Author: Peter McCulloch

Jairus and Two Daughters

(Wis.1:13-15, 2:23-24; 2Cor.8:7, 9, 13-15; Mk.5:21-43)

Today’s Gospel is crafted like a sandwich. It gives us the story of Jairus’ daughter, and in the middle of it we’re given another story about a suffering woman.

Both stories have something to teach us about our faith.

They begin with Jesus and his disciples crossing the Sea of Galilee and meeting a crowd of people on the other shore. Jairus is in that crowd. He falls to his knees and begs Jesus to save his dying daughter.

Sometimes we are like Jairus, desperately asking Jesus for help.

Notice how Jesus responds. He listens to Jairus, but He makes him wait. Jesus could have healed the girl immediately, just as He healed the Centurion’s servant in Capernaum. But He delays. Why? One reason is because Jesus wants Jairus to spend time with Him. But He also wants him to learn.

Sometimes we, too, have to wait when we pray for something, and sometimes that waiting is for a long time. Perhaps we’re praying for the wrong thing, or maybe Jesus simply wants us to develop patience and trust, and to go much, much deeper into our faith.

If Jesus always gave us quick solutions, how often would we simply return to our ordinary lives, unchanged? Clearly, Jesus wants us to grow.

Happily, from time to time while we’re waiting, He sends us encouraging signs. That’s what happens to Jairus today. As he walks with Jesus towards his house, Jairus sees Jesus heal someone else. He witnesses Jesus healing the suffering woman. Seeing that strengthens Jairus’ faith and it puts a spring in his step.

Has this ever happened to you? Have you seen or heard about someone else being helped while you were waiting for your own prayers to be answered? This is a gift, an encouraging sign meant to help us keep going. 

In today’s second story – the filling in the sandwich – we meet a woman who has been suffering for years. She knows all about waiting, and she has tried everything to solve her own problem. Now she realises that her only hope is Jesus, and this has given her profound faith.

She is convinced that all she has to do is touch Jesus, and she’ll be healed.  And that’s exactly what happens: she touches Jesus’ cloak and she’s instantly healed.

This famous story emphasises the importance of patience and trust, and it reminds us of the importance of touch.

When that woman reaches out to touch Jesus, He feels His power drain from Him. ‘Who touched me?’ He asks. The disciples think He’s just being silly, because they were all inside a bustling crowd. But being accidentally nudged is not the same as a personal, believing touch, for touch can be incredibly powerful: it can heal; it can console, and as Helen Keller discovered, it can teach, as well.

Helen Keller (1880 – 1968) caught meningitis before she was two years old, and it left her deaf and blind. The only way her teacher could communicate with her and teach her how to read, write and speak was through touch.

One day, she put Helen’s hand under the water pump, and with her finger repeatedly signed w-a-t-e-r on her palm. Through touch, she found a way to break through to Helen and unlock her brilliant mind.

Touch became Helen Keller’s lifeline to the world, just as it’s an important link between ourselves and those we love.

And touch is an important element in our relationship with Jesus, too. You might not have thought about it much, but every time you come forward for the Holy Eucharist, you stretch out your hands to receive Jesus Himself.

Are you aware of this? Do you feel Jesus’ personal touch when you receive Him at Communion? And does Jesus feel your loving touch in return?

Or is it all just a mindless gesture?

There is so much wisdom embedded in our two sandwiched Gospel stories today. Jairus’ prayer was answered, but he had to wait. And while he waited he received an encouraging sign that strengthened his faith.

The suffering woman had to wait, too, and that waiting convinced her that the only answer to her prayers was Jesus Himself.  

And both stories demonstrate the importance of a loving touch. Jesus reaches out to touch Jairus’ daughter, and she is healed. The suffering woman reaches out to touch Jesus, and she too is healed.

When we reach out to receive the Holy Eucharist today, let’s remember that we’ll be touching Jesus Himself.

Let’s do so with deep reverence, faith, and love.

Surviving the Storm

(Job 38:1, 8-11; 2Cor.5:14-17; Mk.4:35-41)

Many people love the sea; they’re fascinated by its colour, its power and its life, while others fear it. They’re scared of its sharks, shipwrecks and unstable nature. 

