Month: July 2025

A Life of Prayer

(Gen.18:20-32; Col.2:12-14; Lk.11:1-13)

What is prayer? Essentially, it’s uniting ourselves with God. It’s raising our heart and mind to him, recognising his presence and conversing with him.

We tend to think that prayer begins with us, that somehow we must make it happen. But prayer doesn’t start with us. It starts with God. It starts with his constantly open arms and his unconditional love for us.

Prayer is about falling in love with God, who already loves us totally.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus’ disciples ask him how to pray and he teaches them the ‘Our Father.’ With its 5 petitions, Luke’s Our Father is shorter than Matthew’s version which we all use today. Matthew’s Our Father has 7 petitions (Mt.6:9-13).

Now, the Our Father isn’t just a prayer to recite, for it actually represents a way of life. We can see this in Matthew 13, where Jesus gives us seven parables.

These are often called the Kingdom Parables because each one tells us something about God’s Kingdom. At the same time, they also help us understand the seven petitions in Matthew’s Our Father, for they are closely paralleled. Let’s briefly look at each of them.

Hallowed Be Thy Name

To hallow God’s name is to make it holy in our lives. In the Parable of the Sower (Mt.13:1-23), the Word of God is scattered everywhere like seeds. Some hearts are hard and reject it, while others are only shallow. But some hearts receive it deeply and become very fruitful.

God’s name is truly hallowed when his Word grows fruitfully in our hearts. Do we reverently receive God’s Word? Do our lives honour his name?

Thy Kingdom Come

God’s Kingdom is growing, but we know there is resistance. In the Parable of the Weeds and the Wheat (Mt.13:24-30), good and evil grow side by side until the harvest.

When we pray ‘Thy Kingdom Come,’ we trust that God’s justice will prevail, even when the field looks messy. So, this is a prayer of patience and hope.

Thy Will Be Done

God’s will often begins quietly and small, like a mustard seed (Mt.13:31-32). But when it’s truly embraced, it becomes a sheltering tree.

Do we embrace God’s will when it seems small and insignificant? Do we trust his plan and allow it to grow in us? Do we nourish God’s presence in our lives?

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread

Our daily bread is more than food; it’s God’s grace working inside us, like Yeast working in dough (Mt.13.33). God’s Kingdom rises within us when his grace is kneaded into every part of our life.

Do we feed our souls with God’s presence? Do we allow his grace to ferment and transform us? Do we make the most of the Sacraments? The Eucharist is the ultimate heavenly yeast – hidden, but life-giving.

Forgive Us Our Trespasses

The man who finds Treasure Hidden in a Field (Mt.13:44) sells everything he has to buy it. To grasp the treasure of God’s Kingdom we must let go of everything that blocks our path, including our sin and our pride. Do we value mercy more than our grudges? Are we prepared to let things go?

Lead Us Not into Temptation

The merchant who finds the Pearl of Great Price (Mt.13:45-46) is willing to sell everything to have it. We, too, must let go of any temptations that hold us back.

Every day we are tempted by the fake ‘pearls’ of pride, power, comfort and wealth. But only one thing is worth absolutely everything. Will we ask the Holy Spirit to help us find it, or will we settle for less?

Deliver Us from Evil

In Jesus’ seventh parable, the net catches both good and bad fish (Mt.13:47-50). Jesus promises that one day they will all be sorted out and separated.

This isn’t about fear. It’s about being faithful, because evil will not have the final word. God will deliver those who seek him with sincere hearts.

Every time we pray the Our Father, then, we enter into the loving heart of Jesus. But these aren’t just beautiful words; they are actually a way of life, and through his parables Jesus helps us understand what it all means.

So, whenever you recite the Our Father don’t do it mindlessly. Let Jesus’ words and his parables nourish and transform you from within.

Let’s now pray this wonderful prayer together:

Our Father, who art in heaven
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread
and forgive us our trespasses
as we forgive those who trespass against us
and deliver us from evil. Amen.

