Author: Peter McCulloch

Ephphatha Moments

(Deut.4:1-2, 6-8; Jas.1:17-18, 21b-22, 27; Mk.7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23)

In our noisy and crowded world, it can be hard to find the peace we need to engage with our deeper, spiritual selves.

This is why we often yearn to withdraw to somewhere quiet for rest, reflection and healing. It’s a natural desire, and it’s reflected in Mark’s Gospel today.

Jesus is in Gentile territory, and a man who is deaf and cannot speak is brought to Him for healing. Jesus could have cured the man then and there, but instead He takes him to a quiet place where He gives him His undivided attention.

Jesus touches the man’s ears and tongue, and helps him feel what he cannot hear or say. Then in Aramaic Jesus says, ‘Ephphatha!’ – ‘Be opened!’ The man’s ears, lips – and his heart – are all opened, and his life is transformed.

Thankfully, most of us have little trouble with our eyes, ears and speech. However, today’s Gospel does raise the question of how well we use these gifts. Can we see as Jesus sees? Can we hear as He hears? And can we speak as Jesus speaks? Or is there room for improvement?

In 2012, Pope Benedict XVI spoke about this. He said, ‘…we all know that closure of man, his isolation, does not solely depend on the sense organs. There is an inner closing, which covers the deepest core of the person, what the Bible calls the “heart.”

‘That is what Jesus came to “open,” to liberate, to enable us to fully live our relationship with God and with others. That is why… this little word, “Ephphatha – Be opened,” sums up Christ’s entire mission.

Pope Benedict continues: ‘Jesus became man so that man, made inwardly deaf and dumb by sin, would become able to hear the voice of God, the voice of love speaking to his heart, and learn to speak in the language of love, to communicate with God and with others.’ [i]

What so many of us struggle with, then, isn’t so much our eyes, ears or speech, but our hardened hearts (Mt.13:13-15). It’s our stony hearts that hold us back.

Like Pharaoh and the Pharisees, many of us tend to be too concerned about ourselves, too disinterested in others, and too distant from God. This is what St James is talking about in today’s second reading.

It’s also what Jesus wants to heal.

Today, Jesus is offering us our own Ephphatha Moment. But what is an Ephphatha Moment? It’s a personal encounter with Jesus Himself. It’s a mystical and grace-filled moment when Jesus gently touches us and speaks to us in some way.

When this happens, our heart softens and we are surprised to find ourselves seeing and hearing new things, and even speaking in new ways.

Through the ages, many people have had Ephphatha Moments. St Paul had one on his journey to Damascus. That’s when Jesus confronted him, asking: ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?’ That question went straight to Paul’s heart and it led to him becoming one of the greatest of saints.

St Augustine also had an Ephphatha Moment. His stony heart had been stifling his search for spiritual growth. However, after visiting St Ambrose, the bishop of Milan, his heart began to soften and then he overheard a child say, ‘take up and read.’ He looked around, saw a Bible and started reading it. The experience totally transformed his life. [ii]

Thomas Merton had also struggled to find his spiritual self. After a fruitless search of Eastern traditions, he experienced his own Ephphatha Moment when a Hindu Monk said to him: ‘There are many beautiful mystical books written by the Christians. You should read St Augustine’s Confessions and The Imitation of Christ.’ He read those books. They opened his heart and he became a Catholic mystic and best-selling author. [iii]

The Sacrament of Baptism includes an Ephphatha Rite in which the minister touches the person’s ear and mouth, and says, ‘The Lord Jesus made the deaf hear and the dumb speak. May he soon touch your ears to receive his word and your mouth to proclaim his faith, to the praise and glory of God the Father.’

This is such a beautiful blessing, but unfortunately many of us have become deaf and blind to our spiritual selves because of our sin, selfishness and stony hearts.

How, then, might you experience your own Ephphatha Moment? By carving out some quiet time and space for yourself, and asking Jesus to whisper ‘Ephphatha’ into your soul.  

Be patient; Jesus doesn’t always respond immediately. But ask Him to open up your heart so that you may see, hear and speak, just as he does.

For an open heart is the way to healing, holiness and hope.

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[i] Pope Benedict XVI, Angelus Address, 9 September 2012, https://www.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/angelus/2012/documents/hf_ben-xvi_ang_20120909.html

[ii] St Augustine of Hippo, Confessions, Penguin Books, London, 1961.

[iii] Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain, Harcourt, NY, 1998.

Lip-Syncing Through Life

(Deut.4:1-2, 6-8; Jas.1:17-18, 21b-22, 27; Mk.7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23)

‘Lip-syncing’ occurs when someone silently mimes someone else’s pre-recorded words or song.

It became common at the end of the silent movie era, when many film stars didn’t quite have the right speaking or singing voice.

But it has been controversial. Many people felt cheated when they learnt that Audrey Hepburn had lip-synced her songs in My Fair Lady. And in 1990, when the world discovered that Milli Vanilli didn’t sing their own songs, people were outraged. The real singers were two former US soldiers who apparently didn’t have the right ‘look’.

