Year A – 3rd Sunday in Lent

On Dottie and the Invisibles

(Ex.17:3-7; Rom.5:1-2,5-8; Jn.4:5-42)

In Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, Professor Dumbledore says, ‘I don’t need a cloak to become invisible’. [i]  He’s right!  Consider the story of the company CEO who sat for the final exam of his business strategy class.  He spent many hours preparing for it.

“The teacher handed out the exam,” he said. “It was on one piece of paper which surprised me, because I figured it would be longer than that.  Once everyone had their paper, the teacher said, ‘Go ahead and turn it over.’  Both sides were blank.”

The teacher then said, ‘I’ve taught you everything I can about business in the last ten weeks, but the most important message, the most important question is this:  What’s the name of the lady who cleans this building?’

‘It was the only test I ever failed,’ he said, ‘and I got the “B” I deserved.  Her name was Dottie, and I didn’t know Dottie.  I’d seen her, but I’d never taken the time to ask her name. I’ve tried to know every Dottie I’ve worked with ever since.’ [ii]

Ralph Ellison, in his book The Invisible Man (1952), writes: ‘I am an invisible man … I am a man of substance; of flesh and bone (but) I am invisible simply because people refuse to see me…’ [iii] 

Why won’t they see him?  It’s because he’s black.  They refuse to acknowledge his existence because of his colour.

There are lots of invisible people today.  People who, for various reasons, we don’t see or we simply won’t see.  The poor, the lost, the homeless, the elderly, the different – they’re all so easily ignored.  We turn our heads away. 

Do you sometimes feel invisible?

In his book I and Thou (1923), the philosopher Martin Buber says that there are two ways to relate to people. We can either see them as objects and things, or we can treat them as human beings worthy of respect. [iv]

In his memoirs, Buber explains how this idea came to him.  During WWI, he was a professor at a German university.  One day he was interrupted by a student who’d been called up to serve in the army.  The student was a pacifist and he asked Buber what he should do.  Should he serve his country and kill against his conscience, or should he say he’s a conscientious objector and let someone else be killed in his place?

Buber was busy and he became irritated.  He told the student to go away and make up his own mind. The student did go away, but he committed suicide.

Buber was horrified.  He suffered guilt for the rest of his life.  He had treated this young man as a thing, as an unwelcome interruption, rather than as someone special who God had created in his own image.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus is at Jacob’s Well, in the Samaritan town of Sychar, 63 kilometres north of Jerusalem.  There he meets a woman.  According to the culture of the time, she’s invisible.  She would have been treated as an object because Jews hated Samaritans.  And the local women would have shunned her because of the scandal of her multiple husbands. 

So, she keeps her head down.  She goes to the well at the hottest time of the day, when no-one’s likely to be there.  But then Jesus arrives. 

Rabbis aren’t allowed to talk with women in public.  But Jesus won’t snub anyone, and this woman deserves love and respect.  He knows her past; he knows she’s unhappy, and he wants to help. 

So, he talks to her.  At first, it’s about water, but Jesus knows she needs more than that.  She’s lost, and she has been looking to men to satisfy her soul.  Her real thirst is for the spiritual refreshment of the Holy Spirit.  So, Jesus offers her the living water of his mercy and love.

This is the longest conversation Jesus has with anyone in the Gospels, and it transforms her life.  Initially, she dismissively refers to Jesus as a ‘Jew’.  But then she calls him ‘sir’, then ‘prophet’, then ‘messiah’, and finally the ‘Saviour of the world’.  Then she excitedly runs to tell everyone in her village.

This progression from hostility to respect, acceptance and awe, reflects the process of conversion for so many of us.

According to Eastern tradition, this woman is St Photina and she’s the first evangelist in John’s Gospel. She travelled far and wide, telling everyone that Jesus knew all about her, and that his living water gave her brand new life. [v]

This Lent, let’s go to the well, too, and ask Jesus for some of that living water

… and for the grace to never again treat anyone as invisible.


[i] In 1998, this book was released in the United States as Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

[ii] https://www.tlnt.com/how-a-cleaning-lady-taught-me-a-management-lesson-i-never-forgot/

[iii] https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/ralph-ellisons-invisible-man-as-a-parable-of-our-time

[iv] https://www.brainpickings.org/2018/03/18/i-and-thou-martin-buber/

[v] https://www.seetheholyland.net/tag/church-of-st-photina/

Year A – 2nd Sunday in Lent

On Restoring Our Divinity

(Gen.12:1-4a; 2Tim.1:8b-10; Mt.17:1-9)

In last week’s Gospel, Jesus revealed his humanity by being tired, hungry and tempted in the desert.  Today we see another side of him, as God’s light shines through Jesus while he’s praying on Mount Tabor.  We see him as he truly is: The Son of God.

Together, these two stories show us that Jesus has two natures: he’s both human and divine. He’s true God and true man. We acknowledge this truth every time we say the Creed.  But what does this mean for us?

On the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Rome is Michelangelo’s painting of two hands reaching out to each other.  It depicts the moment when God created Adam in his own image and likeness (Gen.1:27).  But as we know, Adam tarnished that divine image at the Fall, when he and Eve chose to turn away from God in the Garden of Eden (Gen.3).  Mankind has been struggling with sin and suffering ever since.

God has not abandoned us, however.  He’s still determined to share his divine life with us. That’s why he sent his Son to live among us, and that’s why his Holy Spirit is still with us (Jn.3:16; Jn.14:16).  As St Athanasius put it, ‘God became human, so that humans might become like God’. [i]

So, there’s another way to read Michelangelo’s famous painting. It represents God the Father continually reaching out to Adam (and to us) as he tries to restore the divinity embedded in our all-too-human selves.  Through Jesus Christ, our heavenly Father is constantly trying to draw us back into his divine life (2Pet.1:3-4).

