Year B – 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Generous Heart

(1 Kgs.17:10-16; Heb.9:24-28; Mk.12:38-44)

All over Italy, there’s a well-loved tradition known as La Passeggiata.

At certain hours after work and on weekends, people of all ages go out for a casual stroll around their local area. This is a great time for people-watching, so they tend to dress up – fare bella figura. It’s also an important time for talking, laughing and building community.

But sometimes, if you look, you’ll see un uomo che si pavoneggia – a well-dressed man strutting about like a peacock. He’s not much interested in building community; he’s trying to draw attention to himself.

There are people like this in every society.

They’re even in Mark’s Gospel today, and Jesus warns us about them. They’re the Temple scribes, who love to strut about in fine clothes, parading their wealth and importance. They like being seen and admired for their success.

But Mark then contrasts this life of pride and selfishness with the story of a poor widow. She quietly donates two tiny copper coins to the Temple, a sum that’s barely enough to buy two sparrows (Mt.10:29).

It’s not much, but Jesus says her gift is the greatest of all because she’s given all she had. This is a real sacrifice, compared to the wealthy who only give from their abundance.

This widow’s tale is the final story from Jesus’ public ministry in Mark’s Gospel, before he begins his passion. It’s significant, because it summarises what Jesus has been trying to teach us about discipleship.

This widow represents Christ himself, because soon afterwards Jesus does the same thing. He gives up everything has – even his life – for the people he loves: you and me.

This widow is an icon of Christ, a living image of Jesus himself. And her two coins represent his two greatest commandments: to love God and to love each other, with all our hearts, souls and minds. This is the challenge Jesus has set for all of us.

But can we do that? Can we let go of our worldly attachments, and turn our hearts, souls and minds towards God and our neighbours?

Someone once said that if we want God’s kingdom to come, then we need to let go of our own personal kingdoms.  

Let me tell you of three people who did just that.

The first is Dolores Hart, an aspiring Hollywood actress who was raised by her grandparents. Her grandfather, a film projectionist, had spurred her love for the movies. In the 1950s, she found herself acting with several famous stars, including Elvis Presley (in Loving You and King Creole).

In 1961, she was a nun in Francis of Assisi, and in 1962 she starred in Lisa, as a Jewish woman who has a spiritual awakening during WWII. This started her thinking, and soon afterwards she gave it all away to become a nun.

Since then, she has dedicated her life to prayer and service, and helping young people to find their vocation in Christ through the medium of the theatre.

The second is Kevin Fagan, an Australian doctor who became a prisoner-of-war at the fall of Singapore in 1942. He was imprisoned first at Changi, and then on the infamous Thai-Burma Railway. His selflessness, courage and endurance became legendary.

To the best of his ability, and in the most appalling conditions, he treated anyone who needed help. He carried men who fell, and he carried the kit of those in danger of falling.

He marched up and down the length of the column as it moved – meaning that if everyone else marched 100 miles in the jungle, he marched 200. And at night when everyone collapsed and slept, he was there to clean ulcers, set bones and give first aid to anyone in need. But his biggest challenge was controlling a severe epidemic of cholera among the men.

And he did all this with the humour of someone who wasn’t tired at all. [i]

The third person is Laura, a simple woman who has served for years as the sacristan at a local parish church. She is only a pensioner, but for years she has given all she can to ensure that her local church has everything it needs for daily Mass – including flowers, altar wine, breads and freshly starched altar linens. She has dedicated her life to this work.

Laura has a generous heart, just like the poor widow in today’s Gospel. She has no interest in preening her appearance or drawing attention to herself. She simply wants to help Jesus.

What can you do that would make a difference?


[i] Braddon, Russell, The Naked Island, Atheneum Books, NY, 1982.

Year B – 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Golden Rule

(Deut.6:2-6; Heb.7:23-28; Mk.12:28-34)

With so much violence and war around our world today, it’s worth remembering that the call to love our neighbour is actually universal.

They express it differently, but all the major religions – Christianity, Islam, Hinduism and Judaism – share the same Golden Rule to love your neighbour.[i]

It’s there again in today’s Gospel, where Jesus spells out his two greatest commandments. The first, he says, is to love our Lord God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. And the second is to love your neighbour as yourself.

‘There’s no greater commandment than these,’ he says.

With these few words, Jesus has summarised the entire Bible and the essence of the Christian life. But why does he mention two commandments instead of one? It’s because loving God and loving our neighbour are two sides of the same life-giving coin (1Jn.4:7-8).

St Basil the Great used to say that we can only love our fellow human beings because we love God first. If we don’t love God, he said, we will never be open to enemies and strangers. And the only way we can fully express our love for God is by loving our neighbour who he created in his own image and likeness.

This is Jesus’ Great Commandment, which is also often called the Golden Rule because it sets the gold standard for how to live our lives. St James called it the Royal Law (Jas.2:8) because Jesus is our king, and love is the first law of his kingdom.

