Author: Peter McCulloch

On the Kindling of a Flame

(Acts.1:1-11; Heb.9:24-28, 10:19-23; Lk.24:46-53)

The Greek philosopher, Socrates, used to say that education isn’t the filling of a vessel; rather, it’s the kindling of a flame.

Ten years ago I was in Italy, travelling by train from Florence to Pisa.  I was at a crossroads in my life and took this opportunity to pray, asking Jesus, ‘Please tell me what you want me to do with my life.  Tell me, and I’ll do it.’

Over and over again I repeated those words, and suddenly, to my great surprise, I got an answer.  I heard Jesus say with firm voice, ‘I want you to learn’.

Those words completely changed my life.  When I returned home I enrolled in a theology degree and I applied to join the Permanent Diaconate.  Ever since then I’ve been learning all I can about Jesus and the Christian faith.  

I know from personal experience that the learning God wants me to do hasn’t just filled an empty vessel.  It’s actually lit a fire that’s still burning inside me.

Part of my learning included a course on preaching.  At one point I asked the lecturer, ‘If a congregation includes people of different ages, to whom should I pitch my preaching?’  His answer surprised me.  He said, ‘to a 14 year old’.  When I asked why, he said that’s because the average adult Catholic hasn’t grown much in faith since they were in middle high school. He said their understanding of the Church is limited to what they learnt up to the age of 14. Most haven’t bothered to learn any more since then.

What do you think?  Do you agree?

Pope St John Paul II used to worry that too many Catholics really don’t understand their own faith.  He encouraged everyone to do something every day to strengthen their faith – to read the Bible, to learn about the saints, to pray, to go to Mass.  The important thing, he said, is to keep learning and growing.

He practised what he preached.  Every day from 10 to 11pm, before going to bed, he read books or articles he’d set aside during the day.  Every Tuesday he invited 5 or 6 experts in various fields – theology, philosophy, sociology, politics, culture or science – to talk and have lunch with him. 

He made a point of understanding not only his own faith, but many other things as well, including physics and history.  He believed in lifelong learning. 

In Luke’s Gospel today, Jesus says farewell to his disciples.  He’s finished his work on earth and it’s time to return to his Father. He’s taught his disciples all they need to know, and now it’s up to them to continue his work.  He knows they can’t do it on their own, so he promises to send the Spirit to help them.

Becoming a Catholic is a lifetime process. It’s not a one-off event. It’s a continuous process of change.

Now, I wonder how much confidence Jesus had in his disciples, because earlier, in Luke 18:8, he asks the question, ‘when the Son of Man returns, will he find faith on Earth?’  He must have worried about it, just as John Paul II did. 

Today, many people have given up learning about their faith. They think they know enough already.  But like everything in life, we only get out what we put in. 

In his book ‘Talent is Never Enough’ (2007), John Maxwell says ‘the greatest enemy of learning is knowing’.  What he means is that sometimes when we know a little bit, we think we know it all.  But the problem is that when we think we know it all, we usually prove that we don’t.

The American writer Flannery O’Connor (1925-64) used to say that becoming a Catholic is a lifetime process.  It’s not a one-off event.  It’s a continuous process of change in the way we see ourselves and the way we live our lives. It’s a never-ending process of conversion, and it relies on lifelong learning.

Of course, every learner needs a teacher.  St Therese of Lisieux called Jesus the Teacher of teachers.  She said, ‘… though I’ve never heard him speak, I know he’s within me, always guiding and inspiring me; and just when I need them, lights … break in upon me’.

The Irish poet W.B. Yeats agreed with Socrates.  He said ‘education isn’t just the filling of a pail, it’s the lighting of a fire’. 

Henry Ford said that learning keeps you young.

So, let’s honour our families, ourselves and Jesus himself by becoming the best people we possibly can be.

Both Jesus, and our families, would be proud to know that we’re lifelong learners, filled with fire and passion for the truth, and living life to the full.

It’s time to start learning what we really need to learn.

On Unconditional Peace

(Acts 15:1-2, 22-29; Rev.21:10-14, 22-23; Jn.14:23-29)

In John’s Gospel today, Jesus is talking with his disciples just after the Last Supper.  He knows he’s going to die and that his disciples are scared and confused.  So he says to them, ‘Don’t be troubled or afraid … my peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.  A peace the world cannot give, this is my gift to you’.

The peace Jesus offers us isn’t the same as worldly peace.  Worldly peace typically is temporary; it’s fragile and it’s conditional.  In many places, peace is simply the absence of trouble and war, and it often depends on fear and armed force to enforce it.  Such peace usually has conditions attached, and it only lasts while these conditions are kept.  

That’s not genuine peace.

Jesus’ peace is different.  It’s unconditional; it’s an eternal and spiritual gift, and there are no strings attached. 