St Paul says that we are called to be imitators of God, as his beloved children (Eph.5:1).  We all came from God, and by the grace of baptism we have been formally received into God’s family as his adopted daughters and sons.  This means that we really are God’s children, for we have been deified and made holy. 

Now, this is important, because it means that this is where we begin our journey of faith.  We don’t have to do anything to make ourselves worthy, for we already are worthy.  God has already accepted us.

Our challenge as Christians, then, is simply to reflect our holiness, our inherent divinity, in our daily lives.  But how can we do this?  Today, I’d like to suggest three ways.

Firstly, there are as many approaches to holiness as there are saints.  But as Bishop Robert Barron points out, one particular approach is represented by the design of rose windows in medieval Gothic cathedrals.  These windows are symbols of the well-ordered soul.  

At the centre of every rose window is an image of Christ, and all around him in harmonious patterns are hundreds of medallions, each depicting a saint or a scene from scripture.

The message from these windows is that when your life is centred on Christ, all the energies, aspirations and powers of the soul fall into a beautiful and satisfying pattern.  And by implication, whenever something other than Christ, (such as money, sex, success or adulation) fills the centre, then the soul falls into disharmony (cf.Mt.6:33).

So, when we consciously acknowledge Jesus as the centre of our lives, something like wholeness or holiness will follow. [ii]

Another way to restore our divine dignity, our holiness, is through the Holy Eucharist.  We become what we consume.  In the Eucharist, just before the bread and wine are consecrated, the priest or deacon pours a little water into the wine and he quietly prays, ‘By the mystery of this water and wine may we come to share in the divinity of Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity’. 

The water symbolises our humanity and the wine symbolises God’s divinity. When the water and wine are combined, they transform each other.  They become inseparable.  In the same way, whenever we receive Communion, we receive Jesus’ Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity.  When we take him into ourselves, our human nature becomes mixed with his divine nature and another transformation takes place.

And finally, did you notice that Jesus’ transfiguration occurs while he’s praying?  He starts radiating the glory of God.  Something very similar happened to Moses when he prayed on Mt Sinai (Ex.34:29-35).  The point is that if we pray well, then we too can expect a profound transformation, both inside and out.

We can never actually become God, of course.  We can never be God’s ontological equal, for his essence will always be infinitely greater than anything we could ever aspire to.  But God does want us to become godly, taking on his values, his attitudes and his character. [iii]  He wants us to ‘partake of his divine nature’, as St Peter says (2Pet.1:4).

This process is known as divinisation or theosis, and far too many of us ignore it.  God is constantly calling us to share in his divine life. [iv]

He’s calling us to be better people.


[i] St Athanasius, On the Incarnation, 54, 3: p.25, 192B

[ii] Robert Barron, You’re Holier Than You Know. https://www.uscatholic.org/church/2008/07/youre-holier-you-know

[iii] Rick Warren, https://www.whatchristianswanttoknow.com/32-great-christian-quotes-about-holiness/

[iv] Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1.

Year A – 1st Sunday in Lent

On a Trap for the Unwary

(Gen.2:7-9, 3:1-7; Rom.5:12-19; Matt.4:1-11)

Today, let’s begin with a story.  It’s about a wealthy man who had his own private zoo.  One day he heard about a rare and beautiful type of African gazelle, and he decided to get one.

When he arrived in Africa, they told him that these animals are much too fast and much too smart to be caught.  But he replied, ‘I’ll get one. You’ll see.  I’ll get as many as I want.’  And he did.  This is how he did it.

He found a herd of gazelles, and one night he poured some sweet feed onto the open ground and left.  It was a blend of oats and molasses.  Every night for two weeks he scattered that feed, and every day they came to eat.  In the third week he scattered more feed, but he also sank a long post into the ground some distance away. 

The next night he scattered more feed, and he erected another post.  Each night he did the same, gradually adding more posts, and boards, to build an enclosure.  But the gazelles kept coming.  They found their way in and they ate all they could.

They didn’t realise they were losing their freedom.  They didn’t notice he was building a trap.  On the last day, when they were all inside, he closed the gap in the fence and the gazelles were trapped. 

Someone asked how he knew all this, and he replied, ‘That’s how I treat people.  I give them what they want, and in return they give me their freedom’. [i]

In Hamlet, Shakespeare wrote, ‘the devil has the power to assume a pleasing shape’.[ii]  What he’s saying is that Satan is very good at making something evil appear good.  He seduces people until they’re trapped.

That’s how people become addicted to alcohol, drugs and gambling.  That’s how we get ensnared by the seven deadly sins. That’s how we fall into wasteful habits, like spending too much time on our Smartphones or watching TV. 

The first step is easy and it’s often very pleasant.  But an ounce of pleasure is sometimes followed by a ton of regret.  Adam and Eve learnt that.  When they ate that forbidden fruit, their momentary pleasure was followed by a lifetime of pain.

Have you been seduced into a way of life or a behaviour you now regret?  Do you feel trapped?  Well, this Lent we’ve all been given a second chance.

In Matthew’s Gospel today, Jesus is in the desert, preparing himself for his public ministry.  He’s praying, fasting and reflecting.  But he’s also tired and hungry.  

Satan thinks this is a great time to tempt him, for his defences are down.  So, he asks Jesus, why not turn those stones into bread?  That will fix your hunger.  But Jesus says no; there’s more to life than physical satisfaction.

