “God from God, light from light, true God from true God.”

May we never doubt as Thomas did, but believe as Thomas also did—believe in Jesus Christ, our Lord and God, and in his power to forgive our sins, in his divine mercy, so that we too may enjoy the gift of true peace, a peace the world can never give.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday - C (April 17, 2022)

We celebrate today what is the greatest feast of the Church's liturgical year—even more important than Christmas.  For today we celebrate the day Christ rose from the dead, the day Christ destroyed the power of death—not just for himself, but for us too.

          During his life on earth, Our Lord performed many miracles which were intended to help people believe he was truly God, truly divine.  And his own resurrection from the dead was the greatest miracle of them all.

          Death was not part of God's plan for humanity at the beginning.  There was no death in the garden of Eden.  It was paradise—like heaven, and would have gone on forever.  It was only through the sin of Adam and Eve that death entered the world.  Death was the punishment for their original sin.  They were cast out of paradise, and so, in the end, they had to die—the gates of heaven were closed.

          But God in his great love for us didn't want that to be the end of the story.  So he sent his only Son, Jesus Christ, the new Adam, born of Mary, the new Eve, so that by his passion, death and resurrection from the dead, he could pay the price of Adam's sin, and open the gates of heaven once again for those who believe in him and are faithful to him.  And so, as St. Paul writes in his letter to the Colossians (3:1-4):  "If you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.  Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth."  Look up to heaven where Christ is, in other words, and seek first that kingdom of heaven, and not the things, the attractions, the material treasures of this earth.

          When we profess our faith, the faith of the Church, we affirm our belief that Christ rose again on the third day.  This is one of the most fundamental tenets of our faith as Christians—our belief that Christ did indeed bodily rise from the dead.

          We also profess our belief in the resurrection of the body.  We believe that just as Christ bodily rose from the dead, so too will we, at the final judgment, when the souls of those who have died in Christ will be rejoined to their glorified bodies.  Just as Jesus rose from the dead, just as Mary was assumed body and soul into heaven, so too we believe that our bodies will also rise on the last day.

          Christianity is a religion of hope, of optimism.  You cannot be a pessimistic Christian.  It's a contradiction in terms.  For at the heart of our faith stands the risen Christ.  God did not create us to die, but he made us in his own image so we could live with him forever.  When God gives life, it is forever.

 God gives, God seeks life.  But so often, men and women seek death.  Christ, by his own death, destroyed the power of death to give us life forever.  That death was an act of the utmost love imaginable.  It was in fact love that destroyed death.  For the power of the love of God is stronger than the power of death.  Love is a creative force of the highest order.  Hatred, like death, only destroys.  Yet not even Christ himself could escape death.  He had to pass through it, as do we.  For, ironically, death is the gateway to life.  In a sense, you could say that the whole point of life is death.  For our whole lives here on earth are but a preparation for that moment when we too will have to pass through that gateway of death in order to enter everlasting life.  And when we make that journey, all we take with us is our faith, and the good works we have done during our lives here on earth.  Our large Paschal candle in front of the altar, which we always light for baptisms and for funerals, represents the risen Christ, a candle that remains there for the fifty days of Eastertide, right until the great feast of Pentecost.

          Today we celebrate the resurrection of Our Lord in a very special way.  But in fact every Sunday the Church celebrates the resurrection of Christ.  Every Sunday is for us Easter Sunday. 

          And so today we commit ourselves once more to our baptismal faith, the faith of the Church, the faith in which we have been baptized, and born again—our faith in the one God, our loving Father, in his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Spirit, who live and reign for all ages, world without end.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Palm Sunday - C (April 10, 2022)

We begin today the week we call Holy Week, the most important and solemn week of the Church’s liturgical year.  This is a very special week.  We should make a particular effort to observe it with reverence, with prayer, with the solemnity that befits it.

          Today is properly known as Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord.  For there is a double focus.  We begin with the blessing of the palms, remembering Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem as the Messiah.  But also we hear the account of Christ’s passion.  That is why red vestments are worn, the colour of the blood Our Lord shed for us.  We do well to consider just why Jesus had to suffer—why he had to die.  It was to atone for our sins, to pay the price of our disobedience with his own blood.  And so especially in this week, we should remember that our salvation, our hope of everlasting life was bought—not through any efforts on our own part, but with the price of Christ’s precious blood.  That is why we should express genuine sorrow for our sins, confess them, and do penance for them.  It is why Good Friday is a day of fasting and abstinence, and why every Friday is a day of penance.  We should resolve to put our sins behind us, and turn to Christ instead and obey him and his commandments, and resolve not to fall back into the sins that nailed Our Lord to the tree.

          At every Mass, at the end of the preface, we sing the same words the crowds sang in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.  For in the Sanctus we sing: “Hosanna in the highest, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”  If you listen to the words that lead up to the Sanctus, you’ll see they are usually to the effect: “and so we join the angels and saints in heaven, as they sing your glory forever—holy, holy, holy”.

          In the heavenly Jerusalem, that’s what it’s all about.  In heaven, all who have been invited to the banquet of the Lamb sing and praise him forever.  They sing Hosannas to the highest.  Our liturgy here on earth, indeed our whole life here below, is a witness to and a preparation for the next life.  So no matter how seemingly tragic the death of Christ on the cross, may we remember that he died so we could live, so we could rise with him, and join him in the heavenly Jerusalem, and there together with all the angels and saints sing his praises, sing Hosanna in the highest heaven for ever.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent V-C (April 3, 2022)

Today’s Gospel passage is certainly a very dramatic one.  The scribes and Pharisees are out to trick Jesus.  But in the end, the tables are reversed, and Our Lord is the one who puts the accusers on the spot.

          When they bring the woman caught committing adultery before him, Our Lord starts to write on the ground.  We do not know just what he wrote.  It is the only time that we see Jesus writing.  As a result, there have been a number of theories proposed about what he did scribble.  Some feel it was nothing special—he just idly traced some figures on the ground, as if to show he wasn’t really all that interested in the trick question.  Others have suggested Jesus identified on the ground the sins of those who were about to stone the adulterous woman.  If so, this would explain why, when he says, “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her”, the accusers all went away, beginning with the eldest.  Confronted by their own sins, and ashamed by their hypocrisy, they did the only thing they could.

          We are reminded by the incident of various other things Jesus said in his ministry, such as “judge not, and you will not be judged”; or “the judgment you measure out will be the judgment you receive”; and “be merciful as your heavenly Father is merciful”.

          Certainly today’s Gospel reminds us to take the plank out of our own eye first before we criticize the splinter in our neighbour’s.  It’s always easier, isn’t it, to find fault with others than to admit to our own failings.

          The woman caught committing adultery did commit sin, a serious sin at that.  Jesus does not in any way condone it.  Indeed, he dismisses the woman with the words: “Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.”  But while he condemned the sin, he was prepared to show mercy to the repentant sinner.  Our Lord asks the accusers if, in conscience, they can sit in judgment on this woman when they themselves are sinners who should be judged.  He attacks their hypocrisy and self-righteousness, when they are far more sinners than saints themselves.

          In order to receive God’s mercy and forgiveness, we have to have the humility, the honesty, the courage to confess our sins.  That’s what last week’s Gospel was all about.  The loving Father runs out to meet and embrace his prodigal son, once he has converted, seen the folly of his ways, and started to return home.  Today’s Gospel is yet another encouragement for us to seek God’s mercy and forgiveness.  God condemns the sin, but he loves the sinner who repents.  He asks us, as he does the woman in today’s Gospel, to go and sin no more.

This Lent, why not experience the loving mercy of our Lord, by receiving his forgiveness and grace in the sacrament of penance?  Why not make a good confession, and be reconciled with God and your neighbour, and receive the gift of pardon and peace, so you can celebrate the resurrection of Christ this Easter with a new heart, new soul, and new mind.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent IV-C  (March 27, 2022) 

In today’s famous Gospel of the Prodigal Son, we see the Father’s great mercy towards the sinner who repents.  The parable shows the stages of confession.  First there is sorrow or contrition.  The younger son realizes he has done wrong, and he is sorry.  He feels the pain of separation and loneliness.  For sin can never give us happiness or peace.  Sin separates us from God our loving Father and from each other.  The young man realizes he has sinned, feels the pain, is sorry and repents.

          So he turns back to return to his father.  The father, even while the son is a long way off, runs out to meet him.  God our heavenly Father helps us in our journey of conversion with his grace, once we admit that we have sinned.

          And then there follows the confession.  “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you.  I am no longer worthy to be called your son.”  It is a humble confession.  The father forgives him, of course, and rejoices, because his son was dead, and has come back to life—he was lost, and is found.  For just as sin leads to spiritual death, so repentance and conversion bring new life.

          But now we have the elder son.  His reaction at the news of his brother’s return and father’s celebration is one of anger.  His bitterness is so great that he can’t even refer to his brother as “my brother”, but speaks of him instead as “this son of yours”.

The real problem with the attitude of the elder brother is that he’s a bit too sure of himself, too proud.  “Listen!  For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command”.  It’s a bit like saying “I have never sinned in my whole life”.  Do you believe that?  It’s too good to be true.  It is the pride of the elder brother, his smug complacency that prevents him from being a penitent.

St. John writes: “If we say we have no sin in us, we are deceiving ourselves”.  But if we confess our sins, then God will forgive them.  The elder brother would not be the sort of person who would go to confession, because he would not be prepared to admit he had sinned.  There are many people like the elder brother, who feel they have nothing to confess, nothing to be sorry about.  But if you think you have nothing to confess, then God has nothing to forgive.  None of us is as perfect as the elder brother thinks he is.  We all need to have the humility to acknowledge our need for forgiveness, to admit we’re not perfect, that we too are sinners.  Then our loving heavenly Father will run out to meet us too, with open, forgiving arms.

The message of the parable is very simple.  Don’t be like the elder brother.  Don’t be so sure of yourself, so proud, that you think you don’t need to go to confession.  The younger son at least had the humility and honesty to acknowledge he was a sinner.

If you look at the great saints of the Church, you’ll find they went to confession a lot more than most of us do.  Not because they were greater sinners than we are, but because they had the lowliness of heart to admit their weakness and failings, and wanted to do something about.  They wanted not only God’s forgiveness, but also his grace, so they would not fall into sin so easily in the future.

          This Lent, why not experience the loving mercy of our heavenly Father, by receiving his forgiveness and grace in the sacrament of penance?  Why not make a good confession, and wipe the slate clean?  Why not begin a new spiritual life this Lent, and be reconciled with God and your neighbor, and receive the gift of pardon and peace, so that you too can join in our heavenly Father’s celebration?

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent III-C (March 20, 2022)               

In today’s first reading, we see the famous meeting between Moses and God at the burning bush.  This bush which was blazing, yet not consumed, has been seen as a symbol, a prefiguration, of the virginity of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  She conceived the Saviour of the world by the power of the Holy Spirit.  And so she remained forever a virgin, defying the laws of nature.  For nothing is impossible to God.  So too with the burning bush that was not consumed—quite against the laws of nature, but within the power of God who can do anything.

          So it’s not surprising that this bush catches Moses’ attention.  God calls to him from the bush.  He asks Moses to remove his sandals, for he is standing on holy ground—holy because he is in the presence of God.  Moses hides his face because he is afraid even to look at God.  His reaction is one of unworthiness, of humility, of respect.  Moses asks God for his name, and the reply may seem strange: “I am who I am”.

          God’s name was considered sacred, and so people didn’t dare even to pronounce it.  Just as Moses was afraid to look at God, all the more so, he and his people were afraid to say God’s name.  That shows the kind of respect, of reverential fear, of distance there was between them and God.

          But nowadays we know how often God’s name is misused, when people swear, or treat his name with disrespect or derision, or invoke it in trite or irreverent conversation.  We should show our respect for God by respecting his name and remember the second commandment God gave to Moses: “You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain”.

          We too need to show respect by our conduct in the presence of God, especially in Church, the sacred House of God. 

          We need to strike a proper balance in terms of our attitude towards God.  We need not be so distant as Moses was, afraid to look at God or even to pronounce his name.  But at the same time, we should not become so familiar that we show disrespect and lack of reverence towards him. 

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, we read in the Bible.  One of the gifts of the Holy Spirit is that fear, that reverence for God.  But perfect love casts out fear.  Our respect for God should be the fruit of our genuine love for him.

          For as St. Paul writes: “at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”  (Philippians 2:10-11)Thoughts

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent II-C  (March 13, 2022)

The second Sunday of Lent always has the account of the Transfiguration as its Gospel.  We celebrate the actual feast of the Transfiguration on August 6.  So it seems a bit odd to hear this brilliant, dazzling Gospel, full of light and joy, in the early part of Lent, a time when we’re supposed to be in a penitential mood.

           Our Lord knew that he was going to be crucified, and would suffer a painful, excruciating death on the cross.  He knew what a demoralizing effect this would have on his disciples--how disoriented his passion and death would make them—what a tragedy the scandal of the cross would be for them after the Hosannas of Palm Sunday.  And so, to prepare them for the trials they would have to experience, Jesus led his closest followers up to a high mountain. 

          He chose Peter, James and John to be the witnesses—the same three beloved disciples who were later to witness his agony in the garden.  They who would see him suffer, would first receive the grace to see him glorified, so they could have the strength to understand and endure his passion.  He chose three so that their evidence would not be challenged.

          Our Lord was transfigured in their presence to strengthen their faith in him, in his divinity, so their faith would not be shaken by his agony and death on the cross.  In short, he wanted to offer them a glimpse of his resurrection.  The resurrection of Our Lord is at the very heart of our faith.  We profess it every time we recite the Creed, together with his ascension into heaven.  Indeed throughout Lent, we are preparing to celebrate his rising from the dead on Easter Sunday.  Our Lord’s transfiguration in today’s Gospel was intended to give his closest disciples a glimpse of that miraculous event.

          And what a magnificent sight it must have been.  Our Lord’s face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.  So it’s not surprising that Peter should say: “Master, it is good for us to be here”—good to be in the presence of God, wonderful to witness this great miracle.

 Well, we too are in the presence of God here today, in the House of God.  Our Lord has said that where two or three are gathered in his name, there is he also.  We have gathered together here in his name, in his House, the House of God.  We know Jesus is present in his Word, in his priest, in the community of his faithful, and in a very special way, he is present in the sacrament of the most Holy Eucharist.

          On the holy mountain, our Lord’s external appearance was miraculously transfigured.  Here at this and at every Mass, the bread and wine we offer are not transfigured externally, for they retain their outward form.  But that great miracle known as transubstantiation takes place.  The substance of the bread and wine change sacramentally into the Body and Blood of Christ, the risen, the glorified Christ.  And so it is indeed wonderful for us to be here, wonderful to be present at such a great miracle.  And not only that, but if we are Catholics, and in a state of grace, we can actually receive the Body and Blood of Christ in Holy Communion

          And through our worthy participation in, and reception of, the Holy Eucharist, we pray that we too may be transfigured and become a new creation, especially during Lent.  For Lent is a time for us to be changed, for us to put behind our failings of the past, and become children of light, a time for our souls to be made new, to be transfigured with Christ, and molded into his divine image, that image in which we were created, and so become ever more divine, transformed into an ever greater degree of holiness and glory.

          For through our worthy reception of the Eucharist here on earth, we receive a foretaste, a glimpse of the eternal heavenly banquet, where we will rejoice and sing praise in the presence of the risen, glorified Christ for all eternity.

          But before we make that journey to the highest heaven, we must first follow the way of the cross.  We must first suffer with Christ in order to rise with him.  And we do so with the full confidence that no matter how heavy our cross may seem here on earth, if we remain faithful to Christ and to his commandments, he will raise us up on the last day to the heights of heaven, to be transfigured, and live there with him forever.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent I-C (March 6, 2022)

Today is the first Sunday of Lent, an old English word which simply means spring.  Spring is a time of new birth, new life, and so it is a fitting name for this season when we prepare to celebrate the Paschal mystery—that is the passion, death and resurrection of Christ at Easter—that great solemnity of new life. 

There is a strong baptismal theme during Lent.  For we prepare through prayer and penance to recall our baptism in order to renew our baptismal promises at Easter.  As Lent involves a recognition of our failure to live up to our baptismal calling, it is a time of penance and conversion.  Purple is the colour of the season—a sad colour to reflect the sorrow we feel for our sins.  There are no flowers on or near the altar.  We deny ourselves the joy of the Gloria at Mass until Holy Thursday, when we have completed our penitential observance.  Nor do we sing Alleluia until we have undergone a conversion, and are ready to sing this chant with renewed meaning during the Easter Vigil.

           We prepare for some forty days, just as Jesus spent forty days in the desert, praying and fasting, so that he could strengthen himself for the devil’s temptations.  Temptation is very much a part of our human drama.  The devil is always there, trying to tempt us to sin.  But God will not allow us to be tempted beyond our ability to resist. (1 Cor 10:13)  Jesus was truly God, but he was also truly man, so that even he did not escape temptation.  And in today’s Gospel, we see Our Lord’s human nature being put to the test.

          Now to face the devil, to be able to resist temptation, we too need to be strengthened, to build ourselves up, to acquire a spirit of self-discipline, of self-control.  Just like an athlete trains to strengthen their skills and muscles, so too we need to develop our spiritual muscles, to strengthen our faith.  The three traditional means of doing so during Lent are prayer, fasting and almsgiving.

          We could all do with more personal prayer every day.  We could all make the effort to find more quality time to find our own spiritual desert, where we can be alone with God, to get away from the noise of the world, and develop a personal relationship with Our Lord.  At the communal level, we can try to make the effort to get to Mass more often during Lent, to receive the Holy Eucharist, the Bread of life more frequently. 

          Fasting is another means of developing our spiritual strength.  Through fasting we learn to control our appetites in the broadest sense—to control our desires, our inclinations.  If we can become masters of ourselves, then we will have the strength we need to say no to the devil, so we can say yes to Christ instead.  People talk about giving up this or that for Lent, and that’s fine.  But the greatest thing we can give up is sin.  Above all we should fast from sin, from doing things that offend God, that are against his commandments.

          Prayer and fasting are not, however, ends in themselves.  Through prayer and fasting we grow in love of God and love of neighbour.  We get our minds away from our own selfish needs and desires, so that we can become more conscious of God, and more conscious of the needs of our neighbours.  This is where almsgiving comes in, the third means by which we can have a good Lent, and grow in faith and spiritual strength, by caring for our neighbour and showing we love them.  That is the ultimate goal of prayer and fasting, to let us share our good fortune, share our blessings, our faith, above all, share our life with others.

          This Lent, let us show our love of God and love of neighbour by growing in prayer to God, and by performing some acts of self-denial so we can acquire that spirit of self-control, self-discipline, so when the serpent comes our way to tempt us, we will have the courage to say—go away, get lost.  And as we do, we continue to ask our heavenly Father each and every day, to lead us not into temptation, but to deliver us from every evil.  Amen.   

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday VIII-C (February 27, 2022)

In today’s Gospel, Our Lord speaks about correcting our neighbour.  He does not say we should never do so.  Rather he says we should sort ourselves out first before we seek to find fault with others.

          Jesus took people where he found them.  But he didn’t leave them there.  He came to earth to raise them to a higher level.  And so throughout his ministry, Our Lord called people to conversion, to change, to growth in holiness.  The basic message of his preaching could be summarized by the words of John the Baptist: “The kingdom of God is near; turn away from sin, and be faithful to the Gospel”.  Turn away—change, convert, become a new creation.  Those words are the same words the priest says as he places the ashes on your forehead on Ash Wednesday.  This Wednesday is in fact Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, a season when we seek to change and convert to Christ by growing in holiness.

          Throughout his ministry, Jesus sought to correct people’s faults—whether it was the fault of hypocrisy, or greed, or lack of faith, or cowardice, or adultery, or sacrilege, or hatred, or whatever.  And he had every right to do so, because he himself was without fault.  He had no speck, let alone any log in his eye.  So it was entirely legitimate for him to draw attention to the faults of others with a view of helping them put their sins behind them so they could grow to a higher level of holiness.

          For us to have the right to correct our neighbour, we first have the duty to correct ourselves.  That’s what Jesus tells us in the Gospel.  Can a blind person guide a blind person, he asks?  Of course not.  That’s why we have to become qualified guides along the paths of holiness by first seeing our own faults, our weaknesses, our sins, and then freeing ourselves from them.  At that stage we can begin to correct others and draw attention to their need for growth.

          Now to do this, we need to have humility.  We need to have the honesty, the lowliness of heart to admit we’re not perfect, that we do ourselves have planks in our own eye.  This is the main problem.  For people are always quicker to see the faults of their neighbour than they are to identify their own shortcomings.  We can be blind to our own inadequacies while seizing on the deficiencies of others.  So the first step is to acquire that spirit of humility, to admit our own need for conversion, our own need to turn away from sin and to be faithful to the Gospel.  Confession is always a good practical way to do this.

          Then we need to acquire that purity of heart, that inner integrity that will cleanse us of our failings.  This is not something that will happen overnight.  For most people do not change dramatically in a short space of time.  It is a long-term challenge.  But if we put our hearts and soul into it and make the effort constantly to die to sin, to be better, then over time we should see results.  And perhaps more importantly, others will see those results, those fruits in us too.  This is what Jesus says in the Gospel today.  Out of the good treasure of the heart, the good person produces good; and out of evil treasure, the evil person produces evil.  By their fruits, you shall know them.

          So if someone were to look at your life over the last five, ten, twenty years—would they see growth and change?  Would they see good fruits shining forth?  Or would they see the opposite?  If we have a genuine faith, that faith will lead us to good works—the good works that will shine forth as the fruits of our fidelity to Christ and to his Gospel.

          And so what Our Lord is saying today is really very simple.  By all means, correct, convert your neighbour.  But sort yourself out first, and then you will be able to see clearly enough to have the right to take the speck out of your neighbour’s eye.  And as he said in last week’s Gospel: “Do not judge, and you will not be judged…for the measure you give, will be the measure you get back”.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday VII-C (February 20, 2022)                          

Today’s Gospel is St. Luke’s version of Our Lord’s famous sermon on the mount.  This has been called the Magna Carta of Christianity—the fundamental statement of Christian principles.   But it’s been said that the trouble with Christianity is that it’s never been tried.  The world has not been, and still is not willing to take that dramatic step and follow Christ in the way he asks us in today’s Gospel:  love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, turn the other cheek, forgive and forget, do not judge, give to those who ask, and so on.

          As Jesus himself points out:  if we want to call ourselves Christian, we have to be different.  There’s nothing special in loving your friends.  Even sinners do that, he says.  We are called to go much, much further.  We are challenged to follow the example of Christ—all the way.  He asks nothing of us that he himself was not prepared to do.  He loved his enemies unto death, and asks his followers to do the same.  From the cross, he prayed: “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do”.  Not only did he forgive, he even made excuses for those who nailed him to the tree. 

          I remember meeting a woman once, who was not a Christian, who said to me:  Christianity is a very hard religion.  I suppose, in a sense, that is true.  Our Lord does ask his disciples to follow his great example—to love as he loved, even your enemies, even unto death.  He asks us to be perfect, as he himself was perfect, to obey his commandments, to make sacrifices, to do penance.  But he knows we will never achieve such perfection in this life.  He knows we will sin.  That’s why he has given us the possibility of seeking forgiveness in the sacrament of penance—confession.  He wants us to repent, to change.  To the contrite woman who committed adultery, Jesus offered his pardon, but also added: “Go and sin no more”.  When the publican asked him, “Lord, be merciful to me a sinner”, Jesus gladly forgave him.  He does not allow us to be tempted beyond our power to resist.  And he assures us that “my yoke is easy, and my burden light”.  It is a much easier and lighter burden than the burden they carry who reject his Gospel.

          We all need to reflect on Our Lord’s teaching in the sermon on the mount to see if we have the courage to be that Christian.  In today’s first reading, we see Saul out to kill David.  David knows it, and has the opportunity to kill Saul when he comes upon him asleep at night, with his spear lying beside him.  What does David do?  Does he take the spear and kill Saul, his enemy?  No, he takes the spear away from him, and then sends it back to Saul so as to say:  Look, I could have killed you, but I didn’t.  That would have been wrong.  Let’s make peace.

          Our Lord calls each one of us to make peace with our neighbor, to forgive our neighbour when they ask for pardon, even if they’re an enemy—to be generous to our neighbour when they’re in need, to show to those around us that we are different, that we’re not like the rest of the world—to show we are truly Christian, that we’re prepared to give Christianity a try.  The world would be a much better place if we did.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday VI-C  (February 13, 2022)                               Rev. Edward Koroway

Today’s readings direct our thoughts to the next life.  St. Paul in his letter to the Corinthians speaks of the resurrection of the dead; and St. Luke in the Beatitudes, contrasts our present earthly life with the kingdom of God.

          We are probably more familiar with St. Matthew’s version of the Beatitudes.  It is used both for funerals as well as for weddings—funerals, because the beatitudes are an anticipation of the heavenly kingdom, and weddings, because the beatitudes offer ideals couples should strive to achieve in their marriage.

          Every week in the Creed we affirm our belief in the resurrection of the body.  When we die, our body begins to decay.  But our soul lives on, and is judged by God when we die.  But at the end of time, when Christ comes again for the final, universal judgment, our bodies will rise again—not as decayed corpses or ashes, but as glorified bodies.  Our souls, at the final coming of Christ, will be reunited with our glorified bodies.  We have the example of Christ, and we have too the example of Mary, who, at the end of her earthly life, was assumed body and soul into heaven.

          It is in the context of our belief in the resurrection and in the next life, that we should reflect on St. Luke’s beatitudes.  For many centuries, people were troubled by the problem of evil, of injustice, of innocent suffering.  It seemed so unfair.  But the Old Testament writers were gradually moving towards the answer to this mystery.  In the final books of the Old Testament, especially in the Book of Wisdom, we read that “The souls of the virtuous are in the hands of God; no torment shall ever touch them…they are in peace.”

          Death, in this world, is not the end, because there is another world, an eternal kingdom of God, where there is no evil or suffering, or hunger or injustice.  So blessed are those who are poor now, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  Blessed are the hungry, for they will be filled.  Blessed are those who weep, for they will laugh.  And so on.  God will correct all that is wrong in this world in his heavenly kingdom.  He will reward the just, and punish those who have led a life of sin, and taken advantage of their neighbour for their own selfish pleasures.