But whatever its name, the call to love our neighbour remains universal. And yet, so many people seem to ignore it these days. Perhaps they don’t know who their neighbours are, or they simply don’t know how to love. 

When he was the Archbishop of Milan, Pope St Paul VI spelt out the neighbours we should love. He said, ‘Let us love those nearby and those afar; love our own country and those others; love our friends and enemies; love Catholics, schismatics, Protestants, Anglicans, the indifferent; love Moslems, pagans, atheists; love members of all social classes, particularly those in most need of help and support; love children; love the old, the poor and the sick; love those who deride or despise us, obstruct or persecute us; love those who deserve love and those who do not; love our adversaries – we want no man as our enemy …’

‘Let us love and try to understand, esteem, appreciate, serve and suffer for (them),’ he continued. ‘Let us love (them) with the heart of Christ.’ [ii]

And how might we love with the heart of Christ? St Thérèse of Lisieux tells us in her autobiography, The Story of a Soul.

She found one nun in her convent particularly irritating. ‘The devil was mixed up in it,’ she wrote, ‘for he made me see so many disagreeable traits in her.’

St Therese of Lisieux

However, Therese did not want to give in to her natural dislike for this nun, so she told herself that charity isn’t just about feelings, but should also show itself in deeds.

She decided to do for this sister what she would have done for someone she loved.

Every time Thérèse met her, she prayed for this sister and she praised God for all her virtues and merits. She was sure this would delight Jesus, because every artist likes to have his works praised.  

As well, Thérèse tried to do as many things for her as she could, and whenever she was tempted to speak unpleasantly to her, she gave her a pleasant smile and tried to change the subject.

And when she found herself violently tempted by the devil, she slipped away quietly, like a soldier deserting the battlefield.

After all this, one day that sister asked Thérèse: ‘Please tell me what attracts you so much to me. You give me such a lovely smile whenever we meet.’

Thérèse answers this question in her book: ‘It was Jesus hidden in the depth of her soul who attracted me, for Jesus makes the bitterest things sweet!’ [iii]

And that’s the point. That’s why Jesus has given us his Golden Rule in two parts: that we must love both God and our neighbour.

As St Basil the Great said all those years ago – we cannot truly love God without also loving his Creation, which includes all our neighbours.

And we really cannot love our neighbours until we start recognising Jesus’ presence within them.


[i] In Islam, the Qur’an says, ‘Serve Allah… do good to your parents, to kinsfolk, to orphans, to the needy, to neighbours who are near and far, to the companion by your side, to the wayfarer… (Qur’an 4:36).

The Hindu tradition says, ‘This is the sum of duty. Do not unto others that which would cause you pain if done to you’ (Mahabharata 5,1517).

In Judaism, it’s ‘Love your neighbour as yourself – I am the Lord (Lev.19:18).

[ii] Cardinal Montini, quoted in Robert Morneau, A New Heart, Orbis Books, Maryknoll, NY, 1970:37.

[iii] St Thérèse of Lisieux, The Story of a Soul, https://lci-goroka.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/saint-therese-of-lisieux-story-of-a-soul-the-autobiography.pdf

Year B – 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Layers of Blindness

(Jer.31:7-9; Heb.5:1-6; Mk.10:46-52)

It’s said that there’s none so blind as they who will not see.

At school I needed glasses, but foolishly I refused to wear them. Thankfully, I’m now one of some 10 million sensible Australians who wear glasses or contact lenses.

Our eyesight is such a precious gift; we often take it for granted. But having good eyesight doesn’t always mean we see well, for there are many kinds of blindness, and sometimes that blindness comes in layers.

A California eye doctor once removed 23 layers of contact lenses from an elderly woman. She had forgotten to remove the previous contact lenses before using a new one. As her vision deteriorated, she tried to fix it by adding more lenses. Fortunately, no permanent damage was done.

Captain Edward Smith had a different kind of blindness. He refused to believe the Titanic was in trouble until water was ankle-deep in his mailroom. His blindness meant that he wasted time getting help, and hundreds of people died needlessly.

‘What we see depends on what we’re looking for,’ John Lubbock once wrote. ‘Looking at the same field, farmers will notice the crops, geologists will see fossils, botanists will see flowers, and artists will see colours. We might all look at the same things, but we won’t always see the same things.’ [i]

In today’s Gospel, Bartimaeus is blind, perhaps with acute conjunctivitis – it was common in those times. He’s in Jericho, sitting by the roadside on his cloak, begging. As Jesus walks by with a crowd of disciples, Bartimaeus calls out, ‘Son of David, have pity on me!’

Now, I wonder if you noticed some things in this story.

Firstly, did you notice that Jesus doesn’t actually call Bartimaeus himself?  He gets his disciples to call him. We should remember this, because Jesus doesn’t always contact us directly. He often works through other people.