Milli Vanilli had to return their Grammy Award for ‘Best New Artist.’

When people are expected to be authentic, lip-syncing is often considered dishonest.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus accuses the Pharisees of lip-syncing to the Old Testament. The Pharisees have been demanding to know why Jesus lets his disciples eat without washing their hands. But Jesus knows they’re not really interested in hygiene or in God’s commandments. Their real concern is ensuring that the people obey their own rules about ritual purification. 

Jesus is annoyed. The Pharisees are mouthing the right words, but they are not genuine, so He quotes Isaiah’s prophecy, ‘This people honours me only with lip-service, while their hearts are far from me. The worship they offer me is worthless…’ (Is.29:13).

It’s quite easy to put on a false front to hide what’s really in our hearts. One man was very good at this, at least for a while. He filled his speeches with Christian references. He spoke of God’s blessings and the importance of Christianity to his new government. He even held up a well-thumbed Bible, explaining how it had inspired him. But such hypocrisy is not sustainable, and the world soon learnt who Adolf Hitler really was.

In our second reading today, St James says that there’s a vital connection between faith and love. Genuine religion, he says, is about caring for suffering widows and orphans, and making sure that our hearts are not corrupted by our selfish world.

In other words, our Christian faith is about genuinely loving God and each other, in both word and deed, for the heart is fundamental to everything we do.

Indeed, our hearts are at the very core of our human identity, and when our words and actions don’t connect with our hearts, we lose our integrity. And when we lose our integrity, people stop trusting us. They turn away.

For our words to ring true, they must come from the heart. For our actions to be authentic, they must be inspired by the heart. And for our faith to be genuine, it must be embedded in our hearts.

We know this, don’t we? Without our heart, our welcome is hollow, our words are empty and our faith is false.

Indeed, Flor McCarthy tells us that it’s only with the heart that we can see rightly. To see with the eyes only is to be no better than a camera.

It’s only with the heart that we can hear rightly. The cry of a needy person may reach our ears, but unless it reaches our hearts we will not feel that person’s pain, and it’s unlikely that we’ll respond.

It’s only with the heart that we can work rightly. If our heart is in our work, the work becomes a joy and we put our best into it. But if our heart is not in it, we are working under the severest handicap of all.

And it’s only with the heart that we can forgive rightly. If forgiveness does not come from the heart, it will not bring us peace, nor will it result in true reconciliation with the other. [i]

The message for today, then, is that if you’ve been lip-syncing your way through life, it’s time to stop. It’s time to get real and engage with your heart.

Let’s close with a little story.

A humble gardener presents his king with the greatest carrot he has ever grown. The king is touched and responds by giving the gardener a large plot of land.

A nobleman witnesses this event, and decides that it would be advantageous for him to present the king with his finest horse.

He does just that, but the king merely thanks him for the horse.

Seeing the nobleman quite confused, the king explains to him, ‘That gardener was giving me the carrot. But you were giving yourself the horse.’

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[i] Flor McCarthy, The Gospel of the Heart, Dominican Publications, Dublin, 2005:167.

 

The Choices We Make

(Josh.24:1-2a, 15-17, 18b; Eph.5:21-32; Jn.6:60-69)

We make choices every day. Most are small, like what to eat or wear, but some are big, like where to work and who to marry.

Knowingly and unknowingly, we make choices all the time. They shape our existence, and every good choice helps us live our very best lives.

Victor Frankl, the psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, described our ability to choose as ‘the last of the human freedoms’. He once wrote that everything can be taken from a person but this one thing, the ability to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.

Because of this, Frankl said, every human being has the freedom to change at any instant.[i] Even in our darkest moments, we always have the power to choose how we respond to our situation.

How well, then, do we exercise our power to choose? Do we do it well, or do we tend to be more passive, perhaps avoiding decisions altogether or leaving them to others?

Samuel Beckett’s play Waiting for Godot tells the story of two men, Estragon and Vladimir, who spend all day every day waiting under a tree in the countryside for someone named Godot to arrive.

They aren’t sure if he’s coming, but they hope that when he does, he’ll bring meaning and purpose to their lives. So, they wait for Godot, and as they wait, they eat and argue, and they talk about all sorts of things. But nothing changes, and they just keep waiting. And waiting. And waiting. [ii]

A fruitless and empty life can lead to very deep regrets.

In 2012, Bronnie Ware published a book about her work in palliative care. In it she reveals the five biggest regrets her dying patients shared with her:

• I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
• I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.
• I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
• I wish I’d stayed in touch with my friends, and
• I wish I’d let myself be happier. [iii]

No-one likes regrets, so how can we ensure we always make the right choices?

Firstly, by understanding our values (what we believe is fundamentally important in life) and always using this as a sound basis for daily decision-making. Much like the wise man who built his house on rock (Mt.7:24-27).

And secondly, by making sure that all our choices are consistent with our values.

