Author: Peter McCulloch

Revolutionary

(Isa.35:1-6a; Jas.5:7-10; Mt.11:2-11)

2023 marks the 10^th anniversary of the death of Nelson Mandela, the great reformer who led a peaceful revolution in South Africa. He was 95.

He got his name ‘Nelson’ from a school teacher, because his original name, Rolihlahla, means ‘troublemaker’. That name would have been appropriate, however, for he was born to be a revolutionary. He hated apartheid and joined the opposition African National Congress in 1944. That’s when he began organising protests and other forms of civil disobedience.

Mandela at that time believed that the only way to win freedom was through violence, and in 1961 he established the ANC’s military wing. He read widely about other revolutionary figures and planned to start a war. But he was quickly arrested and gaoled for 27 years on Robben Island, near Cape Town – a bitterly cold place in winter.

In today’s Gospel, John the Baptist is also languishing in prison, but this one’s baking hot. He’s in Herod’s desert fortress at Machaerus, 15km east of the Dead Sea. Like Mandela, John is also a revolutionary and he’s fearless about criticising the Roman and Jewish leaders of his day. He’s angry about the Roman oppression of his country, Judea, and he detests the hypocrisy of the Jewish leaders. He’s convinced that God is coming to establish his kingdom on earth, and he tells everyone to get ready. 

Like most Jews, John expected the Messiah to be a great warrior, leading an army to rescue God’s people. But now, chained to a prison wall, he’s not so sure. From what he has heard, Jesus hasn’t behaved like a warrior at all, and he wonders if Jesus will come to save him.

So, he sends two of his followers to ask Jesus if he really is the Messiah or whether they should expect someone else.

There are some close parallels between Nelson Mandela and John the Baptist. Both were natural leaders. Both were prophets, filled with fire and conviction, and both gave hope to millions of people.

Mandela helped to bring freedom to an oppressed people, and John the Baptist prepared the way for an even greater kind of freedom, through Jesus Christ.

When Jesus answers John’s question about whether he’s the Messiah, he doesn’t even mention armies or vengeance. Instead, he tells John’s messengers to ‘Go back to him and tell him what they hear and see: the blind see again, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor’.

His message is that only the love of God can give people the life they seek.

Now, Jesus fears that John might not like his reply, so he adds, ‘Happy are those who do not lose faith in me’.

We don’t know how John responded, but we do know that Nelson Mandela didn’t lose faith. While in gaol, he did what so many of us need to do – he opened himself up to God and he allowed himself to be changed from within. 

Indeed, over many years a Catholic bishop became his pastor and close friend.

Like John the Baptist, Mandela came to understand that the only way to lasting peace is through love, forgiveness and reconciliation; not through violence and war.

In a world that so often glorifies violence, this was revolutionary.

And so is living as a genuine Christian. Like Nelson Mandela and John the Baptist, following Jesus today means turning away from the anger, hostility and intolerance of our world. It means rejecting the shallow and selfish obsessions of our society.

And it means recognising that the only way to the peace and joy our hearts yearn for is through the love of God and our neighbour, just as Jesus teaches us.

For many of us this is quite a challenge, because it can be hard to break free from our worldly ways.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German pastor who was gaoled and murdered by the Nazis, once said that Advent is like a prison cell ‘in which one waits and hopes, and … is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside.’

Many of us recognise this. We know we need help, and that’s why Advent is such a great gift to us.

Advent is the season of new beginnings. It’s the ideal time for us to invite God into our lives, asking him to release us from whatever imprisons us, and to help us live a life of peace and love.

Now, that really is revolutionary.

The Pointing Hand

(Is.11:1-10; Rom.15:4-9; Mt.3:1-12)

The symbol of the hand with a pointing finger has long been used to direct our attention, perhaps to get us to buy or to notice something.

This pointing hand is called the manicule, and in the days of snail-mail various versions of it were often stamped on redirected letters. We’re less likely to see it these days, except perhaps in the mouse cursor of some software programs.

However, there is one place where a pointing hand can still be found: in paintings of St John the Baptist.

As one of the foremost figures in Scripture (Lk.7:28), John the Baptist often appears in Christian art. He’s been portrayed as a boy; as a desert recluse; as the baptiser by the River Jordan; and as the victim of a cruel execution.

In so many of these artworks, he appears with an unruly mop of hair, holding a reed-cross, wearing camel-skin with a leather belt – and with a pointing hand.

The image of John the Baptist in camel-skin comes from today’s Gospel. By mentioning this detail, Matthew is linking John with the great prophet Elijah, who wore similar clothing (2Kgs.1:8).

The Jewish people long believed that Elijah would return from heaven one day to prepare the way for the Messiah. By emphasising the camel-skin, Matthew is effectively saying that John the Baptist is the new Elijah who has come to tell us that the Messiah is on his way.  

In other words, John’s mission is to point us all to Christ, and this is how we see him in so many paintings – pointing towards a Bible, a lamb or to an image of Jesus himself.