Then Satan asks, why not prove yourself by throwing yourself off a tower?  But Jesus says no; he’s not motivated by power or pride.

And finally, the devil promises Jesus the world.  But again he refuses.  Jesus has no ambition for himself; he only came to love and to serve. 

Jesus won’t be distracted.  He has a big job to do, and he’s preparing himself for it. 

This Lent, we also have a job to do.  We all have to work on our hearts and minds so that we become closer to God than ever before.

The life of a Christian disciple is essentially a movement away from our flawed and inadequate selves, and towards the truth, beauty and fullness of Jesus Christ.

But what holds us back is our attachments.  Jesus tells us, ‘where your treasure is, there your heart will be also’ (Mt.6:21).  Our goal, as Christians, is to attach ourselves to the things of God, rather than the things of this world. 

This isn’t always easy to achieve, because our world works hard to seduce us into all sorts of things that are either not good for us (like the seven deadly sins) or that we simply don’t need (like the consumer culture).  Once we’re caught, it can be hard to escape.

Our challenge this Lent is to find a way to get closer to Jesus. 

So, choose one thing in your life that’s holding you back.  It might be a possession or an obsession.  It could be an unhelpful attitude or an unhealthy behaviour.  What is it?  Let it go!

And having let it go, use this opportunity to spend more time with Jesus: sitting quietly, praying, reflecting and listening to his quiet voice. He’s got something important to say to you.

Our world is full of bright and shiny things that draw us in but ultimately take us nowhere.  They’re traps!  Lent is the perfect time to open our eyes to them, and to let them go.  Lent is the perfect time to get closer to Jesus.

Might that be impossible?  No, nothing is impossible with God (Lk.1:37).


[i] Bausch, W. The Story Revealed, Twenty-Third Publications, New London CT, 2013:47-48.

[ii] W Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2.

Year A – 7th Sunday in Ordinary Time

On an Eye for an Eye

(Lev.19:1-2, 17-18; 1Cor.3:16-23; Mt.5:38-48)

Revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold.  It seems quite a popular dish, too, because revenge often appears in film and literature.  Hamlet, Star Wars, True Grit, Taken and The Count of Monte Cristo are all stories of people seeking justice for past wrongs.

We’ve all been hurt, at some point, by someone else, and it’s a natural thing to seek justice.  It can also be very satisfying to see wrong-doers get what they deserve.

But consider this. Towards the end of World War One, the British Prime Minister, David Lloyd George, told his chief peace negotiator, Admiral Wemyss, that the war must end at 2.30 pm on armistice day.  He wanted to be the one to tell the nation. 

Admiral Wemyss, however, thought it better to end the war at 11 am on the 11th day of the 11th month.  This time had a stronger and more poetic ring to it, and ending the war slightly earlier would save thousands of lives.  The French and the Germans agreed, and King George V made the announcement.

Lloyd George was furious; he’d lost his moment of glory. But he got his revenge: he cancelled Wemyss’ war pension that would have been worth over £5 million today. [i]

It seems natural to want to hurt those who hurt you. That’s what children do.  But stories like this reveal just how nasty and misguided revenge can be.

Some people try to justify revenge by quoting Moses’ rule of ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth’ (Ex.21:24; Lev.24:20; Deut.19:21). This is called the Lex Talionis (law of retaliation), but its purpose wasn’t to encourage revenge.  It sought to ensure that people don’t overreact when they’re wronged.  So, if a man breaks your tooth, you can’t respond by breaking all his teeth (cf. Gen.4:23).   

Moses believed that the punishment should fit the crime, and this principle still applies in criminal law today.

But in 1963 Martin Luther King warned that this philosophy of an eye for an eye will leave everyone blind.[ii]  What he meant is that if everyone followed the tit-for-tat approach to justice, then the retaliation and the pain would never end.

Do you remember the famous feud between the MacDonalds and Campbells in 17th Century Scotland?  Dozens of people died.

Or the feud between the Hatfields and McCoys in Kentucky and West Virginia? This vendetta began in 1878 and many were killed or wounded.  It was only in 2003 that the two families signed a formal truce. [iii]

In today’s Gospel, Jesus warns his disciples not to retaliate when someone hurts them.  In fact, he says we must love our enemies.  Not just tolerate or vaguely accept them, but actually love them.

This sounds like a real challenge, but Bishop Robert Barron says that when you hate your enemy, you confirm him as your enemy.  But when you respond to his hatred with love, you take away the very energy that feeds his hatred.

He gives the example of aikido, one of the oriental martial arts.  The idea of aikido is to absorb your opponent’s aggressive energy by moving with it, continually frustrating him until he comes to realise that fighting is useless.

‘Some people’, Barron says, ‘have pointed out that there’s a great deal of this in Jesus’ strategy of nonviolence and love of the enemy. You creatively absorb your opponent’s aggression, channelling it back against him, to show him the futility of violence. So when someone insults you, send back a compliment instead of an insult.  When someone conspires against you, work to help him’.

Such responses are bold, but non-violent.  They rob the aggressor of their power, and they can break the cycle of revenge.  They can also help the victim gain control over the situation. [iv]

Jesus isn’t expecting us to accept abuse, but he does say that any response should be non-violent.  And it is important to always seek peace.  

Mahatma Gandhi once said, ‘I object to violence because when it appears to do good, that good is only temporary.  The evil it does is permanent’. 

And in 1957, Martin Luther King said, ‘Somebody must have sense enough and morality enough to cut off the chain of hate and the chain of evil in the universe.  And you do that by love’. [v]

That’s what Jesus is trying to teach us.  That’s why he says we must love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us (Mt.5:44). 