In John’s Gospel today, Jesus concludes His Bread of Life Discourse. This is the talk he gave in the synagogue in Capernaum, just after feeding the 5,000.

Essentially, He’s saying, ‘I am the Bread of Life who came down from heaven to give life to the world. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood will live forever.’

In other words, ‘Come to me for spiritual food that will nourish and transform your existence. Come to me if you want eternal life.’

Here, Jesus is giving his listeners – that’s us – a choice: are you going to believe me and accept my Eucharistic self, or will you reject me?

Many of Jesus’ disciples do reject Him. They can’t understand how someone who turned water into wine can also transform bread and wine into His own flesh and blood. So, they turn away, and only the original Twelve choose to stay.

It’s not much different today; so many people would rather sit on their hands than choose Jesus. They’d rather follow the false gods of our day. But take note: Jesus never forces us into anything. He always lets us choose for ourselves.

In our first reading today, Joshua is the man who replaces Moses after the Israelites enter the Promised Land. Joshua is getting old, and he calls on the leaders of the twelve tribes of Israel to choose: either to remain faithful to the God who gave them their new home, or to follow the false gods of their new land.

Joshua says he plans to serve God, and his people agree to do the same.

Today, Jesus is offering us a sound and sensible foundation for our lives; one that actually leads to eternal life. He’s inviting us to follow Him.

Right now, Jesus is asking, ‘What about you, do you want to go away, too?’

Peter replied, ‘Lord, who shall we go to? You have the message of eternal life.’

What is your reply to Jesus?

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[i] Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning, Beacon Press, Boston, 2023.

[ii] Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot, Grove Press, NY, 1954.

[iii] Bronnie Ware, The Top Five Regrets of the Dying. Hay House, Inc., Carlsbad, CA, 2012. 

The Road to Hope

(Prov.9:1-6; Eph.5:15-20; Jn.6:51-58)

As a young boy growing up in Hue, Vietnam, in the 1930s, Francis-Xavier Nguyên Van Thuân was fascinated by the Holy Eucharist. He knew it was something special.

It led him to the priesthood and to Rome where he studied Canon Law. And in 1975, just before Saigon fell to the communists at the end of the Vietnam War, he arrived as its new archbishop.

There was no-one to greet him, and soon afterwards he was arrested and imprisoned in Nha Trang, the place where he’d earlier served as bishop (1967-75).

He spent the next nine years in solitary confinement.

The archbishop feared he’d never be able to celebrate the Eucharist again. However, when he was allowed to write to his family, he asked for clothes and toiletries, and added, ‘Please send me a little wine as medicine for my stomach ache.’

They understood what he meant, and sent him some wine in a little medicine bottle, and hosts hidden in a torch. He used these things to secretly celebrate Mass in his tiny cell, every day at 3 pm, the hour when Jesus died on the Cross.

Relying on his memory, he consecrated three drops of wine and a drop of water on the palm of his hand, along with some host-crumbs. And as he lapped up the precious Eucharistic blood in his hand, he asked for the grace to drink the bitter chalice and to unite himself to Christ’s shedding of blood.

Extending his arms to form a cross, he joined his sufferings to that of Jesus on the Cross. His hand became his altar, his cell became his cathedral.

He later described these as the most beautiful Masses of his life.

After nine years in solitary confinement, he was sent north to a ‘re-education camp’ for another four years. There he was locked up with fifty prisoners in a crowded room. Each day at 9.30 pm, in the dark, he celebrated Mass over his bed, and under a mosquito net he gave tiny pieces of the sacred host to the other Catholics.

Wrapping tiny particles of the blessed sacrament in cigarette foil, he and the other prisoners took turns adoring Jesus secretly. Their worship not only helped them to survive; it also helped them to heal.

The archbishop’s gentle manner and the Holy Eucharist changed the lives of many of these prisoners. Even the camp guards began to confide in him. But the suspicious authorities changed the warders regularly to avoid them being ‘contaminated.’

During his imprisonment, Nguyên Van Thuân often felt useless and feared losing his mind. He also wondered how he could care for his flock, but God helped him to see how he could offer ‘five loaves and two fish’ of daily prayer for the good of his people.

He also began writing a few words of wisdom on scraps paper from old calendars, and gave them to a brave Catholic boy who passed by. That boy’s parents copied them into a notebook, and eventually his 1,001 thoughts were published in a book called The Road to Hope: A Gospel from Prison.

That book did much to bolster the faith of the Vietnamese people during the worst of the Communist repression.

Not surprisingly, many of his wise words were about the Eucharistic Jesus, nourished by his prison experience. For example, he wrote:

• The whole of the Lord’s life was directed toward Calvary. The whole of our life should be oriented toward the Eucharistic celebration; and
• As the drop of water put into the chalice mingles with the wine, so your life should become one with Christ’s.