In Leonardo da Vinci’s last painting, St John the Baptist, he’s pointing up towards heaven, reminding us of our need for eternal salvation. He also appears as a beacon of light against a very dark background, reminding us of Jesus’ description of John as ‘a lamp that burned and gave light’ (Jn.5:35).[i]

In his commentary on this description, Pope Francis said that John the Baptist is the lamp pointing towards the light and bearing witness to the light. But he’s not the light itself, for that is Jesus Christ.

He also said that John is ‘the voice’; the ‘voice crying in the wilderness.’ But he is not the Word itself. He is only the voice bearing witness to the Word and pointing to the Word, the Word of God. [ii]

John’s entire life is focussed on only one thing: serving as a messenger, preparing the way for the Messiah. This is his sole purpose, and it explains why his parents, Elizabeth and Zechariah, waited so long for him to be born.

In God’s divine plan, John could not have arrived any earlier. He had to wait until the time was right for Jesus’ birth, because their lives were inextricably linked. Indeed, when Jesus begins his public ministry, he uses John’s words: ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!’ (Mt.3:1). 

John’s message is simple and still very relevant today: it’s time for us to change the way we live, to turn away from sin, because Christ is coming. And he encourages everyone to accept the cleansing bath of baptism as a sign of their repentance (Lk.3:10-14, 18). 

When Jesus arrives at the Jordan River seeking his own baptism, John recognises him at once, saying, ‘Look, there’s the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world’ (Jn.1:29). He baptises Jesus and thereafter encourages all his disciples to follow Jesus instead (Jn.1:35-37). 

This Advent, let’s reflect on John the Baptist, the strikingly bold saint who shows us that it’s okay to be different, especially if we are serious about eternal life. He also teaches us to be alert for signs of the coming of Jesus into our day-to-day lives.

Did you know that John’s right arm is now kept in the Cathedral of Santa Maria Assunta in Siena, and his finger is kept in the famous Duomo in Florence? [iii]

Why do they keep these things? It’s because John the Baptist’s pointing hand is the model for us all to follow.

Pope Francis once said that if you want to make a picture of this great saint, all you need to paint is the image of a pointing finger.

John the Baptist’s whole life pointed towards Jesus Christ.

Does yours?

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[i] Leonardo da Vinci, St John the Baptist, Oil on wood (walnut), 56 x 73cm, Paris, Musée du Louvre, c.1513-1516.

[ii] Pope Francis, Homily, 16 December, 2016. https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/cotidie/2016/documents/papa-francesco-cotidie_20161216_the-pointing-finger.html

[iii] https://www.catholiccompany.com/getfed/what-happened-to-st-john-the-baptists-head-arm-and-finger/

The Art of Waiting

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

Waiting is something we all do often, but do we appreciate its benefits? Or do we resent it?

In his book, Oh the Places You’ll Go! Dr Seuss describes the ‘Waiting Place’ as ‘useless’. This is the place where we are all –

Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting. [i]

And as we wait, many of us become bored, anxious, impatient, or even angry. So, we try to avoid it as much as we can.  

But in her book When the Heart Waits, Sue Monk Kidd says that waiting is not at all useless. ‘For a world that hovers so delicately between beauty and destruction,’ she says, ‘waiting is something we can’t afford to ignore much longer.’

It’s a natural part of life, she says. Indeed, all through the Bible we can see people waiting. Noah, for example, waits for the floodwaters to recede; Jesus waits in the Garden of Gethsemane; and we are all collectively waiting for his return.

Kidd’s point is that waiting is an important part of God’s plan for us.  

She recounts the story of a retreat she attended at a Benedictine monastery, where she noticed a certain monk, sitting alone and very still. He had a ski cap pulled down over his ears, and he was enjoying the shade of a tree. 

There was such tranquil reverence in his silhouette that she stopped to look at him. He was the picture of waiting. Later, she spoke to him. ‘I saw you today sitting beneath the tree,’ she said, ‘just sitting there so still. How can you wait so patiently in the moment? I can’t seem to get used to the idea of doing nothing.’

Breaking into a grin, he replied: ‘Well, there’s the problem right there, young lady. You’ve bought into the cultural myth that when you’re waiting, you’re doing nothing.’

He placed his hands on her shoulders, looked into her eyes and said, ‘I hope you’ll hear what I’m about to tell you. I hope you’ll hear it all the way down to your toes. 

‘When you’re waiting, you’re not doing nothing. You’re doing the most important something there is. You’re allowing your soul to grow up. If you can’t be still and wait, you can’t become what God created you to be.’ [ii]

Waiting, then, is not the useless in-between time we often think it is. We may find it challenging, but that’s only because God is using it to weave blessing, beauty and wisdom into our lives. If we resist these things, we are the ones who miss out.

Today we begin the season of Advent, and Advent is essentially all about waiting – waiting for the coming of Christ into our lives at Christmas. In these four weeks we are all encouraged to take time out to reflect on our lives, to pray and seek the sacraments, and to think about all the suffering in the world around us.