          The only way we can understand evil and suffering in this world is to realize there is another, greater world, which corrects all that is wrong here below.  So our hearts and minds should always be looking ahead to the next life.  In fact, our whole life here on earth is but a preparation, a preparation for that great moment when we too will pass from this life to the next, through the gateway of death, a door through which even Our Lord himself had to pass.  And he did so to destroy the power of death forever.  And he did it out of love.  For the power of love is stronger than death.  True love reaches out to eternity, to that eternal happiness Our Lord promises in his kingdom to those who are poor in spirit, gentle, peacemakers, merciful, pure in heart, just as he was.

 The virtues in the beatitudes are a challenge for us, because they turn upside down the values of this earthly world.  But then Christ’s kingdom is not of this world, and that is the point.  His kingdom is something far greater and better and eternal.

          So we pray that we may always seek the things that are above, where Christ is, and focus on the next world, and prepare for it, by living a life of faith, filled with good works, so that one day we too may join Our Lord, his Blessed Mother, St. Joseph, St. Mark, and all the saints in the kingdom that will have no end.

 

Thoughts on the readings for February 6, 2022  (Sunday V–C)                     

In today’s Gospel, there are so many people pressing to hear Jesus speak that they push him to the edge of the lake.  He is forced to get into a boat and put out a little way from the shore to that the boat acts as a floating pulpit for him.  Our Lord continues his sermon to the crowds from the boat on the lake.

          After he’s finished, he effects a miraculous catch of fish for Peter.  What is interesting is Peter’s reaction.  You’d think he’d be happy and grateful.  Instead, he says: “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!”  You’d think Peter would be overjoyed at the miracle and want the miracle-worker, Jesus, to be with him always.  But no, he tells him to go away.

          I think Peter’s reaction of fear has to be seen in the context of the final verse of today’s Gospel passage.  When they return to shore, we are told the disciples “left everything and followed Jesus”.  Through his miracle, Jesus was calling the fishermen to follow him in his ministry.  He was inviting them to make a radical change of vocation.  Maybe that’s why Peter asked Jesus to go away—not because he didn’t like him, but because he felt unable to leave his nets behind and embark on a new career.  He felt unworthy of such a call, and that’s why he says: “I am a sinful man”.  He felt himself to be in the presence of holiness, yet knew he did not measure up to that challenge.  He wasn’t prepared to let go of the past.  It was easier to ask Christ to leave than for Peter to put the past behind him.

          But, in fact, moved by God’s grace, Peter and James and his brother John, do let go—they do leave everything behind, and follow Jesus, in spite of their unworthiness and fear and doubts, they take the plunge.

          Our Lord calls us to follow him too.  We each have our own particular calling.  It will, of course, vary from person to person.  But we do all have one common vocation.  We are all called to be holy: “Be holy for I am holy says the Lord.”

          In the first reading today, the prophet Isaiah has a vision of the Lord, and the seraphs praise God with the same words as we do during the sanctus at every Mass: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory”.  Like Peter, Isaiah feels he is not worthy.  He is a sinner.  But God calls him all the same, and Isaiah accepts the call: “Here am I, send me!”.  And so in both the first reading and in the Gospel, the holy God calls his unworthy servants to follow him, to serve him. 

          In the Creed we profess our belief in the one, holy, Catholic and apostolic Church.  The Church is holy because it was founded by Our Lord, the incarnate Son of God, who is the head of the Church whose members we are.

          But the Church, while holy, is always in need of purification, and so it follows constantly the path of penance and renewal. This was the great virtue of the saints—they always recognized they were sinners, that they weren’t perfect but in need of growth. We see this so clearly in the case of St. Peter who says, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man”.  Every sinner has a future; every saint has a past.

          So many people, especially the young, don’t know what the future holds in the store for them, what they should do with their lives.  But whoever you are, whatever your age or state in life, your primary duty is to be holy, to live a holy life—and that means keeping God’s commandments. If you do that, everything else will work out in the end.

          For if we obey God’s commands we can’t go wrong.  Holiness means living the life Christ wants us to live, a life separate form what the world tries to get us to do—because we have been called to something far greater, as members of the Church, the Church that is one, holy, catholic and apostolic.  If we do, then by our example, we too will bring many of our neighbours to Christ and his Church.  For God does not want holiness just for himself.  He wants it to spread, to spread to the whole world, for that is the way to happiness, to peace, indeed the only road to heaven.

          And so we pray that we may be holy, and we invoke the Holy Spirit to receive that grace:  Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful, and enkindle in them the fire of your love.  Send forth your Spirt, and they shall be created.  And you will renew the face of the earth.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday IV-C (January 30, 2022)                                  

          Today’s epistle is taken from St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians.  It is certainly one of the best known passages from St. Paul, and it’s often selected as a reading at weddings.

            St. Paul speaks about love—one of the most overworked words in our modern vocabulary.  But he gives it a precise meaning, especially within the context of a relationship.  Now we all find ourselves within relationships of one kind or another—whether in a marriage, or a family setting, whether at work or at school, or in some social organization or club.  Inevitably, in our lives, we have to live and work with other people, and so we are constantly challenged to show our love.

          “Love is patient, love is kind”, writes St. Paul.  We live in a very impatient age.  We can lose patience with other people very easily.  We are forever rushing about everywhere, trying to get somewhere fast.  It’s so easy to become impatient.  The word “patience” comes from the Latin verb “patior”, which means “to suffer”.  A patient person is someone who suffers, who is willing to wait, to take the time to suffer with someone, with their shortcomings, with their failings.  When we think of patience, we can look at Our Lord on the cross, and how patient he was for three hours of extreme agony, suffering for our sins.  How does our patience, our willingness to suffer with someone else’s faults compare with the passion of Christ?

          “Love is not envious”.  Jealousy really comes from selfishness, when we are so concerned about ourselves, our own satisfaction, our own fulfillment, that we get jealous of someone.  But love, writes St. Paul, is never envious—love is not boastful or arrogant or rude.  We need to try to be more courteous in our lives.  We like others to be courteous towards us, so the least we can do is set a good example in this regard, especially in front of children.  It’s always good to hear people say the words, “please” and “thank you”.

          Love does not take insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful.  Here again, in married life as in other relationships, it’s so important not to bear grudges, or be unforgiving when we have been hurt.  Of course, there will be times when we have been wronged, when we have been unfairly treated.  Are we big enough to forgive, the way Our Lord was able to on the cross?  Love does not take offence, and is not resentful.  It means letting the other person have the last word sometimes, even when you know they’re wrong and you’re right.

          Love does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth.  It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.  And with “endurance”, in a sense we come full circle, back to patience.  Love never ends.

          Before we go to confession, we should, of course, always make a good examination of conscience.  There are different ways of doing this.  But one idea might be to read this passage from St. Paul, and to look at your own life, and ask yourself if you love, if you live up to the qualities of true love St. Paul describes.  Jesus certainly did.  He loved us to the point of surrendering his life on the cross for our sins.  And no one has a greater love than that they should lay down their life for their friends”.  “And you are my friends”, Our Lord tells us, “if you do what I command you.  And what I command you is this:  that you should love one another, as I have loved you.”

          If we can bring ourselves to show we truly love, by the example of our daily lives, then we will be able to bring others to believe in the Gospel of love Jesus came to bring to earth, and be able one day to join him in the heavenly kingdom for all eternity, a kingdom of truth and life, a kingdom of holiness and grace, a kingdom of justice, love and peace.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday III-C (January 23, 2022)

In today’s Gospel, we see Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, return to Galilee, to his home town of Nazareth, after his own baptism in the Jordan.  These events mark the start of his public ministry, when he was about thirty years old.  When he returns to Nazareth, Our Lord starts to read in the synagogue from the prophet Isaiah, a passage of which he himself is the fulfilment.  “The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me…”.  This anointing refers to his own baptism in the Jordan, when the Holy Spirit came down upon him.  Jesus continues, that he has been sent to bring the good news to the poor—not necessarily poor just in the narrow material sense, of people without money.  But poor in every sense—poor in spirit, poor in faith, poor in hope, poor in love.  He comes to proclaim release to captives, to the blind, new sight; to let the oppressed go free.  Jesus is the fulfilment, the culmination of the Old Testament and its prophecies, for he sealed the new Testament, the new covenant with his blood when died on the cross.

          He came to bring the Good News—or Gospel, to use the old English word.  But his own people did not accept him—even though he came with the offer of salvation, of healing, of hope, of peace.  What thanks did he get?  They crucified him.  They nailed the Good News to a cross.  They weren’t interested in the Good News, because they weren’t interested in being good.  They just wanted to remain in sin.

          In many ways, it’s really still like that today.  People continue to be afraid to believe in and follow the Good News.  They prefer to persist in sin, to stay in their rut, instead of opening their eyes, and changing their hearts to accept and live the Gospel of Christ.

          And how about you?  Are you Good News to those around you? Are you good news to your husband or wife, or your parents or children, or to your employer or employees—to your neighbour?

          Through our baptism, we have been incorporated into the Body of Christ, we have become temples of God’s Holy Spirit.  So, we should live lives that befit that great calling.  We need to show to others that the Good News lives in us and show by our lives that we are members of the Body of Christ, that we are Christians, living the Gospel, and not, by our lives, lead others to see in us evil and sin and hatred.

          Through our own baptism we receive the same Holy Spirit who came down upon Our Lord and anointed him in the Jordan River.  Let us pray that the Gospel may take hold of our lives and transform us all into living images of Jesus Christ.  For to Christians the Good News is above all a person—not some idea, or theory, or philosophy, or abstract spirit.  No, the Good News is Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God, who, though divine, became one of us, so he could be close to us, and show us what the Good News was all about.

          “The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him”.  Let us fix our eyes and hearts and lives on Jesus, and grow ever more in his divine image, to be ever more like him, the Saviour of the World. 

         

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday II-C  (January 16, 2022)                               

Today’s Gospel relates the first miracle Our Lord performed at the wedding feast in Cana.  Of the four evangelists, only St. John records this event.  Indeed, his Gospel presents seven miracles Our Lord performed. We are told that the mother of Jesus was at the wedding, and “Jesus and his disciples had also been invited”.  It looks as though the Son was invited because of the presence of his mother--perhaps because it was the wedding of one of Mary’s close relatives.  They run out of wine, and Mary tells Jesus. In his reply, he speaks to her in a somewhat unusual way by saying, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me?  My hour has not yet come.”  In this passage, Mary is never identified by name, and in fact, St. John never mentions her by name in the whole of his Gospel.  The reason is that just as Eve was the first woman, the woman who sinned, St. John sees Mary as the new woman, without sin, the new Eve, mother of Jesus, the new man, the new Adam, who came to take our sins away.

          In reply to Jesus’ remark, Mary says to the servants: “Do whatever he tells you”, words which carry a far wider meaning than that of the immediate context of filling the jars with water.  Our Lord’s first miracle is achieved at Mary’s suggestion, through her intervention--indeed, through her intercession.

          John’s Gospel is full of symbolism, and we see in this event Mary’s concern for others, for her children.  She comes to them in their needs.  And Mary does so as a mediator.  She puts herself between her Son and humanity in its needs and suffering.  She puts herself “in the middle”--not as an outsider, but as mother--mother of God, and also our mother--the mother of the Church, ready to act as the go-between, the mediator, to intervene, intercede on our behalf with her divine Son.

          Mary continues her role of mediation through intercession for her children right down to our own time.  That is why we ask Our Lady: “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners.”, because it is a thing unheard of that anyone ever had recourse to her protection, implored her help, sought her intercession, and was left forsaken.

          But as Mother of God, she also wishes to let her divine Son reveal his glory to all.  She wants him to show his power, that salvific power of Christ that is there to help us in all our needs.  In performing this miracle, we are told that Jesus revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him. It was the first of the signs given by the Saviour.

          Our Lord worked many miracles in order to prove to those around him that he wasn’t just a human being, but that he was truly God.  He made the blind man see, he walked on the water, he multiplied the loaves and fish, he raised Lazarus from the dead—he changed the water into wine at Cana, so that people would believe he was truly God.  And, as St. John writes in today’s Gospel, after the miracle, his disciples believed in him.

          But Mary believed even before the miracle.  In fact, it was her faith which led her to ask Jesus to perform this sign.  She knew he could do it, because she had faith.  She already believed in him.  But she wanted others to do so as well.  Her faith led them to believe.  Mary intervened so that the disciples could believe and have faith as she did.

          In St. John’s Gospel, Mary is present here at the beginning of her Son’s public life, at his first miracle.  And she is present too at the foot of the cross, at the end.  From the cross, Jesus entrusts his mother to John, and John to his mother: “Woman, behold your son, son beheld your mother.”  John there represents each and every one of us.  Mary, in becoming the mother of John, becomes our mother too.  Through John, we become her children.  She loves and cares for all her children, and she wants to pray for us, so that we too can have faith and believe as she did, and have all our needs fulfilled.

          We too should therefore respond to Mary’s request: “Do whatever he tells you”.  Not what the world, or the media, or politicians, or some pressure group, or your neighbour tell you.  No, do whatever He, Jesus Christ, God Himself tells you.  Obey Him.  Listen to His voice, to His Word, as authentically proclaimed by His Church. And what he asks us to do is really very simple.  “If you love me”, he says, “keep my commandments”.  Do whatever He tells you.

 

Thoughts on the readings for the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord (January 9, 2022)

The word “baptism” comes from the Greek verb meaning to wash or immerse.  Of course, we bathe in water.  Water is essential to life.  Every plant, every animal, every human being needs water to live.  Water refreshes, water purifies, water leads to growth.  And just as we need water for our physical life, so too we need water for our spiritual well-being, to be born again, in water and the spirit.

          When John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness, he proclaimed a baptism of repentance, for the forgiveness of sins.  Many people went to him, and as John baptized them in the Jordan river, they confessed their sins.  John’s baptism was purely symbolic.  It was not the Christian sacrament of baptism we know today.  Yes, it expressed the repentance of the sinner.  But of itself, John’s baptism effected no interior sacramental change.  It was a symbolic rite, using water, a cleansing element, to signify a cleansing of the heart.  St. John himself says, “I baptize you with water…[but] He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

          Why, then, did Jesus submit to John’s baptism?  He certainly was not a sinner.  He did not need to be purified.  Indeed, St. John himself said, he was not fit to kneel down and undo the strap of Our Lord’s sandals.

          In submitting to John’s baptism, far from confessing he was himself a sinner, Jesus wanted to show his solidarity, his real union with sinful humanity, whom he had come to redeem.  Our Lord sanctified the waters of the Jordan and the waters of baptism for all time, by being baptized in them.

          The waters of the flood in the days of Noah almost destroyed the human race.  Now the waters of baptism, by the power of him who is baptized in them, have called the dead back to life.  The dove announced to Noah that the flood waters had subsided.  Today the Holy Spirit floats over the waters of the Jordan in the form of a dove, to announce that Jesus is the Son of God, and to give the world a new hope.  The people of Israel descended into the waters of the Red Sea which opened for them, to lead them out of slavery in Egypt, but closed to destroy their pursuing enemies.  And in the waters of the Jordan, Jesus was baptized and anointed with the Holy Spirit.  On the cross, blood and water flowed from his side, symbols of the Eucharist and of baptism.  Then, before he ascended into heaven, Our Lord commanded his disciples to go and teach all nations to observe his commands, and to baptize them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

          And we can see how Trinitarian was Christ’s own baptism.  There is the voice of the Father, speaking to his Son, revealing that Jesus is indeed the divine Son of God.  There is the Holy Spirit descending on the Son in the form of a dove, anointing him.  We see here the beginnings of the sacrament of baptism, effected with water, and in the name of the Blessed Trinity, the first of the sacraments. 

          The Church has taught, constantly, the necessity of baptism for salvation, at least by desire.  As Our Lord says in St. John’s Gospel, “I tell you solemnly, unless a man is born of water and the spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of heaven”.  Through baptism, we are freed from the stain of original sin, and in the case of adults, any personal sin committed up to that point in time.  Through baptism, we are born again as children of God, incorporated into the Body of Christ, which is the Church, and we receive the gift of God’s sanctifying grace.

          So it’s a tremendous gift to receive the sacrament of baptism.  That is why the Church places on parents the duty to see that their children are baptized.  In the case of infants, since the child lacks a personal faith, that faith must be supplied—normally by the parents and sponsors.  This means that before agreeing to baptize a child, the priest must satisfy himself that the parents intend to practise their faith in order to ensure the child will be raised in that Catholic faith.

          So today’s feast should be a time for us all to renew our baptismal commitments, to recognize again the great importance of this sacrament, to remember that we have been sealed with an indelible character through our own baptism—we have been baptized forever.  Our baptism can never be wiped away.  We can never be unbaptized or rebaptized.  We have been consecrated, set aside to God forever.  We have been freed form the stain of Adam and Eve’s original sin by the merits of Christ, the new Adam, born of Mary, the new Eve.  We have been reborn in Christ, and should live as Temples of the Holy Spirit that we are, and obey his commands, and follow him whose sandals we too are unfit to undo—the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.

 

Thoughts on the readings for the Solemnity of the Epiphany of Our Lord    (January 2, 2022)

The word “Epiphany” comes from the Greek word meaning “appearance” or “manifestation”.  Today we honour the revelation Our Lord made of himself to the wise men, or magi, who, inspired by almighty God, came to worship him and gave him presents.  Of the four evangelists, only St. Matthew relates the events described in today’s Gospel.  He says some “wise men” came to Jesus.  He does not name them, but by tradition, they have been known as Gaspar, Melchior and Balthasar.  Their remains are believed to have been taken to Cologne, Germany, and are enshrined in the cathedral there.    These were the first of the Gentiles, that is, the non-Jews, to come to see the King of the Jews.  That is really the main point of today’s feast.  Our Lord has come as Saviour of all peoples, of all nations, of whom the Magi were the first to come and worship Our Lord.

          The Catholic Church is the universal Church.  That is what the Greek word “Catholic” means—universal.  It is the Church for all peoples, of all nations, in every age and time—for the whole universe, in short, and with common, universal beliefs.  And we see the universality of God’s revelation through the visit of the magi who came to worship Jesus Christ, the founder and head of the Catholic Church.

          Over the centuries, we've tended to speak of these men as the "three kings".  In fact, St. Matthew identifies them as some "wise men", or magi.  The English word "magician" comes from the same root as magi.  You could describe them as astrologers, especially as they came "from the east", perhaps Mesopotamia, the home of astrology in the Hellenistic world.

          But they have left their astrology behind them now.  They no longer turn to the stars, but to Jesus Christ, the light of all nations.  Neither should we turn to superstitious practices involving the stars, such as horoscopes or numerology.  We should not let these sorts of ideas influence our daily lives, but turn, as did the magi, to Christ, our Redeemer, and let only His word, his light guide our lives. You can hardly say you're a follower of Christ, while at the same time believing and following horoscopes.

        St. Matthew doesn't say there were three wise men. He gives no number.  But over the years, the tradition developed that that's how many there were—perhaps due to the fact that three gifts are mentioned.  The gold signified the royalty, the regal power of Christ the King.  The incense was a sign of his divinity.  He was truly God as well as truly man.  And the myrrh was a symbol of the passion, the suffering Christ was to undergo, as he would be anointed with myrrh after his death.  But far more acceptable presents the magi offered were the dispositions they cherished in their hearts:  their fervent charity, signified by gold; their devotion, represented by the frankincense; and the unreserved sacrifice of themselves, shown by myrrh.

          In our own world today, we find so many people who may think of themselves as wise men and women who show a very different attitude towards Our Lord than did the wise men in the Gospel.  Far from dropping everything to go and worship Jesus as did the magi, many of the intellectual elites of our own day close their minds and hearts to God.  They consider themselves too sophisticated to worship the new-born Son of God.  They don’t have time for him in their lives.  Certainly they wouldn’t dream of offering him anything, let alone recognizing him as Lord and God.

          Though St. Matthew does not say the magi were kings, we’ve tended to think of them as such.  But how unlike the kings and queens and prime ministers and politicians and judges of our own day were the magi.  They had humility—the humility to recognize Christ, even as an infant, as being Lord and true King of the universe.  King Herod, on the other hand, tried to eliminate Jesus—very much like the rulers and judges of our own time who seek to eliminate Christianity from the public sphere.  The magi, on the other hand, knelt before Our Lord and paid him homage, and went considerably out of their way to do so.

At the start of this new year, may we too show the true wisdom and humility of the magi, and show our love and respect for Jesus Christ, for his divinity, and for his Gospel, and bow down and worship him, and offer him ourselves—our love (represented by the gold), our true devotion (shown by the frankincense), and our sacrifice (symbolized by the myrrh).  May we bow down and worship and adore Our Lord and Saviour, the Messiah, the light of all nations, the new-born King, Our Lord, and our God.

 

Thoughts on the readings for January 1, 2022  (Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God)     

We begin tonight/today a new year, 2022, A.D., Anno Domini, the Year of the Lord, for we count our years, of course, from when Jesus was born. 

Though one year has come to an end, a new one begins.  We like to wonder what the new year will have in store for us.  Will it bring happiness, success in our lives, good fortune?  Or will we face challenges, failures, sadness and disappointment?  For most of us, it will probably be some of both.

          In a sense, you could say it was the same with Mary.  On the one hand, she experienced great joy at becoming the Mother of God.  But there was no room for her at the inn.  The Holy Family had to flee to Egypt to escape Herod.  And no doubt she was haunted by Simeon’s prophecy that a sword would pierce her own soul too.  This prophecy was delivered on the occasion of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, forty days after his birth,

          Mary was able to face these challenges because she had faith—faith in God and in his love for her.  She knew that nothing is impossible to God, as the Archangel Gabriel had told her at the Annunciation.  She knew that no matter what challenges and trials might come her way, somehow everything would work out in the end.

          We too need to have that same kind of faith and trust in God’s divine providence as this new year begins.  We need to take to heart the angel’s words to Mary: “Do not be afraid”.  Fear is not the mark of a Christian.  True love and true faith cast out fear.  Yes, we need to have respect for God as creator and judge of the world, and that is what we mean by the reverential “fear of the Lord” that is one of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit we receive at confirmation.  But precisely because we hold in respect the power of almighty God, we know that as our loving heavenly Father he will not let us down.  So we should not worry about what the future may hold in store for us, as if God who made us and keeps us in being didn’t care what happened to us.  Of course he does.  So though, like Mary, we will have our moments of great joy, and moments too of sorrow, we need to begin this new year in a spirit of faith and trust in God’s love for us.  And then we need not fear.  For nothing whatever happens except what God wills, and it shall be for the best.

January 1st is above all the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God.  How fitting that at the start of this new year, our thoughts should turn towards Mary, who gave birth to Jesus Christ over 2000 years ago.  She is mother of God because she is the mother of Jesus, and Jesus is God:  God from God, light from light, true God from true God—as we say every week in the Nicene Creed.  And that makes Mary the Mother of God, the mother, then, of her own creator, and so daughter of her son.

          It is hard to explain this truth by purely natural means, because we find ourselves before a mystery and a miracle, before the supernatural.  God became man through the power of the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Her virginal conception of the Saviour was, quite simply, a miracle—a supernatural event, a work of God himself, for whom nothing is impossible.

          Catholics have in fact four main beliefs about Mary.  First, that she is truly the Mother of God.  Secondly, that she herself was immaculately conceived, in the womb of her mother, St. Anne, free from the stain of original sin.  We celebrate that event on December 8^th.  Thirdly, we believe that Mary was and remained forever a virgin.  Finally, we believe that at the end of her earthly life, Mary was assumed body and soul into heaven, to reign there as Queen of heaven, and first among the communion of Saints.  We celebrate the Assumption on August 15^th.

          And it is from her place in heaven that Mary continues her work in the plan of redemption—above all by means of her powerful intercession for us—her prayers, her mediation on our behalf—because she is not only Mother of God, she is also Mother of the Church.  She is our mother, and she loves us as a mother.  That is why it is so important for us to ask Mary to pray for us sinners here on earth.

          And so on this World Day of Prayer for Peace, we can ask Mary, the Queen of Peace to pray for peace in our world, and for peace in our own hearts.  May this new year bring us peace and happiness. And may we be at peace with Christ, the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, to whom all time belongs, the Lord of all ages.  Amen.

Thoughts on the readings for the Feast of the Holy Family (December 26, 2021)

The Church observes the Sunday which falls between Christmas and New Year’s as the feast of the Holy Family.  And we see the Holy Family in today’s Gospel, having to escape King Herod who wanted to kill Jesus.  The Holy Family flee into Egypt by night, until it is safe for them to return.      

          You can be sure that throughout their difficult experience, Mary and Joseph never lost faith in God.  They prayed continuously to him for guidance.  And God never abandoned them, but sent his angels to lead them to safety.

          The Holy Family is, of course, presented to us as a model for our own families, especially in the realm of holiness and faith.  It was a simple, humble family who trusted in God and in his divine providence.

          At Christmas, there is a mixture of joy and sorrow:  joy at the birth of our Saviour; sorrow at the efforts of his enemies, like King Herod, who seek to destroy him.  This ambivalence, this mixture of sorrow and joy, continues in our own day.  On the one hand, Christmas is above all a great religious feast of the incarnation, of the birth of Jesus, Son of God.  Yet the holy, the sacred, is constantly endangered by the secular, the profane, the material, the commercial. 

          In our modern era, the institution of the family has suffered much.  The constant erosion of family values in our society, the steady stream of legislation and court decisions that attack the basic family values that are so central to the well-being of any society, have all taken their toll.  It comes as no surprise that those values should have deteriorated in direct proportion to the loss of the sense of God in our world, of the loss of reverence for the sacred, of the loss of faith, of the decline in prayer.

          The erosion of the family has caused much harm to society, and particularly to the children, the youngest, the weakest members of our human family, who end up suffering the most.  Politicians and judges have failed to protect the unborn children, and so have tried to attack the growth and very existence of the human family.  They have made it easier to break up families through divorce, and they are now bent on challenging the very notion of the family as a communion of husband and wife and children.  The most recent effort now is to allow the killing of those suffering illness, through so-called euthanasia.  Politicians and judges are getting away with this because our society has drifted further and further away from God, and from his law, and his revelation and will for us.

          God must be at the heart of every family and society.  The holiness and faith of the Holy Family of Nazareth must be the model and strength of every family.  If we too make the Holy Family part of our family, part of our society, we can’t go wrong.  For then we will have the grace and strength of God himself in our midst, and the peace and joy that only He can give.