In 1991, Archbishop Nguyên Van Thuân was released and allowed to leave Vietnam, but never to return. He travelled to Rome where Pope St John Paul II warmly greeted him. He was made a cardinal in 2001, but died the following year.

In 2007, he was declared ‘Venerable’, the first step on his path to sainthood.

In John’s Gospel today, Jesus says, ‘Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.’

Nguyên Van Thuân understood this well. He said that the only thing that helped him survive so many years of torture and dehumanisation was the Holy Eucharist. It gave him life and he used it to love his fellow prisoners and even the guards who abused him. Some of these men were so moved by his faith that they, too, became Catholics. [i]

The Eucharist (Greek for ‘thanksgiving’) means so much more than just ‘receiving Communion.’ It’s about consuming Jesus Himself, combining our life with His, so that we might draw life from Him.

And not just eternal life, but also the strength we need to survive – and thrive – here on earth.

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[i] https://slmedia.org/blog/cardinal-van-thuan-canonization-cause

La Dolce Vita

(1Kgs.19:4-8; Eph.4:30-5:2; Jn.6:41-51)

La Dolce Vita – ‘The sweet life.’ Have you ever seen that movie?

It was made in 1960 by Frederico Fellini. In the opening scenes, a statue of Jesus is carried by helicopter across Rome, first over some old Roman ruins, and then over a big new construction site.

At one point it’s carried above some beautiful bikini-clad women sunbaking on a rooftop, and they wonder where Jesus is going.

Then we see the helicopter lowering the statue onto St Peter’s Square. As the statue comes down, the camera zooms in for a close-up of Jesus with his arms extended, and He’s safely delivered to the Pope in the Vatican. [i]

Fellini made this film at a time when Italy was pulling itself out of the ruins of World War II. It’s the simple story of a man (played by Marcello Mastroianni) searching for a way out of the shallowness and spiritual desolation of his life.

For a while this film was banned because of its depiction of the seven deadly sins. But what Fellini was doing was offering a powerful commentary on the way the world was changing after WWII.

Instead of learning from the mistakes of the past and cherishing our Christian heritage, Fellini saw too many people turning towards the shallow self-indulgence of modern-day secularism.

When Martin Scorsese saw this film, he said it showed the world ‘moving from decadence to despair with nothing in between.’

The scene of Christ being lowered by helicopter onto St Peter’s Square was Fellini’s way of showing how the world is trying to lock Jesus away, confining him to within the walls of the Church.

He makes the point that if you remove Jesus from daily life, then spiritual decay will follow and hope will disappear.

So, what happens when hope does disappear? Let me tell you another story.

Before WWII, three famous Jewish psychiatrists lived in Vienna. They all spent years trying to understand human behaviour, to learn what makes people tick.

One was Sigmund Freud. He believed that the most basic drive in human beings is the desire for pleasure. He thought that everything we do in our lives is based on our need to feel good. In Fellini’s movie, that’s reflected in the image of the women sunbaking.

The second psychiatrist was Alfred Adler, who disagreed with Freud. He argued that what motivates people is the desire for power, the need to control things and to feel important.

The third man was Victor Frankl, who was younger than the other two. When the Nazis invaded Austria, Freud and Adler managed to escape. But Frankl was arrested and he spent four long years locked up in concentration camps, including Auschwitz and Belsen.

Victor Frankl

While he was there, Frankl noticed that those who survived weren’t the ones you’d expect. Very often those who were physically strong wasted away and died, while those who were much weaker managed to grow stronger and survived. Why?

Well, it wasn’t pleasure that kept them going. There was no pleasure in those horrid camps; it was all misery and murder. And it wasn’t power that kept them going, either, because the prisoners had no power. They were treated like animals.

What Frankl noticed was that the people who survived had hope. They never gave up their belief that life had meaning, despite everything that happened to them. They kept going.

In his film La Dolce Vita, Frederico Fellini had some serious comments to make about the shallow, self-indulgent secularism of our age. For it’s not the desire for pleasure that will sustain us, and it’s not the pursuit of power that will give us a better world.

What’s far more important is hope and meaning, and as Christians we know exactly where real hope and meaning are to be found. 

As Jesus tells us in our Gospel today, He is the Bread of Life that came down from heaven. Only Jesus has the power to satisfy our deepest hunger, our hunger for spiritual meaning. Only Jesus offers us hope for eternal life.

In Isaiah (55:2-3), the prophet asks, ‘Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread? Why do you labour for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me,’ he says, ‘and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food.’ 

And what is this rich food that satisfies? It’s the Bread of Life. Jesus Christ. 

Whoever eats this bread will live forever.

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[i] See the opening scenes at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uo84caBoToQ

The Bread of Life

(Ex.16:2-4, 12-15; Eph.4:17, 20-24; Jn.6:24-35)

In 1995, someone set a world record by making a loaf of bread, from harvesting the wheat through to baking, in 8 minutes 13 seconds. That’s fast!

In biblical times, breadmaking took much longer. The typical housewife got up early before dawn to start grinding the flour by hand. Grinding 800 grams of flour took an hour, but if she had five or six people to feed, she would have had to spend three hours grinding.

