Month: June 2025

Two Good Men

(Acts 12:1-11; 2Tim.4:6-8, 17-18; Mt.16:13-19)

Most saints have their own separate feast day, but occasionally two or more share the one celebration. Today it’s the turn of Saints Peter and Paul, the two giants of our Christian faith.

Why do we celebrate them together? It’s because they were the two principal pillars of the early Church. Certainly, Jesus has always been the foundation stone, but Peter and Paul were instrumental in establishing the early Church.

St Peter was Jesus’ first disciple, our first Pope and the Apostle to the Jews. He knew Jesus personally.

St Paul however didn’t physically meet Jesus, and as a Pharisee he initially hated and even persecuted the Christians, but after his miraculous conversion he became the Apostle to the Gentiles. He played a major role in reaching out to non-Jews, and 13 of the 27 letters in the New Testament have been attributed to him.

Peter and Paul were very different in upbringing and in temperament. Peter was born in Bethsaida, a fishing town near the Sea of Galilee. He came from a very modest background and was described as ‘uneducated and ordinary’ (Acts 4:13). He was a fisherman by trade. He was impetuous and often spoke from his heart rather than his head.

Paul, on the other hand, was born into a wealthy merchant family in Tarsus, in today’s Turkey. He was a Roman citizen and well educated (Acts 22:3). He was a tentmaker by trade and very good with words, but his personality was fiery and he could be argumentative.

There are many statues and paintings of these two saints today. We usually see Peter holding a key, symbolising his role as head of the Church, while Paul holds a Bible, symbolising his powerful preaching.

Many icons also portray them embracing each other in brotherly love, however this doesn’t mean they didn’t clash.

One clash occurred in the mid-1^st Century in Antioch. Peter was eating with Gentile Christians, demonstrating his acceptance of non-Jewish Church members. But when some men arrived from the Jerusalem Church, Peter quickly left the table. He feared what these visitors might think, because the Jerusalem Church expected all Christians to observe Jewish Laws.

Paul accused Peter of hypocrisy for this and rebuked him. It was wrong, Paul said, to expect everyone to live by Jewish rules, because we know that man is not saved by the works of the law, but by faith in Christ alone (Gal.2:11-16).

These two men must have later reconciled because at a Jerusalem Council meeting Peter admitted that Paul was right (Acts 15:7-11). And in his second letter, Peter acknowledges Paul’s wisdom and he warmly refers to him as ‘our beloved brother Paul’ (2Pet.3:15-16).

So, what happened to these two men? History tells us that they were both imprisoned in Rome, and martyred only a few days apart in 64AD, just after the great fire of Rome. It was Nero who had them executed.

Peter felt unworthy to die in the same way as Jesus, so he was crucified upside down. The location was in the courtyard just to the left of St Peter’s Basilica today. Paul was beheaded just outside Rome, at a place now known as Tre Fontane, or ‘Three Fountains.’

Peter and Paul were very different people, but they had one thing in common: their great love for Jesus. They were so committed to Jesus and his work that they were prepared to die for him.

So, what can we learn from these two good men?

They teach us that our weaknesses and past mistakes don’t disqualify us from doing great things for God. Both men had done stupid things, and yet God still chose them to do his work. Clearly, no-one is beyond redemption.

Peter and Paul also teach us that what unites us in the Church isn’t our sameness. Rather, it’s our shared faith in Jesus that brings us together. Indeed, it is much better to have a mix of backgrounds and talents in the Church because it makes us stronger, not weaker.

As well, they teach us that disagreement can be healthy, especially when it’s handled with humility and honesty. As long as we keep Christ central in our lives, it’s always possible for us to meet in the middle.

And finally, St Peter and St Paul teach us that it takes courage to live a life of faith, for our world has never liked Jesus and his message.

However, if our faith is genuine, Jesus promises to always support, strengthen and guide us on the way (Mt.6:31-33;11:28-30; Jn.16:13).

A Taste of Heaven

 (Gen.14:18-20; 1Cor.11:23-26; Lk.9:11b-17)

Cooking shows have long been popular, but their focus tends to be much too narrow. They usually emphasise things like taste, presentation, ingredients and technique.