Secondly, did you see how Jesus responds to Bartimaeus? Rather than asking, ‘What do you want?’ he asks, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ This is the same question Jesus asked his disciples James and John in last week’s Gospel. He doesn’t guess what’s in our hearts. He wants us to talk with him personally, to tell him what we need.

And did you notice what the crowd does? They try to keep Bartimaeus quiet, to keep him away from Jesus. This often happens today.

In subtle and not-so-subtle ways, many people are trying to suppress our Christian faith. They don’t like us following or even talking about Jesus. Indeed, they’d like to banish Jesus altogether. So, they ridicule, they criticise and they even push for laws that undermine our Christian beliefs and practices. In some places, too, Christians are actively persecuted.

But Bartimaeus won’t be put off. He ignores the crowd and keeps calling for Jesus. And when he’s given his chance, he throws off his cloak, he jumps up and goes to Jesus.

Now, this is a significant act.

The Rich Young Man in Mark’s Gospel (10:17-31) was too scared to let go of his possessions to follow Jesus. But not Bartimaeus. His cloak is all he has. He uses it to collect coins, to sleep in and to protect himself. And yet, he’s prepared to toss it aside for his new life with Jesus. It’s a powerful symbol.

So, what about you? What’s holding you back from really seeing Jesus? Is it your obsessions? Or laziness? Or fear? Can you let these things go?

Bartimaeus knows he’s blind. But what about you? Lots of people today have blind-spots but don’t know it, for there are layers of blindness.

There’s emotional blindness, moral blindness and cultural blindness. There’s also spiritual blindness, which is much more common than physical blindness. Many people are blind to God’s Creation. They’re blind to Jesus’ love and compassion. They’re blind to the suffering and injustice that surrounds them. 

In his song, ‘Blowing in the Wind,’ Bob Dylan asks:

‘…how many times can a man turn his head, and pretend that he just doesn’t see? The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind.’

In 1997, Pope St John Paul II said that this wind is the Holy Spirit. It’s blowing right now, and it’s leading us to Christ.

When Bartimaeus says, ‘I want to see,’ Jesus heals him and he begins a brand-new life.

Why not do the same?

Tell Jesus that you really want to see.


[i] John Lubbock, The Beauties of Nature and the Wonders of the World We Live in, McMillan, London, 1892. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/28274/pg28274-images.html

Year B – 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Cup of Greatness

(Is.53:10-11; Heb.4:14-16; Mk.10:35-45)

Some people love priming their own egos. They crave the recognition that comes from winning trophies and titles.

We saw this recently in Mark’s Gospel (9:30-37), where Jesus’ disciples were caught arguing about which of them was the greatest.

And today, James and John ask Jesus if they can sit to his left and right – places of great honour – when he returns to heaven. For them, these are prize seats, the equivalent of winning the cup of greatness.

But Jesus responds by talking about a very different kind of cup. ‘You don’t know what you’re asking for,’ he says. ‘Can you drink from the cup that I must drink? Can you be baptised with the baptism with which I must be baptised?’

‘Yes,’ they reply, but really they don’t understand what he’s saying.

In Scripture, the word ‘cup’ often refers to our lives, which can be filled with many different things. Our cup can be filled with blessings (Ps.23:5) or salvation (Ps.116:13). It can be filled with desolation (Ezek.23:33) or God’s fury (Is.51:17). And it can be filled with suffering and trials (Ps.75.8; Is.51:17).

At Gethsemane, Jesus prays, ‘Father, if it’s possible, take this cup away from me’ (Mt.26:39). Sadly, this cup is not taken away, and he dies a painful death. But then Jesus returns to new life, and that’s why he also calls his suffering his baptism, for baptism always leads to new life.

Now, in the Mass, whenever we are offered the Precious Blood with the words, ‘The Blood of Christ,’ we are in effect being asked the same question that Jesus asked his disciples: ‘Can you drink the cup that I must drink?’ Our reply ‘Amen,’ in effect means ‘yes, I will follow you, Jesus. I will be wine poured out for others.’

And when at Communion we are offered the Body of Christ, our reply ‘Amen’ means ‘yes, I will follow you, Jesus. I will be bread broken for others.’

This is a radical commitment. The Holy Eucharist is not meant to be received passively. It’s a gift that nourishes and strengthens us to live like Jesus himself.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus says, ‘anyone who wants to become great among you must be your servant.’ What kind of servant is that?

In the 1700s, the English Archbishop Thomas Secker said that God has three kinds of servants in this world. The first are the slaves who serve him out of fear. The second are the hirelings who serve him because they are paid.

And the third are God’s sons and daughters who serve him because they are filled with love. This is the kind of servanthood we are called to.

Mother Teresa was such a servant; she was absolutely filled with love.

In Calcutta one day, she rescued a woman who was covered in festering sores and crawling insects. As she quietly cleaned and dressed her wounds, the woman shrieked and swore and insulted her. Then she asked, ‘Sister, why do you do this? Not everyone behaves like you. Who taught you?’