The Better Part

(Gen.18:1-10a; Col.1:24-28; Lk.10:38-42)

What are we to make of Martha and Mary? People have argued over these two sisters for centuries.

Martha is bustling about in the kitchen preparing a meal, while Mary sits quietly at Jesus’ feet, revelling in his wisdom and love.

Martha is annoyed, and asks Jesus to get Mary to help her. But Jesus gently replies, ‘Martha, Martha, you fret about so many things, but only one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the better part, and it’s not to be taken from her.’

Many people think that Jesus is scolding Martha, and perhaps even criticising her work. But he’s not. Rather, he’s saying that she needs to refocus. Martha feels so burdened by her chores that she’s missing the most important thing of all – her visitor. And Jesus, as we know, is the source of all life and love.

Jesus wants Martha to see that life isn’t about ceaseless activity. It would be much better for her to spend quality time with her guest, soaking up his wisdom and love, before doing what she had to do.

I remember having guests over for lunch one day, but I spent so much time in the kitchen that I started to realise that I was missing the point. Hospitality isn’t being with the dishes; it’s being with the visitors.

In his book The Naked Now, Richard Rohr talks about the importance of living in the moment. He says that Martha is a good woman, but she’s not present. She is not present to herself, to her own feelings of resentment, and to her own need to be needed. Rohr says this is the kind of goodness that does no good.

If Martha is not present to herself, then she really cannot be present to her guests and spiritually she cannot even be present to God. Presence is of one piece, Rohr says. How you are present to anything is how you can be present to God, loved ones, strangers and those who suffer. How you live in the moment matters.

This is why Jesus affirms Mary. She knows how to live in the moment. She knows how to be present to Jesus, and presumably, to herself. She understands the one thing that makes all other things happen at a deeper and healing level. If you are truly present, Rohr says, you’ll be able to know what you need to know. [i]

Sadly, our noisy and anxious world has little patience for contemplatives like Mary. We can see this in Jane Campion’s hauntingly lyrical movie The Piano.[ii]

Set in the 1800s, it tells the story of Ada, a mute Scottish woman who is sent into an arranged marriage in New Zealand. Ada is a withdrawn, reflective figure with a deep and silent connection to mystery and beauty, rather like Mary. Her inner life centres on one thing: her piano. It’s her sanctuary, her prayer, and how she expresses what she cannot say.

The colonial society she has joined, however, including her husband and the other settlers, are all busy like Martha, doing, expecting and controlling. For them, life is all about work, practicality and obedience.

They don’t understand Ada at all.

There’s one confronting scene where her husband is infuriated by her refusal to conform, and he destroys part of the piano and even chops off one of her fingers. It’s a brutal moment, but it symbolises what can happen when the world tries to silence the inner voice and quiet spirit of the Mary within us.

Many of us are programmed to live like Martha. We are so busy, so distracted and so wedded to our results-driven world that we often miss what really counts.

Today’s Gospel reminds us that there is a better way: a way of life that’s not measured by efficiency and sweat, but by heart-filled presence. Mary teaches us that the truest hospitality is not in the food or the cleaning, but in welcoming Jesus into the silence of our hearts.

And in The Piano, Ada teaches us that the contemplative life is not passive or weak. It’s resilient and even revolutionary because it resists the world’s demands and it treasures what is sacred.

Of course, we must honour the work of the world’s Marthas. But Mary reminds us that we are more than what we do, and perhaps it’s time for us to sit quietly with Jesus for a while.

Today, if your inner life has been silenced, God is inviting you to find your voice again. Not through noise, but through stillness, beauty and prayer – just like Mary.

Mary is well grounded. She knows who she is. She knows what she has to do.

This is the better part.

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[i] Richard Rohr, The Naked Now: Learning to See as the Mystics See, Crossroad Publishing, NY. 2009:58-59.

