Month: November 2025

Time to Wake Up

(Isa.2:1-5; Rom.13:11-14; Mt.24:37-44)

Today marks the start of a brand-new Liturgical Year A, and a fresh season of Advent.

For many people, Advent is simply about preparing for Christmas. It’s about buying gifts, putting up pretty lights and organising a Christmas tree.

Today’s Gospel, however, gives us something very different to consider: an alarm clock. Jesus is saying, ‘Stay awake, for you don’t know the hour when your Lord is coming.’

This isn’t a threat; Jesus is being merciful. He’s gently shaking our arm, saying: ‘Don’t sleepwalk through life. Don’t drift along, unaware that I am near.’

Advent is not just about preparing for Christmas; it’s also about waking up to God’s presence, right here and right now.

Charles Dickens understood this. His classic story A Christmas Carol isn’t only about greed and suffering; it’s also about waking up. At the beginning, Ebenezer Scrooge is spiritually asleep. He has plenty of money, but no mercy; loads of comfort, but no compassion. He lives closed in on himself, oblivious to the plight of people around him.

Then one night, heaven steps in. He’s visited by three spirits who show him his past, present, and future. This shakes him up. He gets to see the truth of his life – the harm he’s done, the love he’s lost, and the future that awaits him if he does not change.

And when he wakes up on Christmas morning, the first thing he says is, ‘I’m as light as a feather! I’m as happy as an angel! I’m as merry as a schoolboy!’
Scrooge’s joy isn’t about gifts; it’s the joy of a man who has finally woken up to what’s really going on in the world.

This is the Advent invitation for us all: to let the Holy Spirit wake us up from our sleep of selfishness, distraction and routine – to see life anew in the light of Jesus Christ.

There’s a similar message in a very different story – The Matrix. At the start of this movie, Neo lives in a comfortable illusion. Everything seems normal, but it’s all a lie. Everyone is living in a simulated reality created by intelligent machines. Then a message arrives on his computer screen: ‘Wake up, Neo.’ He’s intrigued and starts following the clues to find out what’s really going on.

When Neo does finally wake up, he discovers that the world he thought was real was just an elaborate dream. And he’s forced to choose between comfort and truth, between staying asleep or waking up to reality.

Advent poses the same question for us: will we stay comfortable in illusion, or will we wake up to the real world of God’s grace?

The real world is not what we see in the fashion ads or typical Hollywood films. Rather, the real world is where God comes quietly in love; where hope, repentance, and mercy are far more real and much more important than any possessions.

Centuries before Neo and Ebenezer Scrooge, another man experienced this same awakening: St Augustine. He too, had drifted through life, chasing pleasure, comfort, and ambition. In his book, Confessions, he describes the moment he woke up: ‘You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness.’

And then he utters that famous line: ‘Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new.’

St Augustine discovered that God’s love had been there all along, but his heart was too sleepy to notice. And when he woke up, he found not guilt or condemnation, but delicious joy.

This is what Jesus means by ‘Stay awake.’ To be awake is to live in a constant readiness for wonder, to be alert to the movement of God’s grace in our lives.

So how might we live wakefully this Advent?

Firstly, by opening our eyes. Look around with wonder. Take the time to notice the small signs of God’s presence in beauty, kindness and forgiveness.

Secondly, keep things simple and slow down. Don’t let the noise of this busy season numb you to its meaning.

And thirdly, prepare your heart. Make space for prayer, confession and silence. Make space for Jesus.

This is how we ‘stay awake.’

Advent wakefulness isn’t about fear. It’s about awareness. When Scrooge, Neo and St Augustine woke up, they found that everything was the same, and yet everything was different, because they had changed. The world had become brighter, not darker, and everything started to make sense.

Right now, Jesus is waiting for us. He’s quietly waiting for us to notice him.

(Many thanks to Fr Don of thewordthisweek.net for this infographic)

One More Move

(2Sam.5:1-3; Col.1:12-20; Lk.23:35-43)

In the game of chess, the goal is to trap your opponent’s king. When he cannot move, you declare ‘checkmate’ and the game is over.

In 1822, the German artist Friedrich Moritz Retzsch (1779 – 1857) captured this moment in a famous artwork he called Die Schachspieler (The Chess Players). Today, it’s more commonly called Checkmate, but this picture depicts two chess players – a sneering devil and a worried young man, often said to be Goethe’s Faust.

If the devil wins, the prize is the young man’s soul.

For years, people thought the devil had won this game and was about to claim his prize. However, when a chess master saw this picture, he was intrigued. He carefully analysed the chess game in this image and declared that the game isn’t over. The young man’s king still has one more move which can lead to victory.

Today, this picture serves as an enduring icon of hope for people in seemingly impossible situations.

In Scripture there are many examples of people being rescued by God in the most desperate circumstances. Each time, God reveals that he always has one more move up his sleeve.

Think of Daniel, doomed to perish in a den of hungry lions. But God makes a surprising move and Daniel survives (Dan.6:16-23).

Or the 5,000 hungry people there in Galilee. No-one expects five loaves and two fish to feed them all, but when Jesus makes his miraculous move there are 12 baskets of leftovers (Lk.9:12–17).