Mother Teresa replied, ‘My God taught me.’

The woman said she wanted to know her God. Mother Teresa kissed her on the forehead and said, ‘You know my God. My God is called love.’

Recently I heard another story about selfless love. A young boy had burns to 85% of his body. He was saved by his parents, three doctors and three nurses, but the nurses were the real heroes.

Dressed in caps, gowns, masks and gloves, they stayed with him every day, working 8-hour shifts around the clock, helping him through operations, skin grafts and other critical procedures.

The boy came to hate these nurses and he blamed them for his pain, but they kept working. The room was small, hot and cramped, and it smelt of chlorine and burnt flesh. But they stayed with him. Then one day, after 14 months, he started to walk again.

Their love saved his life. It was tough, but they said they’d do it again if they had to.

Each of us is called to greatness, but not the worldly kind.

The cup of greatness Jesus invites us to drink may seem like a bitter drop, but as St Terese of Lisieux once said, ‘I’ve always found his bitter chalice full of sweetness… Your lot is indeed a beautiful one, since Our Lord has chosen it for you, and has first touched with his own lips the cup which he holds out to yours.’

When you next come forward for the Holy Eucharist, remember that it’s your invitation to be transformed, to become bread broken for others.

And to become wine poured out for others, just like Jesus himself.

Year B – 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Secret to Eternal Life

(Wis.7:7-11; Heb.4:12-13; Mk.10:17-30)

Most people don’t like the idea of dying; they would much rather live forever.

That is why so many pharaohs, philosophers and alchemists through the ages tried searching for the secret to eternal life.

The Greek historian Herodotus once wrote about a fountain of youth someone had found in Africa. Alexander the Great looked for it, but he died young, aged only 32.

In China, the emperor Qin asked his doctors for a potion to prolong his life. They gave him mercury pills, but they turned out to be poisonous.

And today, some scientists are experimenting with cryogenic freezing and rejuvenating body cells. However, all this fascination with immortality ignores the eternal life that Jesus talks about in Mark’s Gospel today.

A rich young man has decided that he’d like to live forever, so he approaches Jesus, asking: ‘Master, what must I do to earn eternal life?’

Jesus replies, ‘Sell all you have, give the money to the poor and come follow me, for then you’ll have treasure in heaven.’

That price is much too high, the young man thinks, and he goes away sad. He just can’t let go of his possessions.

About 250 years later, St Anthony of Egypt heard this story. He was another rich young man but his response was very different.

Anthony and his sister were raised on a large estate near present-day Cairo. Their parents died when Anthony was 20, and he inherited their wealth.

However, he actually listened to Jesus, and like St Francis of Assisi after him, he sold everything.

He gave the money to the poor, leaving just enough to support his younger sister. Then he became the disciple of a monk, learning how to live a life of poverty, prayer and meditation. He also supported himself by working as a swineherd.

Over the next 15 years, Anthony suffered many physical and spiritual hardships, but he overcame them and then he moved into an abandoned Roman fort deep in the desert.

He loved his solitude, but other hermits heard about him and started moving into nearby caves and huts. They begged him to share his wisdom and holiness, and to be their spiritual guide.

At first Anthony refused, but later he agreed. And when the other monks finally met him, they expected that he’d look hungry and emaciated, but he actually looked fine, in both mind and body. 

Anthony taught and organised these monks, and he supported victims of Roman persecution. But deep down he yearned for a quiet life of prayer, and after six years he moved again, spending his last 45 years in a desert cave.

Emperor Constantine once wrote to St Anthony, asking for his prayers. He wrote back, telling the emperor and his sons not to put their faith in this world but to remember the next.

St Anthony tempted by gold

Today, St Anthony of Egypt is remembered as the father of Christian monasticism. And we know that he achieved everlasting life, not because of his money or talents, but because he faithfully followed Jesus. 

Today, many people would like to know the secret to eternal life. Well, it’s not by preserving our bodies in dry ice or uploading our minds to a technological cloud. It’s by listening to Jesus who today gives us three simple steps to follow:

Firstly, keep God’s commandments. This is how you start building a life of love, focussed on God and your neighbour – because love is what it’s all about.

Secondly, be prepared to give up your possessions, your pleasure, your power and your pride. These are all empty distractions that steal your time and drain your energy. Jesus is not expecting you to live in poverty, but he does want you to let go of your false gods. He wants your life to be much simpler.

And thirdly, learn to follow Jesus himself. Give your heart to Jesus. Allow him to guide you and fill you with his graces. Let Jesus shape your life.

It has been said that we are all on the train of life, hurtling towards our destination at what seems an ever-increasing speed.

But most people don’t seem to give any thought as to where this train is heading. Why? Are we so preoccupied with the baggage, the amusements and the distractions along the way that we don’t have time to think?