          It has been said many times, but it’s always worth repeating: “The family that prays together, stays together”.  And the greatest prayer of all is, of course, the Mass.  That’s why it’s so important for families to make the effort to attend Mass every week—to pray together, to make God the heart of your family.  God is the only one who can give your families the strength, the peace, the help that you need.  For with God, everything is possible, as the Holy Family of Nazareth knew so very well.  So let us resolve this New Year to spend more time with God in prayer, above all at Mass, and to make the Holy Family part of our family too.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Christmas 2021                                                      

The shepherds took it in turns to watch their flocks at night, and it was during the night that the angel of the Lord appeared to them to announce the news of great joy—the birth of the Saviour, Christ the Lord. 

  We know the birth of any child is an event of great rejoicing.  But this was not just any child.  It was Jesus of Nazareth, the Saviour of the world.  Jesus came to save the whole world, but there was no room for him at the inn—the doors were closed.  So he had to settle for a manger in one of the caves outside Bethlehem, used by the shepherds.  It was to the same shepherds that the great birth was first announced—not to the rich or powerful rulers of the world—not to the high and mighty, but in St. Luke’s Gospel, Christ’s birth is announced to the poor, the little, the simple, the pure of heart, the shepherds who watched their flocks at night.  And then, so as to confirm the angel's message, a great throng of the heavenly host began to sing the words we continue to hear at Mass:  Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people of good will.  Combined with the great joy at his brith is the pace our Saviour brings, he who is the Prince of peace, born of her who is he Queen of Peace.

           What we are celebrating tonight/today is the birth of Our Lord, Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Saviour of the world—the fact that God decided to become one of us.  Our God is not some distant far-off spirit—not some impersonal being or philosophy or idea.  No, our God is a person, who wanted to be close to us, to come down to our level, to be our Emmanuel, our God-with-us.  So he became one of us, he assumed our human flesh, he shared in our humanity so that we could share in his divinity; and so that by allowing that humanity to be nailed to the cross, he could redeem the humanity he had assumed.  He wanted to show his complete solidarity with us.

Christmas is about Christ.  We should keep the Christ in Christmas.  And Christmas is also about the Mass.  The word Christmas is made up of two words—Christ and Mass.  It’s wonderful we’ve all come together to be at Mass today, on this great feast.  But we should want to experience the peace, the joy, the blessings of Jesus Christ each and every week.  

          God loves us so much, and has done so much for us.  He wants to be our Emmanuel, our God-with-us, as close as a little baby in our arms.  Surely we can return that love.  That’s all he wants, for us to show we love him, by keeping his commandments, by praying to him every day, and by coming together as his family on his day, the Lord’s Day, every week, to give him praise and worship as did the shepherds and the magi. 

          So on this Christmas eve/day, may we recommit ourselves once more to Jesus Christ, who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  May we recommit ourselves to follow him and no other.  May we place our faith and hope in the Good News he brings to us tonight, so that when he comes again, he may find us watching in prayer, living a life of faith, filled with good works, with love of God and love of neighbour. 

         So on this great feast, I would like to wish you and your families, the love, the hope, the joy, the peace—in short, the life, that only Christ can give.  A very Blessed and Holy Christmas to you all.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Advent IV-C   (December 19, 2021)                        

It was at the Annunciation, that the archangel Gabriel told Mary that her cousin Elizabeth had, in her old age, herself conceived a son, John the Baptist, and she whom people called barren was now in her sixth month.  So Mary decided immediately to visit her, “with haste”, we are told.  This in itself was a great act of love, and humility—love, because the journey was a dangerous, painful and long one—over a hundred fifty kilometers— and humility because Mary, even though she had been told she was the Mother of God, decided to pay a visit to the mother of her Son’s servant.  And so the redeemer of the world goes to his forerunner.

          When we visit someone, we put an end to separation.  A visit is an act of love, of union, communion you could say.  It can involve sacrifice, when we visit someone who is sick, or lonely, or elderly, or indeed, when we go to visit God himself, in prayer, in the Blessed Sacrament, in his house, in a Church or chapel.  The Christmas season is a time of visiting, a time to renew our friendships, to be with our families.  We all need to be with each other, to give one another our love and support as human beings, for it is not good to be alone.  That is what Mary does, she makes the effort, the sacrifice, to visit her cousin, and so she performs a great act of spiritual mercy.

          And when Mary arrives, she greets Elizabeth, who, we are told, was filled with the Holy Spirit.  At the voice of the Mother of God, but by the power of her divine Son, Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, and the infant was sanctified, the child leaped in her womb, and rejoiced with his mother.  It has been the traditional belief of the Church that St. John the Baptist was at this point freed from the stain of original sin, and filled with sanctifying grace.  Mary was the only human being immaculately conceived without original sin.  But John the Baptist, though conceived with that stain like the rest of us, was born free from original sin as a result of his sanctification by the Holy Spirit on the occasion of Mary’s visitation.

          Elizabeth understood now the great mystery of the incarnation to which God had called Mary, and so she exclaims to her “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb”, words we repeat every time we recite the Hail Mary.  The first part of the prayer, of course, are the words of the angel Gabriel to Mary at the Annunciation:  Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; and then follow the words of Elizabeth.

          And so the meeting at the visitation was not of two but of four:  two mothers and two children—as yet unborn, but very much alert and alive, even though still in their mothers’ wombs.  We see here so dramatically that human life begins at conception, and the need to respect human life from conception until natural death.

          Then, we are told, Mary remained with Elizabeth about three months, until the birth of John the Baptist.  Then she returned to her home, to await the great birth of her own divine Son, a birth that would transform the world.

          Today’s Gospel describes the visit of Mary to Elizabeth, but as a preparation for the visit of God to our human world in the incarnation.  Out of love for us, God decided to pay us a visit, in flesh and blood, to come down from heaven, to our level, in the person of his only Son.  And so we too, like John the Baptist, should leap with joy at this prospect, at this great favour, this great gift from almighty God.  He humbled himself to share in our humanity, so we could share in his divinity.  He assumed a body like ours so that he could offer that body on the cross as a sacrifice for our sins.         

          And so our prayer today is that God will visit us again, that he who created us will not abandon us, but unite his divine flesh to our human weakness, to become one with us, so that we might become one with him.  We pray that he will visit this broken, fallen world of ours that needs him so much, that he will visit each one of us individually, touch us with his grace, turn our hearts back to him, that he will stay with us and always be our God with us, our Emmanuel.

         

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Advent III-C  (Gaudete)  (December 12, 2021)     

The Third Sunday of Advent is known traditionally as Gaudete Sunday—the Latin word for “rejoice”.  It is so called because of the opening words of the entrance antiphon: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again, I say, Rejoice! Indeed, the Lord is near”.  As for the similar Laetare Sunday in Lent, the priest wears rose or pink-coloured vestments, and we light the rose candle on the Advent wreath as a symbol of our joy.  We are happy because the Lord is coming to save us, and his coming is near.

          We need to remember that Christianity is a religion of hope.  It is a contradiction in terms to be a pessimistic Christian.  For the Gospel of Christ is the Good News—that’s what the old English word “Gospel” means—Good News—the news that God in his love for us became incarnate, that is, he assumed our human flesh in order to redeem what he assumed, to save us, to give us the gift of eternal life.  So, by definition every true Christian should be an optimist.

          Having said that, it is a fact of life that there is much suffering in the world.  There is much injustice and evil.  Many of us have particular needs and burdens and crosses to carry in our lives.  And these can get us down sometimes, and we can become depressed.  But St. Paul in the second reading today tells us: “Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.”  So, don’t worry, he tells us, but pray to God to help you in your difficulty.  Often people will try almost anything to sort out their problems, anything that is except praying.  If we do take prayer seriously, and find time to be with God in prayer, the result is that we grow in our knowledge of God.  We become close friends with him.  It’s true of any relationship. The more time you spend with someone, the better you get to know them. The more we get to know God, the more we grow in faith, because our knowledge of him leads us to trust in God.  We realize how wonderful he is, how powerful, how he holds everything in being, how he can do anything. Through prayer, we come to realize how much God loves us, how he will never let us down.  So we grow in faith.  If we believe in Jesus who came down to earth to redeem us, and then rose from the dead on the third day, we can’t help but have hope and confidence in his great love for us and that he wants to give us the gift of eternal life.  And when we have the gift of hope, then the logical consequence is that we are filled with joy.  If you have the hope of eternal life with God, then surely you rejoice at this great news.  Prayer, then, leads to knowledge of God.  Knowledge to faith.  Faith to hope.  And our hope fills us with great joy.  And joy, in turn, gives us peace of heart, a peace the world can never give, a peace of being a child of God.

          The joy of the Christian, however, is not just any joy.  It is not a worldly happiness, or delight with the material pleasures or lures of this world.  Rather it is joy in the Lord.  That’s what we seek—to rejoice in the Lord, in his ways, in his commands, in his gifts, in his promises. We can never be truly happy by seeking out our own selfish desires.  That’s what the Gospel tells us today.  St. John the Baptist, who calls us to a radical change of lifestyle and values, who calls us to conversion and penance, says if you have two of anything, share it with someone who has none.  Selfishness can never make you happy.  Giving does.  Even Scrooge learned that lesson.

          If you look at the lives of the saints, you’ll see they all had two things in common.  First, they were cheerful; and secondly, they were generous.  There’s no such thing as an unhappy, miserable saint.  No, even the martyrs accepted their martyrdom with joy, knowing this was the gateway to eternal life.  And all the saints were generous—every saint was detached from the things of this world and was prepared to share whatever they had with others.  They were so generous as to be willing to give their own life for the sake of the Gospel.  That, after all, is what Christ did—he gave it all, and he did so, out of love, generous, boundless, unselfish love.  And all the saints followed his example.  They rejoiced in the Lord; they had faith in him, in his promises; and so they gave themselves to him who gave himself for us—to him who came down from heaven to come among us as a helpless child in a manger in Bethlehem.

        That’s what true love is all about.  And because God has loved us so much, we rejoice today and every day our lives.  And we look to his final coming, when he will bring to fulfilment all he has promised to us—when he will come again to call us to join him in his eternal kingdom of peace and joy.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Advent II-C (December 5, 2021)                                      

In today’s Gospel, we encounter the figure of John the Baptist, preaching in the wilderness.  He went through the whole Jordan district, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.

          John the Baptist’s role was to prepare the way for the Lord—he was the forerunner for the Messiah, and he sought to prepare the people for his coming by preaching penance and conversion.

          In Advent we too prepare to meet the Lord—not just his first coming at Christmas, as a small child, but also for his second coming, the final coming at the end of the world, to judge the living and the dead.  And just as John the Baptist urged the people to prepare for Christ’s coming by doing penance and converting, so too we are asked to do the same.  That’s why Advent is a penitential season, as well as being a time of joyful expectation.

          John proclaims a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.  His baptism was not the Christian sacrament of baptism we know today, for Christ had not yet come to institute the sacraments.  John’s baptism was with water only—not with the Holy Spirit—as he himself says, “I baptize with water, but someone is coming after me, far greater than I am, and he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire”.

          John’s baptism was a purely symbolic ritual.  The individual penitent would go down into the waters of the River Jordan, confessing their sins as they did so, and then the bathing in the water was an external sign of the penitent’s inner conversion.  But the actual ritual in itself did not accomplish anything.  It was just a sign to show that the sinner had in their heart converted to God and resolved to mend their ways.  The Greek word baptism means to bathe, and bathing in water was an appropriate means to reflect the inner cleansing of the individual and the new life they were about to begin. Water, is after all, a purifying, a cleansing element; and it gives life, for without water, no plant, no animal, no human being can live.

          The Christian sacrament of baptism is of a different and far greater order than the baptism of repentance of John.  For through Christian baptism, the stain of original sin is washed away, and the individual is born again of water and the Holy Spirit. They receive the gift of sanctifying grace, are incorporated into Christ, and become a member of the Church.  In the case of adults, baptism washes away all actual sins the individual may have committed up to that point in time as well.  But we know that in spite of this, there remains in us a tendency to commit sin, and inevitably we fail, we offend God, we sin.

          And so, our Lord in his mercy has provided us with the means of being reconciled to him after we offend him, even after baptism, through the sacrament of penance—confession.  As part of our preparation for the coming of Christ, we should consider making a good, humble, confession this Advent.  It is a great tragedy of our age that so many people have abandoned recourse to this great sacrament.  They have been blinded by their pride into believing they have no sin.  But we know only too well that we are all sinners.  Just by looking around us, we can see how much sin has increased in the world, just how much the world is in need of repentance, of conversion, of forgiveness.  How challenging and relevant to our age is the figure of John the Baptist.

          May this Advent be a genuine time of repentance for us. May we prepare for the coming of the Lord by confessing our sins, doing penance and being resolved with the help of God’s grace, not to sin again.

          May Mary, the mother of all sinners help us to see our frailty, our weakness, our failings, and through her intercession help us to grow in holiness, following her example. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Advent I-C (November 28, 2021)              

Today is the first Sunday of Advent, and so it is also the beginning of a new liturgical year.  It is known as Year C of the 3-year cycle of Sunday readings, which means that the Gospel, normally, is taken from the third evangelist, St. Luke.

          The word “Advent”, as you know, means coming.  In these four weeks leading up to Christmas, we are preparing for the coming of Christ.  Now people tend to presume that the only coming we’re concerned about is the coming of Our Lord at Bethlehem as a small child.  The celebration of Christmas is certainly the climax of Advent.  But if you look at the Gospel today, it really has nothing to do with Christ’s first coming.  Rather it is concerned with his second coming, at the end of the world.  At the start of Advent, we think more about Christ’s second coming, rather than his first.  We reflect on his coming at the end of time, when he will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, to establish his kingdom which will have no end.  St. Paul, in the second reading, points out we are waiting for that last day, and St. Luke, in the short Gospel passage, asks us to be alert, stay awake, because “you never know when the time will come”.  Don’t let the Lord come unexpectedly and find you asleep—so stay awake.  This, in fact, is the same theme we’ve been hearing for the last few weeks as we drew to the end of the Church’s liturgical year.

          Advent gives us an opportunity to prepare for Christ’s second coming by examining our lives and seeing how we can do better.  It gives us a chance to change for the better, by putting behind our sins of the past, and trying to lead a more holy life.  And so Advent, while it is, on the one hand, a season of joyful expectation as we patiently await the coming of Christ, it is also a penitential season, when we prepare for that second coming by putting our house in order.  To symbolize this penitential aspect of Advent, the priest wears purple vestments, a colour that reflects sadness for our sins.  We light a purple candle on the Advent wreath this first Sunday of Advent, on the second and fourth.  On the third, however, we take a bit of a break.  Rose or pink-coloured vestments are worn because we rejoice at Christ’s coming at Christmas being so very near.  That is why we light the pink candle on the third Sunday.  As another sign of the penitential nature of the season, we do not say or sing the Gloria at Mass.  Flowers are not placed on or near the altar.  Though the organ is allowed to play on its own, it is more subdued in mood than normal.  Of course, Advent is a particularly good time to go to confession, to have the slate washed clean of our sins, to make an effort to turn away from our failings of the past, and welcome Christ when he comes with clean hearts—awake, with our lamps lit.

          So at the start of Advent, as we begin a new liturgical year in the Church, and prepare to celebrate the first coming of Christ and get ready for his second coming at the end of the world, we remember that between the first and the second, there is also a third coming, the coming which takes place in the present, the coming in grace, in our hearts, through prayer, through worthy reception of the sacraments, through acts of charity and penance.  Because Christ has come once, he will come again.  Indeed, he has never left, but is continuously present in his Church.  And so we need always to stay awake, and be ready for Christ when he comes to knock at our door, to call us back to him.  May Mary, the Mother of God be with us as we prepare for Christ this Advent, and join us as we prepare for his final coming at the end of time. 

 

Thoughts on the readings for the Solemnity of Christ the King - B (November 21, 2021)

Today is the Solemnity of Christ the King.  Now the whole idea of a king is simply that of a ruler, someone who governs a kingdom.  Christ’s kingdom, we know, is not of this world, and Christ is not like the kings of this earth.  His crown was not made of jewels but of thorns.  He did not wear expensive robes, but the purple cloak the soldiers rudely forced upon him.  He sat not on a throne, but reigned form the cross.  He did not command scores of servants, but came himself as the one who serves, the suffering servant.  His kingdom was not of this world, and he certainly was not one of the kings of this earth.

        It is good to remember that the kings of this world, those who hold temporal power, are all subject to the one Lord of all ages.  It is so easy for the leaders of states to believe that they are almost gods themselves.  Today’s feast is a useful reminder to all the leaders of the world that one day they will have to render account to their Lord and ruler, to the one whose subjects they are, to Christ the King.  For at the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow, in heaven and on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord.

          In today’s Gospel we see the dramatic encounter between Pilate, representing the kings, judges and rulers of this earth, and of Christ, the eternal King of all ages.  There are several remarkable aspects in the encounter between Pilate and Jesus.  First of all, why is Our Lord there in the first place?  Why is he under arrest?  Jesus is God, totally without sin, totally innocent.  Yet he finds himself under arrest, about to be sentenced to death when he has done absolutely nothing to deserve such a fate.

          Secondly, it’s not as if Pilate went out looking for Jesus to arrest him.  Rather, he himself points out to Our Lord: “Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me.  What have you done?”  Even Pilate feels a bit awkward about having an innocent man in front of him.  It was Jesus’ own people who wanted him arrested.  In fact, when Pilate gives them the choice of freeing either Barabbas or Jesus, the crowd votes for Barabbas, even though he was a criminal.  How can we understand such an absurdity?  How could the people have been so foolish?  Well, Our Lord himself gives us the answer.  It is because his kingdom is not of this earth.

          Our world is far from perfect.  On the contrary, in our world, the wheat and the weeds grow together.  And quite often, the weeds seem to dominate.  Those who do evil seem to win a lot if not most of the time.  How can God permit such evil, allow such innocent suffering?

          It is because he has given us the gift of free will, and people often freely choose to sin, to reject God and his commandments, freely choosing to do evil.  But no matter how bad things may get on this earth, we know they will not last.  For this earth will not last.  The kingdoms of this world will come to an end, sooner than we can imagine.  And then Christ will establish his eternal kingdom—in the words of today’s preface, an eternal and universal kingdom:  a kingdom of truth and life, a kingdom of holiness and grace, a kingdom of justice, love and peace.  It will be a kingdom where there is no evil, where the innocent, the holy, the pure of heart will enjoy eternal happiness—a kingdom where there will be only one king, Jesus Christ.  The rulers, the Pilates, the judges of this world, will be gone, and have no say.  They will be judged and answer for how they exercised their authority on earth.

          And so the message of today’s feast is really one of hope.  We are called to look ahead—to raise our eyes and hearts and minds above the injustice, the evil, the corruption that surrounds us here on earth.  We are asked to look forward, to look ahead to the next world, to Christ’s kingdom, and to do so with confidence, with faith, with trust in Our Lord’s promise. 

For the prince of peace came into the world to redeem the world, so that all who believe in him might have eternal life in his kingdom.  And if we are prepared to drink the cup that he drank, and be baptized with the baptism with which Christ was baptized, if we are prepared to suffer with him and to serve with him, then we can hope to take our places in the kingdom where to serve is to reign, and where Christ the King is Lord and there reigns triumphant, for all ages.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXXIII-B (November 14, 2021)                           

We are coming to the end of the Church’s liturgical year. For next Sunday is the final Sunday, the feast of Christ the King.  And so the readings today direct our thoughts to the end of time—to Christ’s second coming—a time, we are told of distress.  The sun will be darkened, the moon will lose its brightness, and the stars will come falling down from heaven.

          For some people, such thoughts are troubling.  Indeed, many would probably be quite afraid if the world should come to an end right before their very eyes.  And if that would be your reaction, one of fear, then you should ask yourself, why?  Why do you fear the end of the world, if you do?  Are you so attached to this passing world that you don’t want to let go?  Are you so attached to your property, to your possessions, your money, your home, that you don’t want to lose them?  Are you so close to certain people that you’re afraid of being separated from them?  Are you so involved with the affairs of this world that you haven’t bothered to prepare for the next?

          The true Christian realizes that our time on earth is short, and that that time will come to an end.  Anyone who loves Christ need not fear his coming.  On the contrary, if you love someone, you want to be with them.  You want to join them and have them come to you.  So if we love Christ, we should not be afraid of his coming.  He will come, whether we like it or not.  And when he does come, he will come to judge the living and the dead, the good and the bad, to place some on his right, and others on his left, to repay each person according to their deeds.  The good need have no fear of judgment—only those who stubbornly persist in their sins.

          We do not know, of course when Christ will come.  As we heard in the final sentence of this evening’s/morning’s Gospel: “But about that day or hour, no one knows, neither the Angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father”.  So in the words of today’s Gospel acclamation: “Be alert at all times, praying, that you may be able to stand before the Son of Man”.  Find time for prayer—lots of time, each and every day.  Get to Mass regularly, for the Mass is the greatest prayer of all.  Be obedient to God’s commandments.  Receive the sacraments regularly and worthily, especially confession and Holy Communion.  That is how you can be ready, for you never know the day or the hour when Christ will come to you.  The true Christian need not fear Christ’s coming for they have been preparing for that coming every day, through a life of faith, filled with good works filled with love of God and neighbour.

          And so the message of today’s readings is really very simple.  Don’t get so attached to the things and people of this world, that you forget there’s another world to come—much bigger and greater than anything we can imagine here on earth.  And so we should prepare for Christ’s coming by leading holy lives, the kind of lives that will give us peace of mind, a clear and clean conscience, knowing we have been faithful to Christ and to his commands.  For if we follow Christ and his way, we will never fear the end of this world, because we know it will mark the beginning of the next, and far greater world, where we will join Christ in his heavenly kingdom, a kingdom which will have no end.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXXII-B  (November 7, 2021)                                 

Life was very difficult for widows in Biblical times.  They could not inherit from their husbands; they had no defenders at law; they wore clothing to designate their condition.  In short, there was no such thing as a “merry widow”, because the life of a widow was very harsh indeed.  And we encounter two such widows in today’s readings.

          In the first, the prophet Elijah sees a widow gathering sticks.  He asks her for some bread and water.  She tells him she only has a handful of meal in a jar:  “I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die”.  Personally, I find this one of the most poignant lines in the whole of Sacred Scripture.  This poor woman is doing her best to feed her son and herself, but she is resigned to the fact they’re both about to starve to death.  But she is encouraged by the prophet Elijah, who tells her to put her trust in God, so she does as he asks.  She gives him some of the little she had to live on.  As promised, the Lord in fact does save her, and rewards her generosity and her faith.  The point, though, is that she was generously willing to sacrifice what little she had for another.

          The same is true of the widow we see in today’s Gospel.  Poor though she was, she puts her two small coins into the treasury.  She gives everything she possesses--all she has to live on--not just the surplus, because she has no surplus.  She gives it all, out of love for God.  She too shows her generosity and sacrifice to God.

          In the letter to the Hebrews, the same theme arises, with reference to Christ.  Our Lord gave his own life--in boundless generosity, he sacrificed himself, for our sake, out of love for us, on the cross, to redeem us from our sins, even though we had done nothing to deserve such a gift.

          Our Lord died on the cross only once, but through the miracle of the Eucharist, the one sacrifice of Calvary is made present again at each and every Mass we celebrate.  And the sacrifice of the Mass is offered for the forgiveness of the sins of the living and the dead, as we hear in the words of consecration: “for this is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins”.  The Eucharistic sacrifice is offered for the forgiveness of sins, of the living and the dead.  This is why it has been a constant Christian tradition to offer Masses for the dead, to help them in their period of purification in purgatory.

          The readings today, which speak of generosity and sacrifice are really quite timely because on Remembrance Day we remember the many men and women who made a sacrifice, who so generously offered themselves, and their lives in defence of their neighbours. We remember too the many who still live with the injuries they sustained to this day, as well as the many families who suffered the loss of their members during war.

          Those we remember on November 11 were willing to leave their homes, to give up their jobs or studies, to surrender their comfortable life styles, in order to stand up for their beliefs, to fight for truth, for justice, for their faith.  They were willing to defend their own country and other countries; their families and other families.  If we compare our lives to theirs, we’ve really had it quite easy.  We haven’t had to spend the prime of our youth lying in trenches with bullets flying over our heads.  Those whom we remember suffered and died for us--they were ready to sacrifice themselves for our sake, as Christ did.  They were men and women of principle and of faith, who had ideals, and were prepared to make sacrifices for those ideals.  And a man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends.

          You cannot be a selfish Christian.  Christianity demands generosity, and trust in divine providence.  Christ did not count the number of drops of his precious blood he shed on the cross--he gave it all, and he gave it with trust in his Father.  The two widows in today’s readings gave all they had, and did it with faith and trust in God.  And if we too are generous, and show love towards our brothers and sisters, God will reward us, more than we can imagine.  He will give us what money cannot buy--he will give us a place in his eternal kingdom, won for us by the sacrifice of his only-begotten son, who gave it all.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXXI-B (October 31, 2021)

Today’s Gospel passage is certainly very familiar to us.  I’m sure we all know the two basic commands it presents to us—love of God and love of neighbour.  This is really just a summary of the ten commandments—the first three refer to love of God, and the remaining seven, love of neighbour.  The difficulty, of course, comes when we try to put them into practice.

          First of all, we are told to love God.  This raises the question of what true love involves.  If you do love someone, with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength, then the last thing you would want to do is to hurt them.  So as a bare minimum, if we love God, we should not hurt him.   We should show he is number one in our lives, find time to be with him in prayer every day, get to Mass on the weekend, and not take his name in vain.

          So to love God means to obey God, to lead a life free from sin, as we heard in the first reading, where Moses tells the people to keep all God’s laws and commandments, and you will have a long life, in a land of milk and honey.  And if we should sin and offend God, then we need to make up—to reconcile ourselves with him—so we can be at peace again.  The best way to do this is by confessing our sins in the sacrament of penance, being absolved form them, and so reconciled with God.

          Then we come to the second commandment—you must love your neighbour as yourself.  This, of course, is really part of the first.  For if we love God, our Father, then it is only natural that we should love all the children he has created—our brothers and sisters.  As Jesus says, “I tell you solemnly, whatsoever you did to the least of my brethren, you did it to me”.

          Now we are told not only to love your neighbour, but to love your neighbour as yourself—to put your neighbour first, in other words, to do unto your neighbour as you would like them to do unto you. 

          So love is not just some vague, romantic notion of feeling or sentiment, or emotion.  Love involves making sacrifices. It is hard work.  It is the opposite of selfishness.