[ii] Jane Campion, The Piano (1993). https://youtu.be/61ooIf1QDZo

Three Good Samaritans

(Deut.30:10-14; Col.1:15-20; Lk.10:25-37)

The question ‘Who is my neighbour?’ has long been controversial.

Many people define their neighbour quite narrowly, while others say that this not only includes those around them, but also the animals and the land as well.

So, who do you think is your neighbour?

In today’s Gospel, a lawyer asks Jesus this question and he replies not with a definition, but a story. A man is beaten up and left for dead by robbers on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. A Jewish priest and a Levite see him there, but don’t stop to help.

Then a Samaritan appears. He binds the man’s wounds, he takes him to an inn and pays for his care, and he promises to return.

The significance of this story rests on the fact that the Jewish people despised the Samaritans. They considered them impure, inferior and incapable of doing anything worthwhile. And yet only the Samaritan helps this poor injured man.

Richard Rohr says that the two Jewish men aren’t necessarily bad people; they just have other priorities. It was against their law for them to touch a bleeding man, and they wanted to be sure that nothing stopped them from doing their priestly duties in the Temple.[i]

For the Good Samaritan, however, compassion is much more important than any cultural or legal expectations.

This parable reminds us of another story in the Old Testament, in 2 Chronicles 28, where the Israelites of the Northern Kingdom defeat the Judeans in the south. The victors then take 200,000 men, women and children captive from their homes around Jerusalem and Jericho.

But then the prophet Oded confronts the Israelite army on their way back to Samaria. And he asks, ‘Have you not also sinned? Will you now make your fellow Israelites your slaves?’ This makes the victors think, and they not only decide to free the captives, but they also feed the hungry, bind up the wounded, and return them all safely home.

For Oded, compassion is far more important than any military triumph.

Someone who was greatly influenced by the courage and compassion of the Good Samaritan was the French priest, St Vincent de Paul (1581–1660).

He was ordained at the age of 19 and for the next 60 years he dedicated himself to serving the sick and destitute in the villages and towns of France, visiting them and giving them food, clothing, shelter and spiritual care.

Like Mother Teresa, he recognised Jesus in the poor and he liked to say that ‘The poor are our masters… they are the suffering members of Christ.’

Along with St Louise de Marillac he founded a community of nuns, the Daughters of Charity. They lived among the poor, running hospitals, orphanages, and soup kitchens. He trained them to be practical, loving and joyful, and said, ‘Their convent is the streets; their chapel, the parish church; their cloister, the hospital wards.’

In effect, they were the ‘innkeepers,’ continuing the Good Samaritan’s work of ongoing care.

At the time, France suffered from terrible famines and civil war, and Vincent responded by organising donations and support networks to send food, clothing and medical supplies to those affected.

In 1619, King Louis XIII appointed him chaplain of the galley slaves in Paris and Marseilles. These were prisoners who were chained to benches and forced to row large warships, often for hours or days without rest. They were often beaten, starved and forced to sleep in filth. Not surprisingly, many died from exhaustion or disease.

Vincent didn’t just send help; he boarded the ships himself and entered the filthy lower decks; he spoke with the prisoners, treated their wounds and organised fresh food, clothing and volunteers to help them.

Like the Good Samaritan lifting the wounded man onto his own donkey, Vincent lifted up these men up with dignity and hope. He listened to their stories, heard their confessions and shared his wisdom. And he lobbied the authorities, urging better treatment of these men.

St Vincent de Paul was a Good Samaritan not just once, but throughout his life. Like Jesus, he crossed every social, moral and physical barrier to serve people no one else would touch. And he established communities that continued this work long after he was gone.

St Vincent knew that compassion isn’t just feeling sorry or praying for someone who is suffering. Compassion is actively doing something to help them.

Here, then, is your question for today: who is your neighbour?

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[i] Richard Rohr, The Naked Now: Learning to See as the Mystics See, Crossroad, NY, 2009: 122–123. 