Or could it be that, like the young man who approached Jesus, we’ve found it too risky to ask such questions?’ [i]

Today, it’s time to stop being tranquillised by the trivial, and start remembering our immortal souls.

It’s Jesus who has the secret to eternal life.


[i] Flor McCarthy, New Sunday and Holy Day Liturgies, Year B, Dominican Press, Dublin, 2017:336.

Year B – 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time

From Ordinary to Extraordinary

(Gen.2:18-24; Heb.2:9-11; Mk.10:2-16)

‘It’s not good for a person to be alone,’ the Bible tells us, and the reason is clear: we were all made for love.

We know this is true because we’ve all been made in God’s image and likeness (Gen.1:26-27), and God is love itself (1Jn.4:16). Indeed, God in his Trinity is never alone.

Love and relationships, therefore, are at the very heart of our human identity, and our deepest purpose is to love and to be loved in return.

The story doesn’t end there, however, because in today’s Gospel Mark reminds us that God also created us male and female, and He established marriage as the sacred bond within which a man and a woman are to express their deepest love. 

This love, however, isn’t meant to be temporary or inward-looking. It’s meant to be exclusive and long-lasting, and it’s meant to grow beyond itself, giving birth to new love. For that’s what true love does: it always looks beyond itself, expanding outwards, creating and nurturing new life and new love.

In essence, this is what marriage is all about. Marriage is a life-long commitment of love between a man and a woman, freely entered into, that generates new life and new love. 

But what about Christian marriage? How is that different?

The Catechism tells us that Marriage was ‘raised by Christ the Lord to the dignity of a Sacrament’ (ccc.1601). What does that mean?

When a man and woman are baptised, they become members of the Church, the ‘Bride of Christ’ (Eph.5:22-33). Jesus loved his bride so much that he even died for her, and this sets the standard for every married couple. Ideally, the love between the spouses will be as deep as the love of Jesus for his bride.

Of course, building such a relationship is always a challenge, especially today, and this is where the Sacrament of Matrimony is particularly valuable.

St Augustine described the sacraments as ‘outward signs of an invisible grace.’ They are signs of God’s sacred presence in our midst today, and through them God gives us the graces we need in our journey through life.

In the Sacrament of Matrimony, the grace God imparts is his own supernatural power to live a life of love, compassion and mercy. This means that God is always embedded in the couple’s relationship.

Like the three persons of the Trinity, there are three persons in a Christian Marriage: the husband, the wife and God himself.

That’s why Christian Marriage is called a Sacrament.

And it’s because of God’s sacred presence that Christian Marriage is much more than a contract. It’s a Covenant.

A contract is a legal agreement between two parties, which basically says that I’ll keep up my end of the bargain as long as you keep yours.

A Covenant, however, is a sacred commitment made before God between two equals, and it’s a commitment that they will always be there for each other. It’s a one-way agreement, focussed on the good of the other, and it doesn’t depend on what the other person does.

This is the commitment Jesus made to us when he said ‘I will never leave you or forsake you’ (Heb.13:5).

Mother Teresa often talked about the sacredness of marriage and the importance of the family as the basic foundation of society. She called it the ‘domestic school of love,’ which gives children what they need to become mature and responsible adults.

But we know that married life has its challenges. In Amoris Laetitia, Pope Francis describes the family as a ‘challenging mosaic made up of many different realities, with all their joys, hopes and problems.’

Mother Teresa also used to say that it’s easier to love people far away than those close to us. But, she said, home is where our love needs to start. This isn’t always easy to do, and that’s why we always need God and his sacraments.

His graces make all the difference.

My dear parents, Esmé and Gerald, were inseparable – they were married for almost 76 years. Not long before they died, they said that the Church had always been the foundation of their marriage, and that everything they did, they did with God.

Even in their toughest times, God always came through with his graces.

They also shared a secret – that the difference between an ordinary marriage and an extraordinary one is the little extra that you give each day – with the help of God.

Year B – 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Parable of the White Birds and Black Birds

Tierno Bokar was a Sufi wise man who lived in Mali, in West Africa, early last century. He liked teaching with stories.

In his Parable of the White Birds and Black Birds, he taught that a good thought is always better than a bad one, even when thinking about your enemies. And the best thing you can do is to pray for your enemies.

‘Why?’ asked one student. ‘Don’t we look stupid praying for our enemies?’

‘Only in the eyes of those who don’t understand,’ Tierno replied. ‘We wrong ourselves more by speaking ill of our enemies than by blessing them.’

He then told the story of the White Birds and Black Birds.

People are like walls facing each other, he said. Like a dovecote, each wall is full of holes where white birds and black birds nest. The black birds are bad thoughts and bad words. The white birds are good thoughts and good words.

Because of their different sizes, the white birds can only nest in white-bird holes. The black birds can only enter their own black-bird holes.

Now, imagine that two men, Yousef and Ali, are enemies. One day, Yousef thinks Ali is wishing him evil. Yousef gets angry about it and sends Ali a nasty thought.