Our hope is that when Jesus does come, he’ll bring with him all the peace, hope, joy and love that we and our world so desperately need.

To nourish and guide us through this time, the Church offers us a rich selection of readings every day. In today’s first reading, Isaiah shares his dream of God’s kingdom, where swords are beaten into ploughshares and spears are turned into pruning-hooks. His vision is of frightful weapons of war being reborn as instruments of nourishment and life.

In troubled times, we are all called to be peacemakers, just like Jesus. These are troubled times, of course, so our challenge is to recognise the weapons we tend to use in our own daily lives. Might this include our impatience, our anger and our harsh tongues? And how might we turn these things into instruments of peace?

In our second reading, St Paul tells us to wake up, because the night is almost over; it will be daylight soon, for God is on his way. And in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus warns us not to be unprepared, as the people were at the time of Noah. It’s time to get ourselves ready.

So, this Advent, let’s reflect on the art of waiting, and recognise that its purpose is to reshape and refine us, and prepare us for what is to follow.

Jesus Christ is coming at Christmas.

Let’s make sure our waiting is fruitful.

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[i] Dr Seuss, Oh the Places You’ll Go! http://benavidez5thgrade.weebly.com/uploads/8/6/7/3/86734958/oh-the-places-youll-go-by-dr-seuss.pdf

[ii] Sue Monk Kidd, When the Heart Waits. HarperOne, NY. 2016.

Christ Our King

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

Today we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King. This is the last Sunday of the Church’s liturgical calendar, and we end the year by reminding ourselves of who Jesus really is.

Pope Pius XI established the Feast of Christ the King in 1925, partly because of his concern about the rise of repressive dictatorships in Europe. At the time, violence and anti-Christian rhetoric were all too common, and Pius feared that too many Christians were being duped by the false prophets of fascism, communism and Nazism.

He wanted to remind us all that it is God who created us, and that in our turbulent world our only real hope for the future is Jesus Christ.

Thankfully, Hitler, Stalin and Mussolini are all now long gone. However, the world today is witnessing instead the rise of new dictatorships that are both disturbing and dangerous, and too many people are living lives that are spiritually empty and aimless.

Many today try to compensate for this emptiness with various forms of self-obsession and by subscribing to the latest political and social fads.

But in her book Strange Gods, Elizabeth Scalia says that when we’re obsessed with ourselves, all our feelings, desires and thoughts become like gods to us, and they lead us down a long winding path that seems to take us somewhere, but really only takes us down into the dungeon of ourselves.

This, she says, is why Jesus says the most important thing we can do is to love God first and then to love our neighbour. For only in this way will we be lifted from the empty depths of our inner selves and brought into the refreshing light of truth.

Today in our Gospel, Jesus is crucified on a cross in a rubbish dump called Calvary. Now, the very fact that our King and our God, Jesus Christ, would allow himself to be treated in this way should make us all stop and think. It says so much about how Jesus views his relationship with us.

In Mark’s Gospel (10:42-45) Jesus says to his disciples, ‘You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many’. 

Pope Benedict XVI in his book The Joy of Knowing Christ (2009) says that this is the logic of Christianity. Jesus gave himself in love simply because God is love.

To those who don’t know him, Jesus nailed to the cross looks like an abject failure. However, we know from what follows that Jesus didn’t fail at all. He has actually proved to be the most remarkable king of all.

Not only did he rise from the dead, but he has shown us that his kingship is not about selfishness and greed, but about humility, service and love.

He has shown us that he is not a demanding, bullying king, but one who gently invites us to follow him.

And he is not imperious or remote like other kings, but rather he is a shepherd who genuinely cares for his flock. 

And significantly, he doesn’t ask us to do anything that he’s not prepared to do himself.

Jesus’ self-sacrificial love is the complete opposite of fashionable thinking today.

In his book Food for the Soul, Peter Kreeft draws our attention to the last sentence in today’s Gospel. He notes that it’s the last sentence of the last reading of the last Sunday of our liturgical year, and it’s Jesus’ answer to the good thief who was crucified next to him: ‘Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.’

Kreeft says that these are the words we will be hearing from Jesus on the last day of our own lives, if we accept him as our King.

He says that if we make room for Jesus on the throne of our lives, then he will make room for us on his throne in heaven. He will share his kingship, his triumph, and his glory with us. [i]

That thief had lived a life of crime, and barely minutes before his death, he repented and opened his heart up to God. Jesus responded by offering him eternal life in paradise.

What a remarkable gift that was!

But what’s even more extraordinary is the fact that this gift is available to each of us, too.

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[i] Peter Kreeft, Food for the Soul. Word on Fire, Park Ridge, IL. 2021:671-672.

The End Times

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

In all three synoptic Gospels, Jesus warns us that the world will end one day.

‘There will be great signs from heaven,’ he says. There will be fearful sights including wars and revolutions, earthquakes, plagues and famines.

If all these things are happening right now, might we be living in the end times?