So how can we get some of this peace? 

Well, the first thing to note is that the peace of Christ doesn’t come from any human effort.  Some people think that all they have to do is properly organise the world around them, and then they’ll have peace.  But true peace isn’t external, it’s internal.  It’s not based on order or control.  It’s not based on fear or strength.  True peace is based on love and surrender.  It’s about letting go.

Jesus’ peace is like the calm at the bottom of the ocean.  Storms may be raging above, but there’s a wonderful calm deep below the surface.

The true peace of Jesus is a free gift that’s only available to those who have a close, loving relationship with him.  When you genuinely ask Jesus to enter into your heart and life, God’s peace will come flooding into your soul.

The second thing to note is that apart from any peace for ourselves, each of us also has a responsibility to help spread peace wherever we may be.

Think about this.  How much peace do we really bring into the lives of others?  Some people live under a delusion.  They think they’re living kind, considerate and sensible lives, but really they’re doing just the opposite.  Their actions and attitudes work against peace.  They’re actually making others unhappy and they’re unaware of the difficulties they’re causing.

Sometimes we think we’re doing the right thing, but we’re not.  Sometimes we miss the obvious.

When Jesus spoke about peace, the word he used was ‘shalom’ which means much more than peace as we know it.

Consider the case of Alfred Nobel.  He was a wealthy Swedish chemical engineer and inventor in the 1800s.  He spent much of his life developing things like artificial silk and synthetic rubber and leather.  He was very successful and fabulously wealthy.  He had more than 90 factories, and laboratories in 20 countries, and he held 355 patents.

In 1866 he invented dynamite.  He named it after dynamis, the Greek word for power.  But he didn’t expect it to be used for war.  He thought it would be used for peaceful purposes like construction – blasting rock and building tunnels and canals.  But he was wrong, and in 1870 it was used in the Franco-Prussian War … and in every other war since then.

In 1888, Alfred’s older brother Ludvig died.  A French newspaper thought it was Alfred himself who had died, and it published his obituary instead. It described him as the ‘merchant of death’ and said he’d become ‘rich by finding ways to kill more people faster than ever before’.

Alfred was horrified.  He didn’t want his life to be remembered that way, so he decided to change it.  To relieve his conscience, he began supporting the international peace movement, and when he died in 1896, he left most of his wealth to fund the Nobel Prize, the award for scientists and writers who work to foster peace.

Alfred Nobel said that every person should have the chance to correct his own obituary midstream and to write a new one.

What about you?  What would you like your obituary to say?  Are you a peacemaker?  Or do you need to change the way you live?

When Jesus spoke about peace, the word he actually used was ‘shalom’, which means much more than peace as we know it.  ‘Shalom’ is a very rich Hebrew expression which speaks of completeness, wholeness, fulfilment and everything in life being as it should be. 

This kind of peace isn’t a place.  It’s a loving relationship with God, and this is the free gift that Jesus offers us today. 

‘My peace I give to you,’ says Jesus. 

Let’s accept this wonderful gift with a warm, open heart and very grateful hands.

On the Four Loves 

(Acts 14:21-27; Rev.21:1-5; Jn.13:31-33a, 34-35)

In St John’s Gospel today, Jesus and his disciples have just finished the Last Supper, and Jesus knows he’s leaving soon.  He’s worried about his disciples, so he gives them a gift. He says, ‘I give you a new commandment; love one another just as I have loved you’.

He calls this a new commandment. But why is this new?  Haven’t we heard it before?

In Leviticus 19, God gives Moses some laws to help people live a holy life.  These laws are often called the Holiness Code, and at the heart of them is the commandment to ‘love your neighbour as yourself’ (19:18).  We have heard that one before.

Matthew’s Gospel (Mt.22:37-40) also has something similar.  When the Pharisees ask Jesus which commandment’s the greatest, he says, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbour as yourself’. 

So, yes these are similar to Jesus’ new commandment.  How then is it new?

Well, when the Book of Leviticus tells people to love their neighbour, the standard it sets for how to love others is ‘as you love yourself’.  It’s the same in Matthew’s gospel – love your neighbour as yourself. 

After the Last Supper, however, when Jesus introduces his new commandment, he raises the bar considerably.  Now his disciples must love each other, as I have loved you.  The standard for loving is now much higher – as I have loved you, not as you love yourself.  That’s a challenge for anyone.

So what kind of love is Jesus talking about?

When the Beatles sang ‘All you need is Love’, they thought that love is simply love, and all you need is lots of it to solve the world’s problems.  But there are actually many kinds of love.  There’s romantic love, tough love, platonic love, puppy love, true love, maternal love, paternal love and brotherly love … The list goes on.

So what kind of love is Jesus talking about?