Year B - 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time 1

How does he send that nasty thought? By releasing a black bird from its nesting hole in his wall. That black bird flies towards Ali, carrying that bad thought along with it. That bird then looks for an empty hole in Ali’s wall where it can leave it.

But if Ali hasn’t had any bad thoughts, he won’t have any empty holes. All his black birds will still be at home resting. And when Yousef’s bird finds nowhere to stop, it will have to return home to its own nest, taking the evil thought back with it.

That evil thought will then start festering in Yousef’s own wall, slowly eroding and destroying it. Why? It’s because evil is like acid – it always eats away at whatever it touches.

But if Ali had had a bad thought, he would then have an empty hole where Yousef’s bird could leave his evil thought. That evil would then start eroding Ali’s wall.

In the meantime, Ali’s black bird would have flown towards Yousef and the empty hole left in his wall.

The two black birds would then have achieved their goal: each depositing something nasty in the opposite wall. But again, evil is like acid, so each wall would slowly start to disintegrate.

Once their job is done, the birds always return to their original nest because, it is said, ‘Everything returns to its source.’

But the evil is not exhausted – there’s always some left – so each black bird takes some back to its own nest. That evil then turns against their authors and gradually eats away at them, too.

The author of a nasty thought, a bad wish or an ill-spoken word is therefore attacked by both the enemy’s black bird and his own when it returns to him.

Now, it’s the same with the white birds.

If we only ever think good thoughts about our enemy, while the enemy only thinks bad thoughts about us, the enemy’s black birds won’t find anywhere to stop in our wall and will return to its sender.

And the white birds we send carrying good thoughts – if our enemy has nowhere to receive them, they will simply return to us, charged with all the positive energy they’re carrying.

Thus – and this is the point – if we only ever emit good thoughts, no evil, no ill-spoken words can ever touch us, because we’re not open to them.

That’s why we should always pray for blessings for both our friends and our enemies. Not only might the good thought reach its destination, but it also always comes back to us carrying its positive energy (Mk.4:20). [i]

Why do I share this story with you? It’s because in Mark’s Gospel today, Jesus says that whoever thinks, says or does something nice for someone else – even as little as offering them a glass of water – will be rewarded.

That’s because the good you do always comes back to you.

But whoever does the opposite, whoever does something nasty towards someone else – even if it’s only a bad thought – will suffer for it.

Why? It’s because evil is like acid. It eats away at whatever it touches.

And everything always returns to its source.


[i] https://www.themathesontrust.org/papers/islam/Teaching%20Stories%20from%20Tierno%20Bokar.pdf

Year B – 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Being Different

(Wis.2:12,17-20; Jas.3:16-4.3; Mk.9:30-37)

Most people don’t like being different. They’d rather fit in than stand out from the crowd.

That’s because our society values sameness. It loves the familiar. Early in life, we all learn that if you’re too different you’ll be teased, ridiculed or excluded in some way. So, most of us try hard to fit in, and we do this by adopting the fashions and culture of the time.

This is what got Peter into trouble in last week’s Gospel. He objected to Jesus talking about His coming death and resurrection, and Jesus replied, ‘Get behind me Satan! You’re thinking not as God does, but as humans do.’

Peter was shocked. He had been taught that success is all about ambition, power and putting yourself first. That’s what our world teaches us today, too, but God doesn’t think like we do (Is.55:8-9).

In today’s Gospel, Jesus again talks about his coming Passion, but none of his disciples hears or understands Him. Instead, they argue about which of them is the greatest.

So, Jesus tells them straight: if you want to be My disciple, you must be different. If you want to be first, then put yourself last. If you want to achieve greatness, then make yourself small. And if you want to become masters, then humble yourself by becoming the servant of others.

All this is very counter-cultural.

To emphasise His message, Jesus places a little child in among His disciples, and tells them that it’s time to stop worrying about themselves. Instead, they should focus on the little ones – the most vulnerable in society, because that’s how you welcome the Messiah and the Father who sent Him.

Many people are puzzled at this point. To develop a good spiritual life, they wonder, must I give up everything and turn my back on the world?

The answer is no.

Consider this story. There was once an old monk who prayed for years for a vision from God to strengthen his faith, but it never came. He had almost given up hope when one day a vision appeared. The old monk was overjoyed.

But then, right in the middle of his vision, the monastery bell rang. That bell meant it was time to feed the poor who came to the monastery gate each day.

It was this old monk’s turn to feed them. If he didn’t show up, those poor people would leave, thinking that the monastery had nothing for them. He was torn between his earthly duty and his heavenly vision.

But, before the bell stopped ringing, he decided. With a heavy heart, he left the vision and went to feed the poor.