People have been asking this question for the last 2,000 years, and many have tried to predict the world’s end. Indeed, one mathematician claims to have calculated that the world only has 760 years left. [i]

So far, these people have all been proved wrong, but in any case Jesus tells us not to listen to them because they are either ignorant or false teachers. For even he doesn’t know when the world will end; only his Father knows (Mt.24:36).

In today’s first reading, the prophet Malachi confirms that one day the world will end and all the ‘arrogant and the evil-doers of the world will be burnt up like stubble.’ What he means is that there’s no joy ahead for those who choose the way of sin and darkness.

Those who choose the way of light, however, can expect ‘the sun of righteousness to shine with its healing rays.’

In other words, if your faith is genuine, you need not fear because the Lord will come to ‘rule the world with justice and the people with fairness’ (Ps.97:9).

In our second reading, St Paul says that it’s wrong to sit idly by, watching and waiting for all this to happen. Instead, we should be setting a good example for others by living honest and humble lives, and working steadily to earn the bread we eat. Our work might not be easy, but it is a necessary and noble part of life, and an important pathway to heaven.

And in Luke’s Gospel today, after talking about the end of the world, Jesus warns that we Christians can expect to be persecuted for following him.

Now, the Church has always endured some form of persecution, but it’s much worse today. More Christians were martyred in the Twentieth Century than in all the previous 1900 years combined, and sadly, the numbers keep rising. [ii]

In many parts of the world, churches are regularly damaged and destroyed, and priests, religious and students are kidnapped and murdered. Laws have also been introduced to suppress Christian values and beliefs, and some professions, like doctors and nurses, are being forced to do things that contradict their faith.

Subtly and not-so-subtly, we’re all being encouraged to reject Jesus.

The Japanese writer Shusaku Endo was raised by a devout Christian mother and baptised at the age of eleven. He grew up a Christian in pre-war Japan, where Christians were less than 1% of the population. He felt an acute sense of alienation as his classmates bullied him because of his ‘western’ religion.

After the war, he went to France, hoping to find spiritual soulmates. But once again he faced persecution, this time because of his race. He became the target of racial abuse.

Rejected at home and abroad, Endo suffered a deep crisis of faith. He decided to visit Palestine to study the life of Jesus. There he made a profound discovery: that Jesus was also rejected. There was no room for him in the inn when he was born. His neighbours ran him out of town. His family questioned his sanity. One of his closest friends betrayed him, while the others abandoned him. And his countrymen traded his life for that of a terrorist.

All this came as a surprise to Endo. He had thought that Christianity was a triumphant faith, but he discovered instead that Jesus was the Suffering Servant. Endo could see in the weak, the broken and the rejected, the Jesus who was also rejected by his own, and tortured and condemned to death.

He learnt that Jesus could understand the rejection that he himself had experienced, and knowing that gave him great strength. [iii]

It’s not easy being a faithful Christian these days, and that’s precisely why Jesus wants us to know that the world will not last forever.

He’s not trying to make us fearful, because fear is the enemy of love, and God is the source of all love. Rather, Jesus is promising us that something much better is coming for those who follow him. ‘Your endurance will win you your lives,’ he says.

The point is that God is ultimately in control, and it’s foolish to ever think we can ‘go it alone’.

Knowing that our troubled world won’t last forever actually gives us hope. It gives focus to our labours, and it encourages us to prepare for the life to come.

There’s a much better life ahead for those who truly love Jesus (Jn.10:10; 1Jn.2:25).

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[i] https://www.vox.com/the-highlight/2019/6/28/18760585/doomsday-argument-calculation-prediction-j-richard-gott

[ii] Peter Kreeft, Food for the Soul, Cycle C. Word on Fire, Park Ridge, IL. 2021:644.

[iii] Flor McCarthy, New Sunday and Holy Day Liturgies, Year C. Dominican Publications, Dublin. 2012:374-375.

As It Is In Heaven

(2Macc.7:1-2, 9-14; 2Thess.2:16-3:5; Lk.20:27-38)

Some say that there are two kinds of people in this world – those who believe in heaven, and those who don’t.

Jesus, of course leads the first group, but in Biblical times, the Sadducees belonged to the second. They were a small Jewish group who refused to believe in an afterlife.

In today’s Gospel, when some Sadducees see Jesus in the Temple, they challenge him with a hypothetical question: whose wife would a woman be if she marries each of seven brothers, one after the other, after each one dies? [i]

They believe that God’s Law, as given to Moses, cannot be broken, and that God would never create anything that contradicted his own Law. So, by their reasoning, God could not have created an afterlife, because it would simply undermine the sanctity of marriage.

Jesus gives them two answers. Firstly, he says that marriage is an earthly institution blessed by God, and it doesn’t exist in heaven.

And secondly, he says that Moses learnt about the resurrection before he received the Law from God. That was when he first encountered God in the Burning Bush, and God said to him ‘I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob’ (Ex.3:4-6).

Jesus’ point is that because God is the God of the living, and God of the patriarchs, then the patriarchs – Abraham, Isaac and Jacob – must still be alive. For God is a ‘living’ God and only the living can experience something that lives. The patriarchs, therefore, are still alive and heaven is real.