Well, the Bible refers to four kinds of love.  In Greek, each one has a different name [i].

Jesus shows us what agape really means when he washes his disciples’ feet

Storge (STOR-jay) is family love. It’s the natural love parents have for their children, and the Bible gives several examples.  In Genesis there’s the love between Noah and his family, and in the Gospels there’s the love Martha and Mary have for their brother Lazarus.

Eros is sensual and passionate love, and in the Old Testament it’s portrayed in the Song of Solomon, and St Paul talks about it in 1 Corinthians 7:8-9.

Philia is close friendship or brotherly love, and this word often appears in the New Testament.  In Romans 12:10, St Paul uses it when he tells Christians to ‘Love one another with mutual affection…’

Agape, however, is different. It’s the supreme kind of love.  It’s selfless, unconditional and sacrificial love, and it’s the way that Jesus loves his Father and indeed all of humanity.  St John uses the word agape when he says that ‘God is love’ (1Jn.4:8).  And Jesus shows us what agape really means when he washes his disciples’ feet, when he feeds the hungry, when he heals the sick and the blind, and especially when he sacrifices himself on the Cross.

So Jesus is telling his disciples – that’s us – to love each other with agape, just as he loves us.  That means selfless, unconditional and self-sacrificial love.

I expect we’d all like to love like that, but it’s not easy is it?  We’re all so human, it often seems impossible.  So what’s the secret?  How can we love like Jesus?

Jesus answers that question in Mark 10:27, when he says, ‘With man it is impossible, but not with God.  For all things are possible with God’.

He then further explains what he means in John (15:1-10) in his parable of the vine and branches.  That’s where Jesus says, ‘Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me.  I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing’.

So that’s the answer.  We can’t love like Jesus on our own.  It’s impossible.  But we can, if we invite Jesus to become part of us. 

We can all love each other with agape, just as Jesus loves us.

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[i] C.S. Lewis explains these terms in his book The Four Loves, Harcourt, Brace: New York, 1960.

On the Good Shepherd

(Acts 13:14, 43-52; Rev.7:9, 14-17; Jn.10:27-30)

Today’s Gospel is short – very short.  It only has 8 lines and 63 words, but its message is deep:  Jesus tells us he’s the good shepherd who leads his sheep to eternal life.

Some people don’t like being called sheep; they think they’re stupid animals. But sheep are smarter than we think.  Yes, they do have a strong flocking instinct, but that’s how they’ve learnt to protect themselves from predators. 

In fact, scientists tell us that sheep are sometimes smarter than monkeys. They can recognise colours and symbols, as well as faces and facial expressions.  They can also navigate complex mazes.

When Jesus said ‘My sheep hear my voice; I know them and they follow me’, he knew what he was talking about.  Every night in Palestine, shepherds gathered their animals into folds to protect them from danger.  Quite often several shepherds used the same enclosure, but the sheep never got mixed up. Each morning they really did recognise their shepherd’s voice.  The shepherd would walk off, talking to them or calling them by name, and they’d follow.  The sheep would never follow a stranger.

In his book, A Turtle on a Fencepost (1980), Allen C. Emery writes about the night he spent in the country with a shepherd who had two thousand sheep.  As the stars filled the night sky, the shepherd lit a bonfire to cook dinner and the sheepdogs slept in its warmth.

Suddenly Emery heard the call of a wild dog in the distance. The sheepdogs were off duty and the shepherd worried.  He got up quickly and tossed some logs onto the fire. 

In this firelight, Emery looked out at the sheep and saw thousands of little lights.  Emery writes, ‘I realized that these were reflections of the fire in the eyes of the sheep. In the midst of danger, the sheep weren’t looking out into the darkness … (they) were keeping their eyes set toward the shepherd’.

So, sheep are smarter than we think.  When there’s danger about, sheep always keep their eyes on the shepherd.

But sheep are also noble animals.

In ancient times, people thought there was a similarity between sheep and honourable men.  Back then, personal and family honour was critically important.  It was a man’s responsibility to protect his family’s honour, even to the point of death.  If there was any risk of death, then an honourable man was expected to suffer it in silence, without complaining.

Now, people noticed that that’s how sheep behave, because whether they’re being shorn for wool or prepared for slaughter, they’re always quiet.  It’s because of this that Isaiah (53:7) describes the ideal servant of the Lord as being ‘like a lamb that is led to the slaughter … like a sheep that before its shearers is silent’.

In other words, like sheep, good disciples don’t readily complain.  And Jesus never complained when he suffered.

Like sheep, we must learn to recognise his voice and follow him.

Sheep, then, are smart and noble creatures.  They deserve our respect.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus says that the Good Shepherd does three things for his sheep. Firstly, he knows his sheep well.  Secondly, he keeps them safe from harm, and thirdly, he leads his followers to everlasting life.  He says his sheep know his voice and they follow him.