In those days bread was an important part of the diet, much like today, but it always meant hard work. Ordinary families had to plough and sow, seed and hoe, reap and thresh, winnow and sift, grind and sift again, knead and moisten, light the fire and then bake. Only then could they have a piece to eat.

It’s not surprising, then, that bread became such an important symbol around the world. Today it’s an icon of nutrition, wealth and comfort, and breaking bread has become an important symbol of peace.

It’s also not surprising that Jesus added bread to the Lord’s Prayer. When the early Christians prayed ‘give us this day our daily bread’ (Mt.6:11), they didn’t just pray for a good harvest or for enough flour. They also prayed for the strength to keep making their own bread each day.

In John’s Gospel today, the crowds of people that Jesus had fed earlier go looking for Him. They want more of His bread, and we can understand why. It was nourishing, it was easy and it was free.

But Jesus thinks the time’s come to offer them something even more precious.  He says, ‘do not work for food that cannot last, but work for food that endures to eternal life, the kind of food the Son of Man is offering you’.

He invites them to look beyond their ordinary lives and to start focussing on more profound things. We’ve all been created by God to live with Him forever, and Jesus has come to show us what to do. 

All we need to do is believe in Him and follow His way, and eternal life will be ours. That’s why Jesus is called the Bread of Life.  

But the crowd doesn’t understand. They ask Jesus for a sign, and He tells them that the God who fed Moses and the Israelites in the desert all those years ago is the very same God who just fed the 5,000 on that hillside. 

Then He tells them straight: ‘I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.’

What Jesus is offering them isn’t just a full belly. Rather, He’s offering them the way to personal fulfilment. He’s offering them the answer to the riddle of life.

Many people in our world today regularly eat their fill and have all they need, but still feel ‘empty’ inside. They’re hungry for something more in their lives, but don’t know what to look for.

Some people think the answer is to focus on looking good and surrounding themselves with nice shiny things. They spend lots of time and money on their appearance; they’re obsessed with their image and possessions. But at the same time they’re ignoring their souls.

They’re ignoring God.

This is what Jesus is trying to teach us. He cares about physical hunger, but He cares even more about our spiritual hunger. He’s telling us that only He can satisfy our yearning for a life of peace, love, purpose and joy.

In our second reading today, St Paul says that if we accept the nourishment that Jesus offers us, our lives will be transformed. That’s when we’ll find that we’re no longer satisfied with full bellies and empty hearts and minds.

Paul encourages us to put aside our old lives, and instead put on a new self, nourished by the goodness, holiness and truth of Jesus Christ.

For He is the Bread of Life.

The kind of bread that Jesus offers us involves effort, but of a different kind. It means taking the time we need to develop a personal relationship with Him, by getting to know Him and allowing Him to nourish and transform us from the inside out.

When next you pray, ‘… Give us this day our daily bread,’ remember that Jesus is our daily bread. He is our Bread of Life, and He’s freely available to us all.

Please take as much as you need.

Two Kinds of Time

(2Kgs.4:42-44; Eph.4:1-6; Jn.6:1-15)

Are you often short of time?

It might help to know that the ancient Greeks recognised two different kinds of time: Kronos and Kairos.

Kronos is ordinary clock time. It’s measured in seconds, minutes and hours, it regulates our daily lives and it’s typically in short supply. Kronos is from where we get our word chronology, and it’s mentioned 54 times in the New Testament.

Kairos, however, is God’s time. It’s spiritual time that exists outside clock time because God doesn’t live by our rules.

And there’s plenty available.

Kairos is a powerful moment when God reaches out to touch us. In that instant, ordinary time seems to stand still, something deeply significant happens to us and our lives are changed in some way.

The New Testament mentions Kairos 86 times, and it offers many examples, including when Jesus invites Himself to Zacchaeus’ house (Lk.19:1-10) and when He heals blind Bartimaeus (Mk.10:46-52). In both cases, clock time is irrelevant because the lives of these people are utterly transformed and they begin to see the world in new ways.

Indeed, our baptism was a Kairos moment, as are all the sacraments. At these special times, God reveals how close He is to us, but such moments are easily missed if we’re not alert to them.

How then might we recognise a Kairos moment? By checking for three things: firstly, that the Holy Spirit is involved. Secondly, that through it God is telling us something or nudging us to do something. And finally, we respond to it with heart-felt faith and obedience.

In his book Balaam’s Donkey, Michael Casey writes: ‘God’s time, Kairos, is not just a tick of the clock. It’s a moment of energy. This movement does not observe events inertly; it’s an active player in human history. The moment in which God’s self-projection intervenes in earthly affairs changes the course of events. Nothing is ever the same afterward. This is a time which we may not anticipate or try to forestall, but for which we must wait in patience.