In the Temple, too, a terrified woman is about to be stoned to death by angry men. Again, Jesus makes a surprising move and she begins a new life (Jn.8:1-11).

And in today’s Gospel, Jesus is hanging on the Cross, looking powerless and defeated. A thief taunts him: ‘If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!’ It looks like evil has won this time.

But one man, the good thief, sees something more. He turns to Jesus and says: ‘Remember me when you come into your kingdom.’ He sees what others don’t – that even on the Cross, Christ is still the King.

And Jesus replies with royal authority: ‘Today you will be with me in Paradise.’

It had looked like checkmate, but once again Jesus has more surprising moves to make. This time it’s mercy, forgiveness and resurrection.

All through the ages, countless people have discovered this truth for themselves. When St Teresa of Avila was a young woman, she joined a convent but soon fell gravely ill. She had a seizure, became paralysed and at one point it looked like she was dead. The other sisters prepared a grave for her, but just before her burial God intervened. She regained consciousness and eventually recovered.

Teresa lived at a time of deep division in the Church, and when she tried to reform the Carmelite order, she met fierce resistance. She was criticised, mocked, and even formally investigated.

Many times, it looked like she was beaten. And yet she never gave in to despair. She kept trusting Jesus, who lived in the ‘interior castle’ of her soul. She taught her sisters to do the same, and left us her famous prayer of confidence:

‘Let nothing disturb you, let nothing frighten you. All things are passing; God never changes. Patience obtains all things. Whoever has God lacks nothing. God alone suffices.’

St Teresa of Avila learned that whenever it seems like all is lost, Jesus Christ always has another move to make. Indeed, her confidence in Jesus made her a reformer, a mystic and a Doctor of the Church.

And what about us today? We too know what it’s like to be cornered – when sin or failure weighs on us, when grief or illness closes in, and when the world seems lost in darkness.

Today, on the Feast of Christ the King, faithful followers of Jesus are reminded that it is never truly checkmate in this game of life. Jesus, our King, always has one more move to help us (Ps.121:7-8; Dt:31:6; Heb.13:5).

Like St Teresa of Avila and the Good Thief, we must trust him.

On Calvary, a sign was nailed above Jesus’ head: ‘This is the King of the Jews.’ It was meant to mock him, but instead it spoke the truth, because Jesus reigns from the Cross – not by crushing enemies, but by saving souls.

Whenever it feels like you’re losing, remember that Jesus, our King, always has one more move to help us.

Trust him.

Calm Endurance

(Mal.3:19-20a; 2Thess.3:7-12; Lk.21:5-19)

Our world seems to be falling apart.

We hear so much today about political and economic turmoil, violence and war. And many of the global systems we’ve long trusted seem to be unravelling. How should we respond?

Jesus talks about this in today’s Gospel. He’s with his disciples, looking at the great Temple of Jerusalem – an immense building at the very heart of Jewish life. It looks indestructible, and yet Jesus warns them: ‘The time will come when not a single stone will be left on another – everything will be destroyed.’

He’s right, of course. The Romans do destroy the mighty Temple in 70AD.

Then Jesus adds: there will be wars, earthquakes, famine, persecution and betrayal – all the signs of collapse.

His disciples must have looked shocked, for then he says, ‘Don’t be frightened. Your endurance will win you your lives.’

There’s a similar sense of desperation in Ridley Scott’s film The Martian (2015). Astronaut Mark Watney (played by Matt Damon) is abandoned on Mars after an accident. His crew think he’s dead and they return to Earth without him.

On the red planet, the air is poisonous, there’s no food and no-one to help. You’d expect this man to panic and despair, and yet he doesn’t. With a cool head he says, ‘If you solve enough problems, you get to come home.’

Using his great technical skills and lots of duct tape, he starts planting potatoes, rationing his supplies and fixing his equipment.

He becomes an icon of calm endurance in the face of catastrophe.[i]

In his book A Non-Anxious Presence, the author Mark Sayers says this kind of calm presence is essential for our time. Why? Because our world is becoming increasingly complex, chaotic and even overwhelming.

We all live in a ‘grey zone,’ he says, ‘a world between two eras, where the old certainties of the past are crumbling but the new order has not yet arrived.’

In such times, anxiety spreads like wildfire. But Christians, he adds, are called to resist this contagion. Rooted in Christ, we can be calm, prayerful and resilient. A non-anxious presence in an anxious world.

The root of our anxiety, he says, is our disconnection from God. Without a deep-rooted faith and trust in God, we’ll never have the stability we need to navigate the storms of life. [ii]

His ideas aren’t new. The saints have long urged us to find peace in God in troubled times.

St Teresa of Ávila prayed: ‘Let nothing disturb you, let nothing frighten you; all things are passing, God never changes.’

These words were born out of her own struggles and reforms in a time of great upheaval. She teaches us that when we anchor our hearts in God, no disaster can rob us of peace.