We affirm this belief for ourselves every time we recite the Creed and say ‘I believe in the… resurrection of the body and life everlasting.’

So what do we know about heaven? Not too much, unfortunately. That’s probably because, as St Paul says, the nature of heaven is beyond our human comprehension. ‘No eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him’ he says (1 Cor 2:9).

However, we do know some things. For example, life in heaven is different to life here on earth, because there’s no more death or decay, or suffering or pain (Rev.21:4), and heaven is a place of eternal rest and peace (Heb.4:9).

And as Jesus says today, there’s no marriage, but this doesn’t mean that we’ll lose our family and friends. Rather, our relationships will be different as everything will centre around a close communion with God, who is love itself.

You might remember that shortly before he was crucified, Jesus sensed his disciples’ fear and said to them, ‘Don’t let your hearts be troubled… trust in me… I’m going on ahead to prepare a place for you… There are many dwelling places in my Father’s house’ (Jn.14:1-3). 

Jesus has prepared a home for all his disciples in heaven, but this is more than just somewhere to live. It’s actually our real home (Heb.13:14), our permanent home, unlike our temporary dwellings here on earth. And this home will be the fulfilment of our deepest desires, for as St Augustine wrote: ‘You made us for yourself O Lord, and our hearts remain restless until they rest in you.’ [ii]

Some people wonder if heaven might be boring. They fear that it might be just a wispy, ethereal place where people sit on clouds, chanting or playing harps all day long. But remember that in his first letter, St John says that we ‘shall see God as he is’ (1Jn.3:2).

This is significant, because God is the foundation of all wisdom, knowledge and understanding, and the source of all being. He is our Creator, and seeing him will give us the greatest possible happiness. We’ll find ourselves both excited and fulfilled by the extraordinary sights, and insights, that God will reveal to us.

In his book The Imitation of Christ, Thomas á Kempis wrote, ‘Happy is the person who always keeps the hour of death in mind, and daily prepares for it.’

So how might we prepare for it?

Richard Rohr says the simplest way to answer that question is by asking what’s happening in heaven. And what is happening in heaven is communion, unity and family. ‘Lord, your will be done on earth as it is happening in heaven.’

Rohr makes the point that God’s love in heaven is all about perfect union, and union and communion are what God is trying to achieve here on earth. ‘God is not creating religion and righteousness,’ he says. ‘God is creating unity.’

That’s why Jesus’ basic rules for the kingdom are about forgiveness, reconciliation, healing and communication.

‘Those who are capable of union and communion are capable of God,’ he says. [iii]

So, that’s how we prepare for heaven.

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[i] To explain, this practice of a man marrying his brother’s widow comes from the Torah (Deut.25:5-6). It’s called the Levirate Law of Marriage (From the Latin word ‘levir’, meaning brother or brother-in-law), and its purpose was to ensure that widows are looked after and that the first husband’s name lived on after him.

[ii] St Augustine, Confessions, Penguin Books, London, 1961:21

[iii] Richard Rohr, What the Mystics know. Crossroad Publishing, NY. 2015:99.

Anyone, Anywhere, Anytime

[Wis.11:22-12:2; 2Thess.1:11-2:2; Lk.19:1-10]

Being ridiculed and excluded can be very painful. This is what Zacchaeus finds in Luke’s Gospel today.

As a tax collector for the Romans, Zacchaeus has become rich, but the people of Jericho hate him. They think he’s a worthless cheat.

Not surprisingly, he is unhappy. He feels lost and sorely in need of a fresh start.

Zacchaeus has heard that Jesus is coming to town, and hopes to get a glimpse of him. But Zacchaeus is a short man in a big crowd, so he climbs a tree to get a better view.

Jesus sees him up there, and says, ‘Come down. Hurry because I must stay at your house today.’ Instantly, Zacchaeus’ life changes. His curiosity is replaced by an intense sense of repentance and conversion.

They haven’t met before, but Jesus knows Zacchaeus well (just as he knows each of us), and he gives him all the hope and joy he’s looking for. Zacchaeus then commits himself to giving away half his fortune to the poor, and generously repaying anyone he has wronged.

Thanks to Jesus, he is now a new man with a new life, and tradition tells us that Zacchaeus went on to become the first bishop of Caesarea.

There are three things to note from this story.

Firstly, although everyone else rejects Zacchaeus, Jesus still loves him. Jesus never rejects anyone, and neither should we.

Secondly, this story demonstrates that Jesus can call on anyone, anywhere and anytime – even nobodies perched high up in a tree. Is he calling you?

And finally, Jesus uses Zacchaeus as his instrument to serve that community. We know this because he generously commits to helping the poor.

In other words, God often works through the most unlikely people.

Now, someone else who suffered ridicule and exclusion was St Martin de Porres. His feast day is next week, on 3 November.

Martin was born in Lima, Peru, to a Spanish nobleman and a former black slave. His father soon abandoned him, leaving him to live in poverty with his mother and sister.