In Biblical times, people found the sea frightening. They thought it was dangerous and believed that only God can tame it. Indeed, God does tame it in Genesis 1:6-10.

In Exodus, God also divides the Red Sea (14:21-22). And in Revelation, we’re told there will be ‘no more sea’ when God’s peace finally descends on a ‘new earth and new heaven’ (Rev.21:1).

This is the background to Mark’s Gospel today. Jesus is tired, having taught and healed all day in Galilee. As He takes His disciples across the Sea of Galilee to the land of the Gentiles, a storm erupts. Big waves lash their little boat, and the men are terrified. They turn to Jesus and find Him asleep: ‘Master, don’t you care?’ they ask.

Jesus wakes up and replies, ‘Why are you so frightened? Why do you have no faith?’ He then calms the storm.

We all face storms in our lives. Sometimes it’s merely bad weather; and sometimes it’s personal storms, like financial, health or relationship troubles, or the turmoil of anxiety and depression.

For many people, this is the only time they turn to God. The rest of the time they ignore Him. However, there’s a problem with this approach, for if we don’t connect with God when all is calm, we’re unlikely to find Him when we’re in trouble. We’re much more likely to panic.

Many people today also think that if God truly is with them, if He genuinely cares about them, then there’d be no storms at all. And if a storm does arrive, they think that simply proves that God either isn’t there or He just doesn’t love them.

Today’s Gospel tells us that this thinking is wrong, for Jesus is present when the storm hits His disciples. Indeed, His presence doesn’t stop the storm; it just helps the disciples to know that He’s in it with them.

We know that difficulties are a natural part of life. Even Jesus’ life was never trouble-free, and He warns us that anyone following Him can expect to face ‘tribulation, distress and suffering’ (Jn.16.33).

But He also promises to help us. ‘I will not leave you as orphans,’ Jesus says, ‘I will come to you’ (Jn.14:18).

In Deuteronomy, too, we read: ‘Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified … for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you’ (31:6).

So, we remember that God is always with us. But what else can we do to weather these unpleasant storms?

In his book Captured Fire, Joseph Krempa says that today’s readings offer us some useful guidelines.

Our first reading from the Book of Job, for example, reminds us that all storms have limits; they always pass, however intense they may be. The Lord knows the limits of our tolerance, Krempa says. Any storm, the Lord says as in Job, ‘thus far shall you come and no further.’

And as we wait out the storm, Krempa tells us that it’s important that we keep praying. And even if our prayer sometimes seems ineffective, we need to keep our hand on the tiller because our prayer life will give us the stability we need in any turbulence.

Krempa also says that during a storm is not the time to change direction. We should not make any serious life-changing decisions during times of deep anxiety or loss, he says. The storm is not the time to make a major career change, to write a difficult letter or to rearrange our finances. Such changes can be made when calm returns and we can think clearly.

And finally, he points out that in our second reading, St Paul encourages us to see things through the eyes of Christ, for storms have great power to transform the landscape. Through the storms of life, things might seem to be breaking apart, but through the eyes of faith we can see that they are actually breaking open, that things are changing for the better.

For personal tragedy can lead us to a new life with God; physical loss can be a moment of spiritual gain, and illness can lead to spiritual renewal. [i]

Being buffeted by the storms of life isn’t pleasant, but remember this: you are never alone. God is always with you, even if you think He’s sleeping.

So keep up your prayers, and be aware that storms can not only bring us closer to God, they also often create pathways to something new.

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[i] S Joseph Krempa, Captured Fire Cycle B, St Paul’s, New York. 2016:106-107.

Like a Mustard Seed

(Ezek.17:22-24; 2Cor.5:6-10; Mk.4:26-34)

In Mark’s Gospel today, Jesus says the Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed. What does He mean by that?

Let’s begin by explaining the Kingdom of God, a phrase that is used 122 times in the New Testament.

In his book Jesus of Nazareth, Pope Benedict XVI says that the Kingdom of God isn’t a particular place or a thing, but a way of living that has three dimensions.