          During the month of November, we can make a special effort to pray for our neighbours in purgatory, the holy souls who with us are part of the Body of Christ that is the Church.  Praying for the dead is one of the spiritual works of mercy.  It is one way we can show we love each other as ourselves.  It is being united with the holy souls, with the communion of saints.  We, on our part, would be very grateful, if after our death, someone went to the trouble of praying for us—showing they loved us by remembering us in this way.  I hope we can all think of people who love us enough that they would be willing to pray for us if we were to die.  The least we can do is to do the same for those who have already gone before us—the silent majority, whom we will surely join one day.  It is an excellent way of showing our love for God and one another in the month of November.

          The Church has, from its origins, prayed for the dead, and in particular, offered up the Eucharistic sacrifice for them.  We do not pray for the saints in heaven.  They do not need our prayers, because they are already with God.  Rather we ask them to pray for us.  Souls who have gone to hell cannot be helped by our prayers, for they have definitively rejected God’s love.  But the holy souls in purgatory, those who have earned the reward of eternal life but who, as yet, are not ready to enter heaven, who need to undergo a period of purification before they can be with God, these holy souls long for our prayers.  They are happy souls for they know they will one day be with God, but they also need our prayers to ease their period of final purification in their journey to the Lord.

          Love is stronger than death—above all the love of God for us.  God loved us so much he offered his only Son as the innocent sacrifice on the cross for our sins.  May we return that love by showing we truly love God and each other as God has loved us.  “If you love me, keep my commandments, says the Lord.”

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXX-B (October 24, 2021)

I had an opportunity on several occasions to visit Monte Casino, the famous monastery in Italy founded by St. Benedict, and site of an important battle during the Second World War.  On one such trip, I had planned to walk up the mountain to the monastery.  But it was very foggy.  You couldn’t see anything.  So we started to climb up the path, somewhat disappointed, because we couldn’t see any of the beautiful scenery due to the thick fog.  You could say we were blind to the reality that surrounded us.  But as we went higher and higher, the sun, of course, began to burn through the fog, so it became brighter and lighter.  And then we began to be able to make out the image of the white-stoned monastery against the clear blue sky.  A little further up, and suddenly, we were in the bright sunlight, above the clouds, above the blinding fog, and we saw the beautiful mountain ranges stretching out before us.  The scenery, the monastery, of course, had been there all along.  But we couldn’t see it.  The fog blinded our vision.

          Another similar example you can think of is stained glass windows.  If you stand outside, in front of the Church, and look at the stained glass windows from the outside, you really just see black.  But if you come inside, and the sun is shining, then you see the colour and design that was hidden from you.  The beauty of the windows was there all along.  But you couldn’t see it from the outside.  You had to come in to capture the sight.

          In a sense, during our lives here on earth, we are living in the fog, we are looking at the stained glass windows from the outside.  We are blind to reality.  It is only when we detach ourselves from this world—ultimately through death, that our eyes will be opened to the real world—when we will see God.  And then, in his presence, our souls will be opened to reveal all the good and bad that is within us.

          In today’s Gospel, the blind beggar begged Jesus to let him see again.  He seems to have had his sight originally, but lost it at some stage.  Our Lord’s reply--“Go; your faith has made you well”—has to be seen at two levels.  Jesus always asked for faith as a prerequisite before he worked his healing miracles.  The faith of the beggar led him to ask the Lord for his sight.  He knew Jesus could do it.  He had faith in him.  In response, Our Lord cured him physically.  But his first concern always was spiritual healing—the healing of the soul.  “Your faith has made you well” does not mean only well physically, but well in the fullest sense—spiritually whole—at one with God because of a strong faith.  We are told the man regained his sight and followed Jesus on the way.  He became a disciple, literally a follower of Christ and his way. 

          So often we pretend not to see our faults, but they are still there.  And so we lose the opportunity to be healed, to wash away all that separates us from Christ.  Jesus calls each of us to turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel.  The sacrament of penance is the sacrament of conversion.  It is the sacrament of forgiveness, and the sacrament of healing.  It is an opportunity for us to rise above the fog, to see the light of Christ, to see the heavenly destiny towards which we should be climbing during our lives here on earth—above all by growing in holiness, putting our sins behind us, and becoming true followers, true disciples of Our Lord.

          May Mary, the first disciple of Christ, help us to follow her Son all the way—even to the cross, as she did, and to pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXIX-B (October 17, 2021)   

          In today’s Gospel, we meet St. James, together with his brother John.  They show themselves in their human frailty, lacking in humility, seeking to sit beside Christ in his glory.  But Jesus points out that in his kingdom to serve is to reign.  In fact, St. James was to be the first of the twelve apostles to become a martyr, to die for Christ.  In the end, he did drink the cup that Christ drank, and he was baptized with his baptism.  James followed his master all the way, as any true disciple of Christ would do.

          The apostles were the first priests and bishops of the Church.  Jesus chose very ordinary people—fishermen, a tax collector, sinners.  Ordinary men with ordinary virtues and ordinary faults.  He even chose one who would betray him.  Our ordained priesthood derives from the priesthood of Jesus Christ, who alone is the supreme high priest of our faith.  For he is the one who built a bridge between God and man by being both God and man.  Only someone who was a man could atone for the sins of humanity.  Only someone who was God could satisfy the demands of divine justice for our sins.  So Jesus Christ on the cross built a bridge between heaven and earth, between God and man, by reconciling fallen humanity to God the Father by his death on that cross.  Christ was the supreme Pontiff, or pontifex of our faith.  Every priest is a bridge-builder between God and humanity, a mediator, someone who represents and intercedes for the flock before the chief shepherd.

          Jesus chose ordinary human beings to build a bridge between God and man, people who would identify with their flock, to pray and intercede for them before the throne of Almighty God.  He knew that in spite of their unworthiness or weakness, in spite of the fact they were just frail earthenware vessels, his power would be enough.  His power working in and through them would bring the world to believe in his Gospel.  And we know that form this small group of twelve, the flock and Gospel have spread to the whole earth.

          Through our baptism, we all called to share the Gospel of Christ with our neighbours, especially by the witness of our daily lives.  We are all called to be apostles and missionaries.  For every man, woman and child on this earth has the right to hear the Gospel of salvation, and we all have a duty to help them do so.  By ourselves, we cannot do very much, with all our human weaknesses and limitations.  But with God’s grace, with the power of God working in and through us, we can achieve the seemingly impossible.

          So let us humbly put our faith and trust in God and in his strength, and allow him to make us instruments of his plan of salvation for all people.  For as the archangel said to Mary:  Nothing is impossible for God.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXVIII (October 10, 2021)

Today’s Gospel presents us with a very simple choice:  who is your first love?  God or money?  It’s really the same choice the writer of the Book of Wisdom faced in the first reading.  He made the choice.  He took the wisdom of God over material wealth.  Now he did not make the choice spontaneously, or on impulse, or without consideration.  He thought about it first.  In particular, he prayed.  He called on God, and the spirit of wisdom came to him.

          Not so the man in the Gospel.  Jesus asks him to give away all his material wealth to follow God.  But the man reacts with shock—what, give away everything for God? And so, he goes away grieving.  For, we are told, he had many possessions.  He loved things more than Jesus.  They had become his God, his first love.  You could say he was possessed by his possessions.

          This is the difficulty with money, with material well-being.  We get so attached to the things, that we can’t let go.  They blind us to true wisdom.  They block out our vision of supernatural values that really matter.  That is why Our Lord says it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.  We know from our own experience of life how true this is.  While some wealthy people are prepared to share their riches with others and are generous in charitable giving, others are not.  They prefer to keep their money to themselves, and so take their possessions to the grave with them, where it doesn’t really do them a lot of good.

          And in this regard, we should not point the finger at someone else.  Because in terms of the rest of the world, those of us here in the west are really very well off.   We’re fortunate to live here in Canada, and to be as comfortable as we are, compared to most of the rest of the world.  We need to realize that we are but stewards of the many material gifts God has given to us.  They are ours to use only in this life, and for only a short time.  When we die, God asks us to account for what we’ve done with his gifts—both material, as well as, for example, the talents he has given to us, how we have made use of them to produce good fruits.

          But to have a healthy spirit of detachment form the things of this world, we need the gift of wisdom, of discernment.  This wisdom is one of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit we receive at Confirmation.  Mary had that gift of wisdom.  One of her titles, indeed, is Our Lady Seat of Wisdom.  For she chose to follow God, to be his humble servant, to love him above all else, for she had found that pearl of great value.

          In today’s Gospel, the man claims he has kept all the various commandments that are listed.  If you look at them carefully, you will see that of the ten, he mentions numbers four through eight.  But Jesus focuses on the first when he asks him to give up all his money to the poor.  He is challenging the man to follow the first commandment against having false gods before him.  For the man was worshipping his wealth more than God. His possessions had become his God. So even if he was keeping numbers four through eight, he had struck out on number one which states:  “I am the Lord thy God, thou shalt not have false gods before me.”

         At the end of today’s Gospel, Jesus makes what is really an amazing promise.  If young people only believed him, took him at his word, the seminaries and convents would be overflowing with vocations.  For he makes the incredible promise that anyone who has left all behind for his sake and for the sake of the Gospel, will receive a hundredfold in this life—a hundredfold—not 10 per cent, or 50 per cent, or double or triple but a hundredfold—a hundred times back what they’ve given up, and eternal life in the age to come.  What a promise!  If, as I say, people only believed him, took him up on his word, there would be enormous numbers of vocations.

        But most, unfortunately, react like the man did in the Gospel.  He was shocked, and went away, grieving, for he had many possessions.  He could not let go.  And people by and large don’t want to let go and follow Christ, in spite of his generous offer to us.

        But that’s really the message of the Gospel today. Jesus asks you to let go—to detach yourselves from the things, the people, the values of this world, and follow him. He doesn’t say it will always be easy.  Indeed, he warns us that those who do follow him will face persecutions.  Though they will be rewarded, they will also encounter difficulties.  There is a price.  There is always a cross, for every disciple of Christ.  But there is also a great reward—not just in this life, but especially in the next.

        May we have the wisdom to see what really matters, to seek the values that last forever, so we may follow the road that leads to eternal life.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXVII-B (October 3, 2021)

The family is the most basic unit of society.  Yet there is no institution that has been subjected to greater attack in our modern society than the family.  Today’s readings invite us to consider Our Lord’s clear teaching on marriage, which is what constitutes a family in the first place.

          The Church teaches that marriage is a covenant, that is, a sacred bond, by which a man and a woman establish, between themselves, a partnership of their whole life.  This union of its own very nature is ordered to the well-being of the spouses and to the procreation and upbringing of children (Can. 1055.1).  It is in them, in children, that marriage finds its crowning glory.  That is why every marriage must always be open to children.  You cannot exclude the possibility of children from marriage.  When a man and a woman exchange their vows, they explicitly agree to accept children lovingly from God. 

          Christian marriage is a reflection of Christ’s own love for his Church.  Indeed, we often speak of the Church as being “the bride of Christ”.  The love of a husband for his wife is modeled on this love of Christ for his Church.  And so Christian marriage is forever, just as Christ’s love for us, for his Church lasts forever, no matter how often we may offend him.  He still loves us, and is always willing to welcome us back if we confess our sins, and seek to be reconciled with him.

          The very nature of the marriage covenant, by which a man and a woman agree to take each other as husband and wife until death, requires that marriage be indissoluble.  So does the good of their children who need the stability of a permanent union for their healthy upbringing.  That is why God in his divine plan for humanity established marriage as an indissoluble union.  It is important to remember that this law comes from God himself.  What God has joined, man must not divide.  That is why the Church does not permit divorce.  It is simply beyond our power.  The indissolubility of marriage comes from God himself.

          Now where both of the spouses are baptized, marriage is also a sacrament.  Through this sacrament of matrimony, Christ makes himself present within a marriage, to give his grace to the couple, to help them to be faithful to the covenant they have undertaken.  The gift of this sacrament provides tremendous strength to married couples to persevere, in spite of whatever difficulties may come—in spite of the pressures of our modern age that attack the stability of the family.  Married couples who, in spite of all these challenges, steadfastly remain faithful to their vows are a precious sign to the world of the unfailing love of God for his Church, and they are a great witness to the Gospel of Christ.

          In today’s Gospel, after Our Lord affirms the indissolubility of marriage, he goes on to explain the consequences.  He states that if a man or woman divorces his or her partner, and marries another, then they are guilty of adultery.  This is why Catholics who obtain a civil divorce and enter a new union outside the Church, exclude themselves from the sacraments.  God continues to love these people, and the Church does not abandon them.  They can continue to receive God’s grace through prayer, through attendance at Mass, through acts of penance and of charity.  But until they regularize their situation, they exclude themselves from receiving Holy Communion and the other sacraments.

          The month of October, as you know, is dedicated to Our Lady of the Rosary.  It is an especially important time in the context of the Christian family, to rekindle our recitation of the Holy Rosary, that compendium or summary of the Gospel, with is now twenty great mysteries of the life of Our Lord and of his Blessed Mother. 

          Prayer is so very important for us, in whatever state we find ourselves, but especially for families—for husbands for their wives, and wives for their husbands; for parents for their children, and children for their mothers and fathers.  The Rosary, both so simple and yet so sublime, has been a favourite prayer of the Christian family for many centuries.  And so, perhaps especially in this month, we could resolve to recite the Rosary daily, praying above all with and for our families, and for the whole Christian family that is the Church.  Let us pray that we may always be faithful—faithful to our family, and faithful to God our heavenly Father and to his commandments.  For only He has the words of eternal life.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXVI-B (September 26, 2021)

Today’s first reading speaks of prophecy.  Moses wishes that all God’s people were prophets, and that the Lord would give his Spirit to each of them.  Through our baptism, we are all called to be prophets.  We have received the gift of the Holy Spirit in order that we might share in Christ’s three-fold ministry of priest, prophet and king.  We naturally think of bishops and priests as having a prophetic role to play, and so they do.  But every baptized Christian shares in the prophetic task.

          Now it’s never easy to be a prophet.  We know from history that the prophets had a hard time of it.  They were attacked and stoned and even killed.  The truth hurts, and some people don’t like hearing the truth because it challenges them.  But the truth is there, and we have no right to compromise with it.  The truth has been revealed to us by Our Lord himself who said, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life”.

          So while it’s never easy to be a prophet, to condemn injustice, sin, immorality, to stand up for the innocent—that is our task.  We cannot simply be closet Catholics.  Rather we need to bring our faith out into the open, into the world, to bring the world to Christ.       There are many issues in our society that cry out for a prophetic voice.  One of the most obvious is the area of right to life.  Most politicians in our country, even those who claim to be Catholic, seem unwilling to stand up for the sanctity of all human life from conception until natural death.  Canada is one of the few countries in the world which has no laws against abortion.  In Toronto, it’s much harder to cut down a tree than it is to kill an unborn child.  You need a permit to kill a tree, but we have abortion on demand.  As Mother Teresa once said, a society which kills its young has no future.  Moses says in the first reading today, “Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets”.  If only all baptized Christians had the courage to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ before the whole world, even if it meant being politically incorrect, even if it meant being subjected to attack and ridicule, what a difference that would make.  That, after all, is what Our Lord himself suffered, even to the point of death.  That is what all the martyrs had to face.  That is what we, as Christians, should be willing to endure as well.

          In the second reading, we have an excerpt from St. James’ epistle.  He’s known for being blunt.  He doesn’t mince his words.  In today’s passage, he speaks as a prophet against the rich—in particular, against those who have obtained their wealth by dishonesty, by cheating, taking advantage of others.  To them he says, live it up now, if you wish, because you’re going to answer for it when you die.  You’re going to lose all your ill-begotten wealth.  Your days are numbered.  You can’t take it with you.  But still there are people for whom money and material wealth are their god, their first love, above all others.  Judas was one of those people.  He betrayed Jesus for thirty pieces of silver in the end—anything for money.

          Then in today’s Gospel, we have a series of sayings in which Our Lord warns people in no uncertain terms of the reality of the eternal punishment that awaits those who persist in sin.  In our permissive age, there has been a decline in the consciousness of sin and the accountability that comes with it.  People don’t want to admit they commit sin.  There has been an increase in immoral activity, especially involving sex and violence, as we can see all around us, together with a loss of the sense of accountability.  Jesus reminds us in today’s Gospel that we will answer for our sins when we die.  St. James in the second reading also reminds us of the judgment that awaits people after they die, when we will be judged whether we have kept our baptismal duty to be prophets of Christ, whether we have been honest stewards of the gifts we have received from God and shared them with others.

          If all Christians could unite to proclaim boldly the truths of our faith, what a tremendous impetus for the evangelization of the world that would be.  For there is such a great need for a new mission to preach the Gospel to our western world, which seems to have grown out of its need for God at a time when our real need for Him is clearly greater than ever.  For only the truth will set us free—only the one who said he was truth incarnate will set us free, the one God whom we should love above everyone, everything else, love with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our mind—Jesus Christ, and no other.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXV-B  (September 19, 2021) 

Our Lord did not choose angels to be his disciples, but rather ordinary human beings—fishermen, tax collectors, sinners.  And we see just how frail, truly ordinary people they were in today’s Gospel, when we find that the disciples had been arguing among themselves about which of them was the greatest.   Not a very edifying description of the foundation stones of the Church, but how sadly typical of our own human nature.

Often we too argue with one another—whether husbands with their wives, or children with their parents, or students with their teachers, employees with their employers or whatever. And where there is this kind of hostility, there can hardly be any peace. We see so much of this disharmony and antagonism all around us—we don’t have to look far to find it. It is, of course, the work of the devil. Satan delights in planting misunderstanding and hatred among people. He loves division and anything that breaks up unity and peace.

          The disciples were fighting among themselves, who would be first, because of their pride. Pride is the first of the seven deadly sins, and the root of all the others. It was the original sin of Adam and Eve. It was the sin of the fallen angels. Its opposite is the virtue of humility. A humble person is a lowly person, for that is what the word humble, which comes from the Latin humilis, meaning low, and humus, meaning ground, really means. A humble person literally lowers himself to the ground. He becomes a servant to others. That is why Jesus says to his disciples: “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”  

          That is what Jesus did. He lowered himself, gave up the glory that was his, as the divine Son of God, and assumed our human condition, to die on the cross for our sins, to be our servant. He sacrificed his life for us, out of humility. Mary was a humble person too, the humble handmaid of the Lord, as were all the saints. They recognized their unworthiness in the sight of the greatness of almighty God. Humble people are peaceful people, and so they are happy people. The proud, the arrogant are never at peace, because they never have enough. The more our society, our world, our nation has turned away from Christ, from the humble, suffering servant, the more we have turned instead to hostility and hatred, bigotry and division, bickering and fighting, and so we have lost that peace which only Christ can give.

          Peace must begin within each of our hearts. It’s fine to pray for peace in the Middle East or wherever far away. But it’s even better to be at peace within ourselves and with our immediate neighbour. For peace, like charity, begins at home. We should be at peace with our husband or wife, at peace with our children or parents, with our employers or employees, with our friends, associates, our fellow parishioners, and above all, be at peace with God and be reconciled with him. Not to be fighting against him and his commandments.  If we’re not at peace with God or with our neighbour, then the sacrament of confession is an excellent way to be reconciled with God and with each other.  But it takes humility to swallow our pride and to admit that we have sinned, that we are in need of God’s forgiveness, in order to go to confession and receive God’s pardon and peace.

          May Mary, the Queen of Peace, lead us and our world to her Son, the Prince of Peace, who came not to be served but to serve, and gave his life as a ransom for many.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXIV-B  (September 12, 2021)                 

There is a tradition that St. Peter, fleeing from Rome to escape martyrdom, met an apparition of Jesus on his way towards the city.  Peter asked Our Lord: “Domine, quo vadis”—Lord, where are you going?  Jesus replied: “Venio iterum crucifigi”: I am going to be crucified again.  Peter, ashamed of his own cowardice, turned around and went back to Rome to face his own martyrdom.

          It is the same St. Peter whom we meet in today’s Gospel.  Our Lord has laid it on the line for him.  Jesus tells Peter that he, Jesus, is destined to suffer grievously and to be put to death.  Peter doesn’t like that, Our Lord then tells him: “Get behind me, Satan!  For you are thinking not as God does, but as humans do”.

          It is indeed the way we think, is it not?  We think how wonderful not to have to suffer, to have an easy ride, not to have any problems, or trials, but to have all go smoothly.  That is our human way of looking at things.

          But that is not the way God sees life.  Our Lord says to his disciples: “Whoever wants to become my follower, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me”.  If we want to be followers of Christ, we must follow him in his sufferings.  Just as there is no Christ without a cross, so there can be no Christian without a cross either.

          Perhaps the problem with the world and its inability to accept the cross is our lack of understanding for its need.  Why did Christ have to suffer in the first place?  Why did he need to be crucified?  If you can understand that, then everything else fits into place.  Christ had to suffer and die in order to redeem us, to buy us back from our sins.  It was our sins that nailed Christ to the tree on Calvary.  If we had not sinned, then we would not have had to be redeemed.  We say, that there’s nothing free in life.  And so it is.  We cannot expect to be saved without a price having to be paid.  And that price was Christ’s blood on the cross.

          Sin is not something that can simply be forgotten.  Divine justice demands reparation for sin.  The scales of justice are upset by sin, so that they have to be restored to a balance.  There has to be expiation, reparation, penance for sin.  Divine justice demands a sacrifice in return.  And while Christ’s unique sacrifice accomplished our redemption, a sacrifice which is made present at every Mass we celebrate, we too need to do penance for our sins, to associate ourselves with Christ on the cross, to help restore the balance of the scales.

          That’s where the cross comes in.  Sometimes a cross will come our way when we aren’t expecting it—one even that we have done nothing to deserve.  Such innocent suffering is very precious in the eyes of God—for it is like the innocent suffering of Our Lord on Calvary.  Other times we may voluntarily undertake to do some penance in reparation for our sins or for those of others.  The whole Church does this collectively every Friday of the year, and during the days of Lent, and also to a degree during Advent.  We show we are followers of Christ by sharing in his sufferings, so that we may also share in his victory.

          At the end of the day, there is no one who can escape the cross.  For we all have our crosses to bear.  We should not be so naive to think we can get away without any.  We need not seek after them in the far corners of the world, for they will usually be found in our daily lives and responsibilities.

          But we should also remember Our Lord’s words that his yoke is easy and his burden light.  The burden, if such it be, of following Christ, of taking up the cross in his footsteps, is slight indeed compared to the burden they carry who reject Christ and his way.  St. Peter was, in the end, crucified—indeed upside down, in humility, as a mark of respect towards Our Lord.  He lost his life in this world, but saved it for the sake of the kingdom of heaven.  The cross is the tree of life, the cross on Calvary is where heaven meets earth, where God incarnate dies a painful death for humanity, as the mediator, as the bridge-builder, as the pontiff, the supreme high priest of our faith.  O ave Crux, spes unica—words of an ancient seventh century hymn—O Hail thou Cross, our only hope.  It was to the Emperor Constantine that a vision appeared telling him to have his soldiers inscribe the cross on their shields, with the words Constantine saw written across the sun: in hoc signo vinces—in this sign you will conquer.  And conquer they did.  Constantine was converted to Christianity, and through him, the whole Roman Empire.

          That should be our motto too—in this sign we will conquer.  For the cross is our only hope.  It is the gateway to paradise, as it was for the good thief.  May we never run away from our cross.  May we never turn our back on suffering that comes our way, but rather accept it gladly, as Christ and all the saints did, including especially Mary, Our Lady of Sorrows.  That is what makes us Christians—following Christ all the way—not just the pleasant part, but the part that hurts too—the messy part.  For if we have suffered with Christ, we will rise with him as well.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXIII-B (September 5, 2021)

For the next few weeks, the second reading is a series of excerpts from the letter of St. James.  It’s quite a short letter, but what is striking about it is its bluntness.  St. James doesn’t mince his words.  He’s very straightforward, very much to the point. 

          In today’s passage, St. James warns us against making judgments, especially superficial judgments based on people’s external appearances.  We all tend to make judgments, to evaluate others, and we tend to do this so often on the basis of what we seem to see.  But we can never look inside someone’s heart.  We can never see their soul.  We can never know what really makes them tick.  Only God can.  And so, only God is really in a position to judge.  We believe Christ will in fact come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and that he judges each of us when we die.  But often, we like to anticipate his judgment, especially of other people.  We forget Our Lord’s words, “judge not, and you will not be judged”; or his warning, that “the judgment you measure out, will be the judgment you receive”.

          When we judge by external appearances, there is a danger that we will jump to the wrong conclusions.  I’m sure you’ve heard the famous saying: “judge no one, unless you’ve walked a mile in their shoes”—that is, unless you know what they’re going through, unless you know what they must suffer.  Certainly, objectively, we have a right to condemn the sin or wrong, but at the subjective level, we have to be careful about condemning the sinner, when we cannot look into the recesses of their heart and soul.

          So let’s be careful about condemning people--giving them a negative judgment, when we know we can never have all the facts.  There’s an old saying that fits quite well: “Don’t believe anything you hear, and only half of what you see”.

          St. James criticizes superficial judgments in the context of material wealth.  He says, don’t think because someone seems to be rich, he’s better than someone who is poor.  Unfortunately, we still suffer from that same mind-set.  Material wealth is still seen as a sign of success and achievement.  It’s been observed many times, however, how deficient, at the spiritual level, are those societies that have been successful in material terms.  Material riches seem to have the effect of choking the spirit, the supernatural faith dimension, of pushing God out of the picture.  People with possessions end up being possessed by those possessions.  The greatest number of vocations to the priesthood and religious life come, not from the wealthy countries, but rather from the materially poor nations—those who may be poor in the eyes of the world, but are rich in the sight of God—rich in faith, rich in hope, rich in sacrificial love.  As St. James writes, “Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith, and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him?”

          Jesus was poor according to the values of the world.  He was born into a modest family, in a stable.  At his death, he was wrapped in someone else’s shroud, and laid in someone else’s tomb.  His mother, Mary, was one of the poor in spirit, whom Our Lord called blessed because theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  In her song the Magnificat, Mary sings the praises of the Lord, who has looked with favour on his lowly servant, his humble handmaid—the Lord who fills the starving with good things, and sends the rich away empty.