And that’s why Jesus prayed for those who nailed him to the Cross, saying ‘Forgive them Father, for they don’t know what they’re doing’ (Lk.23:34).

How do you respond when someone hurts you?


[i] Jonny Taylor, Remembrance Address. Concordia, Merchant Taylors School, London, Winter 2018, p.14.

[ii] http://kingencyclopedia.stanford.edu/encyclopedia/quotes_contents.html

[iii] http://www.cbsnews.com/news/official-end-of-legendary-feud/

[iv] http://singtomary.blogspot.com/2018/02/todays-lenten-gospel-reflection-by.html

[v] http://kingencyclopedia.stanford.edu/encyclopedia/quotes_contents.html

Year A – 6th Sunday in Ordinary Time

On Scrapping the Old Testament

(Ecc.15:15-20; 1Cor.2:6-10; Mt.5:17-37)

In Roman times, a wealthy ship owner named Marcion (85-160AD) demanded that the Old Testament be scrapped. He said it was dangerous and unnecessary, and he insisted that the Scriptures should only focus on Jesus and love.

So he produced a Bible he liked.  He dropped the Old Testament, he discarded some of St Paul’s letters, and he shortened St Luke’s Gospel.  In this way, he tailored for himself a Christianity that was all about God’s goodness and love, but without any unsettling references to right and wrong, or hell or Judgment Day.  

Many people think like Marcion today.  They like Jesus’ words about love, but they really don’t want to hear anything else that God might have to say about their lives.

This is called cherry-picking.  But would Jesus approve? 

In today’s Gospel, Jesus says, ‘I’ve come not to abolish the Law or the Prophets, but to complete them’.  What does he mean by that?  He’s saying that the Old Testament is fundamental to his mission, and he’s come to finish the job.

There are three ways to understand the Old Testament. It’s a history book, it’s a collection of promises and it’s a set of laws. [i]

As a history, the Old Testament tells the story of God’s Creation and his action in the life Israel over 1000 years.  It’s the story of a family and a people, from Abraham, Isaac and Jacob down to Joseph who was enslaved in Egypt. 

It’s the story of Moses and the Exodus of the Jewish slaves from Egypt.  It’s the story of the Jewish kings, both good and bad, the forced exile of the Jews to Babylon, and their eventual return home.

Jesus’ mission is to complete this story. As the Son of God and as a descendant of King David, his job is to lead his people to eternal life in heaven.

So we can’t scrap the Old Testament.  It explains far too much about life.

The Old Testament is also a record of all the promises God made to Noah, Abraham, Moses and David, and the promises he made through the prophets. 

He has promised us a new heart (Ez.36:26), forgiveness (Ps.103:12; Mic.7:19), healing (Jer.30:17), peace (Is.26:3) and eternal life (Is.49:25).  And he promised to send us a saviour, his Son Jesus Christ (Is.53:1-12).  Someone once counted the number of God’s promises in the Bible, and found 3,573. [ii]  How will they be completed? 

Only through Jesus Christ.  So, again, we can’t scrap the Old Testament.

And finally, the Old Testament is about laws.  There are 613 of them in the Torah – the first five books of the Bible.  ‘Torah’ means ‘law’, ‘guidance’ or ‘instruction’. It contains the Law of Moses and it covers everything from ceremonial to civil and moral law (including our Ten Commandments).  There are 365 negative laws, and 248 positive laws.  Now, what’s their purpose?

Their purpose was to organise those unruly Jewish slaves after their Exodus from Egypt. God was annoyed when they worshipped a golden calf in the Sinai desert.  He wanted them to live as his people, so through Moses God gave them some laws to shape their lives.

By the time Jesus was born, however, many of these people (including the Scribes and Pharisees) had forgotten the purpose of these laws.  They only paid them lip-service; they were only interested in external appearances.

That’s why Matthew’s Gospel presents Jesus as the new Moses delivering the new divine law: The Beatitudes.  Jesus didn’t scrap the old law – he raised it to a higher level.  He said it’s not enough to be seen to do the right thing; we must be genuine about it.  We must use our hearts as well as our heads.

And Jesus gives us some examples.  He says it’s not enough to avoid murder.  Rather, we must convert our anger and our resentment into love.  And it’s not enough to merely avoid adultery.  Instead, we must avoid any impure and sinful thoughts.   And when we make any promises, we must be genuine about them.

So what happened to Marcion?  In 144 AD he was denounced as a heretic and excommunicated.

Jesus didn’t come to scrap the Old Testament.  He couldn’t, because it’s the very foundation of his work and it’s the source of our hope. 

The Old Testament, then, is a history book, and Jesus’ mission is to complete this story by leading us all to heaven. 

It’s also a collection of promises, and Jesus’ mission is to fulfil them all for us.

And it’s a set of laws, and Jesus’ mission is to complete the Law by teaching us all to use our hearts as well as our heads.

Here’s the point:  we really can’t understand the goodness and love of Jesus Christ if we ignore the very foundation of his mission – the Old Testament.


[i] Gumbel, N. The Jesus Lifestyle. London: Alpha International, 2010:40-41.

[ii] http://www.bibleinfo.com/en/questions/how-many-bible-promises-are-there

Year A – 5th Sunday in Ordinary Time

On Candle-lamps and Saltshakers

[Is.58:7-10; 1Cor.2:1-5; Mt.5:13-16]

Today’s gospel passage occurs just after Jesus gives us his Beatitudes in his Sermon on the Mount. You know them: ‘Blessed are those who mourn, blessed are the meek, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers …’ These blessings outline the life and character of true Christian disciples.