The dynamics of eating, however, are far more complex than that. Where you eat, with whom you eat and who prepares and serves the food are often just as important as what we consume, if not more so.

We can see this in the Bible. It’s full of meals, from Eve’s Forbidden Fruit in Genesis, through to the Wedding Feast of the Lamb in the Book of Revelation. And in between are the manna in the desert, Elijah’s hearth cake, Jesus’ eating with tax collectors and sinners, his feeding of the multitudes, and of course the Last Supper.

Each of these says something very important about God and ourselves.

‘The Son of Man has come eating and drinking,’ Jesus says, and his critics are outraged. But Jesus knows what he is doing. He knows that a shared meal can heal wounds, nourish hope, build trust and foster connection.

And he knows that food preparation is itself an act of love, for as St Teresa of Avila liked to say, ‘God is in the pots and pans.’

We can see this in Gabriel Axel’s 1987 movie, Babette’s Feast, which is based on a short story by Karen Blixen. It tells the story of two elderly sisters who live together in a remote coastal village in Denmark in the 1800s.

Their father, a Protestant pastor, had established a strict and joyless religious community there many years before. And after his death, his daughters take responsibility for them.

One stormy evening, a stranger arrives at their door. It’s Babette, carrying a letter from someone they know, asking them to take her in as a housekeeper. ‘She can cook,’ the letter says.

Babette is traumatised. She has just fled Paris, where her husband and son had just been killed in the French Revolution.

The two sisters don’t need a housekeeper, and they can’t afford one. However, they let Babette stay and she humbly serves them without pay for the next fourteen years. The sisters show her how to cook bread and fish the way they like it – dry and bland.

But what they don’t know is that Babette is an outstanding chef. She had been the head chef at one of Paris’ most famous cafés.

One day, Babette surprisingly wins 10,000 francs in a lottery. The whole village expects her to return to Paris, but she doesn’t. Instead, she offers to organise a ‘real French dinner’ for the sisters to celebrate what would have been their father’s 100^th birthday.

At first they refuse this offer because they only eat bland food. But Babette persuades them to accept, and she sends her nephew off to Paris to buy lots of expensive ingredients including turtle and quail. The villagers are shocked by this and the sisters fear this meal might be sinful. But they really can’t refuse, so they decide to eat the food without talking about it.

As Babette’s feast begins there are twelve guests, mirroring the Last Supper. One is a visiting general who has often dined in Paris. As Babette’s dishes arrive, he is astonished by their taste and quality, and he savours every bite. He knows this meal is outstanding.

One specific dish reminds him of the chef at the Café Anglais in Paris. Here, he is like the disciple on the road to Emmaus who recognises Jesus in the breaking of the bread (Lk.24:35). But that dish, cailles en sarcophagi (‘quail in a coffin’), also evokes the burial of her husband and son – and of Jesus Christ.

And when the general asks for some more wine, Babette gives him a whole bottle, reflecting Jesus’ extraordinary generosity at the Wedding at Cana.

Babette’s Feast is the story of a meal that is deeply Eucharistic. It involves real food and real wine, and it conveys an invisible grace that changes each person.

They begin to giggle and smile. Wounds heal, bitterness and fear disappear, and joy takes hold. Silently, mysteriously, the meal transforms their hearts.  

Babette is like Jesus. She is misunderstood, but still freely sacrifices all she has for these villagers, so that they might come together in love. And she asks for nothing in return.

Like so many of us at Mass, Babette’s guests don’t really understand what’s happening. At first they eat suspiciously, but then something inside them changes.

They used to think that pleasure and holiness cannot mix, but now they know that grace is never stingy. It’s always extravagant and joy-filled.

Sometimes, when we sit at the table of grace, we find ourselves receiving something far more than a meal:

A taste of heaven.