          In our affluent society, with so much consumerism and materialism around us, we need to acquire that poverty of spirit, that detachment from things, that simplicity that will help us to identify and seek the essentials, the things, the values that really matter—and will last.  If we do, we will have discovered that pearl of great price, greater than all the treasures this world can ever offer.  And then our ears will be opened, and our tongues loosened, to hear and sing the praises of almighty God.  The Holy Family of Nazareth didn’t have the technical gadgets of today, but they had time to worship, and to be with each other as a loving family unit.  The more our society has abandoned the model of the Holy Family, the more our families have been shaken by separation, breakdown, divorce, and the pain the children in particular have to suffer as a result.

          As this new school year begins, perhaps parents can look to Mary and Joseph as their models, and parents, as the prime educators of their children can seek to impart to them an example of prayer life, of obedience to God’s commandments, of a true sense of right and wrong, a sense of self-discipline and responsibility, of integrity, of respect for others, and above all, a love for God—for the sacred, for the supernatural, for the sacraments, for the spiritual values that endure to the end.

          By ourselves, we won’t be able to do it.  But with God’s help, with God at the centre of our lives, at the heart of our families and homes, everything is possible.  For the family that prays together, does stay together.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXII-B (August 29, 2021)                     

In today’s Gospel, Jesus criticizes those who honour him with lip-service, while their hearts are far from him.  Hypocrisy existed in Biblical times, and it continues in our own day too.  So often we hear of people who profess with their lips to be Catholics, even practising Catholics, but then, contradict themselves by their lifestyle, or their views. 

There are plenty of politicians, for example, who are quick to identify themselves as good Catholics, but support abortion to use a current example.

          If Our Lord were to walk the streets of our own cities today, he would certainly repeat the same words he says in today’s Gospel.  Elsewhere when he refers to his second coming, he asks, “When the Son of Man comes again, will he find any faith on earth?”  Those words apply particularly well to our own age, which seems to be ignoring so much of Our Lord’s Gospel message.

          In the first reading today, we hear about laws, the ten commandments God gave to his people through Moses.  Can you list the ten commandments?  When I ask people, very few can.  You might be interested to know that the one commandment people seem to have the greatest difficulty recalling is the third:  Remember to keep holy the Lord’s Day. 

Now the people of Israel considered it a great privilege to have received this gift of the two tablets of stone on which were inscribed these commandments.  It was a sign of God’s favour towards his people.  It showed God cared about them.   He wanted to speak to them, be close to them.  And not only that, he wanted to give them a blueprint for life, to lead them to the promised land.  The commandments were to be the road to true happiness and peace.

          In today’s first reading, Moses warns the people that because the laws come from God, they must not add or subtract anything from them.  Rather they are to keep the commandments of the Lord, just as they have been laid down for them.  The law of God, precisely because it is divine law, is beyond our power to change.  This is why the Church, in matters relating to the law of God or the natural law, is bound to teach these truths without alteration.  God’s moral code is greater and better than any other—because it comes from God himself. 

And when we speak of our love for God, our Lord says, “If you love me, keep my commandments”.  Love is not just some feeling.  Love is a course of action.  We show our love by our deeds.  In today’s Gospel, Jesus lists twelve specific examples of sin, of a lack of true love.  When asked elsewhere, what was the greatest commandment, Jesus said you should love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind; and the second resembles it:  you should love your neighbour as yourself.  Our Lord was summarizing the ten commandments, saying it all comes down to love—love of God, and love of neighbour, as shown by our concrete deeds.  The opposite of love is selfishness, the attitude represented by the twelve sins Jesus lists in today’s Gospel.

We should, then, look upon God’s revelation to us of the commandments as a revelation of his divine will for us.  And his will is that we should be happy, and join him one day in heaven.  He wants only the very best for us.  As our loving father, he has given us a roadmap of how to reach the promised land of eternal heavenly joy.

So if we follow God’s law, his commandments, we will achieve not only peace and happiness in this life, but share the joys of the eternal heavenly banquet in the next. 

              

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XXI-B (August 22, 2021)

In both the first reading today as well as in the Gospel, the people of God are called to make a decision.  Joshua asks the people who have gathered together to choose whom they will follow-—the pagan gods that the other nations worship, or the one true God.  In the Gospel, Jesus asks the Twelve apostles to choose whom they will follow.  The reason he does so is that many of his disciples, we are told—not just a few, but many of his followers had already stopped going with Jesus.  After hearing his words, many complained, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?”  So it’s not surprising to hear people complain nowadays about the teaching of the Church, when we consider that even Jesus’s own disciples complained about him—and indeed many of them did.  Ultimately, of course, Our Lord was crucified for what he did and taught.

          Now what was the language which so many found intolerable?  Well, the objectionable words were simply phrases like, “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you”.  What about us—do we accept that only Jesus can satisfy our hunger, that he is the bread of life who will never fail us?  Or do we have other gods before us?

          In today’s second reading, the theme of the family is quite clear.  Perhaps we could consider today the Eucharist, the bread of life, in the context of the Christian family.  The Church has always seen the love of a husband for his wife as a reflection of the love of Christ for his Church, and so we often speak of the Church as being the bride of Christ.  Just as there is a covenant between a husband and his wife, so there is a covenant between Christ and his Church.  Christ sealed that covenant on the cross with his blood.  Christ’s act was an act of supreme love, of giving, of generosity, of sacrifice.  This is the kind of love that is needed within any Christian family.  There can be no place for selfishness, but rather there must be a mutual self-giving, and a generous openness to new life, and an acceptance of new life which comes from God.  That must be the driving force of the family which calls itself Christian.  Now generosity and love involve openness to children.  There is no greater poverty than that which precludes new life, that closes the door on children, in favour of material enrichment.  This is not to deny the importance of ensuring that the means needed to sustain any new member of the family are there.  But this is a different thing from rejecting new life for the sake of selfish material well-being.

          The marriage covenant is under attack today—by those who reject is exclusivity, by those who deny its indissolubility, by those who would deny it is a faithful, life-long union between one man and one woman, always open to children.  The Church must continue to teach the true nature of this sacrament, in fidelity to Christ, in spite of those who would deny the truth.

          The demands of matrimonial life are certainly great, and so therefore is the need for families to turn to Christ in the Holy Eucharist to receive the grace to persevere in the commitments involved within a family, and to be faithful to them.  It is also very important that parents should set a good example for their children in this regard—an example of frequent and worthy reception of the sacraments, especially confession and the Holy Eucharist.  Children look up to their parents and their conduct.  Next to the gift of life itself, the greatest gift parents can give to their children is the gift of a living, active faith.

          Christ offers to the Christian family his own body and blood, to give the family sustenance, the nourishment it needs to remain faithful to the high standards that characterize a Christian family and Christian marriage—standards which many reject today, but which are eternal truths that can never and will never change, because they come from God himself—just as the truths about the Holy Eucharist come from God.  Though nowadays, too, many may say, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?”—the truths the Church teaches are the teachings of Christ.  To accept and to follow them is to accept and follow the road to eternal life, the road to Him who is the way, the truth and the life.

          In today’s Gospel, Peter asks, “Lord, to whom can we go?  You have the words of eternal life”.  That’s precisely the point.  We can choose to follow the values of this world, as many of Christ’s disciples did.  But what will it gain for us in the long run if we do?  Will such a choice give us true happiness or peace of mind or eternal life?  Or we can choose to follow Christ and his Word, as Peter did.  We can choose to follow our Lord wherever he may lead us, difficult though it may be at times.  In Peter’s case, that choice was to lead, ultimately, to martyrdom, crucifixion in Rome, many miles away from his home.  But that choice also will lead us, as it did Peter, to eternal life with the Christ, the Christ who offers us the free gift of Himself in the Holy Eucharist, to nourish us in this life, and lead us into the next.  No one else on this earth dares to offer anything like it.  “Lord, to whom can we go?  You have the words of eternal life.”

 

Thoughts on the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary (August 15, 2021)                 

The Church has four main beliefs about Our Lady.   First, that she was herself immaculately conceived, free from the stain of original sin.   We celebrate that feast on December 8.   Secondly, we believe that Mary was and remained forever a virgin.   Thirdly we believe she is the Mother of God, a fact we remember on January 1, the solemnity of Mary as Mother of God.   Fourthly, we celebrate today, August 15, Mary’s Assumption, body and soul into heaven.

          It was in 1950, that Pope Pius XII declared as a matter of divinely reveal dogma (Munificentissimus Deus) that the Blessed Virgin Mary, having completed the course of her earthly life, was assume body and soul into heavenly glory.   This solemn definition was not in itself breaking new ground.   The Pope was merely recognizing, formally, a long-standing tradition of many centuries of belief in the Church.   What was new was its solemn and infallible definition as a dogma to be believe by all Catholics.

          When you think about it, nothing could be more logical than our belief that Mary was taken up, body and soul, into heaven at the end of her life.   She was, after all, by the grace of God, immaculately conceived, without the stain of original sin—because she was to be the Mother of God.   It was only fitting that she whose womb would bear Our Lord and Saviour should be free from all sin, including original sin.   So Mary became the Mother of God, the Mother, indeed, of her own creator.   She was the virgin mother and remained a virgin.   She remained forever pure.  So what could be more logical than for Mary, who was so “full of grace”, and “the most blessed of all women”, to be directly assumed into heaven, without having to face the corruption of her body—when she had preserved that body from all form of corruption during her life on earth.

I would not want to make too much of this next point, but we can observe that there is no town, no country in Christendom which claims to possess the body of Our Lady.   Rome claims the bodies of Saints Peter and Paul; Compostella in Spain, that of St. James; Venice, the body of St. Mark, and so on.   Isn’t it interesting that no Christian community claims to possess the body of the Virgin Mary?   Yet if such a relic existed, it would be jealously guarded.   Indeed, it is impossible to imagine the tomb of any saint which would have been more carefully kept or more frequently visited by pilgrims than that which enclosed the body of her who gave birth to the Son of God.   And there is no place that claims to possess his body either, we could add.

The Assumption of Mary is but one aspect of the resurrection of her divine Son.   As Christ’s body and soul rose from the dead, so by his merits did he cause his own mother to be assumed into heaven.

Today the Church turns to the glorious example of Our Lady, who was the most blessed of all women and the great example for all women of today and every age, Mary who called herself the lowly handmaid of the Lord, Mary who calls men, women and children everywhere to serve and obey Christ as she did.

Just as Mary was united to her Son during his life on earth, and followed him along the way to Calvary, and stood at the foot of the cross, so she stands by him in heaven today—never to be separated from Our Lord.   She who followed her Son in holiness, followed him also into heaven.   Mary followed Christ in humility, in purity, in chastity, in total submission to the will of God—how could she not but follow him into heaven as well?

And so today our thoughts should be towards heaven, on the ultimate destiny of our earthly pilgrimage, on the goal we are all seeking—not to the lures of this world, not to the corruptibility of the flesh, or to the pursuit of material treasures on earth, but to that grace, of which Mary received the fulness, that indwelling of Christ, that raised her to join her divine Son in heaven, who there reigns the Lord of all ages.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XIX-B (August 8, 2021) 

“The bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”  Today, the third of the five Sundays this summer when we hear passages from St. John’s Gospel dealing with the Holy Eucharist, Our Lord speaks of the sacrifice he is going to make of himself.  The Eucharist is a sacrifice—for that one sacrifice of Christ on Good Friday is made present again at every Mass we celebrate, although now in a sacramental form.  Through receiving the Holy Eucharist, through receiving the fruits of that sacrifice, we receive many graces, many blessings in our lives.

          We all need food for our journey here on earth, as we heard in today’s first reading.  The prophet Elijah set out on a long journey in the wilderness.  After only one day, he had had enough.  He wished he were dead, and fell asleep.  An angel provided him with some food—a cake, and some water.  The angel came back again, and said, eat some more, or the journey will be too long for you.  After he did, he was so strengthened, that he walked not only for one day, but forty days, until he reached the mountain of God.

          That is what the Eucharist does for us too.  It is the food for our journey.  And our pilgrimage on earth lasts a lot longer than forty days.  So we need constantly to be nourished spiritually by the bread of life.

          How long can you go without food?  Some people have trouble going from one meal to the next without feeling the need for a snack.  Can you go one day without food?  One week?

          How long can you go without the Holy Eucharist?  What happens if you try to live without the bread of life?  Well, we lose the strength we need to get through all the challenges we face every day.  That is why it is so important to receive the sacraments regularly and worthily on our journey in this world.

          We receive so much from Our Lord because of the sacrifice Christ offered on the cross on our behalf.  It was a sacrifice of love, for the very nature of sacrifice involves love and not selfishness, its opposite.  In today’s second reading, St. Paul asks us to make a sacrifice to follow Christ and love as he loved.  He raises three very specific areas where we can show that we truly love.

          The first is for us to be forgiving of each other, as God in Christ has forgiven us.  There will always be times when people wrong us, and we can feel very hurt indeed.  But until we do forgive, as long as we continue to bear a grudge against someone who has hurt us, then we are not free.  We will be weighed down by the memory of hurt, of pain.  To set ourselves free, we must forgive, and also forget.  We need to heal those painful memories.  Forgiveness is for the forgiver.  If we need an example of this kind of total forgiveness, we need only look at Our Lord.  He was injured more unjustly than we ever will be.  Yet Jesus not only forgave his persecutors, he made excuses for them.  And if we want God to forgive us our sins, we must be willing to forgive those who sin against us.  And to help us to do just that, we can receive the Holy Eucharist, so we can grow in that kind of divine love.

          Secondly, St. Paul tells us we shouldn’t lose our tempers.  It’s very easy to get angry, but when we do, the person we hurt most is our self.  Anger is one of the seven deadly sins.  Uncontrolled, it can take hold of us and deprives of that peace and joy that comes from leading a holy life.

          Anger of itself, however, is not always wrong.  There are times when it is right to be angry.  Jesus showed his anger when he drove the money-changers out of the temple. He showed his righteous anger against the scribes and Pharisees in his lengthy condemnation of them.  It is right to get angry about injustice, suffering, persecution in the world.  But it is when we get carried away with anger on a personal level that we hurt ourselves.  The bread of life gives us the grace and strength we need to control ourselves, to be more balanced in our feelings and emotions.  In short, to be more like Christ, Him whom we receive in the Holy Eucharist.

And in the third place, St. Paul also tells us to put away all wrangling, slander and malice. God has given us a beautiful gift in the ability to speak.  There are so many words of praise, of kindness, of prayer, of love, of peace that we can utter, that it is a great shame when we abuse that gift and speak unkindly, when we swear, when we gossip, or attack people with our tongue, that potentially so vicious weapon.  We have a great deal of power in our voice either to build up, to do good, or to inure, to harm, to destroy.  May we always use the great gift of speech to bring joy and not pain to those whom we meet.  Through regular and worthy reception of Holy Communion, we receive the grace to be more Christ-like in this area of our lives as well, so we can follow and imitate Christ, and love as he loves us, and grow to be images of him who made us, of him who redeemed us, images of him who will never fail us.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XVIII-B (August 1, 2021)                        

Today is the second of the five Sundays this summer when we hear passages from St. John’s Gospel dealing with the Holy Eucharist.  Last week, you will recall St. John described the miracle of the multiplication of the five loaves and two fish.  This great miracle foreshadowed the even greater miracle of transubstantiation that takes place during every Mass.  We reflected how before so great an event, we should react with awe and reverence, and how we should ensure we are in a state of grace if we wish to receive Holy Communion.

          In today’s first reading from the Book of Exodus, we find the people of Israel in the desert—hungry and thirsty.  They begin to grumble against Moses for having led them out into the wilderness—without any food—for they face starvation.  But God hears the complaints of the people, and he provides them with manna, a kind of bread to eat.  This bread is intended to satisfy their physical hunger.

          In today’s Gospel from St. John, Our Lord gives us something quite different.  He gives us bread—not to relieve our physical needs, but bread to satisfy our spiritual hunger.  He gives us the Bread of Life—not the bread of Exodus that cannot last, but the food that endures to eternal life.  In Exodus, God feeds the body; in the Gospel, Jesus feeds the soul.

          Food is something that we all need in order for our bodies to survive.  You simply cannot live without it.  You must provide your body each day with the food it needs so that it can function properly—and we’re always very concerned about what food we eat.  Well, our soul is no different.  Our soul needs spiritual food to survive.  Our souls need the bread of life.  So many people worry about their body and what food they give to their body.  Yet they don’t care about their soul, and what kind of food they will feed their soul.  But the way we nourish our soul, how we take care of our spiritual life, is far more important than what we do to our physical bodies.

          The food we give to our bodies, does not last.  But the food Jesus provides endures forever.  It is the bread of heaven, the bread of eternal life, because that bread is Jesus Christ himself—that bread is a person—Our Lord and Saviour, the same Christ who died and rose from the dead—the eternal Son of God.  He it is who comes to us to nourish and sustain us.

          It is in the Holy Eucharist that we receive this gift of the bread of life.  At Mass we come to receive the Body and the Blood of Christ, the Body and Blood that will strengthen us, that will give us the grace we need to lead more holy lives, the grace that will help us to resist temptations when they come, because Christ will be living in us.  Yes, it is in the Eucharist that Christ comes to us to feed us, with Himself, the bread of life that lasts forever.

          And this bread, like the manna in the desert, is a pure gift from God.  We have done nothing whatever to deserve it.  Christ generously gives us himself to fulfil our deepest spiritual longings—a free gift for the asking.  The bread of life is Christ himself, our dearest, closest friend, the friend who will never let us down, the friend who is always by our side, ready to help us and to heal us.  The one who comes to him will never hunger; the one who believes in him, will never thirst.  So often we hunger and thirst for so many things, for so many people, for so many pleasures, when we should hunger and thirst for the bread of life, for that person who is The Way the Truth and the Life—Jesus of Nazareth—our Lord, our God, our merciful redeemer, our friend.

          And when we pray, as we will at this Mass, “Give us this day our daily bread”, we ask not only for the physical food, for all the material needs we have, but we pray especially for that spiritual bread, that only Christ can give—because only Christ can satisfy us—only He can answer our deepest longing.  He is our creator, who made us and who keeps us in being, always ready to help us, if only we dare to ask.

          And if we truly believe that the bread and wine we offer at Mass are changed into the Body and Blood of Christ, the same Christ who is the bread of life—if we truly believe that, surely we should want to come to Mass not just Sunday but even daily, to receive this bread of life each and every day of our lives.  We should want to pray with the people in today’s Gospel: “Lord, give us that bread, always.”

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday, July 25, 2021 (Sunday XVII-B)                                  

As you probably know, the Sunday Gospel readings follow a three-year cycle, based on the three synoptic Gospels—Matthew, Mark and Luke.  They are called synoptics because the three are so alike that they can in many passages be placed side by side and viewed at a glance, as it were—hence the term synoptic—unlike St. John’s Gospel which is completely different.  This year we are in year B, so normally the Sunday Gospel is taken from St. Mark.  But as his is the shortest of the three synoptics, in the summer, there’s a five-week period when we switch to St. John and listen to his beautiful discourse on the Eucharist.  Today we have the first of this series of excerpts.

          The first point to notice in today’s Gospel is the concern Our Lord shows for the needs of the large crowd.  He knows they are hungry, he knows they will want to eat.  And he makes sure that their hunger is satisfied.  We should remember this when we feel in some kind of need for ourselves, whether material, or spiritual, or emotional.  God loves us, and knows all our many needs.  He won’t abandon us, so long as we don’t abandon him.

          St. John then makes it clear in the Gospel that Jesus plans to use this situation to give a sign—a sign so the people will believe him—that He is God.  The crowd followed Jesus because they were impressed by the signs he gave by curing the sick.  Now he is going to give them another sign that will involve them directly.  He is going to work a miracle before their eyes.  And he does.

          As we listen to the description of this event, we might wish that we could have been there—that we could have witnessed the multiplication of the five loaves and two fish to feed the five thousand.

          But at every Mass we attend, we are present at an even greater miracle.  For at every Mass, the bread and wine we offer are changed, in substance, to become the Body and Blood of Christ.  In the Gospel miracle, the bread was multiplied and became more bread, and the fish, more fish.  But at Mass, the bread and wine do not simply become more bread, more wine, but rather become, truly, in substance, the Body and Blood of Christ, of God himself.  We call this great miracle transubstantiation, a word which simply means, a change of substance.  It is one of the greatest miracles in the universe.  And we see it take place before our very eyes, at every Mass.  And not only that, if we are Catholics, and in a state of grace, we can actually come up and receive the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, of God himself, to satisfy our every need.  What more could we ask for?  Just as Our Lord knew the material needs of the five thousand and wanted to satisfy them, so also he knows our spiritual needs, our spiritual longing for him, and through the sacrament of the Holy Eucharist, he has provided a means to satisfy our spiritual hunger for the bread of life.  That is why we should want to receive Jesus, receive the gift of his Body and Blood, at least every week.

          And before this great miracle that unfolds before our eyes, we should feel a sense of marvel, of wonder, of awe.  We should experience a sense of mystery, of the supernatural.  And we should approach the Eucharist with reverence, with respect, with humility.  We can show that respect, that reverence by ensuring we are in a state of grace before we receive Holy Communion.  If we are not, we should of course get to confession first. 

          It’s been said that properly to celebrate Mass, three infinites would be required:  an infinity to prepare for it; an infinity actually to celebrate it; an infinity to give thanks afterwards.

  I once saw a plaque in a sacristy in a Church which read:   “O holy priest of God, celebrate this Mass as if it were your first Mass, your last Mass, your only Mass.”  Those words really apply to all of us.  We too should participate in every Mass with that same kind of prayer and devotion, as if it truly were our first, our last, and our only Mass.  And we should receive Holy Communion, the Body of Christ, as if that were our first, our last, and our only Holy Communion, and want to do so even every day of our lives.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XVI-B (July 18, 2021)                         

Today’s readings present us with the theme of the good shepherd—in particular with the role of the good shepherd as a teacher.  Our Lord in the Gospel felt sorry for the large crowd.  They were like sheep without a shepherd, and so he set himself to teach them at some length.  In fact, if you read the Gospels dealing with the public ministry of Our Lord, you’ll then see that while he certainly worked many miracles and wonders, and healed many people, above all, he spent the greater part of his time teaching.  Often he used parables to get his point across; sometimes he spoke in almost poetic language, as in the Beatitudes in the sermon on the mount; other times, his teaching was very blunt and explicit, as when he denounced the hypocrites.  He even took a whip and drove the money lenders out of the temple to teach them that his Father’s house was a house of prayer.

What did Our Lord teach?  Well, he taught the Gospel, an old Anglo-Saxon word which simply means, the Good News.  He taught the commandments, and showed how the ten commandments could be summarized as love of God and love of neighbour.  He taught us that true love means making sacrifices even unto death, how it is the opposite of selfishness.  He taught us not just by words, but above all, by his actions, for he himself always practised what he preached.  So even from the cross he taught us forgiveness, and that a man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends.

Our Lord knew that he would not remain physically on earth after his death, resurrection and ascension into heaven.  And so he wanted his apostles to continue his ministry by being shepherds and teachers of faith.  His parting words to them in fact, at the end of St. Matthew’s Gospel, were:  “Go, therefore baptize all the nations, and teach them, to observe all the commandments I gave you.”  The twelve apostles were, of course, the first bishops of the church, and in their work as shepherds, through the sacrament of Holy Orders, they laid hands on priests who would help them in their work.  So one of the main duties of bishops and priests is to preach and teach the faith, to lead people to the truth, to him who is himself the way the truth, and the life, Jesus Christ.

Sometimes when we explain some truth of the faith to people which they don’t like, the response we get is, “well that’s your opinion”, or “that’s the Church’s opinion.”  The use of this word “opinion” is also a favourite of the media.  They always try to convince us that all the Church has is opinions.  And, of course, it follows, they say, that one opinion is as good as another, so the Church’s opinion doesn’t really matter.  You have yours, and I’ll keep mine.  Many people are misled in this way—thinking that it’s all just a question of opinion.

But it isn’t.  The Church does not have opinions but teachings.  The Church teaches the Gospel.  And the teachings it proclaims to the whole world are not its own, but they are the teachings of Jesus Christ himself.  Our Lord did not come to earth to give us his opinion.  He did not die on the cross for the sake of an opinion.  No, he came to teach us the truth.  And, yes, there is such a thing as objective truth, because there is someone who is himself the incarnation of truth.  Jesus tells Pilate, “I was born for this, I came into this world for this:  to bear witness to the truth; and all who are on the side of truth listen to my voice.”  (Jn 18, 38). 

Relativism is very much a major problem with the mind-set of our society.  The idea that everything is relative—that all opinions have a legitimacy—that there’s no objective truth.  The trouble with this way of thinking, of course, is that it’s simply not Christian.  We as Christians believe there is a truth, and we have a duty to believe and teach the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and to die for it, if need be.  Bishops and priests are bound to teach the truth, even when it’s not popular.  And so often, you get criticized and attacked for teaching the truth.  But the disciple is no greater than his master.  Our Lord was not only criticized for teaching the truth, he was crucified for it.

In this day and age, we are called upon to teach the truth in particular concerning the sanctity of all human life, from conception, until natural death.  We are called upon to teach that marriage is a sacred, faithful, lifelong union, between a man and a woman, always open to children.

And if we don’t teach the truth, if we abdicate our responsibility, what does Jeremiah say in the first reading today: “Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pastures.”

 The shepherds, the pastors of the Church have been given this grave responsibility to be shepherds, teachers, leaders of the flock, to lead their flock to green pastures.  If we keep the faith, the faith of the Church, if we make our own the teachings of the Church, which are the teachings of Jesus Christ, of God himself, we will reach those green pastures someday, those restful waters, that heavenly banquet in the Lord’s own house, where we shall dwell, for ever and ever.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XV-B (July 11, 2021)

In today’s Gospel, Our Lord sends his apostles out on their mission.  The terms on which he does so may strike us as rather drastic.  For they are told not to take any excess baggage with them—no bread, no money in their belts.  This is really quite a request.  I’m sure we would all think twice if anyone asked us to do anything similar—to go anywhere far without any money, or food, or spare clothes, without even taking our credit card.  The remarkable thing is that the Twelve do just as they are asked.  That they were prepared to do this shows, first of all, their tremendous faith they must have had in Jesus.  They obeyed his amazing request.  Secondly, it shows how much importance they attached to their mission.  They were prepared to leave all behind—their jobs, their homes, their families and friends—everything, in order to preach repentance.  They had an acute understanding of the relative priorities involved—the paramount demands of the Gospel, compared to their own personal needs.