Martin only had two years of schooling, and was often mocked for his colour, but this didn’t stop him growing into a kind and caring man. He discovered Jesus through his mother, and from the age of ten he prayed for hours every day.

When he was twelve, Martin served as an apprentice and learnt basic hair-cutting and simple medical procedures.

At fifteen, he tried to join the Dominicans, but mixed-race people weren’t welcome back then, so instead he became a servant boy at a nearby convent. There, he cooked, cleaned and laboured in the fields.

Ten years later, he was invited to become a Dominican brother. He was overjoyed, but remained humble. He ate and dressed simply, slept little and worked hard. But even there, he found himself mocked by cruel jokes.

At 34, he was given responsibility for the infirmary and he spent the rest of his life doing remarkable things, healing both the rich and the poor.

Many miracles are attributed to Martin. He often appeared miraculously at the bedside of sick people, and he was sometimes seen in two places at once. He was a great fundraiser, using the money to feed and shelter hundreds of families. He established orchards and taught people how to farm, and he established an orphanage and school that still operate today. He also once bought a slave to set him free.

Martin died in 1639, aged 59. Thousands attended his funeral, and he was canonised by Pope St John XXIII in 1962.

Just like Zacchaeus, there are three things to note from this story. Firstly, although others rejected Martin, Jesus still held him close to his heart. Jesus never rejects anyone, and neither should we.

Secondly, this story reminds us that Jesus can call on anyone, anywhere and anytime – even nobodies on the margins of society. Is he calling you?

And finally, Jesus used Martin to serve that community. We know this because of his extraordinary achievements.

In other words, God often works through the most unlikely people.

Zacchaeus and Martin had much in common. They were both ‘nobodies’, rejected by their communities. But they both had faith, and allowed Jesus to work through them. Because of that, they both lived lives of great purpose, meaning and joy, and today they continue to inspire millions of people.

Zacchaeus came to Jesus much later in life than Martin, but that is never an issue.

Whenever anyone opens up their heart and life to God, the rewards are always the same (Mt.20:1-16).

The Jesus Prayer

(Sir.35:12-14, 6-18; 2Tim.4:6-8, 16-18; Lk.18:9-14)

‘Pray constantly,’ St Paul tells the Thessalonians (1Thess.5:17).

But how can anyone pray constantly? That’s the question a young homeless man asks in the spiritual classic, The Way of a Pilgrim, written by an anonymous Russian author.

It’s the 1800s, and this young man hears St Paul’s words in an Orthodox church. He’s puzzled: how can anyone possibly pray non-stop?

He decides to go on pilgrimage to find an answer. He asks many people along the way, and eventually stops at a monastery, where an old monk agrees to help him understand what St Paul means.

He begins by teaching him the Jesus Prayer: ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner’.

‘Go to your room and say it 1,000 times,’ the monk says. When he does this, the monk says, ‘Now, pray it 10,000 times.’

He teaches the pilgrim to slowly pray the first part, ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God’ while breathing in, and then to say ‘have mercy on me, a sinner’ while breathing out. He instructs him to do this all day.

Later, the monk dies and the pilgrim resumes his journey, slowly chanting this prayer by inhaling and exhaling the words. Sometimes he stresses a different word, or he shortens the prayer down to ‘Lord Jesus, have mercy on me’, or simply ‘Jesus, have mercy’.

All the while he’s using this breathing technique, humbly confessing his sinfulness and expressing his longing for God. In the process, he moves from praying the words aloud to praying them silently, and gradually, his whole being becomes the prayer. The words become embedded in his heart, mind and body, and their presence becomes as natural and constant as breathing itself.

‘Now I walk and say the Jesus Prayer without ceasing,’ the pilgrim says, ‘and it’s more precious and sweet to me than anything else in the world.’ [i]

The Jesus Prayer is a prayer of the heart. It’s similar to an Eastern mantra in that it’s short and it’s prayed over and over again, sometimes using knots or beads on a prayer rope.

But the difference is that non-Christian mantras are often meaningless and aim to empty the mind.

The words of the Jesus Prayer, however, are Biblical and deeply meaningful, and aim to fill the heart, mind and soul with Jesus himself.

The strength of this prayer comes from Jesus’ holy name, which is powerful in itself (Phil.2:9; Rom.10:13). Whenever we use Jesus’ name, we invoke his presence and he brings with him peace and forgiveness, love and hope.

Indeed, you cannot separate the name and person of Jesus.

This prayer began with the 3^rd Century monks of the Egyptian desert. They took the words ‘Lord have mercy on me’ from the psalms and from the story of Jesus healing the blind beggar in Jericho (Mk.10:47).

The essence of this prayer, however, can be found in today’s Gospel, in Jesus’ Parable of the Pharisee and Tax Collector.

Two men are praying in the Temple. The Pharisee stands where everyone can see him. Looking up to heaven, he loudly thanks God that he’s not like everyone else, and especially not like that Tax Collector, for he’s a virtuous man who fasts and is generous with his money.