‘… God’s time is an open doorway to eternity,’ he writes. ‘What is done in God’s time is inevitably easier, more powerful, more lasting and more life-giving. Living in God’s time is an introduction to the Time beyond time, when our lives will be fully overlaid with the glory of the risen Christ and all will be well.’ [i]

There is a kairos moment in today’s Gospel, when Jesus feeds 5,000 people with five loaves and two fish supplied by a young boy. Surprisingly, there is plenty of food left over.

Normally, when you share something, like bread, you end up with less of it. But here Jesus shares a small amount of food and so much more is left over. This miracle is so remarkable that all four Gospels report it.

But bread isn’t the only thing Jesus multiplies when He shares it. He also multiplies love, which grows and spreads like a good virus. And He does the same with wisdom and truth, which spread like light when people are open to them.

‘All spiritual goods are like that,’ Peter Kreeft says in his book, Food for the Soul. Kindness, peace, love and wisdom all multiply when they are shared.

The tick-tock time of Kronos cannot be multiplied, however, because it’s limited by the laws of physics. (That’s why we’re so often short of it.) However, the spiritual time of Kairos can be multiplied. It doesn’t diminish when it’s shared; it’s actually multiplied.

‘The more of it you give to God,’ Kreeft says, ‘the more you get back from Him.’

And how do you give it to God? Through prayer.

Kreeft says that if you have a very busy day ahead, then you must pray more than usual, not less.

Like that boy in today’s Gospel, when you give Jesus your little loaves and fishes of time by making time to pray, a miracle will occur. At the end of the day, you’ll wonder how you managed to accomplish so much.

The answer is that Jesus has multiplied your time.

If you don’t pray like that, Kreeft says, you’ll probably wonder at the end of your day why you felt so hassled by the lack of time. [ii]

St Teresa of Calcutta understood this dynamic well. She said she was far too busy not to pray, and the busier she was, the more she needed to pray.  

Clocks do control our Kronos world, however we don’t have to chain our hearts and minds to them. There is another way, and it’s called Kairos.

Kairos is about moments, not minutes. It’s about those special times when God reaches out to inspire, energise and change us.

And the more we invest ourselves in Kairos time, the more we’ll find that it multiplies, giving us the time we need to actually get things done.

And how do we start? Simply by praying.

By asking God to help you.

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[i] Michael Casey, Balaam’s Donkey, Liturgical Press, Collegeville, MN, 2018:244-245.

[ii] Peter Kreeft, Food for the Soul – Cycle B, Word on Fire, Elk Grove Village, IL. 2023:606-609.

Sheep Without a Shepherd

(Jer.23:1-6; Ps.23; Eph.2:13-18; Mk.6:30-34)

Some years ago, the BBC reported that hundreds of sheep had fallen off a cliff in Eastern Turkey.

After one sheep fell off the cliff, the whole flock followed. More than 400 sheep died, but their bodies cushioned the fall of the other 1,100 that survived. [i]

The report didn’t mention the shepherds, but clearly they weren’t doing their job.

That’s what the prophet Jeremiah is complaining about in our first reading today. In ancient Israel, kings were seen as ‘shepherds’ caring for their flocks. That’s because great leaders like Abraham, Moses and David actually had been shepherds (Ex.3:11; Gen.12:16; Sam.17:34-35).

Like all rulers, Israel’s kings were expected to govern wisely, but many proved to be selfish and greedy manipulators. Jeremiah is scathing of them and calls them false shepherds. But then he offers hope because God has promised the people a ‘true king’ who will be ‘wise, practising honesty and integrity in the land’.

Who is this true king? It’s Jesus Christ, of course. He’s the ‘Good Shepherd’, a direct descendent of King David himself (Jn.10:11; Mt.1:1). And today’s psalm, The Lord is My Shepherd, tells us about Him. The twenty-third psalm is one of the best-loved passages in all Scripture.

Indeed, after the Vietnam War, many American prisoners of war were asked about the fear and darkness they had suffered, and what had kept them going. What had most sustained them, they said, was praying this psalm. [ii] 

This sacred song begins with a rich image of sheep resting by still waters in a grassy meadow. Its verses then follow a winding pathway down into a valley, and then rise up to a metaphorical mountaintop where heaven (‘the Lord’s house’) is located and we are offered hope.

Now, a shepherd has to work hard to get his sheep to lie down beside any waters. Sheep are usually anxious creatures, and they won’t rest if they’re thirsty or hungry, or worried about anything.

And so it is with us. We tend to be anxious creatures, too. Before we can truly and deeply rest, we must drink the living water (Jn.4:14; 7:37) and eat the bread of life (Jn.6:35) that Jesus freely offers us. We must accept His profound peace, for it’s a peace that the world simply cannot provide (Jn.14:27).

But here’s an important point: Jesus never forces Himself on us. He only leads by showing us the way (1Pet.2:21), and letting us choose.

When left to themselves, sheep without a shepherd will perish. They cannot look after themselves. They cannot find water, they’ll overgraze in the one spot, they cannot recognise danger and, ultimately, they’ll die. That’s what happened to those Turkish sheep.