Andrei Rublev’s Trinity

(Prov.8:22-31; Rom.5:1-5; Jn.16:12-15)

Today let’s explore God’s Holy Trinity through Andrei Rublev’s famous icon, Trinity, which he painted in 1410. It’s owned by Moscow’s Tretyakov Gallery. [i]

Rublev painted it for the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity which holds the tomb of St. Sergius of Radonezh, who famously believed that ‘The contemplation of the Holy Trinity destroys all enmity.’

Rublev painted this icon to encourage this contemplation.

It depicts a scene from Genesis, in which three angels visit Abraham at the Oak of Mamre to tell him about the birth of Isaac (Gen.18:1-8). They’re sitting around Abraham’s table, enjoying his hospitality.

These visitors aren’t just angels, however. They’re the three persons of the Trinity. From left to right, they are God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. They’re sitting in a balanced triangle, none more important than the other. Each holds a staff pointing towards both heaven and earth, indicating their shared authority, and their wings and haloes indicate their holiness.

Now, see their faces: they’re neither male nor female, and look like triplets. And notice their similar garments. Blue is the colour of heaven and mystery, while gold represents their royalty. But each also wears something different. The Holy Spirit has a green cloak. Green is the colour of springtime, and the Nicene Creed describes the Holy Spirit as the ‘Lord, the Giver of Life’.

Jesus is wearing a dark red robe, which points to his incarnation as an ordinary man. It also points to his crucifixion.

On the left, God the Father’s cloak is translucent. This symbolises his eternal glory, but also the fact that we can’t see him in this life.

Abraham’s table represents our world of time and space. But it’s also an altar bearing a golden chalice. Jesus is pointing to it with two fingers, representing his two natures – human and divine. He’s also pointing to the Holy Spirit who fills Jesus’ disciples with love.

Now look at the way they’re sitting, all inclined towards each other in a silent dialogue of love.

Behind Jesus is a tree which represents the Oak of Mamre, where this story takes place. It reminds us of the Tree of Life in Revelation 22:2, which produces twelve different kinds of fruit and has leaves which are perfect for healing. 

It also points to the wood of the Cross on which Jesus died for us.

Behind the Father is a doorless church, symbolising God’s hospitality. In John 14:2, Jesus says his Father’s house has many rooms which he will prepare for us when our time comes.

And behind the Holy Spirit is a mountain – the Mount of the Beatitudes.

Now, look carefully. The inner line of the body and legs of the Father and the Spirit forms the shape of a Eucharistic cup, and Jesus is inside it.

You can also see that the outline of their bodies makes a circle, which represents the Eucharistic host which we receive at Mass (Mt.26:26-28). It also represents their holy communion, their perfect union as one Trinitarian God, united in love.   

But why does God include three persons? Richard Rohr says that for God to be good, God can be one. For God to be loving, God has to be two because love is a relationship. But for God to be supreme joy and happiness, God has to be three. That’s because lovers do not know full happiness until they both delight in the same thing. [ii]

Put another way, the Father is the lover, the Son is the beloved, and the Holy Spirit is the fruit of that love. And they want us to join them. Look at the Holy Spirit’s hand. He’s pointing to the space at the front, and inviting us to join their divine communion. 

At the front of the table, do you see that little rectangle? There was once a mirror there, which served as an invitation to us to enter into this divine circle.  Whoever saw this icon could see themselves reflected in it. [iii]

In Byzantine art, the viewer always forms part of the icon, so there are at least four figures in this picture. And we directly face Jesus, because he’s the only person of the Trinity we can really know in this life. 

Indeed, whenever we come forward for the Holy Eucharist, we’re received into the divine communion of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

In our increasingly fragmented and troubled world, it’s important to remember that we’ve all been created in God’s image and likeness.

God lives in loving communion, and right now he’s calling us to join him in his circle of perfect, selfless love. [iv]

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[i] I took this photo myself when I visited the gallery in Moscow some years ago. The icon is considerably larger than I expected, at 142 cm × 114 cm (56 × 45 inches).

[ii] Richard Rohr, Yes, And … Franciscan Media, Cincinatti OH. 2013:100.

[iii] Richard Rohr, The Divine Dance. Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, London. 2016:30-31.