Firstly, the Kingdom of God is a person. It’s Jesus Christ himself, and Jesus, of course, is God’s presence among us. He represents both truth and the way we should live if we seek the best for ourselves.

Secondly, the Kingdom of God is inside us. It becomes real when we welcome Jesus into our hearts. It also becomes real when we allow Him to rule over our lives, and when we choose to live as He does.

And thirdly, the Kingdom of God is the Church. Despite all its faults and limitations, it’s through the Church that Jesus continues his mission and ministry in our world today.

How, then, is God’s kingdom like a mustard seed?

In the Gospel, Jesus says it’s ‘… like a mustard seed which … is the smallest of all the seeds … yet once it’s sown it grows into the biggest shrub of them all and puts out big branches so that the birds of the air can shelter in its shade.’ 

Now, we know that Jesus isn’t speaking literally here, because the mustard seed isn’t the smallest of seeds. What Jesus is using here is an expression that was common in ancient times. But what does He mean?

In her book Everyday God, Paula Gooder says the mustard plant sometimes behaves like a weed. It can spread like wildfire and grow into a very large shrub where birds love to build their nests.

This is just like the Church. It has grown very large and just as birds like to nest in a tree, so many people flock to the Church as a great source of nourishment, rest and shelter.

But there’s another way of looking at today’s Gospel. The seed also represents our own efforts, and God’s grace is the action of the sun and rain on that seed. As St Paul says, it’s God who gives the growth. He makes seeds grow. 

Sometimes all we have to do is provide a small beginning and God will do the rest.  Even a kind word or a good deed can start something big.

In 1860, for example, St Mary McKillop went to look after her young cousins in Penola, South Australia, and soon started a school and a new religious order, the Josephites. Their ministry spread rapidly, and today they work in Australia, New Zealand, East Timor, Ireland, Scotland and South America.

In 1949 Mother Teresa of Calcutta went alone into the streets of Calcutta to help the sick and dying, and so began what is now an enormous ministry of love across the world, with thousands of priests, nuns and laypeople helping the poor in 90 countries.

And in 1976, Muhammad Yunus began the world’s first microcredit bank in Bangladesh, providing tiny business loans to entrepreneurs trapped by poverty. He began with a very small seed – by lending just $27 to a group of 42 women to start a business making bamboo stools. Since then, his Grameen Bank has spread to 59 countries and it has helped over 300 million people.

Clearly, a tiny seed can start something good, but it can also stop something bad.

In the early 400s, a humble monk named Telemachus travelled to Rome, and found himself in the crowds going to the Coliseum. Sitting there in the stadium, he was appalled to see gladiators killing each other.

He called out, ‘In the name of Jesus, Stop!’ But no one seemed to hear. He jumped over the wall into the arena and again called out, ‘In the name of Jesus, Stop!’ The people laughed, and the gladiators turned on him.

They killed St Telemachus and at that moment everyone was shocked. In silence they all went home.

That same day the Emperor Honorius banned violent games right across the Roman Empire.

There’s nothing ordinary about all this. This is how the Kingdom of God grows.

Each of us can start something great, or end something awful.

Sometimes we don’t even know we’re doing it, but all it takes is a small act of love, done in the name of Jesus.

And God then gives the growth.

The Food of Life

(Ex.24:3-8; Heb. 9:11-15; Mk.14:12-16, 22-26)

Where do people tend to gather at your place?

I’ve often asked this question, and the most common answer is that people tend to gather near food – around the table, in the kitchen or near the barbecue.

Why? It’s because people love food and food preparation seems to be at the heart of every home. Food also serves as a kind of magnet, keeping body and soul together, and bringing people together, too.

Indeed, we create a family whenever we share a meal at table. We also create a community when disparate people come together for a feast.  

Some people see food as little more than a solution for hunger. But it does so much more than that.

Food can be nourishing, of course, and it can keep us healthy. But it can also spread joy, and it’s a wonderful way to say ‘I love you.’

Food is also comforting in times of fear and uncertainty; it calms people down and cheers people up. It can be healing, too: a nice hot soup is reviving when you’re sick. And don’t we often seal deals over a meal?