An hour later, the monk returned to his room. When he opened the door, he could hardly believe his eyes. The vision was still there, waiting for him. As the monk dropped to his knees in thanksgiving, the vision said to him, ‘My son, had you not gone off to feed the poor, I would not have stayed.’ [i]

The message here is that if you want divine inspiration, if you want spiritual joy, the best thing you can do is to serve God by helping someone else.

In today’s second reading, St James says there are two kinds of wisdom. The first is worldly wisdom, but embedded deep inside it are jealousy and ambition, which simply cause misery. 

The second kind of wisdom, however, comes from above. It comes from God. This wisdom is pure and genuine, and it brings peace. It’s kindly, considerate and full of compassion, and it’s only concerned with doing good.

How do we get some of this wisdom? St James tells us: by praying, and by being different. By understanding that it’s time to stop trying to be like everyone else.

By accepting that if you want to be first, then make sure that you’re last of all and servant of all.

Year B - 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2

Statue of William and Charles Mayo

Let’s close with a little story. In 1914, Dr Charles Mayo started the famous Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota with his father and brother. At one time, a group of European medical experts were guests at Dr Mayo’s home.

Following the custom of the day, the guests placed their shoes outside their bedroom doors to be polished during the night. Dr Charles was the last to retire. As he went to his room he noticed the shoes.

It was too late to wake the servants, so with a sigh he gathered up all the footwear, took them into the kitchen and spent half the night polishing them. [ii]


[i] Michael Hayes, Homilies for the Whole Community, Year B, Twenty-Third Publications, New London CT, 2005:158-159.

[ii] Gerard Fuller, Stories for All Seasons, Twenty-Third Publications, Mystic CT, 1997:83-84.

Year B – 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Lively Faith

(Is.50:4c-9a; Jam.2:14-18; Mk.8:27-35)

Have you ever tried to buy a drink from a vending machine, only to find the can empty?

Or bought another product at a supermarket, only to find the package contained nothing but air?

This is essentially what St James is talking about in our second reading today. He’s talking about people who claim to have faith, but never actually do anything about it. And he asks the question: is faith alone enough to get you into heaven? Or should that faith lead to good works of some kind?

There were huge arguments about this issue at the time of the Protestant Reformation. They called it Sola Fide (‘by faith alone’), and it’s no less relevant today because many people think of themselves as Christian – they might even go to church – but it has no practical effect on the way they live their lives.

Indeed, one man I knew used to loudly and publicly proclaim his Christian faith, while privately he was often callous, and sometimes even cruel, towards others. He thought that just believing in Jesus was enough to earn his salvation.

In 2014, Pope Francis said that understanding God’s commandments and church doctrine is useless if these truths aren’t put into practice. ‘A faith without bearing fruit in life, a faith that doesn’t bear fruit in works is not faith,’ he said.

‘You may know all the commandments, all the prophesies, all the truths of the faith, but if this isn’t put into practice, if it’s not translated into works, it serves nothing.’

As St James says, even the demons know the Creed, but that doesn’t mean they have true faith.

‘Having faith isn’t having knowledge,’ the pope said. Rather, it’s ‘receiving God’s message’ as brought by Christ. For ‘Faith is an encounter with Jesus Christ, with God,’ and it always leads to action of some kind. [i]

In 2008, Pope Benedict XVI described faith as ‘looking at Christ, entrusting oneself to Christ, being united to Christ, conformed to Christ, to his life. And the form, the life of Christ, is love; hence to believe is to conform to Christ and to enter into his love.’ [ii]

True faith, therefore, can never be static, because real love (which is the Spirit of God Himself) is never static. It’s meant to keep flowing, nourishing all around.

Richard Leonard puts it this way: ‘Christian Witness has two component parts, one much more important than the other: what we say and what we do.

‘For all the complexities of philosophy and theology, the Christian message is quite simple: to be a follower of Jesus, we have to love God, love our neighbour, and love ourselves.’ [iii]

Our faith, then, is not something that can be confined to our heads, for love is not just a theory or an idea. Love is a verb, an action that is born of life and that leads to life.

Our Christian faith stems from and is directed towards Jesus who is love itself. Its rightful home is deep in our hearts, and our response must always be an active, lively faith.

As St James says, ‘For just as the body without the spirit is dead, so also faith without works is dead’ (Jas.2:26).

Let’s close with some wisdom from Peter Kreeft, who says that the life of faith is a river that must keep flowing.

‘We are meant to be like the Sea of Galilee, not the Dead Sea,’ he says.

‘The same water, the Jordan River, flows into the Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea. But the Sea of Galilee is still alive with fish and fishermen today, two thousand years after Jesus was there, while the Dead Sea lives up to its name: it’s dead; no fish can live in it.

‘Why? It’s because the Sea of Galilee not only receives the fresh water of the Jordan River at its inlet, but it also gives it away at its outlet, where it flows south to the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea has an inlet and no outlet (because it’s at the lowest point on earth). That’s why its waters are dead.

‘That’s true of souls as well as rivers.