          We are told that in the course of their mission to proclaim repentance, they cast out many demons and anointed with oil many who were sick, and cured them.  This anointing with oil refers to one of the seven sacraments instituted by Christ—the anointing of the sick. I’d like to consider this sacrament today.

          First of all, it used to be known as extreme unction.  Now the word “unction” simply means “anointing”, so it was really called extreme anointing, for it tended to be delayed until someone was at the point of death.  In changing the name to “anointing of the sick”, the Church seeks to encourage greater use of the sacrament.  Certainly as soon as anyone of the faithful begins to be in danger from sickness or old age, the fitting time for them to receive this sacrament has already arrived.  It is proper also to be anointed just prior to a serious operation.  But the sacrament should be received in the early stages of serious illness rather than at the last moments.

          The anointing is administered only by a priest.  A deacon, for example, is not a minister of this sacrament.  In the rite, the priest lays his hands, in silence, on the head of the person who is sick.  This action is a symbol of the invoking of the Holy Spirit to come down upon the individual.  The priest then anoints with the oil of the sick, normally on the forehead and the palms of the hand.  The holy oil is one of the three oils blessed every year by the Cardinal Archbishop during the Chrism Mass in Holy Week.  The words the priest says as he anoints are: “Through this holy anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit.  May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up”. 

          We can see from the words the purpose of the sacrament.  Above all the person receives the gift of the Holy Spirit to strengthen them, to give them peace, and courage to overcome the difficulties that go with the condition of the serious illness or the frailty of old age.  The grace is a gift of the Holy Spirit who renews trust and faith in God and strengthens against the temptations of the devil—the temptation to discouragement and anguish in the face of death.  For the devil, it’s his last chance, so the individual receives a spiritual strengthening to help them in their situation.  This assistance from the Lord by the power of his Spirit is meant to lead the sick person to healing of the soul, but also of the body, if such is God’s will.  But Our Lord was always concerned first and foremost with the healing of the soul, spiritual healing, and his physical cures were all performed in the context of a living faith and intended to symbolize a new spiritual life.  Further, through the sacrament, venial sins may also be forgiven.  So there are many graces available in this as in all of the seven sacraments.

          I would just mention that it is the experience of most priests who have administered this sacrament that, while we never expect it as such, often we do witness or learn of some immediate effects which benefit the sick person.

          Sometimes people mistakenly identify the sacrament of the anointing of the sick with the “last rites”.  Properly speaking, the anointing is only one part of the last rites, and need not be associated at all with the last rites in the case of someone who is not actually dying.  The complete reception of the last rites would involve receiving the sacrament of penance through confession, the anointing of the sick, and then Holy Communion as Viaticum, together with the prayers of commendation for the dying.  Of course, all of these may not be possible.  It depends on the consciousness and condition of the individual.

          The term Viaticum means food for the journey.  Holy Communion received at the moment of “passing over” to the Father has a particular significance and importance.  It is the seed of eternal life, and the power of resurrection, for Jesus said “He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.”  Of course, as I said a moment ago, often it is not possible for the individual to receive the Eucharist, Viaticum, because of their condition.  This is why we should be preparing for our passing over to the Father during our whole life on Earth.  We should live each day as if it were our last.  We should receive each Holy Communion with a spirit of reverence and gratitude and humility and faith—as if it were our Viaticum, our food for the journey, our final Communion.  For, of course, we know neither the day of the hour when the Lord will call us.

          That is why we should live each day with the spirit of detachment from the things in this world that Jesus expected of his twelve apostles as he sent them out in today’s Gospel—taking only what mattered—being simple in terms of life style, and putting our complete faith and trust in God and in his divine providence to look after all our needs.  If we do that, then we will too be ready for the journey, the journey from this life to the next.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XIV-B (July 4, 2021)                                                

I’m sure we’ve all experienced times in our lives when we’ve had a feeling of helplessness.  It may have been during a serious illness, or because of some pressure at home, or at work, or at school—perhaps some emotional difficulty—a bereavement in the family, or even some financial worries.  There are times for all of us when we feel helpless, when we feel things are beyond our power to control.  And these times are really very privileged moments for us, because it is in these situations that we begin to realize just how ineffectual is our own power—how, by ourselves, we simply can’t make it.  It is then that we abandon trusting in our own limited strength, and turn instead and place all our trust in God.  When all seems helpless, we seem suddenly to grasp the reality of the power of God, of his omnipotence, and of our total dependence on him.  It is in these precious moments of helplessness that we suddenly acquire a true perspective of reality, that we get the balance right, and realize that, alone, by ourselves, we are nothing, and can do nothing.  But with God, we are everything, and we can achieve anything.  For as the archangel Gabriel said to Mary:  “nothing is impossible to God”.

          In today’s second reading, St. Paul speaks of his own weakness—a thorn he was given in the flesh.  He does not say what that thorn was.  Over the centuries, many people have speculated as to its nature, without really getting very far.  And in a sense, perhaps it’s just as well we don’t know what particular cross St. Paul had to bear, because then we can all identify ourselves with him more easily that way.  For each of us has some burden to carry, some difficulty, some hardship, some thorn, just as he had.  St. Paul realized this thorn was given him to keep him humble, so he would not become proud, so he would not get so self-confident as to forget his total dependence on God.  And so he knew that God’s grace was all that mattered.  For “whenever I am weak, then I am strong”.

          It is when we abandon our exaggerated faith in our own power and turn instead to almighty God, that we turn to him who is the source of all strength, of all power in the world, and who can do all things.  It is then that we, with God’s grace, can achieve the seemingly impossible, as did St. Paul.

          There’s a story of a man who had a little plaque on his desk which read:  “Have you tried praying yet?”  So often we try to achieve something, or reach a particular goal using only our own hands.  And what do we find?  Well, we find we don’t get very far at all.  It is because we haven’t brought God into the picture.  We need to ask him to help us solve our problems, to give us his grace, to let him take over.  We’ve got to turn to him with faith, and have faith and hope in his promises to us.  That is how we will get results, and the strength we need to overcome our troubles.  “If your faith were the size of a mustard seed”, he tells us, “you could say to this mountain ‘move’, and it would move”.

          Mary had faith in God’s power.  When the incredible news was given to her that she was to become the Mother of God, in spite of the fact she was still a virgin and not even married as yet to St. Joseph, she accepted God’s will for her, in spite of all the concerns she had.  She did so because she had faith.  She knew all things are possible for God.  She believed in him, and in his promise.

          In today’s Gospel, Jesus is amazed at the unbelief of the people in his hometown.  Don’t be like them.  Whatever your problems, your suffering, your family difficulties, your financial dilemmas, whatever your illness or depression, or emotional trials, have faith.  Keep the faith, and pray to God.  Ask him to help you in your needs.  Look how he helped St. Paul.  Look what God managed to do with him—from turning Paul from being a persecutor of the Church to becoming one of its greatest missionaries and saints.  Look how God saved him from shipwrecks, from imprisonment, from beatings, from trial after trial to prepare him for his final act of martyrdom for the Gospel.

          So in the midst of whatever thorn or suffering you may undergo, accept it as a blessing from God, as a privileged, precious moment in your spiritual life, to feel your weakness, and to depend instead completely on God’s power and his strength.  That is what kept St. Paul going, and that is what will keep us going too.  “For whenever I am weak, then I am strong”.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XIII-B (June 27, 2021)                                

In today’s Gospel, we see Our Lord perform two remarkable miracles.  First, he heals the woman who was sick, and then he raises the small girl who had died back to life.  It’s interesting how both the girl’s father and also the woman approach Jesus quite boldly, without any hesitation and ask for his help.  It’s clear they both do so because they have faith.  And in both cases, Our Lord acknowledges the role of faith in the healing.  For he says to the woman:  “Your faith has made you well; go in peace”; and to the synagogue official, Jesus says:  “Do not fear, only believe”.  As with all the miracles he worked, Jesus expected faith as a prerequisite.  The two people here showed they had faith by the very fact they approached him so boldly, knowing that he could effect a cure.

          We know from other cures Our Lord accomplished that his primary concern was for the healing of the soul – a spiritual healing, of which the physical recovery was but an external sign.  For whatever physical ailments or diseases or weaknesses we have, they will not last forever.  They die when we die.  But the soul lives on.  And a soul which is diseased during life on earth risks the danger of a spiritual death which can prevent its being saved.  Our Lord was concerned first and foremost in ensuring we would be able to gain eternal life in heaven.

          Our Lord came upon earth, he became one with fallen humanity, so that he could redeem that humanity, so that by his own death, he could give us another chance, the hope of everlasting life.  The miracle by which he raised the dead girl to new life was indeed remarkable, but, as with the case of Lazarus, it was a raising to this life, here on this earth.  We as Christians believe in something even greater.  For we believe that if we have died in a state of grace, he will raise us up – not to this world, not to this life, but to a new life in the next world, to eternal happiness with him in heaven.  That is the hope to which we are called, and what a great and magnificent destiny is ours.

          But to achieve it, we must be spiritually alive.  We must not fall into sin.  We must be healed of our spiritual illness.  The greatest sacrament for the healing of our sins is the sacrament of confession, but which we renounce our past failings, and convert, turn back to God.  Then we sustain that conversion, that spiritual health by regularly and worthily receiving the Holy Eucharist.  Every time we do, we first pray with humility and faith, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word, and my soul shall be healed.”  We pray for spiritual healing, then, at each and every Mass.  That is how we too can experience healing, how we too can receive the gift of peace, how we can die to sin, so as to live a new life – not only in this world, but especially in the next.  Do not be afraid.  Only believe, and have faith.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XII-B (June 20, 2021)                             

 In today’s Gospel, the disciples become very frightened during a storm on the sea.  They’re afraid they are going to sink.  So they wake up Jesus, and ask him:  “do you not care that we are perishing?”  Well, of course Jesus cares, of course God is concerned about what happens to us.

          But it’s so easy for us to become worried when we seem to be going down, when we feel helpless during the storms of life.  And it is really quite healthy spiritually to feel helpless, to realize that by ourselves, we can do very little.  But with God, all things are possible.  If we think back to times when things seemed to be going wrong, when it may have looked as if God had abandoned us, if we kept our faith, and placed our trust in God, things probably all worked out well in the end.  God did not let us down.  There was some reason, some meaning, some purpose behind the difficult experience we had to endure.

          That’s precisely what happened in the case of Job in today’s first reading.  Job was a very prosperous and God-fearing man.  But the devil said to God:  no wonder he’s so close to you—he’s rich—everything has gone well for him.  Take away all his possessions, and then see if he still believes in you.  That’s what happened.  God allowed Job to be divested, for a time, of his wealth, to see if he would remain faithful.  And he did.  So in the end, God rewarded Job with even more good fortune and blessings that he had to begin with.

          In the Gospel, Our Lord connects his disciples’ fear with their lack of faith.  They are afraid because their faith is weak.  We know it was weak because they thought God did not care they were going to sink.  A person with faith would realize just how much God loves every one he has created and how his divine providence surrounds us always.

          Perhaps the reason the disciples lacked faith is that they had not yet grasped the fact that Jesus is God.  This is clear from their final question:  “Who then is this, that even the wind and sea obey him?”  They don’t realize that Jesus is God—the God  who created them, the God who keeps everyone he has created in being, the God who created the wind and the seas, the Lord of the universe, the God who loves us with a love beyond imagining.

          Inevitably as human beings, we tend to worry about so many things in this life.

We can be anxious and fear.  But it is the people who do believe, who have faith in God, who are able to face and cope with difficulties or tragedies that come their way in the storms of life, whether it be death in the family, illness, financial or employment loss, or whatever.  Those who have faith know God loves them, that there is a reason for whatever has happened, and that God will not let them down in the end, any more than he abandoned Job in the end.

          Christianity is a religion of optimism.  The resurrection of Christ is at the very heart of our faith.  You cannot be a pessimistic Christian.  Christ’s triumph over Satan and the gates of death provides us with the everlasting hope of eternal life.  As St. Paul writes in the second reading:  Christ in his great love died for us all so that “those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them.”  In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus asks us not to worry about our life, what we are to eat, or wear, but rather to set our hearts on the kingdom of God first, and then everything else will take care of itself.  So to grow in faith, we must trust God.  But to trust God, you have to know him.  And the way we get to know God is through prayer—regular, daily prayer.  Mary had faith and trust in God, she knew that everything is possible for God, because she was a woman of prayer, and meditated on the Word of God, day and night.

          If we put our trust in the creator of the universe, who holds all things in being, who loves every one of his children—if we look up to God as our loving heavenly Father, especially on this Father’s Day (weekend), then we will realize just how much God cares for every single one of us, how precious is every single human being for him, how he will never allow us to sink into the sea, but if we remain faithful to him, will raise us up one day to be with him forever in heaven.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday XI-B  (June 13, 2021)        

Today’s Gospel presents us with really quite a simple message of growth in the parable of the seed.  Once the seed is sown, it begins to grow.  It takes time.  It does not grow overnight.  But grow it does, until it is ready for the harvest.  The final crop bears little resemblance to the initial seed.  But it is one and the same plant.

          So it is with human life.  We begin our lives at conception, and the conceived human being grows slowly until he or she is ready to be born.  Then the growth continues, until we become adults.  Our physical size and weight are so very much bigger than our humble beginnings.  But we are one and the same human being from the moment of our conception.

          When our faith was planted in us at baptism, usually as infants, we were too young to understand what was happening.  But gradually, we grew in reason and in our faith, year by year.  And we received several other sacraments along the way to help us in our growth—confession, Holy Communion and confirmation.

          In today’s Gospel parable, what Our Lord is saying is really the same thing.  The coming of the kingdom is not something that takes place abruptly, suddenly, all at once—it is a long term development for most of us.  We grow in our faith gradually, and hopefully, we should be growing in holiness as well.  Assuming you’re old enough, think back  five years, ten years, twenty or even thirty years, and ask yourself—am I a better person that I was then—am I closer to God—have I gown?  I hope the answer is Yes.  Growth in holiness, growth in faith takes perseverance and patience.  We cannot expect to overcome all our failings, weaknesses, deficiencies overnight.  But we have to keep trying, and keep persevering.  Every time we pray, every time we go to confession or receive Holy Communion worthily, every time we perform an act of kindness, or of self-denial, we are growing in holiness.  Maybe one Holy Communion or one confession may not always seem to make a noticeable difference, but if we are faithful, and persevere, and regularly make the effort, day by day, week by week, year by year, we will bear fruit, we will see a difference over time.  We will grow and be ready for the kingdom of God.

          Just look at the history of the Catholic Church.  The Church began in Jerusalem, with but twelve disciples.  On the Day of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit came down upon Our Lady and the apostles, we are told some three thousand were baptized on that very day.  The apostles went out into different parts of the world, having received the gift of speaking different tongues, to spread the Gospel—and spread it did—gradually, but steadily, so that now, after twenty centuries, there are over a billion Catholics in the world.  That is still only a fraction of the whole earth’s population, so there is still much growth that is needed.

          We are living in an age which is, on the one hand, a challenging era for the Church, yet at the same time, one filled with hope.  I know many of us in our own families have experienced the pain of close relations or friends, who seem to have abandoned the faith.  So many parents encounter such great disappointment when their children seem to lose interest or even reject the faith in which they were raised.  But we should not despair.  If the seed has been planted, we should have the confidence to believe it will grow and bear fruit in the end.  But it’s so important to plant that seed and to plant it abundantly, for thin sowing means thin reaping.   At the same time, we know that seeds to grow need help—they need to be watered, they need sunlight, warmth. 

So don’t give up your children or friends who seem, for now, to have drifted away from the faith, but help them to grow with your prayers, with your efforts, with your patience and perseverance on their behalf.  And in the end, with God’s grace, those small mustard seeds may well grow into the biggest shrubs of all.  Look at the example of St. Monica, who prayed for many years for the conversion of her son, St. Augustine.  In the end her prayers were answered in a magnificent way.  So don’t give up hope for the kingdom of God is growing among us—in hidden, mysterious ways, whether in our own lives, or in the lives of your families or friends—it is growing, surely but steadily, and we have Our Lord’s words, that the gates of hell can never prevail against it.

           

Thoughts on the Readings for Corpus Christi Sunday - B, June 6, 2021

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of Corpus Christi, the Body of Christ, a feast instituted back in the year 1264 by Pope Urban IV (Transiturus Deus).  According to tradition, he did so following the miracle of Bolsena, a small Italian town near Orvieto, where the Pope was staying at the time.  A German priest had doubts about the doctrine that during Mass, the bread and wine actually become in substance the Body and Blood of Christ.  This priest decided to make a pilgrimage to Rome to overcome his doubts.  On his way down from Germany through central Italy, he stopped at Bolsena and celebrated Mass there.  While doing so, the host is aid to have turned into real flesh, which began to drip blood onto the corporal, the square white cloth that is placed in the centre of the altar.  This corporal was taken at once to Orvieto, the nearby town where Pope Urban was staying, and he decided to institute the Feast of Corpus Christi, and also began work on the beautiful cathedral of Orvieto to enshrine this precious relic, which is still displayed there to this day.  We honour today Our Lord’s real presence in the sacrament of the Most Holy Eucharist.

          The Eucharist is part of the mystery of the Incarnation, that is, of the fact that God wanted to become one of us.  He didn’t want to remain some distant, invisible spirit.  No, he wanted to reveal himself to us in the most personal, intimate and concrete manner possible.  And so the Word became flesh, and lived among us, and we saw his glory.

          But Our Lord knew he was destined to suffer, to die, and to rise again, and then to ascend into heaven.  In order not to abandon his disciples, he instituted the Holy Eucharist, as we hear in the Gospel, so that even after his death and resurrection, he could continue to be present to them in a concrete, tangible, form.  This sacrament would also be a memorial of his suffering and death, a communion with his Body and Blood, and through it, his unique sacrifice on Calvary would be made present again.

          Our Lord knew too that his followers would hunger for him after he left them.  Hunger is a natural part of being a human being.  We can all feel an emptiness, a void, a vacuum in our purely material earthly existence.  We know that the things, the pleasures, the people of this world can never fully satisfy us.  We know that our inner hearts seek for something more, something greater.  We are constantly reaching out into the beyond, into eternity, towards the supernatural, towards the divine.

          And who can satisfy this hunger of ours, this thirst, but he who is the fountain of living waters, he who gives us the Bread of Life?  It is the Bread of Life because it is the gift of his own Body and Blood, shed on the cross for our sins, to win for us the hope of everlasting life.  Anyone who eats this bread will live forever, for that bread is Christ’s flesh, given for the life of the world.

          The celebration of the Eucharistic sacrifice is a great mystery, a mystery of faith.  We believe that at the words of consecration, pronounced by the priest, the bread and wine, though retaining their outward appearance and taste, become in substance the Body and Blood of Christ.  It is a mystery we call “transubstantiation”, a term which simply means that the substance of the bread and wine is changed.  And so when we come up to receive Holy Communion, we truly receive the Body and Blood of Our Lord.  That is why when the priest or minister says, “The Body of Christ”, we should answer “Amen”—a word which simply means, “Yes, I believe, I am truly receiving the Body of Christ”. We in fact receive what we already are.

          And so on this great feast, may we renew our appreciation and reverence of the most Holy Eucharist, of the sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ:

          Lord Jesus, may we come to you and never hunger;

          Believe in you and never thirst;

          Eat your Body, and never die.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Trinity Sunday B (May 30, 2021)          

We celebrate today what is perhaps the most fundamental mystery of our faith, our belief in the Most Holy Trinity.  And we do well to acknowledge at the outset that we stand before a great mystery, one our mortal minds can never hope to understand fully in this life, but which, all the same, we should try to penetrate, if only slightly.  It is a mystery of faith.  So the starting point must always be our faith, our belief, in one God in three divine persons, a faith we profess every time we recite the Creed.

          In fact, if you look at either of the two Creeds, you will see that their structure is Trinitarian, divided into three parts.  First, we affirm our belief in God the Father, creator of heaven and earth; then in his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, who became incarnate, that is, assumed our human flesh, in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary; and finally we profess our faith in the Holy Spirit, who proceeds form the Father and the Son.  The Father is God; Jesus Christ, the Son is God; the Holy Spirit is God.

          Now there are quite a few people who are uncertain about the divinity of Our Lord.  Jesus is the Son of God, and precisely, because he is the Son of God, he too is of the same substance, of the same nature, one in being, with the Father:  God from God, light from light, true God from true God, as we say in the Creed.  And so, Jesus Christ is truly God.  All the miracles Our Lord performed were intended to show to those around him that he wasn’t just a human being, but truly divine—changing the water in wine at Cana, for example; walking on the water at the Sea of Galilee; multiplying the loves and fish to feed the five thousand; raising Lazarus from the dead, and so on.  But Jesus is also man.  For he has two natures, a human nature and a divine nature.  He is both God and man:  God from the beginning, but in time, he assumed our human flesh when he became one of us at the Incarnation, when he was conceived in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary by the power of the Holy Spirit.

          In today’s Gospel, Jesus commands his disciples to go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Our faith, in other words, is missionary.  It is not something we keep only to ourselves.  No, we are to share it with others.  And Our Lord indicates that it is through baptism in the name of the Holy Trinity that we in fact become members of his Body, the Body of Christ which is the Church.  He adds, however, that becoming a follower of Christ is not a one-off event.  Baptism is not enough.  We are also to teach the nations to obey “everything that I have commanded you”, he says.  Christianity has its demands.  We must follow the commandments of God if we are to be his true followers.  As Our Lord says elsewhere, “If you love me, keep my commandments”.

          Finally, most encouraging of all, he assures his disciples, “I am with you always, to the end of the age”.  They will not be alone.  We will not be alone.  Rather, we know that Jesus will be with us, ever at our side, to help and support us, to give us strength.

          So often we feel weak.  Challenges come our way.  Life seems difficult at times.  We may have a health problem, or some financial difficulty, or a family issue, or some personal problem that we have to face.   That is why we need to turn to Our Lord who is always ready to help us, if only we open our hearts to his. 

          On Tuesday, we begin the month of June, the month dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.  Jesus draws us into his heart.  If we open our hearts to his, his love will enter our souls, and give us the strength we need to be faithful to him in this life, so we can join him in the next.

          God wants our company.  He doesn’t like being alone. He is a community, a Trinity of persons, and he calls us to join him in his kingdom for all eternity, in the company of the whole communion of saints.

          And so on this Trinity Sunday, we pray:  Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Pentecost Sunday B  (May 23, 2021)                          

The fifty days of Eastertide reach their climax today on the great feast of Pentecost, a Greek word meaning “the fiftieth day”.  It was the day, as we hear in the first reading, on which the Holy Spirit, in the form of tongues of fire, came down to rest upon Our Lady and the apostles gathered in prayer.  The priest wears red Mass vestments today, symbolizing the colour of fire, and since it is the last day of Eastertide, we proclaim the double Alleluia at the dismissal.

          The apostles had gathered in the Upper Room in prayer after Our Lord’s Ascension into heaven.  He had promised to send them the Holy Spirit, so as not to leave them as orphans.  Perhaps that is the first point we can make.  The outpouring of the Holy Spirit was the fruit of prayer, continuous prayer.  It didn’t just happen.  Rather Mary and the apostles prayed intensely to receive this great gift.  We too, if we wish to be filled with the Spirit, filled with the gifts and fruits of the Spirit, also need to pray to receive that outpouring with that same degree of fervour and intensity.

          How appropriate that Mary should have been there.  Mary conceived the Saviour of the world through the power of the Holy Spirit, and so became the Mother of God.  Now she was to become the Mother of the Church, which was born on Pentecost Sunday as a result of the descent of that same Holy Spirit.  Mary has been called the spouse of the Spirit, and rightly so, for she was wedded to that divine life-giving gift of God himself.  She chose, as St. Paul in the second reading, urges us also to choose to live by the Spirit, and not by the desires of the flesh.  For the two are opposed to each other.  We, who through our baptism, becomes temples of God’s Holy Spirit, are called to let the Spirit be our way of life, and not seek the lures of the flesh.

          The great manifestation of the Spirit at Pentecost was certainly a magnificent and dramatic event—the sound of the rush of violent wind, the tongues of fire coming down, the apostles’ being given the gift of speaking in different languages.  It is somewhat reminiscent of the excitement and glory of Our Lord’s Transfiguration on Mount Tabor.  In our own case, however, we are not likely to receive the Spirit in such a dramatic way.  We are more likely to welcome the Spirit as Elijah did (1 Kg 19:9)—not in the earthquake, or the mighty wind, or the fire, but rather in the sound of a gentle breeze, a gentle, quiet voice, a soft breath.  For as we know, our life is lived more in the valleys than on the mountain tops.  But if we open our hearts to receive the Spirt, if we pray to receive the gift of the Spirit, our prayers will not be in vain.  The Spirit will come to us, in one way or another for God is always faithful to his people and to his promise. 

          And when the Spirit comes, the Spirit will provide us with an answer to our particular needs.  In the case of the apostles who were to go out to the world and preach the Gospel of Christ, they received a spiritual strengthening, courage, as well as the gift of speaking foreign tongues.  This was an obvious practical need for their mission, and so they were given what they needed.  Some of us need the gift of the spirit of forgiveness, the Spirit who gives us pardon and peace for our sins in the sacrament of confession.  Remember that on Easter Sunday evening, Jesus appeared to his apostles, breathed on them, and said: “Receive the Holy Spirit.  For those whose sins you forgive, they are forgiven”, and so he instituted the sacrament of penance.  It was a kind of Pentecost right on Easter Sunday itself, as interpreted by St. John’s Gospel.

          Some will seek and receive the spirit of healing, whether physical healing or a spiritual healing of their souls.  Others will seek and receive the spirit of peace, freeing them from the pain of hostility or anger or bitterness, or anxiety.  For some the Spirit will bend their wills and hearts, to free them from the burden of rigidity. 

          The Spirit gives to each one who asks according to their particular need.  The spirit offers many gifts and so has many names.  He is called the Spirit of God, the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father and the Son, the upright Spirit, the guiding Spirit.  But his chief and distinguishing name is Holy Spirit.  And ultimately, that is what we are all called to be—holy.  The more the Holy Spirit lives in us, the more we too will be holy.  People will see the Spirit is living in us by the way we practise our faith.  Just as Mary, who was wedded to the Spirit of God, and not to the flesh of the earth, exuded holiness and sanctity, so too the more we show our love for the spirit and seek the spiritual gifts, the more we also will become holy, truly, the holy people of God.