In every culture, food is deeply meaningful, because it always involves heart, effort and sacrifice. It’s also important, because it shapes community and gives us identity.

Food has also been described as God’s love made edible.

Jesus understands all this. He knows that families and communities are formed around a table, and that breaking bread and sharing a cup can help people grow and connect with each other.

That’s why all through Scripture we see Jesus sharing meals with all sorts of people, including social outcasts. He eats with tax collectors and sinners (Mt.9:10–11); with the Pharisees and lawyers (Lk.7:36–50), and with lepers (Mk.14:3). He receives a disreputable woman at a men’s dinner (Lk. 7:36–39), and he invites himself to the house of Zacchaeus, the ‘sinner’ (Lk.19:1–10).

Jesus is often criticised for this, and some say he eats too much (Lk.7:34). But Jesus knows that food is more than just food. It’s an effective way to bring people together, to nourish and heal them, and to create family and community.

That’s why He gave us the Holy Eucharist at the Last Supper. There in the Upper Room, as Jesus and His disciples celebrated the Passover, He took the bread and broke it, just as they broke His body on the Cross.

Then He gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body. Take it and eat it, and remember that I’m with you, always.’

Then He took the cup filled with wine, blessed it and said, ‘Take this and drink it. This is my blood spilled for you on Calvary so that your sins may be forgiven.’

In the New Testament, the word body (soma in Greek) refers to the whole person, and not just to their flesh or physical body. And in Hebrew, there’s no specific word for body. A living being isn’t considered a person within a body; the body and the person are one and the same.

In other words, when Jesus offers us his body, he’s actually offering us his whole being, his very personhood.

Likewise, in Jewish thought, blood was believed to be the very life of a living being. So, when Jesus offers us his blood, he’s inviting us to ‘consume’ his very life. [i]

When we receive the Eucharist, then, we consume Jesus Himself. He becomes part of us and we become alive in him. We are truly receiving Jesus’ actual being and life, and not just engaging in some symbolic re-enactment.

The Curé of Ars, St John Vianney used to say that it’s not only our bodies that need food – our souls do, too.

‘But where is this food?’ he asked.

This was his answer: ‘When God wished to give food to our soul to sustain it in this pilgrimage through life, he looked over all creation and found nothing worthy of it. Then he fell back on himself and resolved to give himself.’

The Eucharist, then, is God’s most precious gift to us. It’s God’s family meal.

It’s not just a sign or a symbol. It’s Jesus Christ himself – true God, true man, sacramentally present to us in the form of bread and wine that is, after consecration, transformed into his body and blood.

Many years ago, Jesus appeared to St Augustine, and said: ‘Believe and eat me, and you’ll be changed into me.’ [ii]

That’s what this is all about.

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[i] Dominic Grassi & Joe Paprocki, Living the Mass. Loyola Press, Chicago, 2011:148-149.

[ii] Cardinal Saliege, Spiritual Writings. St Pauls Publications, Bucks. 1966:57. 

The Fullness of Mercy

(Gen.3:9-15; 2Cor.4:13-5:1; Mk.3:20-35)

In 1981, as he was driven through the crowd in St. Peter’s Square, Pope St John Paul II was shot and wounded by a Turkish gunman, Mehmet Ali Ağca.

Bullets struck his body and left hand, and narrowly missed his heart.

Ağca was arrested, and the Pope was rushed off to hospital. But before losing consciousness, John Paul said that he forgave the shooter.

In 2005, he wrote, ‘I was suffering – there was reason to fear, but I had a sort of strange confidence [that I would survive].’ And from his hospital bed, he asked the world to ‘pray for my brother… whom I have sincerely forgiven.’

Just after Christmas in 1983, John Paul visited Ağca in prison. They spoke privately in a corner of his cell, and Ağca kissed John Paul’s hand. 

As John Paul rose to leave, he gave Ağca a silver and mother-of-pearl rosary. Many were astounded to learn that Ağca was not handcuffed and that his cell door was left ajar. The Pope had asked a photographer to capture the event to show the world that forgiveness and mercy are possible in our fallen world.

In his book, Memory and Identity, John Paul wrote ‘Ali Ağca had probably sensed that over and above his own power, over and above the power of shooting and killing, there was a higher power. He then began to look for it. I hope and pray that he found it.’