This means that Jesus knows each of us personally.  He loves us and protects us, and wants to lead us to eternal life.  And, like sheep, we must learn to recognise his voice and follow him.  

But it’s not so easy to hear Jesus’ voice these days, is it?  There’s so much noise about and life isn’t easy.  There are wolves out there and people are vulnerable.  If we drift through life like lost or stray sheep, then we’re certainly in danger.

But if we keep our eyes on the Good Shepherd, when we listen to his voice and follow his lead, then we’re sure to be led not only to safety, but also to greener pastures.

So, sheep are smart and noble creatures. 

Today, on Good Shepherd Sunday, let’s listen for the voice of the one true Shepherd.  He’s calling us.

It’s time to follow him.

On Feeding my Lambs

(Acts 5:27-32,40-41; Rev.5:11-14; Jn.21:1-19)

In today’s Gospel Jesus is at Tabgha, a quiet beach on the northwest shore of the Sea of Galilee.  Jesus knew it well.  It’s 3km from Capernaum and his Sermon on the Mount and his miracle of the loaves and fishes occurred nearby.

In ancient times Tabgha was called Heptapegon (‘Place of Seven Springs’). These are hot springs that still flow into the lake today, feeding algae and attracting fish.

Peter and the disciples have been night fishing, but caught nothing.  At dawn, as they return to shore, someone calls out and tells them to cast their nets on the other side.  They don’t recognise Jesus, but he must have sounded important because they do what he says and they catch lots of fish.

This story’s very similar to Luke 5:1-11, when Jesus tells Peter, James and John to cast out into the deep and they catch a huge haul of fish.  Luke’s story is at the start of Jesus’ public ministry; but today’s story is from John’s last chapter. 

Both stories use fish as a metaphor for souls.  In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus calls on his disciples to be ‘fishers of men’.  In John’s Gospel, we’re told that they caught 153 fish.  Many have wondered what this number means.  Some think it refers to Aristotle’s teaching that there were 153 species of fish in the sea.  If that’s true, then this number represents all people and Jesus is telling his disciples to bring everyone to him through his Church.

So, Jesus is there on Tabgha’s pebbly beach, cooking a breakfast of fish and bread over a fire.  He invites his disciples to join him.  He then takes the bread, blesses it and gives it to them.  This meal is clearly Eucharistic.  Jesus shared many meals with his disciples, and whenever they ate with him and listened to him, they were nourished and their relationship with Jesus was strengthened.

Today at Tabgha there’s a small grey-stone church by the shore.  It’s called St Peter Primacy.  Inside, in front of the altar, there’s a large flat limestone rock called ‘Mensa Christi’ (‘Table of Christ’).  Tradition tells us that this is where Jesus cooked and ate this meal with his disciples.

Now, after breakfast, Jesus takes Peter aside and asks him three times, ‘Do you love me?’  Each time Peter replies, ‘Yes, Lord’.  Jesus is giving Peter a chance to undo the three times he denied him. 

But Jesus does something else as well.  He says to Peter, if you really love me, then ‘feed my lambs’ and ‘take care of my sheep’.  With these words he’s telling Peter to lead his universal Church, and that’s why that little church in Tabgha today is called ‘St Peter Primacy’.  Peter is given responsibility for leading Jesus’ church.

We know that Peter takes that command seriously, because in our first reading today he confronts the Sanhedrin, the Temple leaders who crucified Jesus.  Previously Peter was terrified of them; that’s why he denied Jesus three times.  But now he’s a changed man.  He’s filled with authority and, empowered by the Holy Spirit, he stands up to them.

Well, then, do something about it. Take care of my people.

So what does all this mean for us?

Well, the Gospels weren’t written for the Apostles.  They were written for you and me, and what applied to Jesus’ disciples back then also applies to us today.

Just as his disciples often ate with Jesus, so we do the same at every Mass.  When the disciples ate with Jesus and listened to him, they were nourished and their relationship with him grew.  We should seek to do the same.

Remember what Jesus says, ‘My flesh is real food and my blood is real drink.  He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood lives in me and I in him… this is the bread come down from heaven … he who eats this bread will live forever’ (Jn.6:55-58).  Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist.

And just as Jesus asks Peter, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love me?’ He asks us the same question. 

He asks, ‘Ellie, do you love me?’ and ‘Frank, do you love me?’ and ‘Joe, do you love me?’

And when we reply like Peter, ‘Yes Lord, I love you’, he also replies to us, ‘Well then, do something about it.  Take care of my people’.

When we receive Jesus’ Real Presence in the Eucharist, he’s also calling us, just as he called Peter, to go and take care of his people.