St Francis de Sales, known for his gentle wisdom, said something similar: ‘Don’t lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, not even if your whole world seems upset.’ He reminds us that calm trust in God is itself a form of witness – people notice when a Christian stays serene while others panic.

All these voices echo Jesus’ words: Don’t be scared. Endure, hold steady, trust God.

If you look closely at the history of God’s people, you can see that God consistently brings good out of disastrous situations. Joseph, for example, is betrayed by his brothers and sold into slavery, but God raises him up to become the governor of Egypt (Gen.37-50).

St Paul is locked up in Rome. But while there, God inspires him to write letters that are still guiding the Church today.

And of course, Jesus suffers the ultimate evil in his crucifixion. And yet God transforms it into the greatest good – the salvation of us all.

In the world of faith, crisis always precedes renewal.

At the end of The Martian, Mark Watney is back at home and says, ‘I guarantee you that at some point, everything is going to go south on you. And you’re going to say this is it – this is how I end. Now you can either accept that, or you can get to work.’

Today, Jesus is telling us to stay calm, prayerful and resilient. For our stability comes not from human powers or global institutions, but from our unshakable faith in God’s love.

Trust Jesus. The world may shake and stones may fall, but Jesus is our firm foundation.

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[i] Ridley Scott, The Martian, 20^th Century Fox, 2015. https://www.imdb.com/video/vi4112625689/?ref_=tt_vids_vi_2

[ii] Mark Sayers, A Non-Anxious Presence: How a Changing and Complex World Will Create a Remnant of Renewed Christian Leaders, Moody Publishers, Chicago, 2022.

Built on Love

 (Is.25:6-9; Rom.5:5-11; Lk.7:11-17)

Every year on November 9 the Church celebrates the Dedication of the Basilica of St John Lateran.

Why remember a place that most of us will never visit? It’s because this feast is about so much more than a building.

Officially, its name is the Archbasilica of the Most Holy Saviour and Saints John the Baptist and John the Evangelist at the Lateran, and it’s one of the four highest-ranking churches in the world. The other three are St Peter’s, St Paul Outside the Walls, and St Mary Major. All are in Rome.

St John Lateran is the only archbasilica in the world, and this means that it ranks higher than any other church. Why? Because it’s the Pope’s cathedral. Many people think he’s based at St Peter’s Basilica, but he’s not.

The Lateran Basilica is the official ecclesiastical seat of the Bishop of Rome, for that’s where his cathedra (throne) is located. So, it holds a special place as the mother church of the Diocese of Rome and indeed the entire Catholic world.

This feast, therefore, is firstly a celebration of unity. By honouring the Lateran Basilica, we’re honouring our connection to the Pope, the successor of St Peter. And we’re reminded that we are not isolated in our own parishes or dioceses, for we all belong to the one universal family of faith.

This unity is reinforced at every Mass when the priest always drops a fragment of consecrated Host into the chalice of precious Blood, and prays quietly that Holy Communion will bring eternal life to all who receive it.

This ancient ritual, known as the commingling, represents the reunion of Christ’s Body and Blood, previously separate at the consecration, but now combined to symbolise the living, risen Christ.

But this gesture also signals the unity of all the faithful. For just as all local churches are united to the one universal Church through the Lateran Basilica, so too are all who receive Jesus in the Eucharist.

Now, we also celebrate this ancient building today because of history. During its first 300 years, the Church was severely persecuted, and Christians could only meet secretly, in private homes or the catacombs. After Constantine became the Roman emperor, his mother Helena converted to Christianity and in 313AD he legalised the faith.

Ten years later he built a cathedral on land once owned by the Laterani family, and this is now the Lateran Basilica. It was consecrated by Pope Sylvester I, and for a thousand years it served as the Church’s administrative heart, papal home, and the venue for five major ecumenical council gatherings.

But today’s feast also points to something much deeper. In our second reading, St Paul says to the Corinthians, ‘Don’t you know that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you? …God’s temple is holy and you are that temple.’

In other words, by celebrating this Basilica the Church is reminding us that individually and together, we all serve as living temples of God. And just like the original Temple, we all have a duty to serve God through worship, sacrifice and prayer.  

This is the heart of today’s celebration.

However, as Luke reports in today’s Gospel, some temples are misused. When Jesus finds that the Jerusalem Temple has become a noisy bazaar, he is furious. The Temple is sacred, for that’s where God lives, and yet it has been overrun by greedy merchants.

Jesus cracks a whip and tells them to get out. The tables are turned, the moneychangers leave and order is restored.

So, in celebrating the Lateran Basilica we remember that churches are holy, not because of their statues or stones, but because they are living signs of God’s presence. They are sacred temples where God’s people gather, where the sacraments are celebrated, and where Christ is truly present.

At the same time, this Basilica reminds us that individually, we are all called to serve as living temples, because God resides in us, too.

This is why we celebrate the Basilica of St John Lateran. It is an edifice and a community built on love.

But let me ask you: Does your life truly reflect the holiness of the God who dwells within you? And are you a beacon of love in our world today?

As St Caesarius of Arles, a bishop in the early Church, once said: ‘Celebrate the feast of the Church, for you yourselves are the temple of God.’