‘And that’s the difference between spiritual life and spiritual death.’ [iv]


[i] https://www.ncronline.org/blogs/francis-chronicles/pope-professing-faith-without-good-works-just-spouting-hot-air

[ii] https://www.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/audiences/2008/documents/hf_ben-xvi_aud_20081119.html

[iii] Richard Leonard, What Does it all Mean? Paulist Press, Mahwah NJ, 2017:184.

[iv] Peter Kreeft, Food for the Soul – Year B, Word on Fire, Elk Grove Village IL, 2023:685.

Year B – 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Ephphatha Moments

(Deut.4:1-2, 6-8; Jas.1:17-18, 21b-22, 27; Mk.7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23)

In our noisy and crowded world, it can be hard to find the peace we need to engage with our deeper, spiritual selves.

This is why we often yearn to withdraw to somewhere quiet for rest, reflection and healing. It’s a natural desire, and it’s reflected in Mark’s Gospel today.

Jesus is in Gentile territory, and a man who is deaf and cannot speak is brought to Him for healing. Jesus could have cured the man then and there, but instead He takes him to a quiet place where He gives him His undivided attention.

Jesus touches the man’s ears and tongue, and helps him feel what he cannot hear or say. Then in Aramaic Jesus says, ‘Ephphatha!’ – ‘Be opened!’ The man’s ears, lips – and his heart – are all opened, and his life is transformed.

Thankfully, most of us have little trouble with our eyes, ears and speech. However, today’s Gospel does raise the question of how well we use these gifts. Can we see as Jesus sees? Can we hear as He hears? And can we speak as Jesus speaks? Or is there room for improvement?

In 2012, Pope Benedict XVI spoke about this. He said, ‘…we all know that closure of man, his isolation, does not solely depend on the sense organs. There is an inner closing, which covers the deepest core of the person, what the Bible calls the “heart.”

‘That is what Jesus came to “open,” to liberate, to enable us to fully live our relationship with God and with others. That is why… this little word, “Ephphatha – Be opened,” sums up Christ’s entire mission.

Pope Benedict continues: ‘Jesus became man so that man, made inwardly deaf and dumb by sin, would become able to hear the voice of God, the voice of love speaking to his heart, and learn to speak in the language of love, to communicate with God and with others.’ [i]

What so many of us struggle with, then, isn’t so much our eyes, ears or speech, but our hardened hearts (Mt.13:13-15). It’s our stony hearts that hold us back.

Like Pharaoh and the Pharisees, many of us tend to be too concerned about ourselves, too disinterested in others, and too distant from God. This is what St James is talking about in today’s second reading.

It’s also what Jesus wants to heal.

Today, Jesus is offering us our own Ephphatha Moment. But what is an Ephphatha Moment? It’s a personal encounter with Jesus Himself. It’s a mystical and grace-filled moment when Jesus gently touches us and speaks to us in some way.

When this happens, our heart softens and we are surprised to find ourselves seeing and hearing new things, and even speaking in new ways.

Through the ages, many people have had Ephphatha Moments. St Paul had one on his journey to Damascus. That’s when Jesus confronted him, asking: ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?’ That question went straight to Paul’s heart and it led to him becoming one of the greatest of saints.

St Augustine also had an Ephphatha Moment. His stony heart had been stifling his search for spiritual growth. However, after visiting St Ambrose, the bishop of Milan, his heart began to soften and then he overheard a child say, ‘take up and read.’ He looked around, saw a Bible and started reading it. The experience totally transformed his life. [ii]

Thomas Merton had also struggled to find his spiritual self. After a fruitless search of Eastern traditions, he experienced his own Ephphatha Moment when a Hindu Monk said to him: ‘There are many beautiful mystical books written by the Christians. You should read St Augustine’s Confessions and The Imitation of Christ.’ He read those books. They opened his heart and he became a Catholic mystic and best-selling author. [iii]

The Sacrament of Baptism includes an Ephphatha Rite in which the minister touches the person’s ear and mouth, and says, ‘The Lord Jesus made the deaf hear and the dumb speak. May he soon touch your ears to receive his word and your mouth to proclaim his faith, to the praise and glory of God the Father.’

This is such a beautiful blessing, but unfortunately many of us have become deaf and blind to our spiritual selves because of our sin, selfishness and stony hearts.

How, then, might you experience your own Ephphatha Moment? By carving out some quiet time and space for yourself, and asking Jesus to whisper ‘Ephphatha’ into your soul.  

Be patient; Jesus doesn’t always respond immediately. But ask Him to open up your heart so that you may see, hear and speak, just as he does.

For an open heart is the way to healing, holiness and hope.


[i] Pope Benedict XVI, Angelus Address, 9 September 2012, https://www.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/angelus/2012/documents/hf_ben-xvi_ang_20120909.html

[ii] St Augustine of Hippo, Confessions, Penguin Books, London, 1961.

[iii] Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain, Harcourt, NY, 1998.