Jesus then tells his followers that they are ‘the salt of the earth’ and ‘the light of the world’.  What does he mean?

Today, we don’t much think about salt and light, except perhaps to reduce our salt intake and to lower our power bills.  But salt was precious in ancient times.  It was often traded for gold, the Greeks thought it was divine and Roman soldiers were sometimes paid in salt.

Nowadays, we take it for granted, but salt is hugely important. It cleans and heals wounds. It helps our blood flow. We use it to enhance flavour and preserve foods.  It’s used to make paper, glass, fertiliser and cleaning products.  It melts ice, it extinguishes fire, and in some places it’s used to intensify and preserve the colour of fabric dyes.  

Salt is so very useful, but on its own it’s worthless.  Rebecca Manley-Pippert, in her book Out of the Salt-Shaker, says that none of these things is possible if the salt never leaves the saltshaker.  Salt is only useful when it’s mixed with something else.

Salt must also remain pure because it’s useless when it’s contaminated.  It becomes corrosive and poisonous.

And so it is with us.  When Jesus calls us ‘the salt of the earth’, he’s talking about our character.  He’s talking about making sure we’re not polluted by the world around us.  He’s talking about all the good things we can do to make our world a better place.

Each of us has the ability to add colour and flavour to our family and workplace and community – to bring things to life.  Each of us has the capacity to go out and heal wounds, to help things grow, and to protect and preserve what’s good and worthwhile.

But none of this is possible if we keep our salt bottled up in our ‘salt-shaker’.  If we don’t use what we have, it’s worthless. [i]

Now, Jesus also calls us ‘the light of the world’.  What does he mean? 

In ancient times, Palestinian families typically lived in one-room homes with only one small clay candle-lamp.  Light was precious to them.  But just like salt, we tend to take it for granted today. 

And just like salt, light is essential for life.  We need it for our health.  We need it to see where we’re going and what we’re doing.  Light dispels darkness, it wakes us up, it warms us and, like the lighthouse, it warns of impending danger.

Light also symbolises knowledge, truth and understanding. 

Our world is a dark place.  So many people today are groping and stumbling about in spiritual darkness, trying to find their way.  They’re looking for a light that will lead them to safety.

All through Scripture, God is referred to as light (Is.60:1-3; Ps.27:1; 1Jn.1:5), and Jesus calls himself the light of the world (Jn.8:12). 

Jesus wants us to absorb his divine light, to make it a part of ourselves.  When we open ourselves up to him, when we let his light penetrate us, it changes us from within and we start to think and live like him. 

When that happens, God’s light shines through us, just as the sun lights up stained-glass windows. 

It’s said that when the Scottish writer Robert Louis Stevenson was a boy, he once watched an old lamplighter lighting lamps in the street.  He said to his nurse, ‘I’m watching a man put holes in the darkness’.

Who do you know who’s putting holes in the darkness today?  Who is sharing their salt and light with the world?  I can think of some examples:

Fred Hollows, the eye doctor who has restored the sight of a million people around the world. [ii]

Rosie Batty, who’s been campaigning against domestic violence ever since her partner killed their son. [iii]

And Danny and Leila Abdallah, whose three children were killed by a drunk driver in Western Sydney only last week.  Despite their profound grief, they’ve forgiven the driver, they’re promoting peace and they’ve been ministering to the needs of others. [iv]

There are many others, of course, doing all sorts of wonderful things. But being salt and light is fundamental to our Christian identity.  It’s who we are.

We are not meant to leave our salt in our saltshaker.  And we must light our candle-lamps for all to see.

In what way are you salt and light to our world?


[i] Rebecca Manley-Pippert, Out of the Salt-Shaker and into the World. InterVarsity Press, Downers Grove, IL. 1999.

[ii] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fred_Hollows

[iii] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosie_Batty

[iv] https://www.eternitynews.com.au/australia/danny-and-leila-abdallah-minister-in-the-midst-of-their-tragedy/

Year A – Presentation of the Lord

On Groundhog Day

(Mal.3:1-4; Heb.2:14-18; Lk.2:22-40)

Today, February 2nd, is the Feast of the Presentation of Our Lord in the Temple.  Many years ago, it was known as Candlemas and it was the Church’s day for the blessing of candles. 

In the United States and Canada, today is also called Groundhog Day.  This is a folkloric tradition that grew out of Candlemas, which itself marks the mid-point between the northern winter and spring.  On Groundhog Day, a groundhog’s shadow is used to predict the weather, but I’ll come back to that shortly. [i] 

In today’s Gospel, Mary and Joseph go to the Temple in Jerusalem.  The Law of Moses required every mother to undergo ritual purification and to present her child for consecration to God, 40 days after giving birth (Ex.13:1-2; Lev.12). 

As the Holy Family enter the Temple, they find Simeon and Anna waiting for them inside.  The Holy Spirit long before had promised Simeon that he would not die before he’d seen the Christ, the Messiah. So, for years he and the prophetess Anna waited patiently.  When baby Jesus finally does arrive, Simeon is overjoyed.  He holds Jesus in his arms and he prays his famous prayer Nunc Dimittis: ‘Now, Master, you can let your servant go in peace, just as you promised…’

This story reveals so much about the character of these saints.  Simeon, Anna and the Holy Family are all Spirit-filled and very devout in the practice of their faith. They’re also humble, obedient and patient, and they trust God completely.  Life may be hard, but they’re happy.