Inside the cave in Northern Thailand

That’s also what very nearly happened to another flock in 2018, when 12 boys and the coach of the Wild Boars Soccer team in Northern Thailand were trapped in a cave 4km deep. For two weeks they were stuck in darkness and flooding rain, with no food and not enough oxygen. They simply couldn’t rescue themselves. It was only because of the remarkable goodness of a few brave shepherds that they were saved.

To remain happy, safe and healthy, all sheep – including ourselves – need a good shepherd. 

In Mark’s Gospel today, Jesus tries to take his disciples to somewhere quiet for rest, reflection and prayer.  But when He gets there, a crowd is waiting for Him. They look like ‘sheep without a shepherd,’ Jesus says.  But He doesn’t turn them away. Rather, He greets them with compassion and care, for Jesus is always welcoming.

The Bible uses the phrase ‘sheep without a shepherd’ eight times, and each time it’s always linked to aimless wandering.

When people wander, they often allow themselves to be distracted and carried along by other people and things. But this is risky for there are many unhealthy influences out there. Once trapped, it can be very hard to escape.

In 2017, when Pope Francis celebrated the 100th anniversary of Fatima, he said that we can all learn from ‘the immense ocean of God’s light’ that shone on those three young children. And he warned us of the dangers of wandering aimlessly through life. 

‘Our Lady,’ he said, ‘warned us about a way of life that is godless and profanes God in his creatures. Such a life,’ he said, ‘risks leading to hell’.[iii]

So, in the end we’re left with a choice: do we wander aimlessly through life, and risk perishing like lost sheep?

Or do we ask the Good Shepherd to guide us safely home?

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[i] BBC News, 8 July 2005. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/4665511.stm

[ii] Mark Link, The Psalms for Today. Tabor Publishing, Valencia Ca. 1989:29.

[iii] https://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2017/documents/papa-francesco_20170513_omelia-pellegrinaggio-fatima.html

Called to be Missionary

(Am.7:12-15; Eph.1:3-14; Mk.6:7-13)

In today’s Gospel, Jesus sends his disciples out into the world, in pairs, to heal the sick, to drive out evil spirits and to tell the world about God’s love.

But first He gives them some instructions.

‘Take nothing for the journey,’ He says, ‘except a staff.’  He wants them to travel light. This staff (a walking stick) isn’t a symbol of authority; it’s a reminder that Jesus wants them to keep going, spreading His good news.

‘Take no bread, no bag and no money,’ He says. They mustn’t rely on their own resources. They must trust in God; He will supply what they need. Carrying little or nothing is a powerful demonstration of your trust in God.

Then Jesus says, ‘Wear sandals, but don’t take a spare tunic.’ In those days, rich people wore shoes; poorer people wore sandals. Jesus wants His disciples to dress simply, so that they can connect with the poor. 

And then, ‘If you enter a house anywhere, stay there until you leave the district.’  This means don’t be fussy about where you stay. Show you’re happy to accept whatever is offered to you, and spend some time with the locals. It takes time to know them.

Then Jesus warns them that not everyone will accept his Gospel message.  Some people simply won’t listen. If that happens, Jesus says just leave. Shake the dust off your feet (in other words: simply let go) and move on.

It’s interesting to note how similar these directions are to the instructions God gave the twelve tribes of Israel before their exodus from Egypt. God sent them to the Promised Land with no bread, only one set of clothes, wearing sandals and carrying a staff (Ex.12:11; Dt.8:2-4). Like the twelve disciples, the twelve tribes were all expected to rely on God’s providence and grace.

Now, we are Jesus’ disciples today, so these instructions are meant for us. Jesus wants us to live simply. He wants us to rely less on ourselves, and to trust more in Him. He wants us to open our hearts and to lead those who are lost on a new exodus towards Him, for He’s waiting for us with open arms.

We don’t have to be anyone special to do this. We only need faith. That’s the message from Amos in our first reading today. Amos was an ordinary shepherd who was asked by God to go and tell the Israelites that he loves them and that they must change their ways. They didn’t listen, but that doesn’t matter. As Jesus says, just shake the dust off your feet and move on.

St Teresa of Calcutta used to say that in doing God’s work, we don’t have to be successful. We just have to be faithful.

In our Second Reading, St Paul says that before the world was made, God chose us to be holy and spotless, to live through love in His presence and to be His adopted sons and daughters.

In other words, God loves us totally; He wants us close to Him. That’s the message Jesus wants us to spread.

In his book ‘The Joy of the Gospel’, Pope Francis reminds us that in our Christian faith we’re all called to be missionary. This call is reflected all through the Gospels, and it’s certainly reflected in every Mass.

When we leave Mass today, nourished and transformed by the Holy Eucharist, Jesus will be sending us out, just like the original Twelve, to take His Gospel message into the world. And He’s inviting us to do this in pairs.

Let’s close with a story.