          And filled with the Spirit of holiness we will then, like the apostles, be able to go out and transform the word, to recreate a new world, to help to establish the kingdom of God here on earth.     

          And so today, we pray:

Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of Your faithful, and kindle in them the fire of Your Love.  Send forth Your Spirit, and they shall be created; and You shall renew the face of the earth.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Ascension Sunday B  (May 16, 2021)       

For forty days after his resurrection, Our Lord appeared to his disciples and spoke to them about the kingdom of God.  Just as he had spent forty days in the desert after his baptism before he began his own public ministry, so now he spent forty days with his apostles to prepare them for theirs.

          To encourage and strengthen them even more for the great mission he had planned for them, he promised to send the power of the Holy Spirit upon the apostles so that they would be his witnesses to the ends of the earth.  And then, almost to prove he could and would do it, he gave a spectacular demonstration of his divinity by being lifted up to heaven.  Now there is not the slightest reason to doubt the literal truth of the ascension into heaven.  It is related several times in the New Testament.  After all, if Christ could rise from the dead, why could he not ascend into heaven as well?  We profess our belief in the ascension in the Creed, and we recall it in the Eucharistic prayer. 

But what is its significance?  The ascension marks the point in time when Christ completed his earthly appearances after his resurrection, and so brought his visible ministry on earth to a close.  But at a more theological level, the ascension marks the exaltation, the glorification of Jesus.  His human nature was taken up to heaven, and from there, he now exercises all power in heaven and on earth.  The risen Christ, in the humanity he assumed in becoming one of us, returned to his Father who sent him.  He will return to earth only once, at the end of time, at the parousia, when, as we profess in the Creed, he will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.

Our Lord never really left heaven when he came down to us, for he has always been with the Father.  And he did not leave us when he ascended into heaven again—because he is our head, and we are his body, the Body of Christ.  He is always present in our midst, for he assures us that “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I also".” And he is present in a particularly special way in the sacrament of his Body and Blood, the most Holy Eucharist.

In today’s Gospel, Our Lord tells the apostles to “Go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation”.  After his ascension, we are told they did just that:  “they went out and proclaimed the good news everywhere”.  “Good news” is the literal translation of the old English word “Gospel”. 

And what a source of inspiration that must have been for the apostles, to see the Lord go up to heaven, with shouts of joy, to ascend with trumpet blast.  Rising form the dead was one thing, and a great miracle.  But Jesus rose only to walk on this earth.  It was only on the fortieth day that he thrilled his disciples by letting them see him ascend into heaven.  What great joy they must have felt at this wonderful spectacle!  What hope it must have put into their hearts, hope that where he the head had gone, there we the flock would hope one day to follow.

And so on this Ascension Sunday, our thoughts today should be on heaven.  One of our problems is we don’t spend enough time thinking about heaven. We’re too involved in our daily earthly activities.  We spend too little time with God in prayer.  We need to make time for prayer in our life, to show we love God, and want to spend time with him—even eternity. 

And so our prayer today is very simply:  where Christ our head has preceded us in glory, there we the body hope one day to follow.  May we look to the things above, and seek the heavenly values, so we may draw ever closer to the risen Christ, who has taken his place at the right hand of the Father in heaven, so that we may one day join him there too.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Easter VI-B (May 9, 2021)                              

Both today’s Gospel and second reading speak about love.  Now we have a tendency to use this word rather casually in our society.  But from God’s point of view, love has a very concrete meaning.

          God is love, and God loves us.  He created us and he keeps us in being out of love.  Even when Adam and Eve, and all their descendants in the human race, sinned against him, God could have sent us out of his kingdom forever.  He would have had every right to do so.  But he didn’t.  Out of love for us, he became one of us, by sending his only Son, Jesus Christ, into the world.  Why?  So that by his passion and death, Our Lord would pay the price of Adam and Eve and all of humanity’s sin; and then by his resurrection from the dead, open the gates of heaven that had been closed until then.  The Father showed his utter love for us by allowing his only Son to be the sacrifice that takes our sins away.

          And in the Gospel, that Son tells us that no one has greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.  That’s precisely what Jesus did.  Just as the Father has a boundless love for us, so does his Son.  And he asks us to return that love.  How?  By keeping his commandments, he says.  And he adds:  “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”

          So often we come across people who are not keeping God’s commandments, yet say they love God.  This is an obvious contradiction.  Every time we sin, we offend God.  Now you don’t hurt someone you love.  So how can you say you love God when you offend him with your sins?  It doesn’t make sense.  One of the problems, perhaps, is that people are not conscious of God’s commandments.  A lot of people, if asked, would have trouble remembering the ten commandments, even though they are a very basic part of our faith, and we should all know them.  When Jesus was asked, as a trick question, which was the greatest commandment, he answered:  “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and all your soul, and all your mind.  That is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second resembles it—you shall love your neighbour as yourself.  On these two commandments hang the whole law and all the prophets”.

          So it all comes down to love, he said—love of God, and love of neighbour.  In so doing, Our Lord was not in any way replacing the ten commandments God gave to Moses, but just summarizing them.  For if you look at the first—you shall love the Lord our God and not take false gods before you, and the second—you shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain; and the third—remember to keep holy the Lord’s day, you’ll see that the first three all deal with love of God.  And the remaining seven with love of neighbour—honour your father and mother, you shall not kill, commit adultery, steal, bear false witness against your neighbour, nor covet your neighbour’s wife or goods.

          So we should not be too quick to say we love God, without first examining our conscience to see if we have shown that love by not offending God.  Have we in fact been keeping his commandments?  Or to put it another way, do our lives match our words?  That’s the litmus test.  That’s how we can show we truly love God, that we truly are his friends, his disciples, that we are part of his family.  In short, that’s how we show we are truly worthy to join him in his kingdom of love for all eternity.

          And in this month of May, this month of Mary, we can look to the example of the love of the Mother of God herself—of her pure, generous love for her Son, and for us too.  We can see in her holiness, in her obedience to the will and to the commands of God, and of her sacrifice and sorrow an example and source of inspiration for us all.

          Every mother loves her child.  Mary loves her Son Jesus with all her heart, and she loves all of us who are her children with that same immaculate heart.  It goes without saying that we should return that love.

          One way to do this is to show our Blessed Mother respect and reverence.  There are still those who today, sadly, treat Our Lady and her holy name with disrespect.  We can also show our love for Mary by asking her intercession, her prayers for us.  We do not pray to Mary.  We pray to God.  But we ask Mary, our mother, to pray with us and for us to God our heavenly Father.  “Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death”, we ask.  A mother always wants what is best for her children.  Mary, our mother, wants what is best for us.  That is why she wants to lead us to Jesus, her divine son.  She knows only he has the words of eternal life, that only he can save us, and so she tries to draw us ever closer to Jesus.

          The love of God is given above all through the Holy Spirit.  In these last few days before Pentecost, we are praying to receive an abundant outpouring of that Holy Spirit.  Mary was in the Upper Room, praying with the apostles, asking for that gift.  Let us pray that we too may receive the gift of the spirit this Pentecost, that we may grow in unselfish love, sacrificial love for God, love for our Blessed Mother, a love for the Holy Eucharist, and a love for each other, so that by our love, the world can tell we are truly disciples of Jesus Christ.

          In short, as St. Paul, writes, there are three things that last:  faith, hope and love, and the greatest of these is love.  It is by love that we reach out to eternity—to the everlasting life that awaits those, and only those who truly love, and remain in God’s love, by keeping his commandments.   

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday V-B (May 2, 2021)                                         

The fifty days of Eastertide are a preparation for the great feast of Pentecost.  During this time, we should be praying for the Holy Spirit to come into our lives.  We first received the Spirit in baptism.  That gift was strengthened at confirmation.  We identify in fact seven gifts of the Holy Spirit:  wisdom, understanding, counsel or right judgment, fortitude or courage, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord, in the sense of reverence for God’s justice and majesty and a fear of displeasing him.  Now if we have received those seven gifts of the Spirit, if they are in us, we should show it.  People should be able to see by the kind of lives that we’re leading, that we have the Spirit in us.  And so the seven gifts of the Spirit should produce the twelve fruits of the Spirit. 

          I mention this because in today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of the fruits of the vine.  “Whoever abides in me”, he says, “and I in them, bears much fruit, because apart from me, you can do nothing”.  So we know people by their fruits.  Do you remember what the twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit are?

          Love or charity is the first.  It causes us to perform our actions out of love for God.  Joy keeps us happily aware of God’s infinite goodness.  Peace results from joy, and makes us tranquil.  Patience resigns us to endure the disagreeable circumstances of life and the sufferings of death.  Goodness inclines us to wish to do good to everyone, without distinction.  Kindness results from goodness—it is goodness in word and action.  Long-suffering preserves patience over a long period, even though no encouragement is to be seen.  Mildness restrains anger.  Faith makes us faithful and upright in dealings with others.  Modesty produces moderation in external actions.  Continence represses the passions.  Chastity helps us guard our senses so that they will not cause us to sin—it helps us regard our own body and those of others as temples of the Holy Spirit.  So those are the twelve fruits of the Spirit.

          Jesus says in the Gospel that if a branch does not produce fruits, it is thrown away, and withers.  Such branches are thrown away into the fire and burned.  In order to produce good fruits, we need to abide in Christ.  How do we do this?  In the second reading, St. John says, “Whoever obeys his commandments abides in him, and he abides in them”.  So it’s as simple as that.  If we are faithful to God’s commandments, then we can be said to abide in him.  And if we abide in him, then we will bear much fruit.  And then the reward Our Lord promises is that whatever you wish, it will be done for you.  What a magnificent promise!  God promises us everything we wish, if we abide in him.  Of course it must be in accordance with his will.  But then, if we are truly abiding in him, by keeping his commandments, we would not wish for anything that was not in accord with his will.

          Mary bore much fruit.  She bore the Lamb of God, because she abided in God.  She was obedient to his commandments, and without sin.  She was the spouse of the Spirit, and we can say that she certainly showed the fruits of the Spirit in her life:  charity or love, when she agreed to become the Mother of God saying she was the humble handmaid of the Lord.  We see her joy in her song of the Magnificat, rejoicing at God’s favour in choosing her.  Peace, as she treasured all these things in her heart and watched her Son grow.  Patience as she and Joseph searched without success for a place where she could give birth.  Goodness when, for example, she asked her Son to provide wine at the wedding feast in Cana. Kindness when she made the effort to visit her cousin Elizabeth.  Her long suffering can be seen in the flight to Egypt, and supporting her son in his passion.  Mildness when she refrained from saying anything in anger during her Son’s passion.  Faith filled her whole life of fidelity to God.  She was modest, continent, and her perpetual virginity revealed her chastity.

          Mary conceived her Son and so became the Mother of God by the power of the Holy Spirit.  She became Mother of the Church at Pentecost by the power of that same Spirit, whose fruits she bore throughout her life.  May we too follow her example of fidelity to God’s commandments, and abide in him so we too can bear the same kind of good fruits she did.  Then God will give us everything we wish as well.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday IV-B (April 25, 2021)      
 

Today is the fourth Sunday of Easter.  It is traditionally known as Good Shepherd Sunday, for the Gospel always speaks of Christ, the Good Shepherd.  This Sunday is also observed throughout the Church as the World Day of prayer for vocations.  Now we all have our particular vocation in life.  But the one common and first vocation we all share is to be holy.  “Be holy for I am holy”, says the L­ord.  The purpose of this annual world day of prayer is to pray especially for vocations to the priesthood and to the consecrated life—to ask the Lord of the harvest to send more labourers to his harvest.

          The word vocation means “call”, and so a vocation is a call—a call from God.  To hear God’s call, we have to listen—to keep our ears open, so we can hear God’s voice.  We live in a noisy, busy world, a world where many voices compete for our attention, and our allegiance.  Especially in our consumer society, everyone seems to be trying to sell us their product or service.  It’s very easy to be distracted and misled, not to be able to hear God’s voice.  That’s why we all need to find a quiet space in our daily lives, when we can be alone with God, to shut out the rest of the world, so we can listen to God, and hear his voice.

  If you ask someone the question, “What is prayer?”, the answer they usually give is that prayer is talking to God.  Well, that’s only half of it.  Prayer is a two-way street.  Yes, it’s talking to God, but it’s also listening to him.  It is communicating with God, union with God, or you could say, communion with God.  So we all really need to establish that relationship, that personal communion with the Lord in prayer, so we can hear his voice and respond to it.

          In today’s Gospel, Jesus says the good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.  And he adds that he himself lays down his life for them.  The good shepherd, in other words, makes a sacrifice.  He loves his sheep so much that he is willing to surrender all—even his own life, for the sake of his sheep.  Jesus, of course, did precisely this when he offered his life on the cross for the redemption of the world—a sacrifice which is made present, sacramentally, every time we celebrate Mass.

          A vocation involves sacrifice.  It demands that we give up something for a greater good.  And we do so out of love—love of God, and love of neighbour.  Someone called to the priesthood or consecrated life must sacrifice their own private will, and promise obedience to their bishop of superior.  While there is a certain loss of freedom involved in this, there is, on the other hand, a confidence and trust which comes from striving to do the will of God, instead of seeking a personal selfish goal.  To obey, one needs a sense of faith and trust in God’s loving providence, and a love of him that surpasses any personal self-seeking we might have.

          The charism, or gift, of celibacy also involves sacrifice.  But it provides a freedom to devote one’s life to working in the Lord’s vineyard, without the duties and responsibilities that are part of married life.  Celibacy is also a witness to and a sign of our belief in the next life, where men and women do not marry, but where the Church, as the bride of Christ, enters the eternal heavenly banquet prepared for us from the beginning of time.  So while there is sacrifice involved in accepting the gift of celibacy, there is also the joy of anticipating that heavenly union with Christ, even now, here on earth.

          So please, on this world day of prayer for vocations, we should renew our commitment to pray—not just once a year—but to pray every day of the year for more vocations, especially in our own diocese—to spread the Word of God to the ends of the earth.  For the harvest is indeed great, but the labourers, still far too few, especially here in Toronto.  And we commend all our prayers to the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary, who said “Yes” to God’s call, and ask her to pray for us and all our needs too.

                     

 Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Easter III-B (April 18, 2021)

After he rose from the dead on Easter Sunday, Jesus did not go to heaven.  No, he appeared to his disciples on earth for forty days, up until his Ascension into heaven.  He appeared to them so they could see that he had truly risen from the dead.  In particular, he wanted them to realize that he had risen in his body.  He was not just some spirit, or ghost, but he had bodily risen from the dead.  That is why in today’s Gospel, we see Our Lord tell his apostles to touch him.  He showed them his hands and his feet, and even ate some fish with them so they could see he was not a ghost, but had flesh and bones.

          Our Lord knew he would only remain on earth with his disciples for forty days.  But he did not want to leave them alone after that period.  So he promised to send them the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, and he also left them the sacrament of his own flesh and blood—the Holy Eucharist—so that they could receive his Body.  And so the Holy Eucharist is really part of the resurrection of Christ.  For when we receive Holy Communion, we receive the Body of Christ—the Body that rose from the dead on Easter Sunday—the Body that ascended into heaven on the fortieth day.  Had no body risen from the dead, there would be no body for us to receive.

          And because Jesus rose from the dead on the first day of the week—Easter Sunday morning, Sunday became for Christians the Lord’s Day—our sabbath, our day of rest.  That is why Christians gathered together on Sunday to celebrate the Holy Eucharist, and to receive the Body of the risen Lord.

          In these fifty days of Eastertide, we are praying to receive the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.  It is above all the Spirit who can bend our hearts, open our minds, soften our stubbornness, mold us into the divine image of God, renew us to be more like Christ.  The Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead is the same Spirit who can raise us to a new and higher life in Christ.  Through baptism, we have been born again, we have become a new creation.  We are indeed children of the light.  We are called to walk in the light of Christ, to put behind us the darkness of sin, so we can truly be children of God, and show our love for God by obeying him and his commandments.

          The resurrection for us begins here on earth.  For we have to die to sin here and now, if we wish to rise with Christ, rise above our failings, our human weaknesses, rise above all that separates us from the life of the Spirit.

          So perhaps we could look at ourselves, and see how we can rise to a new life this Eastertide.  In what way can we show that Christ is risen in our own lives—that we have passed from death to new life.  In the Lord’s Prayer, we say “thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven”.  So even here on earth, we should be trying to lead a new life in the Risen Christ, a life that will show to others that Christ has truly risen in our minds and hearts and in our lives.  That his kingdom is here and now.  That He is our true love.  He, the Saviour of the world.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday II-B (Divine Mercy Sunday)(April 11, 2021)                            

Today’s Gospel begins in the evening of that same day, the first day of the week, that is, on Easter Sunday evening.  Jesus appears to his disciples.  He does so very much in concrete, physical terms, so they can see his hands, and his side.  He is not just some spirit, but he has truly, bodily risen from the dead.  And a week later, when the doubting Thomas demands to see, before he will believe, Jesus insists that he put his finger into the holes the nails made in his hands, and that Thomas put his hands into the hole made by the spear.  Later on in St. John’s Gospel, Jesus appears on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, and has breakfast with his disciples.  He eats some fish.  Again, John is stressing very much the fact that Our Lord bodily rose from the dead.  It was not just some spiritual event, or a figment of someone’s imagination.  Jesus truly, physically rose from the dead.

         And we too believe in the resurrection of the body, that is, that at the end of time, our bodies will rise from the grave, in glorified form, as did Our Lord’s, and be joined to our souls.  Just as Jesus bodily rose from the dead, and Mary was assumed body and soul into heaven, so too will our bodies rise on the last day.

When Jesus appears on Easter Sunday evening to his disciples, he greets them twice, with the words, “Peace be with you”.  He, of course, came to earth as the prince of peace, and at his birth the angels sang, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to people of good will”.  How fitting that now, at the climax of his earthly ministry, he continues the theme of peace.  He came to bring peace, to make peace between God and man, to reconcile fallen humanity to the Father.

In our world today, many people long for peace.  They long for peace because they find they are not at peace.  They are troubled, they are worried, they may be in conflict with their neighbour, or perhaps even with their family. There’s not an awful lot of peace to be found in our world whose values can never give us true peace. 

But Jesus wants to give us his peace—a peace the world can never give.  And to complete his mission, Jesus breathes on his apostles—he breathes the Holy Spirit upon them, and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.  If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained”.  In so doing, Our Lord, as a sign of his divine mercy, institutes the sacrament of penance.  He gives his apostles the gift of the Holy Spirit so that they can forgive sins.  They, in turn, would hand down this power, through the laying on of hands, in the sacrament of Holy Orders, to their successors, the bishops, and they, in turn, to the priests called to help them in their work.  The role of the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of sins is clear in the words of absolution the priest uses:  “God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son, has sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins”.  The Holy Spirit is in fact very much present and part of all the sacraments.  We first receive the gift of the Holy Spirit in baptism, when we are baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  The gift of the Spirit we receive for ourselves at baptism is strengthened at confirmation, so that we can bear witness to our faith before others.  But we know we fail, we sin, and so through the sacrament of penance, through confession, the Holy Spirit comes to forgive our sins when we repent and confess them.  It’s so important for our spiritual well-being that we go to confession regularly, that we seek and receive the gift of the Holy Spirit to forgive our sins.

We’re all familiar with the dramatic description of Pentecost in St. Luke’s Acts of the Apostles, when the Holy Spirit came down upon our Lady and the apostles gathered in prayer, fifty days after Easter.  St. John’s Gospel, which is today’s Gospel, was one of the last books written in the New Testament, and so John had time to reflect on the others.  His work is a more theological one than the others.  And so what he seems to describe today is a kind of Pentecost right on Easter Sunday—for he emphasizes the unity of the Resurrection and the sending of the Holy Spirit, both on Easter Sunday.

Then, in today’s Gospel, John moves forward a week to describe the incident with Thomas.  Though Thomas may have doubted initially, after he sees Jesus, Thomas makes the most explicit profession of faith in the whole New Testament when he addresses Jesus as “My Lord and my God”.  Jesus is truly God.  Though he also became man, Jesus was and is truly God—he has both a divine and a human nature.  As we say in the Creed:  Jesus is: “God from God, light from light, true God from true God.”

May we never doubt as Thomas did, but believe as Thomas also did—believe in Jesus Christ, our Lord and God, and in his power to forgive our sins, in his divine mercy, so that we too may enjoy the gift of true peace, a peace the world can never give.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Easter Sunday 2021

We celebrate today what is the greatest feast of the Church's liturgical year—even more important than Christmas.  For today we celebrate the day Christ rose from the dead, the day Christ destroyed the power of death—not just for himself, but for us too.

          During his life on earth, Our Lord performed many miracles which were intended to help people believe he was truly God, truly divine.  And his own resurrection from the dead was the greatest miracle of them all.

          Death was not part of God's plan for humanity at the beginning.  There was no death in the garden of Eden.  It was paradise—like heaven, and would have gone on forever.  It was only through the sin of Adam and Eve that death entered the world.  Death was the punishment for their original sin.  They were cast out of paradise, and so, in the end, they had to die—the gates of heaven were closed.

          But God in his great love for us didn't want that to be the end of the story.  So he sent his only Son, Jesus Christ, the new Adam, born of Mary, the new Eve, so that by his passion, death and resurrection from the dead, he could pay the price of Adam's sin, and open the gates of heaven once again for those who believe in him and are faithful to him.  And so, as St. Paul writes in his letter to the Colossians (3:1-4):  "If you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.  Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth."  Look up to heaven where Christ is, in other words, and seek first that kingdom of heaven, and not the things, the attractions, the material treasures of this earth.

          When we profess our faith, the faith of the Church, we affirm our belief that Christ rose again on the third day.  This is one of the most fundamental tenets of our faith as Christians—our belief that Christ did indeed bodily rise from the dead.

          We also profess our belief in the resurrection of the body.  We believe that just as Christ bodily rose from the dead, so too will we, at the final judgment, when the souls of those who have died in Christ will be rejoined to their glorified bodies.  Just as Jesus rose from the dead, just as Mary was assumed body and soul into heaven, so too we believe that our bodies will also rise on the last day.

          Christianity is a religion of hope, of optimism.  You cannot be a pessimistic Christian.  It's a contradiction in terms.  For at the heart of our faith stands the risen Christ.  God did not create us to die, but he made us in his own image so we could live with him forever.  When God gives life, it is forever.

 God gives, God seeks life.  But so often, men and women seek death.  Christ, by his own death, destroyed the power of death to give us life forever.  That death was an act of the utmost love imaginable.  It was in fact love that destroyed death.  For the power of the love of God is stronger than the power of death.  Love is a creative force of the highest order.  Hatred, like death, only destroys.  Yet not even Christ himself could escape death.  He had to pass through it, as do we.  For, ironically, death is the gateway to life.  In a sense, you could say that the whole point of life is death.  For our whole lives here on earth are but a preparation for that moment when we too will have to pass through that gateway of death in order to enter everlasting life.  And when we make that journey, all we take with us is our faith, and the good works we have done during our lives here on earth.  Our large Paschal candle in front of the altar, which we always light for baptisms and for funerals, represents the risen Christ, a candle that remains there for the fifty days of Eastertide, right until the great feast of Pentecost.

          Today we celebrate the resurrection of Our Lord in a very special way.  But in fact every Sunday the Church celebrates the resurrection of Christ.  Every Sunday is for us Easter Sunday. 

          And so today we commit ourselves once more to our baptismal faith, the faith of the Church, the faith in which we have been baptized, and born again—our faith in the one God, our loving Father, in his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Spirit, who live and reign for all ages, world without end.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Palm Sunday - B (March 28, 2021)

We begin today the week we call Holy Week, the most important and solemn week of the Church’s liturgical year.  This is a very special week.  We should make a particular effort to observe it with reverence, with prayer, with the solemnity that befits it.

          Today is properly known as Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord.  For there is a double focus.  We begin with the blessing of the palms, remembering Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem as the Messiah.  But also we hear the account of Christ’s passion.  That is why red vestments are worn, the colour of the blood Our Lord shed for us.  We do well to consider just why Jesus had to suffer—why he had to die.  It was to atone for our sins, to pay the price of our disobedience with his own blood.  And so especially in this week, we should remember that our salvation, our hope of everlasting life was bought—not through any efforts on our own part, but with the price of Christ’s precious blood.  That is why we should express genuine sorrow for our sins, confess them, and do penance for them.  It is why Good Friday is a day of fasting and abstinence, and why every Friday is a day of penance.  We should resolve to put our sins behind us, and turn to Christ instead and obey him and his commandments, and resolve not to fall back into the sins that nailed Our Lord to the tree.

          At every Mass, at the end of the preface, we sing the same words the crowds sang in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.  For in the Sanctus we sing: “Hosanna in the highest, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”  If you listen to the words that lead up to the Sanctus, you’ll see they are usually to the effect: “and so we join the angels and saints in heaven, as they sing your glory forever—holy, holy, holy”.

          In the heavenly Jerusalem, that’s what it’s all about.  In heaven, all who have been invited to the banquet of the Lamb sing and praise him forever.  They sing Hosannas to the highest.  Our liturgy here on earth, indeed our whole life here below, is a witness to and a preparation for the next life.  So no matter how seemingly tragic the death of Christ on the cross, may we remember that he died so we could live, so we could rise with him, and join him in the heavenly Jerusalem, and there together with all the angels and saints sing his praises, sing Hosanna in the highest heaven for ever.  Amen.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent V-B (March 21, 2021)

In today’s Gospel, we see Jesus preparing his disciples for his coming death.  Indeed, he seems to be preparing himself for it as well: “Now my soul is troubled”, he says, and wonders whether he should ask his Father to save him from this hour

          Jesus, even though he was truly God, was also truly man.  And as a human being, he felt the same human emotions we would feel, confronted by the prospect of a terrible death.  Yet in his agony, he knew that he had to go through with it.  He had to suffer and die on the cross, because that was the very reason he came to earth, why he assumed our human nature, so that by his passion and death, he could redeem that nature.  He came so he could destroy the power of death forever.

          Our Lord also knew that his disciples would be afraid and disillusioned by his coming passion.  So he tries to explain to them that death is not the end.  “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit”.  The martyrs all knew this.  That is why we say the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.

          Those who love their life in this world lose it.  Our Lord asks us to detach ourselves from this world and its values, its glitter and gold, for everything on this earth is just a breath, a puff of air, vanity of vanities.  For this world will not last.  Our lives on this earth will come to an end.   So we need to have a spirit of detachment from the things, the people of this world, and not love our lives here below so much that we can’t let go—because some day soon we will have to let go of everything, of everyone here on earth.