Ağca reportedly became a Catholic in 2007.

John Paul lobbied the Italian president to pardon the prisoner, and he was freed in 2000. He was then deported to Turkey, where he served another 10-year sentence and was released three years later.

Ağca has repeatedly expressed remorse for shooting the Pope.

In Psalm 129 today, the psalmist declares that ‘With the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption.’ That’s how St John Paul II lived his life. He tried to model Jesus in all he did.

He was inspired by Jesus’ unfailing mercy and compassion in the Scriptures: how He comforts the distressed and heals the sick, the blind and the deaf; how He brings the dead back to life and forgives the woman caught in adultery; and how He even forgives those who crucify Him.

For with the Lord there really is fullness of mercy and redemption.

In our first reading today, Adam and Eve have disobeyed God by eating the forbidden fruit. God knows this, but He doesn’t seek revenge. Instead, He asks them, ‘Where are you?’ In other words, ‘Where are your hearts now? Where are you in relation to me, to others and to yourself?’

Adam and Eve feel ashamed and try to dodge responsibility for what they’ve done, but God doesn’t seek to punish them. Rather, He turns to the evil serpent and promises that one day it will face justice.

For with the Lord there is fullness of mercy and redemption.

In today’s second reading, Paul is talking to the Corinthians. He assures them that their troubles and struggles are only temporary, and that they can look forward to the glory that awaits them in heaven if they stay strong in their faith.

For with the Lord there is fullness of mercy and redemption.

And in Mark’s Gospel today, evil is once again causing division and confusion in the world. Jesus has just chosen his twelve disciples and returns home to Nazareth. While he’s preaching, a crowd gathers.

Among them are members of Jesus’ family, but they think He’s lost His mind. And the scribes who are present are deliberately misinterpreting what He’s been saying. But Jesus is not discouraged. He calls the people to a new community, a new family that is not defined by nation or blood. And He says that anyone who hears and does the will of God is His brother, sister or mother.

For with the Lord there really is fullness of mercy and redemption.

The message for us today is that in our turbulent world, it’s so important to remain steadfast in living the life Jesus calls us to live.

Thankfully, if we make mistakes, our God is consistently full of mercy and redemption.

But at the same time, like St John Paul II, it’s also important that we extend that mercy to others, even if they don’t deserve it.

So, when next you pray the Lord’s Prayer and say the words ‘… forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,’ ask yourself: who am I forgiving today? 

A Good Sign of the Cross

(Deut.4:32-34, 39-40; Rom.8:14-17; Mt.28:16-20)

Today, on Trinity Sunday, we celebrate the mystery of our Triune God, a mystery that no-one in this life has ever fully understood.

For how can one God include three Divine Persons: Father, Son and Holy Spirit?

And yet, Scripture often refers to God’s Trinitarian presence: the merciful Father who created us, the loving Son who sacrificed everything for us, and the Holy Spirit who fills us with so much life and hope. Our finite brains struggle to grasp this truth, yet in our hearts we accept it because it’s fundamental to our Christian faith.

Indeed, the Trinity is so fundamental to our beliefs that it’s embedded in our most ancient gesture of prayer: The Sign of the Cross. We make this sign so often, however, that we tend to forget its significance. So, today let’s reflect on this common practice of ours to reveal something of what it means.

Every time we make the Sign of the Cross, we invoke the mystery of the Holy Trinity. With our right hand, we touch our forehead, breast and left and right shoulders, and say ‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit’, using the words Jesus himself gave us just before ascending to heaven (Mt.28:19).

The Sign of the Cross is as old as the Church itself. The earliest Christians often used to trace a Cross (meaning Redemption) with three fingers (the Trinity) on their foreheads. [i]

In 201AD, Tertullian wrote, ‘In all our travels and movements, in all our coming in and going out, in putting on our shoes, at the bath, at the table, in lighting our candles, in lying down, in sitting down, whatever (we do) we mark our foreheads with the sign of the cross’. [ii]

Later, Christians added the words ‘In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit’, and they extended this sign to other parts of the body. So now for example we also sign our forehead, lips and heart when the Gospel is read.