Now, let’s compare them to Phil Connors, the actor Bill Murray’s character in the movie Groundhog Day (1993). He’s a cranky TV weatherman who goes to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, to report on the annual Groundhog Day festival.

We soon learn that he’s an obnoxious and self-centred narcissist.  ‘People are morons’, he tells his producer Rita. He can’t wait to return home, but a snowstorm forces him and his film crew to stay.

The next morning, Phil’s alarm clock wakes him up and he’s appalled to discover that it’s Groundhog Day all over again.  He’s caught in a strange time-loop, and he has to relive this day over and over and over again.

Every day, every little action is repeated, from meeting an old school friend in the same place at the same time, to stepping into an icy pothole.  His life becomes incredibly monotonous, but he’s the only one who notices.

At first he’s amused, but then he becomes bored and then he despairs. He hates his repetitive life so much that he even tries to commit suicide.  But he’s always back the next day.

It becomes clear that what’s important in this story isn’t the groundhog’s shadow, but his own.  At one point in the film, one of the townsfolk says to Phil, ‘Watch out for your shadow there, pal!’  It’s his shadow side that’s condemning him to this endless cycle of emptiness.  It’s his sinfulness and bad behaviour that are holding him back and making him unhappy.  He’s trapped in darkness.

It’s only when Phil opens his heart that things begin to change.  He starts noticing Rita, his producer.  He’s attracted to her and her happy outlook, and he finds himself inspired by her to do good things. He makes friends, he rescues a homeless man and he even starts learning music and poetry.

It’s only when Phil genuinely discovers love that time starts to move forward for him.  That’s when he wakes up to find that it’s February 3rd and he’s been given new life.

The movie Groundhog Day is a parable about life.  It’s full of lessons about the state of our hearts and whether we choose to live in the light or in the shadows.

The elderly Simeon and Anna in Luke’s Gospel also lived predictable and monotonous lives.  For years they went to the Temple every day, waiting for Jesus to arrive.  But what made them quite different to Phil was their deep faith.  The Holy Spirit had filled their hearts with hope, and when Jesus arrives they’re overwhelmed with joy.

Just like Jesus, we’ve all had our own official Presentation.  This happened at our Baptism, when we were presented and consecrated to God and given a candle lit from the Paschal candle.  At that moment, the priest or deacon said, ‘You have been enlightened by Christ. Walk always as a child of the light and keep the flame of faith alive in your heart…’

This light, this flame of faith and love, is the difference between a dreary repetitive existence and a life of meaning, purpose and joy.

So, the question for you today is this: 

Is this flame still burning inside you?  Or are you just living the same old life over and over and over again?


[i] By way of background, midseason weather predictions were important to European farmers. An old English song rhymed: ‘If Candlemas be fair and bright, / Come, Winter, have another flight. / If Candlemas brings clouds and rain, / Go, Winter, and come not again’.  In other words, if the bright sun ‘overshadows’ the brightness of Candlemas Day, more winter is expected. But if the light of Candlemas Day outshines the season’s gloom and darkness, then spring is near. In 1887, German immigrants adapted this tradition in the US to create Groundhog Day. Not surprisingly, the weather predictions are notoriously unreliable.

Year A – 3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

On Leaving Our Nets Behind

(Is.8:23-9:3; 1Cor.1:10-1,17; Mt.4:12-23)

King Herod Antipas, who ruled Galilee, was ruthless.  He thought that John the Baptist was a threat to his power because he was so popular.  So he had him gaoled. [i]

Jesus grieves when he hears this.  John is his cousin, and he’s done a great job giving hope to so many people who have lived in darkness and despair under the Romans.  But now that John’s voice has been silenced, Jesus must take over.  It’s his turn to start proclaiming the kingdom of God. 

Jesus knows this is a huge task, so he starts looking for help.  He isn’t looking for prominent or well-educated disciples, however.  He wants ordinary people living ordinary lives, and he’s going to invite them to do extraordinary things.

Near Capernaum, by the Sea of Galilee, he sees two sets of brothers: Peter and Andrew, and James and John – all fishermen.  Jesus says, ‘come follow me; I will make you fishers of men’.  They all promptly drop their nets and follow him. 

Now, why do these fishermen so quickly agree to leave their nets behind?  It’s because they already know Jesus. They’ve been following John the Baptist and they’ve started to believe in Jesus as the Messiah. [ii] They’re ready for a change.

So these first disciples drop their nets. They walk away from the safety and security of their jobs and homes, and they start living new lives. 

Today, Jesus is calling us to do the same.  Not necessarily to leave our jobs and homes, of course, but he does want us to follow him.  In fact, he’s constantly calling on us to do this through the ordinary events of our daily lives.  And if we’re interested, we must be prepared to let go of anything that gets in the way.  

Sometimes, to move forward, we have to take a step back.

Everyone who wants to follow Jesus has to leave something behind.  You can’t live a new life by hanging on to the old one.  This letting go is sometimes called Detachment.  

Detachment doesn’t mean withdrawing totally from the world, because God loves our world and Jesus wants to heal it (Jn.3:16).  But before we can help Jesus make this world a better place, we must first change ourselves.

This means we must let some things go (Rom.12:2).

Too many Christians, however, are only lukewarm about their call.  They don’t want to be inconvenienced.  They don’t want to change.  So they drag their nets along after them and sometimes they get tangled up in them.  

Joseph Krempa says the problem is that we want the kingdom without changing ourselves.  ‘It’s like those who want the meal, but not the cooking; who want the grades but not the study; who want health, but not exercise; who want the salary, but not the work’.