(Acts 5:12-16; Rev.1:9-13, 17-19; Jn.20:19-31)

On the Secrets of Divine Mercy

We all want peace, don’t we?  Sadly, there’s more fear, mistrust and tension around us than peace.  What can we do about it?

In today’s Gospel, Jesus enters the locked room where his disciples are hiding and says, ‘peace be with you’.  He also says something similar in our second reading to St John, who’s exiled on the island of Patmos.  Jesus says, ‘Do not be afraid’.

Jesus often speaks of peace, but the peace he refers to isn’t just restful calm or a beach holiday.  It’s much deeper than that.  Jesus’ peace comes from a life of love and joy that’s only available from God.

So many saints have shown us that a life filled with God’s love is not only liberating, transforming and dynamic, but also profoundly peaceful.

Consider the Apostles after Jesus’ resurrection.  They’re totally transformed as they finally start understanding Jesus’ message about God’s love.  And when Jesus says, ‘As my Father has sent me, so I send you’, they go out and start telling everyone about God’s unconditional love and mercy.  And despite the obvious dangers, they’re peaceful inside.

The early Christians understood this. They knew the parables of the Prodigal Son and the Good Shepherd. They understood that God’s love isn’t just the pardon of a merciful judge; it’s actually the warm embrace of a loving father.

Sadly, people have been forgetting this, but Jesus doesn’t give up easily.  He wants everyone to understand God’s love, and that’s why he keeps working through the saints to remind us.

In the 1200s, St Gertrude and St Mechtilde in Germany encouraged people to recognise the Sacred Heart of Jesus as the symbol of God’s love. Their beautiful prayers and devotions helped many people to find peace.

In the 1670s, in France, Jesus revealed to St Margaret Mary Alacoque the secrets of his Sacred Heart and again many Christians discovered peace, love and joy.  Every first Friday millions of people prayed with the words ‘Sacred Heart of Jesus I trust in Thee’ on their lips and in their hearts. 

As time passed, however, these too seemed to be forgotten.  But Jesus doesn’t give up.

Jesus wants a personal relationship with each of us, not just in our heads, but deep in our hearts.

In February 1931, Jesus appeared to a humble nun, Sr Maria Faustina Kowalska, in Poland.  He appeared as the ‘King of Divine Mercy’, wearing a white garment, with rays of white and red light shining from his heart. He told Sr Faustina to paint this image, emblazoned with the words: ‘Jesus, I trust in You’. He said he wanted this image venerated, first in her chapel, and then throughout the world. And he promised that anyone who venerates this image will not perish.

In several revelations, Jesus taught her the secrets of his Divine Mercy, saying that it’s unlimited and available to even the greatest sinners.  And he said he wanted the Sunday after Easter to be celebrated as the Feast of Divine Mercy.

Sr. Faustina was surprised that he wanted this Feast of Divine Mercy.  She asked, ‘Isn’t there one already?’  But Jesus replied, ‘Who knows anything about this feast?  No one!  Even those who should be proclaiming my mercy and teaching the people about it, often don’t know about it themselves’.

Why does this worry Jesus? 

Well, we should remember the Pharisees.  In Matthew 15:8, Jesus calls them hypocrites and says, ‘These people honour me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me’.  The Pharisees had forgotten the meaning of their prayers and their rituals, and their worship became very superficial.  Nothing they did touched their hearts.  They had no relationship with God, so it’s not surprising that they didn’t recognise Jesus when he arrived.

Jesus doesn’t want that to happen to us.  He wants a personal relationship with each of us, not just in our heads, but deep in our hearts.

For four years Faustina Kowalska kept a diary of her contact with Jesus.  The result is the book ‘Divine Mercy in My Soul’ – 600 pages about God’s merciful love for us and how he wants us to live and pray.

In April 2000, Pope St John Paul II canonised Sr Faustina and established the second Sunday of Easter as Divine Mercy Sunday. That’s what we celebrate today.

So, let’s pray for peace – the unfathomable peace we all need deep in our hearts. 

The peace that only comes from truly loving, trusting and understanding the tender loving and merciful heart of our God.

On the Heart of our Faith

(Acts 10:34, 37-43; Col.3:1-4; Jn.20:1-9)

Happy Easter! Today is the most important day of our Christian calendar, because this is the day we celebrate Jesus’ return from the dead.  The truth of Jesus’ resurrection is at the very heart of our faith. 

Given its importance, then, why do so many people only rabbit on about chocolate eggs at Easter?

Let’s go back a step.  We don’t know exactly when Jesus was born, but we do know the month of his death and resurrection.  It’s linked to the Jewish Passover, which is always between late March and late April each year.

This is springtime in the Northern Hemisphere.  Have you heard of the mad March hare?  Springtime is when rabbits and hares leave their winter hiding places and rush about eating, nesting and multiplying.  Springtime is also when most wild birds lay their eggs.  In the 1600s, someone in Germany linked these two events and started making up stories about rabbit-eggs.