There are many ways to interpret the Sign of the Cross.

Every time we sign ourselves, we publicly affirm our Baptism and we ask God to renew our baptismal graces. At the same time, we also affirm our discipleship, and remember our responsibility to get to know God (pointing to our head), to love him (heart) and to serve him all through our days (shoulders).

But it also summarises the Apostles’ Creed. When we touch our forehead, breast and shoulders, we declare that we believe in the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit; we say that we believe in God’s Creation and his redemption of humanity from sin and death; and we recognise the Cross as the central event of our Christian faith.

As well, an open hand is a sign of blessing, so every time we trace the shape of the Cross on ourselves, we’re asking God to bless our minds, our hearts and our bodies – our thoughts, our passions and our actions.

And as our hand moves down from our head to our heart, we’re reminded that Christ descended from heaven to earth.  And as it travels across from left to right shoulder, we recall that Jesus Himself crossed from death to life, and we’re all invited to do the same.

By definition, the Sign of the Cross is a ‘sacramental’, a sacred sign that unites us with the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. In that moment it serves as a prayer, a collect, that silently gathers up all our hopes and fears and gives them to God.  It also sanctifies that particular moment in our lives, and it prepares us to receive God’s grace. [iii] 

The beauty of the Sign of the Cross is that it’s both quick and deeply meaningful.  The sad thing is that too many people don’t recognise its importance. 

In Ancient Greek, the word ‘sphragis’ means sign and mark of ownership.  Roman generals used to tattoo their initials on their soldiers’ forearms, just as shepherds brand their sheep.

In the same way, the Sign of the Cross publicly marks us as belonging to Christ, the true Shepherd. [iv]

So, whenever you feel drawn towards Jesus, make a good Sign of the Cross.  Whenever you’re anxious, struggling or in danger, make a good Sign of the Cross. And whenever you’re filled with gratitude or joy, make a good Sign of the Cross, for it’s a deeply meaningful prayer. 

And remember this: the Sign of the Cross reminds us to think beyond ourselves. As Ronald Knox once said, in the Sign of the Cross the first two gestures form the letter ‘I’. The second two cross it out. [v]

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[i] Ann Ball, The How-To Book of Sacramentals. Our Sunday Visitor, Huntington IN, 2005:33-34.

[ii] Tertullian, de Corona. Ch.3:165. http://www.tertullian.org/lfc/LFC10-11_de_corona.htm

[iii] Ann Ball, Op cit. pp.11-13.

[iv] Bert Ghezzi, The Sign of the Cross. Loyola Press, Chicago. 2004:60.

[v] Bishop Robert Barron, Lenten Reflection http://www.lentreflections.com/lent-day-2-2/

The Power of the Spirit

(Acts 2:1-11; Gal.5:16-25; Jn.15:26-27; 16:12-15)

Whenever we’re anxious or distressed, we need the Spirit of Peace. Whenever we’re sad and life seems too hard, we need the Spirit of Joy.

And whenever we’re in darkness and doubt, we need the Spirit of Light.

Today we celebrate the power of the Holy Spirit, the power that Jesus poured into his disciples at Pentecost.

On that day, the disciples were hiding in fear in the Upper Room, when a great noise like a mighty wind rushed through and tongues of fire appeared above them.

They were suddenly transformed. The once-fearful disciples emerged as courageous Apostles, telling the crowds in the street the truth about Jesus. 3,000 people became Christians that day, and the Church was born.

Some people think of Pentecost as a single, standalone event, but it actually marks the end of the fifty days of Easter. As Joan Chittister writes, ‘… only here in this time, between the bursting open of the tomb and, fifty days later, the overflowing of the Holy Spirit, does the full awareness of what it is to live in Christ, with Christ, and through Christ finally dawn.’ [i]

So, who is this Holy Spirit? With God the Father and God the Son, the Holy Spirit completes the Trinity. All three are co-equal and of the same essence, and like the Father, the Holy Spirit is invisible. But He’s also a person, and not just an influence or an impersonal force.