We want all the benefits of God – the peace, the forgiveness, the growth in grace, and the sense of belonging to a spiritual community, but we don’t want to give up the nets, the entanglements that trap us, that hold us back… These are the people, the relationships and the obsessions that separate us from Christ.

‘We don’t want to give up gossiping, cutting corners, wrong relationships, immoral behaviour, habits of arrogance, rash judgments or addictions.  So we try to have it both ways, but we can’t.  Those nets weigh us down and hold us tight.’ 

All these entanglements distort our soul and mind and heart and keep us away from Jesus. [iii]

St. John of the Cross tells us that a bird tied down to earth can’t fly; it doesn’t matter if it’s tied with a thread or a rope.  An attachment is still an attachment, no matter how great or how small. Some are greater than others, but they all impede our progress.

So, if we want this new life, where do we start?  We should start with our minds.  Everything in us begins with the way we think.  There’s a wise maxim that says:

Watch over your thoughts because they become words. Watch over your words because they become actions.
Watch over your actions because they become habits.
Watch over your habits because they become your character.
Watch over your character because it becomes your destiny. [iv]

So, begin by praying to Jesus, asking him to help you.  Ask him to help you identify the things that are holding you back; the things you really need to let go.  Tell Jesus that you accept his call, and that you want to become a good disciple. 

Tell him that you’re serious about changing your life for the better.

What nets are you trapped in?   


[i] Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews. Book 18, chapter 5.2

[ii] http://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/angelus/2017/documents/papa-francesco_angelus_20170122.html

[iii] S Joseph Krempa, Captured Fire – Cycle A. St Paul’s, New York. 2005:73.

[iv] https://aleteia.org/2018/02/23/why-we-should-detach-from-the-good-world-god-made-cantalamessas-1st-lent-homily/

Year A – 2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time

On Breaking Our Fall

(Is.49:3,5-6; 1Cor.1:1-3; Jn.1:29-34)

In Madrid’s Prado Museum there’s a painting called Agnus Dei (‘Lamb of God’) by the Spanish painter Francisco de Zurbarán (1598-1664).  It depicts a young lamb on a grey slab, set against a black wall.  Its legs are tied and it’s ready to be sacrificed.

This powerful and confronting image symbolises the ministry of Jesus Christ.  But where does it come from and what does it mean?

To answer that we have to go back to ancient times, when many cultures worshipped God through animal sacrifice. They believed they were unworthy to approach God without first sacrificing something they considered valuable. So the Jewish people used to sacrifice lambs, but also bulls, sheep, goats, doves and even grains.

When the ancient Israelites were enslaved in Egypt, God heard their cry for freedom and at the Burning Bush he asked Moses to secure their release. But Pharaoh refused, so God sent a succession of plagues to soften his resistance.

Just before the final plague, God instructed every Jewish family to sacrifice a lamb and to paint its blood on their door posts.  This was culturally appropriate for the time, and it helped the Angel of Death to identify and ‘pass over’ their homes. Only then did Pharaoh allow them to leave (Ex.12:1-27).

Those sacrificed lambs meant new life for the Jewish people, as they journeyed from slavery to freedom in the Promised Land. They have been celebrating their ‘Passover’ ever since. [i]

The Gospel of John, from which today’s Gospel reading comes, often alludes to the Passover.  It begins with John the Baptist announcing Jesus’ arrival to his disciples: ‘Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!’  And it ends with Jesus being crucified at the very same time that the lambs are slaughtered in the nearby Temple.

John’s message to us is clear:  Jesus is the ultimate and perfect Lamb of God.

Now, the problem with the Law of Moses and its prescriptions for animal sacrifice is that the people never changed.  They just continued living their sinful lives (Heb.10:4; Rom.8:3). 

A new, more effective, approach was required, so God sent his only Son to live among us, to teach us how to live.  He taught us that selfless love is the only necessary form of sacrifice.  But sadly, it resulted in his crucifixion. 

Why did Jesus die on the Cross?  It wasn’t because God demanded a blood offering.  Not at all. Jesus sacrificed himself because that is the essence of true love (Phil.2:5-8).  We know from our own experience that we cannot truly love others without making sacrifices.  And losing our life for the sake of another is the supreme test of love (1Jn.3:16-18; Eph.5:1-2).  That’s why Jesus died.

The Franciscan theologian Richard Rohr writes: ‘In the Hebrew tradition, the Passover lamb was a perfect, unblemished sheep or goat that apparently lived in the family home for four days before it was sacrificed (Ex.12:1-8). That’s just long enough for the children to fall in love with the lamb’. 

The innocent lamb, he says, symbolises not only the innocent Christ, but also the illusion of our innocent selves.  We must shed this false image if we are to grow spiritually, so it is precisely the beloved and innocent ‘lamb’ that must die.

Rohr adds that we must accept that we’re all complicit and profiting from the corporate ‘sin of the world’ and no one is pure or innocent. [ii]

We know that our world is full of sin, violence and corruption.  And we know that in the end our world cannot promise us anything other than the dark emptiness of death.   

But Jesus wants so much more for us (Jn.10:10).  That’s why he showed us how to live a life of love, even to the point of making the ultimate sacrifice.  And it’s incredibly significant that he also rose again to new life. 

Jesus’ selfless act is actually the new Passover from death to life: for him and for us all.

In Werden, Germany, there’s a church with a statue of a lamb on the roof. During its construction, a stonemason fell from the scaffolding.  His co-workers thought he’d died, but he survived. Some sheep had been passing below the tower and a lamb had broken his fall.   That lamb died, but the man was saved. 