One winter’s day a man came upon a small boy sitting and begging on a wind-swept city bridge. The boy was shivering from the cold and obviously in need of a good meal.

On seeing him, the man got very angry and said to God, ‘Lord, why don’t you do something about this boy?’

God replied, ‘I’ve already done something about him.’

This surprised the man, so he said, ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but whatever you did, it doesn’t seem to be working.’

‘I agree with you,’ God replied.

‘By the way, what did you do?’ the man asked.

‘I made you,’ came the reply. [i]

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[i] Flor McCarthy, New Sunday and Holy Day Liturgies, Year B. Dominican Publications, Dublin, 2017:259-260.

When I am Weak, I am Strong

(Ezek.2:2-5; 2Cor.12:7-10; Mk.6:1-6)

What is strength?

In our popular culture, strength tends to be measured by things like power, money, influence and prestige, and many people like to boast about having it.

St Paul sees strength very differently. In today’s second reading, he says ‘It’s when I am weak that I am strong.’ What does that mean?

Paul is writing to the members of the Corinthian church, who were known to boast of their worldly successes. Without giving any details, he tells them that a thorn has been torturing his flesh, and three times he begged God to remove it. But God simply replied to him, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is perfected in weakness.’

Thinking about these surprising words, Paul realised that the painful irritant that so troubled him was actually a good thing because it stopped him from feeling too proud and self-sufficient. It made him humble; it opened him up to the graces of the Holy Spirit, and it constantly reminded him of his dependence on Jesus.

In other words, God was using that unnamed thorn to make Paul a better man. That’s why he says, ‘it’s when I am weak that I’m strong.’

A good example of this is Eileen O’Connor, who was born in Melbourne in 1892. She was the oldest of four children of Irish-born parents. At the age of three, she fell out of her pram and suffered a broken spine. Thereafter, she lived a life of constant pain from what was later diagnosed as tuberculous osteomyelitis.

Several painful operations did nothing to help her, and her crooked spine made walking very difficult. She only grew to 115 cm (3 ft 7 inches) tall, and spent most of her life in a wheelchair. Because of her condition, she had very little schooling.

When Eileen was 10, her family moved to Sydney, where her father subsequently died, leaving them in dire poverty. Fr Edward McGrath, the local parish priest, helped them find accommodation. He also got to know Eileen well and was very impressed by her faith and courage.

One day Eileen told Fr McGrath of an apparition she’d had of Our Lady when she was a teenager. Mary, she said, offered her three options: to die quickly and go to heaven; to be miraculously healed and live comfortably on earth; or to offer all her torments and energies to Our Lady’s work of building up God’s kingdom.

Remarkably, Eileen chose the last option.

Fr McGrath then shared with her his own dream of establishing a congregation of nurses to provide free care to the poor, the sick and the dying in their own homes.

Having deep empathy for those who suffer, Eileen loved this idea.

Together, she and Fr McGrath established a small community of nuns known as Our Lady’s Nurses of the Poor. In 1913, she moved into a rented house in Coogee which became their first convent. They called it ‘Our Lady’s Home.’ The sisters elected Eileen as their first superior, and although she was only in her twenties, they called her their ‘Little Mother.’

Eileen supervised the sisters’ work, she led them in prayer and gave them spiritual direction. She also had to manage those who tried to obstruct their work.

Sadly, Eileen’s life was cut short. She died in 1921, aged only 28.[i] [ii]

Outwardly, Eileen O’Connor was tiny, weak and frail, and easily overlooked. Yet her character was magnetic and her spirit was very strong. She proved to be a remarkable teacher and organiser who inspired many generations of nurses, and brought happiness and light to the lives of so many people. [iii]

Today she is revered as a holy woman in Australia and the Pacific, and even in the United States. 

The cause for her canonisation was opened in 2020, and now she is on her way to becoming Australia’s next saint. [iv]

When we feel strong and self-reliant, when we are boastful of our successes, we tend to shut ourselves off from people and from God. We think we don’t need them. But this is a mistake, because we are limiting ourselves. We are shutting ourselves off from extraordinary power and opportunity.

However, when we are consciously weak, broken and vulnerable, that’s when we start looking beyond ourselves and hopefully, we turn to God.

Like St Paul and Eileen O’Connor, when we open ourselves up to the strength and power of God’s Holy Spirit, that’s when He begins to work through us. And remarkable things happen.

This is what happens in the life of every saint.

So, the next time you’re feeling strong and confident, remember Jesus’ words: ‘Apart from me, you can do nothing’ (Jn.15:5).

Whatever weakness you have can turn out to be a source of very great strength.

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[i] https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/oconnor-eily-rosaline-eileen-7875

[ii] https://www.ourladysnurses.org.au/eileen-oconnor/

[iii] https://www.catholicweekly.com.au/next-step-towards-sainthood/

[iv] https://www.sydneycatholic.org/homilies/2021/homily-for-solemn-mass-of-the-29th-sunday-of-ordinary-time-year-b/