[iv] For further insights, go to https://catholic-link.org/andrei-rublevs-icon-of-the-holy-trinity-explained/

The Breath of God

(Acts 2:1-11; 1Cor.12:3b-7, 12-13; Jn.20:19-23)

We have so many locks in our lives – on our doors, our cars, our windows and our phones…

Why? Because of fear. We worry about these things, so we shut them away.

But it’s not just possessions we lock up. Sometimes we padlock our hearts and minds, too, especially when we feel fearful, anxious, depressed or empty, or when we suffer from guilt or resentment. That’s when our brains and hearts can freeze and we feel trapped, unable to go forward.

This is what happens to Jesus’ disciples after his crucifixion. They fear they might suffer the same fate, so they lock themselves inside the Upper Room.

Then on Easter Sunday, Jesus walks through that door, surprising them and greeting them with the words, ‘Peace be with you.’ Shortly afterwards, Jesus breathes on them, saying, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit’ (Jn.20:22).

Why does he breathe on them? It’s because Jesus is God, and his breath is life itself.

As you might recall, in the story of Creation when all was dark, God breathed over the waters of chaos and this led to light and life (Gen.1:1-5). Later, in the Garden of Eden, God picks up a lump of clay and breathes on it to create Adam, the first man (Gen.2:7). And in Ezekiel 37, God’s breath revives what was once dead in the valley of dry bones.

In other words, God’s breath is always life-giving, creative and renewing. It’s his Holy Spirit, of course, bringing not only biological life, but also spiritual transformation.

That’s why Jesus breathes on his disciples there in the Upper Room. He gives them the peace of his Holy Spirit.

Fifty days later, at Pentecost, the disciples are in the same place, but still don’t know what to do with themselves. Then suddenly a noise like a mighty wind arrives from heaven.

What is this wind? It’s the breath of God, once again. It’s God’s dynamic Spirit transforming them with meaning and purpose, passion and conviction. They then go out into the world to tell everyone the good news about Jesus.

Today, on this feast of Pentecost, we celebrate the wind of God’s gentle but powerful Spirit that never ceases to blow. And we remember that the fire of God’s love continues to burn brightly in the hearts of the faithful.

But what about you? Are you filled with the Spirit and living a meaningful life?

Or do you feel trapped in your own Upper Room, stuck with empty thoughts and going nowhere?

One person who managed to break out of her own Upper Room was St Edith Stein. She was born into a devout Jewish family in 1891, in Breslau, Germany (now Poland). As a teenager she turned to atheism, and as an adult she became a brilliant philosopher and one of the first women in Germany to earn a doctorate.

Edith’s ‘Upper Room’ wasn’t a physical room, however. She felt trapped in an intellectual prison, stuck in a silent space between unbelief and grace where she felt spiritually restless.

What really confronted her was the suffering she witnessed as a nurse during World War I. Her work in philosophy raised deep human questions about truth, love and the soul, but she couldn’t find any good answers. And when some of her friends started becoming Christians, something stirred deep inside her.

One day in 1922, while visiting friends, she picked up the autobiography of the Spanish mystic, St Teresa of Avila. She read it in one night, and when she finished, she simply said, ‘This is the truth.’ That was her Pentecost moment, when her locked door opened.

Soon afterwards she became a Catholic, shocking her family and her academic peers. But for Edith, it was the fulfillment of a long inner journey. For the next ten years she lived a quiet life, teaching, writing and translating the works of St. Thomas Aquinas and John Henry Newman. But she also felt a deeper call, to give her whole self to God.

In 1933, when the Nazis took power, she joined the Carmelites in Cologne, taking the name Teresa Benedicta of the Cross. There, in the prayerful silence of her convent, she watched Europe descend into war.

Sadly, in their search for Jews the Gestapo arrested her and sent her to Auschwitz, where she was murdered in 1942. But even in that darkness, she remained serene, reportedly saying: ‘Come, let us go for our people.’

Her final act was accepting the Cross of Christ. She willingly embraced death in solidarity with her Jewish brothers and sisters.

Today, St. Edith Stein is offered to us as a model for anyone who feels trapped in darkness.

To set yourself free, welcome the life-giving Breath of God.