That’s not genuine prayer, however. That’s self-promotion.

The Tax Collector then stands at the back of the Temple. He’s ashamed of his life and can’t lift up his eyes (Ez.9:6). He prays quietly, saying ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’ He is lowly and humble, and honest about his mistakes. He knows he needs help, so he prays, seeking God’s love and forgiveness.

In the 1930s, Jesus promised St. Faustina Kowalska that he will ‘pour out a whole ocean of graces’ to those who approach the fountain of His mercy. [ii] This is what he does for the Tax Collector. He’ll do the same for us if we take this prayer to heart.

Today, the Jesus Prayer is especially popular in the Eastern Church, and increasingly so in the West. It’s said to be the most widely used prayer after the Our Father and the Hail Mary. [iii]

And it’s effective. A 1998 study found that practising the Jesus Prayer for ten minutes a day for 30 days, sitting quietly, offers many benefits. This includes increasing one’s perception of closeness to God, and decreasing levels of hostility, depression and anxiety. [iv]

The Jesus Prayer is easy to remember, and easy to pray, anywhere and anytime. It also comes with a whole ocean of God’s graces. [v]

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Now, say this 1,000 times.

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[i] Helen Bacovcin (trans.), The Way of the Pilgrim. Doubleday, NY, 1992. https://www.amazon.com/Way-Pilgrim-Continues-His/dp/0385468148 

[ii] https://www.ourcatholicprayers.com/jesus-prayer.html

[iii] https://aleteia.org/2016/09/05/praying-the-jesus-prayer-mercy-with-every-breath/

[iv] http://stjohngoc.org/the-impact-of-saying-the-jesus-prayer/

[v] https://www.orthodoxprayer.org/Articles_files/Jesus%20Prayer%20Brochure.pdf

Alfonso Cuarón’s Gravity

(Ex.17:8-13; 2Tim.3:14-4:2; Lk.18:1-8)

Being cast adrift can be a scary experience.

That’s what we see in Alfonso Cuarón’s movie Gravity. It won seven Oscars in 2014. [i]

Sandra Bullock stars as a young astronaut, Dr Ryan Stone, on her first space mission. George Clooney is her commander, a veteran astronaut on his last space expedition.

Disaster strikes while they’re investigating the Hubble Space Telescope. Their space shuttle is destroyed, they lose contact with the world and they start floating hopelessly into space. It’s a frightening thought.

The film is set in outer space, but the real story is about the inner life of this young woman. Her drifting through space serves as a metaphor for human life, for so many people today do seem to be drifting aimlessly through life. 

Dr Stone discovers to her horror that science cannot answer the most basic questions about life, and this movie asks the question: when science and technology fail, what’s left to sustain us?

At one point, she thinks she’s going to die. She cannot contact mission control, but keeps talking into her microphone anyway, asking, ‘Who’ll pray for my soul? Will you say a prayer for me? I’d say one myself, but I’ve never been taught how to’.

She discovers that we all need a faith and hope that’s grounded in solid truth, a truth that exists beyond us. And she learns that prayer is our only real lifeline to that truth and hope. (This point explains the film’s tagline: Don’t Let Go.)

There’s a similar message for us in today’s reading from Exodus. The Israelites are under attack, and as they try to defend themselves, Moses is praying on a hilltop. His hands are held high and he’s looking up towards heaven (for that’s how the ancients prayed).

As long as Moses keeps his arms up in constant prayer, the Israelites are safe; but when he lowers them, the enemy gains ground. 

The message is simple: Keep praying! Don’t let go! 

Like Sandra Bullock’s character in Gravity, there are times when we all feel we’ve been cast adrift. We feel lost, fearful and uncertain of where we’re going. That’s why Jesus in today’s Gospel reminds us of the source of our hope. Pray constantly, he says. Never lose heart.

Don’t let go!

But what is prayer? Basically, it’s communicating with God, and there are many ways to do this: in words, in song and even in silence. We can also pray by reading Scripture and by participating in the liturgy, most especially the Holy Eucharist.

Some of us have yet to find God, so prayer is also our search for him. We can look for God in our hearts and minds or listen for his quiet voice. We can seek him in art, music and literature, or sense him in the people, events and world around us. All these are forms of prayer.  

But once we’ve found God, prayer is then reaching out to him, inviting him into our lives, allowing him to change us from within. 

After that, prayer is staying connected with God, sharing in his divine nature and living as he wants us to.

St John Vianney described prayer as union with God. Prayer, he said, is like two candles – one for God and one for the soul – that have slowly melted into each other and become inseparable.

Ultimately, however, prayer is love. It’s our heartfelt search for the source of all life and love. And when we find God, when we absorb all he has to offer, then we become a source of new life and love for others. God then works through us, offering others a new beginning.

But this is only possible if we accept that there’s more to life than what we see.

Like Dr Stone in Gravity, we must learn that there truly is a deeper, spiritual world beyond the limits of space and time, for God is the source of all truth and meaning; the home of all love. And that’s where we belong. 