These are fairytales, however.  They simply distract us from the real Easter story.  So let’s look at that now.

St Luke tells us that at dawn on the first Easter, Mary Magdalene and two other women went to Jesus’ tomb with a gift of spices.  They were astonished to see it empty.  Two angels said to them ‘Why look for the alive among the dead?  He’s not here, he’s risen.’

The women ran to tell the disciples, but they wouldn’t believe it.  So Peter checked for himself, and all he saw in the tomb were some binding cloths.  Soon afterwards, however, Jesus appeared to them personally and then they had to believe.

The question today is this: do we believe?  And what does Jesus’ resurrection mean for us personally?  St Paul says that if Christ is not risen, then all our believing is in vain (1Cor.15:17).  But we know he’s risen, for several reasons.

It’s significant that all four Gospels say that women were the first to witness the empty tomb. This point gives credibility to these accounts, because in ancient times women weren’t allowed to be official witnesses.  Had the Resurrection story been invented, women would never have been mentioned.

It’s also significant that there’d been no forced entry into the tomb, and that Jesus’ linen wrappings were left on the floor.  If Jesus’ body had been stolen, the bandages would have gone, too.  But they were left behind.

What’s immensely profound, though, is the change in the disciples’ behaviour. 

The author Henry Van Dyke once wrote that some people are so afraid of death that they never really begin to live.  This certainly applied to the disciples. At first they’re so terrified of arrest that they go into hiding.  But not long after Jesus’ resurrection they’re completely transformed.  They come out of hiding and start preaching with great passion.

What we’re now moving towards is life, not death.

St Peter, previously so weak, suddenly becomes a lion and fearlessly confronts the Jewish crowd.  He’s filled with fire and nothing will stop him.

St Paul the Pharisee also meets Jesus on the Damascus Road and he, too, changes utterly.  There’s no escaping it – Jesus is risen!

The Apostles’ conviction is so strong that no gaol or persecution or torture will stop them spreading the extraordinary news about Jesus Christ.

And it’s because of their passion, and the unshakeable faith of so many disciples since then, that we’re all here today, celebrating Easter.

So what does the Resurrection mean for us today?

Before Christ’s resurrection, death always followed life.  It didn’t matter how rich or powerful you were; death was always the end of the road.  But now, because of Jesus’ self-sacrifice, death is as empty as his tomb.  Death is no longer what we’re moving towards; it’s what we’re coming from. 

As Christians we’re all members of Christ’s body, and because of our baptism Jesus has given each of us a share in his new life and identity. 

So, what we’re now moving towards is life.  As Jesus himself said, ‘I came that they may have life, and have it to the full’ (Jn.10:10).

Some people think that all they have to do is to sit tight, and wait for their turn to enter heaven.  But true Christians aren’t meant to do nothing.  True disciples, like Jesus, are meant to spread the good news.  We’re meant to make a difference, by shining some of Christ’s light into the darkness of the world.

So, Easter is not about rabbits and chocolate eggs. 

The real story of Easter is the story of Jesus, his remarkable resurrection from death, and the profound hope he gives every one of us.

On Three Graces

[Ex.12:1-8, 11-14; 1Cor.11:23-26; Jn.13:1-15]

Years ago, a Carmelite nun went to see St Teresa of Avila, and said how she wished she’d lived in Jesus’ day.  What a joy, she thought, it would have been to see his face, to hear his voice and to be near him.  ‘Imagine what it would have been like to talk with Jesus!’ she said. ‘Oh, I’d be a saint!’

St Teresa looked at her and said, ‘My dear sister, have you forgotten that Jesus is still on earth, that he lives near you (she pointed to the tabernacle), and that he’s often in your very soul?  Have you forgotten that you can see him and speak to him as often as you like? And isn’t Jesus with us in the Most Holy Sacrament?’

Yes, Jesus is always with us in the Most Holy Sacrament, the Eucharist.

Recently I came across Robert DeGrandis’ book ‘Healing through the Mass’ [i].  In it DeGrandis describes how NASA studied the effects of space travel on astronauts and developed a special camera that can read the energy levels in a human body.  Linked to a monitor, this camera shows a person’s energy as an aura of light around the body.

In its experiments, NASA found that when someone’s dying, their aura gets thinner and thinner until that person dies.  One day in a hospital, a scientist and his associate were monitoring a dying man behind a two-way mirror.  Through their camera they could see another man entering the room. Light shone from his pocket.  The man took something from that pocket and moments later the whole room was filled with so much light that the camera couldn’t read what was happening. The scientists went into the room and saw the dying man receiving Holy Communion.  The Eucharistic host had radiated a huge amount of energy and the man’s aura got stronger.