Unready Adventurers

(Is.66:10-14; Gal.6:14-18; Lk.10:1-12; 17-20)

Have you ever begun a journey before you felt you were ready?

In JRR Tolkein’s book The Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins is at home reading, drinking tea and enjoying his safe and tidy life. Then Gandalf the wizard knocks on his door. He’s come to invite him on an adventure.

‘We don’t want any adventures here, thank you!’ Bilbo replies. But by the next morning something stirs inside him – something stronger than fear, something deeper than comfort. And then, without any preparation, without any supplies, without any real idea of what he’s doing, he runs to catch up with the others.

Bilbo is clearly unprepared for what lies ahead. He has no weapon, no map, no survival skills. But what he does have – and this gradually reveals itself – is courage, faith, and a sense of purpose beyond himself.

That unready hobbit goes on to face goblins, trolls, spiders and the great dragon Smaug – not because he knows how, but because he learns to trust, to endure and to grow. Bilbo discovers that his strength lies not in what he carries, but in what he learns to let go: his pride, his fear, and the illusion of control.

He learns that smallness and simplicity are not weaknesses. They are strengths in the hands of a greater purpose.

But this isn’t just the story of a hobbit. It’s also the story of a disciple.

In Luke’s Gospel today, Jesus sends out seventy-two disciples into the villages of Galilee. Like Bilbo, they’re not warriors or scholars or elite religious figures. They’re ordinary, humble people and he sends them out in pairs into unknown lands. Travel light, Jesus says. Take no money, no extra gear, no backup plan.

But they do carry one thing – a message: ‘The kingdom of God is near.’

The disciples leave feeling nervous, but after their journey they return amazed, not at their own strength, but that God has worked through them.

There’s a simple connection between Bilbo Baggins and Jesus’ disciples: they all said yes when it would have been much easier to stay home. But here’s the point: God does not send the best-equipped. He sends the willing.

Like Bilbo, Jesus’ disciples must learn as they go. They must learn how to trust, how to face rejection, and how to carry peace and love into uncertain places.

And just like Bilbo, the disciples discover that what at first seems like a small act of courage opens the door to a remarkable transformation – not just for those they meet, but also for themselves.

Through the centuries, many people have set out like this, unready, uncertain and seemingly unqualified to do something special for God. But in the end they found themselves transformed by accepting God’s surprising call.

One such person was St Josephine Bakhita. She was a Sudanese woman who was kidnapped as a child, sold into slavery and passed from master to master. She ended up in a strange foreign land, Italy, where she encountered something that awakened her true identity.

She was rescued in Venice by the Canossian Sisters (a religious order founded in 1808). They gave her a home and treated her with great kindness. It was here that she discovered the love of God. She was baptised, took religious vows and lived the rest of her life as a sister, doing humble tasks like cooking and welcoming guests.

She also did what she could for the poor and broken, especially young girls who had been trafficked or abused.

To those she met, Josephine Bakhita radiated holiness, like a lamp burning quietly in a darkened room.

Much like Bilbo Baggins, Josephine began her journey as someone who was timid and quickly disregarded, for she was just a slave. But through her trials she developed a courage and an interior strength built on gentleness, patience and profound forgiveness.

She once said: ‘If I were to meet those who kidnapped me… I would kneel and kiss their hands, for if these things had not happened, I would not have found Christ.’

In the end, Bilbo returns home with much more than gold – he comes back knowing himself. And St Josephine discovers treasure, too. Not worldly riches, but the joy of knowing that she belongs to the heart of God.

So, what about you? Do you hesitate because you feel unprepared? The point of today’s stories is you don’t have to be ready, especially if God is calling.

You just have to say yes.

God doesn’t send us because we’re ready. He sends us because he believes in us. He has all we need.

So, if you’re feeling small and unsure, just remember that’s an excellent place to start.

Just like Bilbo, St Josephine Bakhita and Jesus’ disciples.