There’s a moment in Gravity where Dr Stone starts to understand. She’s floating in space in a foetal position, and then emerges with new life. This image is reinforced in the final scene where she emerges from the sea to begin afresh, in the same way that we rise to new life from the waters of baptism.

Our challenge then, is to maintain our link to the source of all life.

October is the month of the Holy Rosary, which reminds us of the ancient prayer that focuses so beautifully on the life of Jesus Christ.

St Therese of Lisieux saw the Rosary as a long chain linking heaven and earth, with one end in our hands, and the other in the hands of Jesus and Mary.

Like all prayer, the Rosary is an important lifeline to the truth of our existence.

Whatever you do, don’t let go!

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[i] Alfonso Cuaron, Gravity, Warner Bros. Entertainment, 2013. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ou_04SOqmdU

Thank God for the Fleas

(Kgs.5:14-17; 2Tim.2:8-13; Lk.17:11-19)

How important is gratitude? Do we really need to say thank you?

Most of us probably know someone who rarely or never says thank you. Perhaps they’re angry or resentful about something, or they simply take things for granted, but being ungrateful tends to have consequences.

For example, ungrateful people often make poor life decisions. Why? It’s because negative thinking tends to cloud our judgement.[i] And have you noticed that ungrateful people are never happy? That’s because gratitude is the key to happiness. You cannot be happy if you’re never grateful.

So, what is gratitude? It’s appreciating what we have. It’s saying thanks for the good things that happen to us. Gratitude helps us feel connected with the world and with each other. It helps us see the world in fresh ways. It makes it easier for us to feel good, to overcome stress and adversity, and to be healthy. [ii]

In today’s Gospel, ten lepers approach Jesus. They’ve heard all about him and they’re hoping for a cure. In Greek, they cry ‘Eleison!’ (This is our cry, too, when we say ‘Lord have mercy’ at the start of every Mass.)

‘Go, show yourselves to the priests,’ Jesus says, and on the way all ten of them are healed; such is the strength of their faith. But only one, a Samaritan, returns to say thank you. Only he is humble enough to appreciate the gift he’s received. He throws himself thankfully at Jesus’ feet, and as he does so, he receives an even greater gift: his heart and soul are filled with divine grace.

He is both physically healed and spiritually transformed.

In this Gospel, Jesus is saying that we should all be grateful for our blessings. So, we ask ourselves: are we truly grateful, like the Samaritan? Or do we choose to be like the other nine, taking but giving nothing in return?

Through his letters, St Paul often talks about being thankful. In fact, he does so 46 times (e.g., Col.1:3-8,15; 1Tim.2:1). ‘Give thanks in all circumstances’ (1Thess.5:18), he says. Give thanks to God and to each other, always and everywhere. Give thanks for our existence, for the world we live in, for the food we eat and the air we breathe. Give thanks for our family and friends, and for our peace and prosperity.

Life might not be perfect, but we’re all blessed in so many ways.

In her book, The Hiding Place, Corrie Ten Boom explains how she learnt to be grateful, even in the most awful of places.

In 1944, in the Netherlands, she and her family were arrested by the Nazis for secretly sheltering Jews in their home. They were sent to Ravensbruck concentration camp, a truly cruel and miserable place.

Arriving at Barracks 28, they were horrified to find the straw mattresses soaked with urine, the sewers backed up and their beds swarming with biting fleas. How could they live in such a place?

Corrie’s sister Betsie had a Bible, and in it she came across St Paul’s instruction: ‘Give thanks in all circumstances.’ They talked and wondered about this, and decided to make a list of all their blessings.

They were thankful they were together. They thanked God they had a Bible. They even thanked God for the crowds of prisoners, that more people could hear God’s word through them. And then, Betsie thanked God for the fleas.

‘The fleas!’ Corrie said. This was too much. ‘There’s no way even God can make me grateful for a flea,’ she thought.

But it turned out that Betsie was right. The fleas were a nuisance, but they were also a blessing. The women were able to have Bible studies in the barracks with a great deal of freedom, never bothered by supervisors coming in and harassing them. The fleas actually kept the guards away.

God used those fleas to protect dozens of women from harassment and abuse. They were left free to support each other and to hear the comforting and life-giving word of God. [iii]

We all have things that irritate us, things that at first appear to be annoying, painful or even unnecessary. But as Corrie Ten Boom found, God often uses such things for our protection and blessing.

St Therese of Lisieux learnt the same lesson: ‘Everything is a blessing’, she said. Everything.

So, we must always be thankful, even when times are tough and unpleasant. We might not be aware of it, but God is always looking after us.

Very often, it’s only when we look back that we realise what God has done for us.

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[i] https://hbr.org/2010/09/how-anger-poisons-decision-making

[ii] https://www.psychologytoday.com/au/blog/being-your-best-self/202010/practicing-gratitude-is-more-important-now-ever

[iii] Corrie ten Boom, The Hiding Place, Hodder and Stoughton, London, 2015:184-192.