After witnessing that event, the scientist himself became a priest.

So many of the graces God gives us are invisible to our world-weary eyes, and we never notice them.  But God’s graces are real; they’re powerful.

Today, on this feast of the Last Supper, we should remember three remarkable graces Jesus left us on the night before he died.

Firstly, Jesus washed his disciples’ feet.  As St John tells us, Jesus stood up from the table, took off his cloak, wrapped a towel around himself and washed their feet.  This startled the disciples; it was the work of slaves.  Peter objected, but Jesus replied, ‘If I don’t wash you, you can have nothing in common with me’.

Later, Jesus added, ‘Do you understand what I’ve done to you? … if I’ve washed your feet, (so) you also must wash each other’s feet.  For I’ve set you an example … you should do as I have done’.

So many of the graces God gives us are invisible to our world-weary eyes, and we never notice them.

This act was revolutionary.  Jesus showed us that regardless of who we are, we all need to reach out in humble and loving service to others.  This is the path of sainthood, and we’re all called to it.

Jesus’ second grace was also revolutionary.  He took the bread, blessed it, and gave it to his disciples saying, ‘Take and eat, this is my body’.  Then he took the cup of wine and said, ‘drink from this, all of you; for this is my blood, the blood of the new covenant’ (Mt.26:26). 

With these words, the entire substance of the bread was changed into Christ’s flesh. The entire substance of the wine was changed into his blood. 

This same miracle still happens today, at every Mass, and as NASA itself has found, the Eucharist has remarkable powers.  Indeed, it has the power to transform lives.

And finally, at the Last Supper Jesus gave us a third grace, by establishing the priesthood.  In 2004, Pope St John Paul II said that through these two actions – washing the feet, and instituting the Eucharist, Jesus established the ministerial priesthood.

Our priests are consecrated by God to make the love of Christ present in the world.  But as St Peter reminds us, we all share in that same priesthood.  We’re all a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation (1Pet.2:5). 

So, as we celebrate the Last Supper today, let’s remember that we all share in Jesus’ priesthood.

We all have a duty to make Christ’s love present in the world, by serving others in mercy and love, and by recognising his divine presence in his remarkable gift – the Eucharist.

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[i] Robert deGrandis, Healing through the Mass. Resurrection Press, New Jersey, 1992:84.

On the Passing Parade

(Is.50:4-7; Phil.2:6-11; Lk.19:28-40)

One remarkable figure in today’s Palm Sunday Gospel that’s typically overlooked is the donkey – the simple, ordinary, humble donkey.  It’s easy to miss this animal but its presence says so much.

2000 years ago, a worldly king would never have ridden a donkey.  He’d have chosen a mighty wheeled vehicle, perhaps a chariot, drawn by magnificent horses. 

But Jesus is different.  In our second reading, St Paul tells us that although he was God, Jesus didn’t seek to be treated as God.  Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave … he humbled himself. So he chose a donkey.

Riding his donkey, Jesus fulfilled Zechariah’s 500 year old prophecy:  ‘Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem!  Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey … and he shall command peace to the nations …’ (Zech.9:9).

Jesus went to Jerusalem for the Passover celebrations.  He approached the city from Jericho and that means he entered through the East Gate.  Seeing him, the crowd got excited and shouted. ‘Hosanna to the Son of David!’  Jesus was their hero – their long-awaited Messiah. 

Now, Passover is one of the great Jewish celebrations.  It commemorates the release of the ancient Israelites from slavery in Egypt.  Jesus went there every year.  The American scholar Ed Parish Sanders estimates that up to 500,000 pilgrims went to Jerusalem every year for these celebrations. The numbers were huge.

With so many pilgrims in town, the Governor Pontius Pilate thought he’d better get some extra soldiers from the coast, in case of any trouble.  So, as Jesus entered from the east, Pontius Pilate and his legions entered from the west.

You can just imagine the Roman procession. It was spectacular, with horses, chariots, cavalry, foot soldiers, helmets, armour, weapons, colourful banners and golden eagles held high.  The sound of horses, drums and marching feet echoed through the narrow streets.

This imperial procession was meant to intimidate:  it’s the power of a worldly empire with its false gods.  Its purpose was to demand fear and loyalty.

Jesus’ procession from the east, however, was different.  It was led by a humble man on a donkey, proclaiming the kingdom of God and asking people for love, acceptance and loyalty.

What a contrast!  One parade representing the pride, power and shallow obsessions of the world.  The other representing a new and a remarkable kind of kingdom – one of deep humility, hope, peace and love.  One that so many of us yearn for.

If you look and listen carefully, you’ll notice that both of these parades are continuing today.  And both, in their own way, are calling us.