          The trouble is we don’t want to let go.  We prefer what we can see here and now to what we can’t see in the future.  We fear death.  This is normal and understandable.  Even Jesus was troubled by it.  But death is not the end.  It is really only the beginning.  Our very nature reaches out for life beyond death.  Our human instinct reacts against the notion of death, of something that would be the end of us.  We want to live.  But in order to live, we have to die.  Death is the door through which we must, each of us pass some day.

          Christ, by his passion and death destroyed the power of death forever.  We believe that if we have been faithful to Christ, and died with him we will share in the eternal life he came to earth to gain for our sake.  He died so we could live.

          In these last few days of Lent, may we follow our Lord to Calvary, and do so with a spirit of detachment from this world, with our eyes fixed on the eternal values that endure forever, and always seek first the kingdom of God, and then everything else will take care of itself.

 

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent IV-B (March 14, 2021)

The fourth Sunday of Lent is known traditionally as Laetare Sunday, which is the Latin word for Rejoice.  If you look in your Missal, you’ll see that this is the first word of today’s entrance antiphon:  Rejoice, Jerusalem.  As with Gaudete Sunday in Advent, the priest wears rose-coloured vestments, a break from the sadness of purple.  As another sign of joy, the organ can also be played on its own, apart from simply accompanying the singing.

          But why is the theme today that of rejoicing?  Quite simply, it is because Easter is drawing near.  We are coming ever closer to reliving the Paschal mystery—how Christ suffered and died for us to redeem us from our sins, and then rose from the dead.  All this he did in Jerusalem.  That’s why the entrance antiphon today says, “Rejoice, Jerusalem”, almost anticipating too the hosannas of Palm Sunday.

          The word Jerusalem means “city of peace.  In the first reading, we see how God punished the people of Israel for their infidelity, by destroying Jerusalem, and sending its citizens into exile into Babylon.  But in the end, God allowed his people to return to their home, to Jerusalem, and to rebuild the city and its temple.  The first reading recalls the rejoicing of the people of Israel at their return to Jerusalem (c. 538 B.C.).

          In the second reading, St. Paul gives us another reason to rejoice.  God who is rich in mercy saved us out of his great love.  Even though we were dead because of our sins, he made us alive again with Christ, and all of this through grace—a pure gift.  We did nothing to deserve the redemption.  Rather it was the work, the gift of God.  The Father sent his Son to be raised high on the cross, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal live.

          In our pride, we often like to think we’re self-sufficient, and that somehow we have earned whatever we are or may possess. But the truth is that all we are or have, right from our very life, to our faith, our families, our health, our intellect and skills, our material goods—they all come from God as a pure gift.  During Lent we need to reflect on the great gifts God has given us and rejoice.  God became one of us.  The Father sent his only Son to suffer and die for us on the cross to save us because he loved us so much—all as a pure gift.  We have been saved through the passion and merits of Jesus Christ.  And so we should show our gratitude by sharing what we have received—sharing our time, our talents, our gifts with others.  That is how we will show our true faith, our true hope, and our true love.  Only then can we truly call ourselves Christians, authentic disciples of Jesus Christ.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent III-B (March 7, 2021)                                         

 The great Biblical scholar of the early Church, St. Jerome, once wrote that “ignorance of the Scriptures is ignorance of Christ”.  To know Our Lord, then, we should be familiar with all of the Sacred Scriptures, including the Gospel passage for this Sunday.

          God does not change.  God is always the same.  He is the first and the last, the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega.  The God who reveals himself in the Old Testament is the one and same God of the New Covenant.  But while God does not change, our human perceptions, our own image of him, do.  I think it would be fair to say that at times in the past, we may have had an image of a rather stern, demanding God.  In more recent years, the pendulum has swing to the other extreme, where the image many have of God is of someone who is always willing to look the other way, who doesn’t care whether we sin or not.  Well, as with so many things, the truth is somewhere in between.  Today’s description of Jesus in the temple is a useful balance to the popular image of the gentle Jesus, the kindly, good shepherd carrying a sheep on his shoulders—a very peaceful, quiet and entirely legitimate image of Our Lord.  But so is that in today’s Gospel.  The profoundly theological St. John, the beloved disciple who leaned on his master’s chest at the Last Supper, the John to whom Our Lord entrusted his mother Mary from the cross, presents Jesus with a whip in his hand, driving out the money changers from the temple, and knocking their tables over.  Not quite the passive, gentle Jesus, but rather the zealous Son, showing his righteous anger at the desecration of his Father’s house.  This is really the same image of Jesus depicted by Michelangelo in his famous fresco of the Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel—an angry Jesus, separating the sheep from the goats, receiving some into his kingdom, and casting others into the eternal fire.

          Today’s Gospel passage is often referred to as the purification or cleansing of the Temple, because Jesus drove out those who had turned a house of prayer into a market-place.  Now we too are temples.  Through our baptism, we have become temples of God’s Holy Spirit.  And we too need purification and cleansing.  Lent is an ideal time for this.  Lent is really a kind of spiritual spring-cleaning for us.  It is a time to clean our souls, to wash away all the sins that separate us from God and from each other.  The best way to do this is through a change of heart, a conversion, leading to a good confession in the sacrament of penance.

          But it takes honesty and humility to be able to go to confession—honesty to recognize our failings, and humility to be able to confess them.  If you look at the lives of the saints, you’ll see they certainly weren’t minimalistic when it came to going to confession.  They went frequently—not because they were bigger sinners than we are, but because they were more humble, and realized what great spiritual treasures lay in store for those who turn to this sacrament of mercy and healing.

          Our Lord is always willing to forgive the sinner who repents, who, in humility, in sincerity of heart, says, “Lord, be merciful to me a sinner”.

          So why not do yourself a favour this Lent?  Make a good confession, so you can be happy and at peace with God, at peace with your neighbour, and so even be at peace with yourself.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent II-B (February 28, 2021)

The second Sunday of Lent always has the account of the Transfiguration as its Gospel.  We celebrate the actual feast of the Transfiguration on August 6.  So it seems a bit odd to hear this brilliant, dazzling Gospel, full of light and joy, in the early part of Lent, a time when we’re supposed to be in a penitential mood.

Our Lord knew that he was going to be crucified, and would suffer a painful, excruciating death on the cross.  He knew what a demoralizing effect this would have on his disciples--how disoriented his passion and death would make them—what a tragedy the scandal of the cross would be for them after the Hosannas of Palm Sunday.  And so, to prepare them for the trials they would have to experience, Jesus led his closest followers up to a high mountain.  He chose the same three disciples who, later, would be privileged to witness his agony in the garden.

          He chose Peter, James and John to be the witnesses.  They who would see him suffer, would first receive the grace to see him glorified, so they could have the strength to understand and endure his passion.  He chose three so that their evidence would not be challenged.

          Our Lord was transfigured in their presence to strengthen their faith in him, in his divinity, so their faith would not be shaken.  In short, he wanted to offer them a glimpse of his resurrection.  The resurrection of Our Lord is at the very heart of our faith.  We profess it every time we recite the Creed, together with his ascension into heaven.  Indeed, throughout Lent, we are preparing to celebrate his rising from the dead on Easter Sunday.  Our Lord’s transfiguration in today’s Gospel was intended to give his closest disciples a glimpse of that miraculous event.

          And what a magnificent sight it must have been.  Our Lord’s face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.  So it’s not surprising that Peter should say: “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here”—good to be in the presence of God, wonderful to witness this great miracle.

 Well, we too are in the presence of God when we come together in the House of God.  For our Lord has said that where two or three are gathered in his name, there is he also. We know Jesus is present in his Word, in his priest, in the community of his faithful, and in a very special way, he is present in the sacrament of the most Holy Eucharist.

          On the holy mountain, our Lord’s external appearance was miraculously transfigured.  At every Mass, the bread and wine we offer are not transfigured externally, for they retain their outward form.  But that great miracle known as transubstantiation takes place.  The substance of the bread and wine change sacramentally into the Body and Blood of Christ, the risen, the glorified Christ. 

          And through our worthy participation in, and reception of, the Holy Eucharist, we pray that we too may be transfigured and become a new creation, especially during Lent.  For Lent is a time for us to be changed, for us to put behind our failings of the past, and become children of light, a time for our souls to be made new, to be transfigured with Christ, and molded into his divine image, that image in which we were created, and so become ever more divine, transformed into an ever greater degree of holiness and glory.

For through our worthy reception of the Eucharist here on earth, we receive a foretaste, a glimpse of the eternal heavenly banquet, where we will rejoice and sing praise in the presence of the risen, glorified Christ for all eternity.

          But before we make that journey to the highest heaven, we must first follow the way of the cross.  We must first suffer with Christ in order to rise with him.  And we do so with the full confidence that no matter how heavy our cross may seem here on earth, if we remain faithful to Christ and to his commandments, he will raise us up on the last day to the heights of heaven, to be transfigured, and live there with him forever.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday Lent I-B  (February 21, 2021)

Sunday Lent I-B (February 21, 2021)                               Rev. Edward Koroway

Today is the first Sunday of Lent, an old English word which simply means spring.  Spring is a time of new birth, new life, and so it is a fitting name for this season when we prepare to celebrate the Paschal mystery—that is the passion, death and resurrection of Christ at Easter—that great solemnity of new life. 

There is a strong baptismal theme during Lent.  For we prepare through prayer and penance to recall our baptism in order to renew our baptismal promises at Easter.  As Lent involves a recognition of our failure to live up to our baptismal calling, it is a time of penance and conversion.  Purple is the colour of the season—a sad colour to reflect the sorrow we feel for our sins.  There are no flowers on or near the altar.  We deny ourselves the joy of the Gloria at Mass until Holy Thursday, when we have completed our penitential observance.  Nor do we sing Alleluia until we have undergone a conversion, and are ready to sing this chant with renewed meaning during the Easter Vigil.

  We prepare for some forty days, just as Jesus spent forty days in the desert, praying and fasting, so that he could strengthen himself for the devil’s temptations.  Temptation is very much a part of our human drama.  The devil is always there, trying to tempt us to sin.  Jesus was truly God, but he was also truly man, so that even he did not escape temptation. 

          Now to face the devil, to be able to resist temptation, we too need to be strengthened, to build ourselves up, to acquire a spirit of self-discipline, of self-control.  Just like an athlete trains to strengthen their skills and muscles, so too we need to develop our spiritual muscles, to strengthen our faith.  The three traditional means of doing so during Lent are prayer, fasting and almsgiving.

          We could all do with more personal prayer every day.  We could all make the effort to find more quality time to find our own spiritual desert, where we can be alone with God, to get away from the noise of the world, and develop a personal relationship with Our Lord. 

          Fasting is another means of developing our spiritual strength.  Through fasting we learn to control our appetites in the broadest sense—to control our desires, our inclinations.  If we can become masters of ourselves, then we will have the strength we need to say no to the devil, so we can say yes to Christ instead.  People talk about giving up this or that for Lent, and that’s fine.  But the greatest thing we can give up is sin.  Above all we should fast from sin, from doing things that offend God, that are against his commandments.

          Prayer and fasting are not, however, ends in themselves.  Through prayer and fasting we grow in love of God and love of neighbour.  We get our minds away from our own selfish needs and desires, so that we can become more conscious of God, and more conscious of the needs of our neighbours.  This is where almsgiving comes in, the third means by which we can have a good Lent, and grow in faith and spiritual strength, by caring for our neighbour and showing we love them.  That is the ultimate goal of prayer and fasting, to let us share our good fortune, share our blessings, our faith, above all, share our life with others.

          This Lent, let us show our love of God and love of neighbour by growing in prayer to God, and by performing some acts of self-denial so we can acquire that spirit of self-control, self-discipline, so when the serpent comes our way to tempt us, we will have the courage to say—go away, get lost.  And as we do, we continue to ask our heavenly Father each and every day, to lead us not into temptation, but to deliver us from every evil.  Amen.   

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday VI-B  (February 14, 2021)                               

Today’s Gospel continues the theme of healing we saw last week.   The leper who approaches Jesus does so with faith, which was always the prerequisite for healing.  “If you choose, you can make me clean”.   The leper has faith in the Lord’s power to heal, but he also recognizes that ultimately, it’s a question of what God’s will may be.   “If you choose”—sometimes God chooses to effect a physical cure, sometimes he doesn’t.

          Jesus, we’re told, was moved with pity when the man approached him.   He felt compassion for the leper.   Now the word compassion means, literally, to suffer with someone, and that is what Jesus did.   He suffered with this unfortunate man, just as he suffered with all of humanity.   He suffered to the point of accepting death on the cross to show his compassion for all sinners.

          And so, Jesus stretches out his hand, and then touches the leper.   Now this is really very striking when you think about it.   Leprosy was and is a dreaded disease.   In Biblical times there was no real medical treatment, let alone cure, for leprosy.   This meant lepers had to live apart from the rest of the community, in a sort of quarantine, in leper colonies.   Nobody wanted to go near a leper, for fear of catching the illness, and certainly nobody would dream of touching a leper – nobody except Jesus.   Lepers were shunned and ostracized by society.   To their physical misfortune, there was added the emotional pain of rejection, abandonment, and isolation.

          But far from seeking to avoid contact with the leper, Jesus stretches out his hand and touches him.   He shows his compassion, his solidarity with the unfortunate man, by making this physical contact with him, by uniting himself with the leper, in an act of communion.

          Our God is not some distant abstract concept—not some far-off spirit, or philosophy, or idea.   No, our God is very personal God, a God who wanted to be close to us, to come down to our level, to be our Emmanuel, our God-with-us, to speak to us, to walk beside us on the roman to Emmaus, to touch us, and to let us touch him, and ultimately, to let us crucify him.

          The Gospel today is really a reminder of the Incarnation, that God became man, God assumed our human condition, so that he could redeem the humanity he assumed, and raise it up to him.   He shared in our humanity so we could share in his divinity.

          “If you choose, you can make me clean”.   The choice of the word “clean” is significant.   Our Lord always sought not just physical healing, but above all, the healing of the whole person, body and soul.   Leprosy severely disfigures its unfortunate victims.   We are not always responsible for acquiring a physical disease.   But by definition, sin is an offence against God for which we are culpable, for which we are subjectively at fault.

          This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday.   We begin our annual observance of Lent—a time for conversion, a time for penance, a time for renewal, a time for prayer, a time for growth.  It’s a great opportunity for each one of us to approach Jesus, as did the leper, and say, “if you want to, you can cure me.”   Of course, Jesus wants to heal us, he wants us to be well again, free from spiritual ills.   Sin separates us from God, and from each other.   Through our sins, we end up living in a kind of leper colony.   For we ostracize ourselves from God and from each other.   Through our conversion, especially in the sacrament of penance, or confession, we can return to that community, reconciled and cleansed of our sins.   To do this, we must want that cure, we must want to be made clean, we must be willing to convert, to change, to abandon that which separates us from God, and to go before him, humbly, and ask forgiveness, and sin no more.

          In our world today, many have chosen to embark along the road of grave sin.   You could say a moral leprosy has gripped our world, a world which does not seem to want to be cured, but rather chooses to go further and further away from Christ.   The world is in need of healing, especially moral healing, and for that healing to be achieved, we need faith.   To have faith, you must believe in God, in the one God, who through the power of the Holy Spirit, became incarnate in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary, became incarnate, assumed our human flesh and blood so he could touch our flesh and heal us, and offer us his own flesh and blood in the sacrament of the Incarnation, the Holy Eucharist. This Lent, may we, like the good leper, go to the Lord, and ask him for that healing, for that spiritual renewal, for that new life.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday V-B (February 6, 2021)                                    (Rev.) Edward Koroway

In today’s Gospel, Jesus heals Simon’s mother-in-law.   He also cures many who were sick, and casts out many demons.   Throughout his public ministry, Our Lord healed the sick, whether it was the lepers, or paralytics, or the blind, or even, like Lazarus, those who had actually died.   A prerequisite for the healing was faith: “Your faith has saved you”, he would say, and then effect a physical healing.

          All these physical cures were signs, which proved Jesus’ power to heal went far deeper.   It was not just the physical body he wanted to heal, but the whole person, body and soul.   The physical cure was intended to arouse a deepening of faith in the individual and those around them.   Our Lord’s first priority was always the spiritual healing of the person, for he wanted to save their souls above all.   And so in today’s Gospel, we are also told that Jesus cast out many demons from those who were possessed.

          As human beings, we tend to shy away from suffering.   We don’t like to be sick.   We want to be cured, and cured quickly, so we can get on with our lives.   We don’t want to labour in the world of pain.   We don’t, in other words, want to follow Christ all the way—in the messy part.   Yet the fact is that we wish to be true disciples of Christ, we have to follow him to Calvary too, we have to share in his passion in order to join him in his resurrection.   And so sometimes we have to accept a particular physical burden, a particular sickness or pain or suffering.   And while we may indeed pray to God and ask him to take this pain away from us so we can be physically well again, sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t.   He didn’t for St. Paul.  Whatever be his will, we need to accept it, and accept it with joy, for he may be calling us to follow him all the way, to share in his passion, calling us to offer up our suffering as a redemptive act for the salvation of the world.

          February 11 is the memorial of Our lady of Lourdes, and it is observed in the Church the world day of prayer for the sick. In 1858 the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to Bernadette Soubirous in a grotto near Lourdes, in France.   Through this poor child, Mary called sinners to prayer, to conversion and to penance.   Over the years, many people with various illnesses and diseases have gone to Lourdes as pilgrims.   Some are fortunate enough to receive physical healing.   But the overwhelming majority do not.   What they do obtain, however, is a spiritual healing, a spiritual renewal, a spiritual strength, learning to live with their illness, with their cross, to offer that pain up to the Lord, to rejoice even in the fact that they have been called to share in Christ’s work of redemption.   And to realize that God is always with them.   God always love them, no matter what pain may come their way.   Illness can bring us closer to God for it increases our dependence on him.   It reminds us of our own mortality, that we cannot go it alone, that we cannot go on in this earthly life forever.   That death, which entered the world through original sin, awaits us one day.

          This is really what Job is saying in the first reading today:  “my life is a breath”—his days will soon come to an end.   His eye will never again see good.   Of course, Job had not yet received the revelation of Jesus Christ, and so he had not received the promise of a new life beyond the limits of this earthly one, a new life won by the new Adam, by his passion, death and resurrection.   Whatever pain we must endure here and now, whether the innocent suffering of the good man Job, or the physical pain of illness, or the numerous other crosses of one kind or another we all carry, they will come to an end, sooner than we think.   Just like Christ’s passion came to an end.   And if you’ve been through a painful physical experience and then come out of it, it’s amazing how quickly you do get over it, how quickly the memory of the pain can fade away, so you hardly remember you ever had it in the first place.

The pain a woman feels in giving birth is quickly forgotten when she rejoices to see her newborn child.   The pain of Good Friday fades before the glory of Easter Sunday.   That’s really what it’s like in terms of our whole earthly life.  The pain, the sorrow, the sickness, the cross will all be wiped away when we pass from this life and enter the eternal kingdom, when those who have suffered with Christ and been faithful to him will rise with him as well.   But to enter that kingdom we need to be at peace with God and with each other.   That is where spiritual healing comes in, the casting out of demons that Jesus effected in the Gospel.   We need to make sure that our souls are healthy and pure.   We do this through regularly prayer; we achieve this through the grace of the sacraments.   Naturally for those who are in a serious state of health, the sacrament of the anointing of the sick is a great source of healing and strength.   At times it may even lead to physical recovery.   It is not intended only for those who are dying, but for anyone suffering from a serious illness or of old age.

          The sacrament of penance, of confession, is an excellent means of seeking forgiveness and healing, freeing ourselves of the burdens, the mistakes, the failings of the past.   Not only do we receive the pardon and peace of Christ, we also receive his grace, so we don’t fall into sin as easily in the future.   Worthy and frequent reception of the Holy Eucharist is another wonderful source of healing grace.  Indeed, each time before receiving Holy Communion, we repeat the words of the centurion:  “ Lord I am not worthy that you should come under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”   These are words of humility and faith.   Humility, because we indeed are unworthy, with all our faults and sins; but faith in the one who promised us that he came so we could have life and have it to the full.

          The Church, the Body of Christ, the communion of saints, is made up of sinners, of people in need of healing.   The Church is holy, and so we are holy to that extent, but we are still always in need of being purified, of being healed, of growing spiritually.   The important thing is to recognize that need of forgiveness, with humility and with faith, and to seek that healing from the same Jesus who came to heal the broken-hearted, to give new sight to the blind, to bring pardon and peace to the sinner.

          It is only the love of Christ that can heal us.   Only the love of Christ that can free us from all our pains here below, only the love of Christ that can raise us to a new world, where there will be no more weeping or pain, but only peace and joy with Jesus, our Saviour, our Redeemer, our Lord and our God.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday IV-B (January 31, 2021)

Today's first reading is about prophets. Moses tells the people that God will raise up a prophet for them—a prophet to whom they must listen, a prophet from among themselves, their brothers. They must listen to him, because the words he speaks will be the words of God; and he will speak in the name of God. But should any false prophet arise, and speak words that do not come from God, then that false prophet shall die.

In the Gospel, we see the prophet whom Moses foretold—Jesus of Nazareth, who begins his teaching. And we are told, twice, he teaches with authority. With authority because he, the Son, has received all authority from his heavenly Father. As Our Lord says at the end of St. Matthew's Gospel: "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, then, baptize all the nations…, and teach them to observe all the commandments I gave you." And to prove to the people that he has authority, Jesus commands the unclean spirit to leave the man who was possessed. Christ has power over evil, and his success in this episode foreshadows the ultimate triumph of good over evil, when Jesus rose from the dead.

But let's look at this question of authority in the Church. The source of all heavenly power is God the Father himself. He, in turn, has entrusted everything to his Son, Jesus Christ, true God and true man. All power in the Church, then, comes from Christ—from above, from God, and not from us here below. Our Lord, through the sacrament of Holy Orders conferred the fulness of his authority to St. Peter and the apostles. They, in turn, handed on the power they received to their successors—that is, the Pope, and the bishops in communion with him. And so, the Church is a hierarchy by divine institution, by God's will. Authority flows from God; through the servants he has called to serve us as his shepherds.

We see the reality of this principle in the sacraments. The seven sacraments were instituted by Our Lord, and they are actions of Christ. Yes, he works through his ministers, but he is the one who confers the grace, not the minister—not us. So when the priest pronounces the words of consecration during Mass, he is doing so in the person of Christ. Christ is working through the instrumentality of the priest. When we baptize, it is in fact Christ who baptizes. That is why in the case of extreme necessity, anyone can baptize, not just a priest, so long as they intend to baptize according to the mind of the Church and perform the necessary matter and form. (That is, pouring water over the person, and saying the right words.) The reason is that it is Christ who is baptizing through the instrumentality of the individual. Sacramental power comes from God, from the top down, so the infant who does not know what is happening when they are baptized, is, nonetheless, receiving a great gift, a new birth. The child is cleansed from the stain of original sin, becomes a member of the Church, and receives God's sanctifying grace. All wonderful gifts from God.

And this is true of all the sacraments. They don't depend so much on us, on our worthiness to receive them, because then we would really not deserve them at all. No, they come from God, as a pure gift to us, through his ministers. Obviously, we should do our best to receive them worthily. But at the end of the day, we do well to remember that they do not depend so much on us, but on God, and come from him,

So authority in the Church comes from God. That is why Jesus spoke with authority. That is why he had the authority to institute the sacraments. That is why the members of the Church have a duty to be faithful to Christ, and to his will. If we are, if we follow the true prophetic voice of God, then we too will triumph over evil. In the words of today's Psalm, "Oh that today, you would listen to the voice of the Lord. Do not harden your hearts."

May we listen to the voice of God, to his Word, and bow down before the God who made us, for He is our God, and we the people who belong to his pasture, the flock that is led by his hand.

 

Thoughts on the readings for Sunday, III-B (January 24, 2021)

In today's Gospel, we see Jesus call Simon Peter and his brother Andrew to follow him. So too with James, and his brother, St. John. They were fishermen, of course, but immediately left their nets and followed him. As soon as Our Lord called them, they left their father and followed Jesus.

What is striking about this is just how quick and unconditional was the response of these four to Our Lord's call. They didn't know who he was, or really very much about him at all. But they left their nets and families behind, without hesitation, without asking any questions, without any "buts" to follow him.

Looking at it from a purely human standpoint, their immediate response is difficult to understand. But seeing it with the eyes of faith, we have to conclude that it was God's grace that moved them to respond so unequivocally. God called them, and God gave them the grace, the insight, the courage—in short, the faith, to say Yes, to become the first priests of Jesus Christ.

In our own time, Our Lord's call to follow him in the priesthood has met with a strong response in some parts of the world. But not, unfortunately, in ours—not in North America, nor in western Europe—materially affluent, but spiritually poor—where the number of vocations to the priesthood has continued to be low. The relatively small number of ordinations each year is not sufficient to make up for the number of priests who retire or die, let alone to provide for the growth of the diocese, especially in the suburbs. In addition, priests tend to be ordained older than they used to be, so they will serve for fewer years than those who were ordained in their mid-twenties in the past. The shortage of priests has forced many dioceses in Canada, the United States, Europe and elsewhere to close parishes because of a shortage of priests.

One has to wonder why we do so poorly in vocations to the priesthood, for surely God is calling people to follow him, like he called the apostles in today's Gospel. Is it because of a general lack of faith, of prayer life—a lack of the consciousness of the majesty and mystery of God in our consumer world? Is it because you cannot serve two masters, God and money, and our society puts a premium on the material? Is it because of the gift of celibacy seem too hard to embrace? Is it because people don't pray for more vocations to the priesthood? Jesus said we should ask the Lord of the harvest to send more labourers to his harvest. Do we? Have we bothered to pray for more vocations? Do you ever pray for more priests?

The basic call of the Gospel, for all people, is a call to holiness, and so it is a call to conversion, to change, to be holy. That is the one vocation we all have in common. Jesus began his public ministry with the words: "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news". Wake up, in other words, open your ears, listen to the call, for time is running out. Convert, change, repent, put behind you the past, and put on the mind of Christ instead. Leave your nets behind. Put behind you the ways of your past life. Answer the call of Christ with that same immediacy, with that same love and trust in the Lord as did the apostles, and follow him, and serve him alone. For only he can save you. Only he can set you free. Only he has the words of eternal life.