In gratitude for saving his life, the stonemason carved a statue of the lamb and placed it on the tower. [iii]

If it weren’t for Jesus’ self-sacrifice, we too would be falling into oblivion.  Without Jesus, there’s no escape from sin, there’s no escape from death. 

The perfect Lamb of God however has broken our fall.  Jesus has saved us.

But – only if we have faith and follow in his way.


[i] https://www.chabad.org/holidays/passover/pesach_cdo/aid/1827/jewish/The-Passover-Story-in-a-Nutshell.htm

[ii] Richard Rohr, Doing the Victim Thing Right. https://cac.org/doing-the-victim-thing-right-2019-04-16/

[iii] https://www.frtommylane.com/stories/cross_of_Jesus/Lamb_of_God.htm

Year A – Baptism of the Lord

On a Name Like No Other

(Is.42:1-4,6-7; Acts 10:34-38; Mt.3:13-17)

‘What’s in a name?’ Juliet asks in Shakespeare’s famous play. She loves Romeo, but their families are at war.

Names are just an arbitrary tag, Juliet thinks.  She loves the man, not his moniker: ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet’, she says. [i]  But are our names so unimportant?

The German poet Goethe (1749-1832) once wrote: ‘A man’s name is not like a mantle which merely hangs about him, and which one perchance may safely twitch and pull, but a perfectly fitting garment, which, like the skin, has grown over and over him, at which one cannot rake and scrape without injuring the man himself.’ [ii]

Our names serve many purposes.  They distinguish us from others, they bind us to history, and they underpin our identity and personality. And a good name is especially valuable, for it reflects integrity and it earns trust (Prov.22:1). 

But to lose one’s name can be a wretched thing.  Jean Valjean, in Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables, feels degraded when he’s called ‘24601’ in prison.[iii]  And David Pelzer, in his memoir A Child Called It, finds it dehumanising when his abusive mother starts calling him ‘The Boy’ and ‘It’ when he’s only four. [iv]

Names, however, can also give new life.  In Genesis, God renames Abram and Sarai. They become Abraham and Sarah, the ‘father and mother of many nations’ (Gen.17:5, 15).  God also gives Jacob (meaning ‘cheat’) a new identity.  He becomes Israel (‘struggles with God and prevails’), reflecting his new role as patriarch of the Israelites (Gen.32:28).

And Jesus gives Simon a new name (Jn.1:42), calling him Peter, ‘the rock on which I will build my church’ (Mt.16:18). 

In each case, God embeds his love, and their special mission, in their names. 

Today, as we celebrate the baptism of Jesus Christ, we remember that every baptism starts with the question: ‘What name do you give your child?’  This sacrament is essentially about our identity.  It’s about who we are, and who we will become. 

Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan River marks a new beginning for him. He’s filled with the Holy Spirit and his Father announces: ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, in whom I am well pleased’.  At that moment, Jesus’ identity changes.

He’s no longer just the humble carpenter’s son.  He’s now the beloved Son of God, and this is the start of his public ministry.

Jesus’ name still sounds the same, but its essence has completely changed.  His mission – his life purpose – is now deeply embedded in his name.

And so it is with us.  At Baptism our identity changes, too.  We’re initiated into the life of Christ and we’re warmly welcomed as members of God’s holy family (Eph.1:5).  

And our mission is embedded in our name, as well.

Bishop Robert Barron says that one of the earliest descriptions of Baptism is vitae spiritualis ianua, which means ‘the door to the spiritual life’.

Christianity, he says, isn’t just about ‘becoming a good person’ or ‘doing the right thing’. Rather, to be a Christian is to be grafted onto Christ and hence drawn into the very dynamics of God’s inner life.  We become a member of his Mystical Body, sharing in his relationship to the Father. [v]

Pope Benedict XVI puts it this way.  He says that Baptism always repeats the last words of Jesus in the Gospels: ‘in the name of the Father, of the Son, of the Holy Spirit’ (Mt 28:19).  This expression in the Greek text is critical, he says, for it means an immersion into the name of the Trinity.  Baptism therefore leads to an ‘interpenetration of God’s being and our being, just like in marriage, when two persons become one flesh and a single new reality’ is formed.

Pope Benedict XVI adds that in the Scriptures, God calls himself ‘the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob’ (Gen.50:24; Ex.3:15). This is precisely what happens when we’re baptised, he says.  We become inserted into the name of God, so that we belong to his name and his name becomes our name, too, and we’re enabled to be a sign of who he is. [vi]

A name, then, is so much more than a label, especially after Baptism.  Each name tells a story and paves the way for a lifetime of noble purpose.

When we’re immersed in the waters of Baptism, we’re simultaneously immersed in the life of God.  We’re filled with his Holy Spirit and we emerge with a name like no other.  And embedded in it is our own special mission.

At his Baptism, Jesus knows that things have changed.  He goes into the desert for forty days to reflect on what it means and what God wants him to do next.

We should do the same.

So, what is your name? 

And what is your special mission?


[i] William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, https://www.playshakespeare.com/romeo-and-juliet/scenes/301-act-ii-scene-2

[ii] http://quotation.cloud/johann-wolfgang-von-goethe-a-name-is-not-like-a-mantle/

[iii] Victor Hugo, Les Miserables, http://www.online-literature.com/victor_hugo/les_miserables/90/

[iv] https://www.amazon.com/Child-Called-Childs-Courage-Survive/dp/1558743669

[v] https://www.wordonfire.org/resources/homily/vitae-spiritualis-ianua/

[vi] http://www.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/speeches/2012/june/documents/hf_ben-xvi_spe_20120611_convegno-ecclesiale.html