… one parade represents the pride, power and shallow obsessions of the world. The other represents a new kind of kingdom

The parade that’s all about power and pride (and sadly, false promises, too) is noisy, it’s brash, it’s colourful.  It’s what captures the attention of most people.  It dominates our modern world.

The other is about the extraordinary love of our humble man-God.  It’s quiet.  It’s gentle.  It’s easily overlooked, but it’s always there, gently calling us over.

Which procession are you in?  Which crowd are you following?  If you say you’re following Jesus on his donkey, then I’ll ask – are you really following him?

I ask this because many in the crowd who greeted Jesus as he rode through Jerusalem on the Sunday also demanded his death on the Friday.

Cheering on Sunday, but jeering on Friday.

Hopeful on Sunday, but hateful on Friday.

How shallow and fickle they were. 

In these final days before Easter, let’s reflect deeply on what it really means to follow Jesus.

Are we loyal or are we fickle?  Do we truly follow Jesus, or do we pretend to?

Which parade, which crowd, are we really following?

On the Miracle of Divine Mercy

(Is.43:16-21; Phil.3:8-14; Jn.8:1-11)

If God loves us no matter what, then why should we bother being good?

Let’s look at today’s Gospel.

It’s early in the morning and Jesus is teaching some people in the Temple in Jerusalem. Some Scribes and Pharisees then arrive with a very unhappy woman.

They say to Jesus, ‘teacher, this woman was caught in a terrible act of sin.  The Law of Moses says she should be punished by stoning.  What do you say?’

Now, these Scribes and Pharisees aren’t interested in this woman. They’re only trying to trap Jesus.  They want him to say the wrong thing so he’ll be punished.

If Jesus says she should be stoned, then he’ll be breaking Roman law and he’ll also be contradicting his own teachings about forgiveness and mercy.  But if Jesus says the opposite – let her go free – then he’ll be rejecting his own Hebrew Bible: the Law of Moses.  That’s their trap.

At first Jesus doesn’t answer.  He simply looks at them in silence.  He knows what they’re up to.  Now, we should remember this, for Jesus knows us, too.  In Matthew 10:30, Jesus says that God knows us so well that he’s even counted all the hairs on our heads.

That’s a good thing, because it means that God knows about our goodness; he knows when we’re trying to be good. But it also means that when we’re doing the wrong thing, God knows that too.  God knows everything, so we should be careful for we’ll be held to account one day.

But in the Temple, Jesus won’t play their game.  He doesn’t say whether the woman should be punished or not.  Instead, he says that the person who’s without sin should throw the first stone.

This must have embarrassed the Scribes and Pharisees.  They hadn’t thought of that.  They didn’t realise that when you’re pointing your finger at someone else, you’re also pointing three fingers back at yourself. 

So, one by one they all disappear, until Jesus is left alone with the woman. 

St Augustine once said that at this point only two things remained: misery and mercy.  The misery of the woman and the mercy of Jesus.  But Jesus forgives her, and he says, ‘Go, and from now on don’t sin anymore.’

With that, the woman has a choice.  She can go back to her bad old ways of sinning and feeling miserable, or she can change the way she lives.

… when you’re pointing your finger at someone else, you’re also pointing three fingers back at yourself.

Jesus knows she’s done the wrong thing, but he wants her to start a new life.  He wants her to be happy.  This means she must turn away from sin.  Jesus doesn’t say ‘It’s OK.  God loves you anyway. It doesn’t matter what you do’.  Rather, he tells her not to sin again.  What’s wrong is wrong.

Albert Einstein once said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.  If you want a new life, if you want a better life, then you need to change the way you live.

The woman in this story represents you and me.  She reminds us that when we do something wrong it hurts someone, and that can lead to misery. 

But the Scribes and Pharisees also represent you and me.  They remind us that when we point the finger and think we’re better than others, that’s also a sin.  That also leads to misery.

Many years ago, Jesus spoke directly to St Faustina Kowalska in Poland.  He reminded her of his merciful heart, and said that the miracle of Divine Mercy completely restores a damaged soul. 

Jesus told St Faustina that when we go to Reconciliation, we should be aware that he himself is in the confessional.  Jesus is hidden by the priest, but he himself acts in the soul.  And it’s here that the misery of the soul meets the mercy of God.

Jesus said that if we trust him, we’ll be able to draw graces from his fount of mercy.  If our trust is great, there’s no limit to his generosity.

So, it’s true that God always loves us, no matter what.  But if we want to be happy, we must turn away from sin. 

We should seek the miracle of Divine Mercy, by going to Reconciliation and starting again.

Let me leave you with this thought.  Among the Native Americans there’s the story of a father who said there were two wolves fighting inside him, one bad and one good.  His son asked him, which wolf wins? 

The father said, whichever one he feeds the most.