How do we know the Spirit is a person? It’s because the Bible presents Him that way (e.g., Jn.6:63; Rom.8:11; 1Jn.5:6; Jn.16:7-8). It makes it clear that the Holy Spirit thinks, feels, has a mind, and does things only a person can do.

Now, the Spirit the Apostles receive at Pentecost is the same Spirit that created the world (Gen.1:1-2); that transformed Adam from dust into a human being (Gen.2:7); that guided Moses through the desert (Num.11:16-17); and that raised Jesus from the dead.

Importantly, it’s also the very same Spirit we receive at our Baptism and Confirmation.

The Holy Spirit is a powerful, energising force, and in Scripture He is given several names, including Spirit of God, Spirit of Jesus, and the Spirit of Truth. Jesus also calls him ‘another Comforter’, a ‘Counsellor’, ‘Advocate’ or ‘Paraclete’.

But what is a Paraclete? The Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins says that a Paraclete ‘is often translated as comforter, but a Paraclete does more than comfort.

‘The word is Greek, and there’s no one English word for it. Comforter is not enough. A Paraclete is one who comforts, cheers, encourages, persuades, exhorts, stirs up, urges forward and who calls on… what clapping of hands is to a speaker, what a trumpet is to the soldier, that a Paraclete is to the soul… A Paraclete is one who calls us on to good.’ [ii]

William Barclay says that the Holy Spirit’s purpose is to fill a person with the power and courage they need to triumphantly cope with life.

In Greek, he says, the root word for this power is du-namis, from which we get the English word dynamite, which is an explosive force. The Holy Spirit, therefore, is not passive. He’s an active force of explosive power that encourages and empowers. [iii]

That’s the same Spirit we receive at our Baptism! And we receive a ‘top-up’ every time we receive the sacraments.

The great evangelist Dwight L. Moody was once asked, ‘If we were filled with the Holy Spirit at Baptism, why do we need to be refilled so often?’

‘Because we leak,’ Moody replied.

‘The fact is,’ he said, ‘we are leaky vessels and we have to keep right under the fountain all the time to keep full of Christ, and so have a fresh supply.’

Sadly, too many of us are not really all that open to God. We say we are, but we often let our precious Spirit leak away. We don’t take His gifts seriously, we are happy to overlook our responsibilities, we fail to grow in holiness and we even choose to sin.

And yet, when we genuinely welcome the Holy Spirit into our hearts, our lives are uplifted and we find ourselves blessed with love, forgiveness, kindness, goodness, gentleness, peace, and joy (Gal.5:22-23).

Aren’t these exactly the things we all want and need?

So, together, let’s say this little prayer:

Come Holy Spirit. Fill my heart with your love, fill my mind with your light.

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[i] Joan Chittister, The Liturgical Year, Thomas Nelson, 2009.

[ii] Gerard Manley Hopkins, Sermon on the Paraclete, Liverpool, 1882. https://thevalueofsparrows.wordpress.com/2014/08/03/sermon-the-paraclete-by-gerard-manley-hopkins/

[iii] William Barclay, New Testament Words. Westminster Press, Philadelphia, 1964:216-221.

When It’s Time to Say Goodbye

(Acts 1:1-11; Eph.4:1-13; Mk.16:15-20)

Some people hate saying goodbye. For them, changing jobs, moving house or farewelling a loved one simply means sorrow.

What many don’t realise, however, is that saying ‘goodbye’ actually invokes God. That’s because ‘goodbye’ is a 16^th Century contraction of the expression ‘God be with you’. Similarly, ‘adieu’ means ‘go with God.’ [i]

Many also forget that every goodbye marks a new beginning. As the author Mitch Albom says, ‘… all endings are also beginnings. We just don’t know it at the time.’ [ii]

In today’s first reading, Jesus farewells his disciples; it’s time to return to His Father in heaven. His Ascension doesn’t just mark an ending, however. It’s also a beginning, for Jesus and for His disciples. 

For Jesus, it’s the end of His earthly ministry. But it’s also a new beginning, because by leaving this world Jesus is no longer confined to one place and time. From heaven, He can make Himself available to everyone, everywhere, all the time. How? By working through the Church, through the sacraments and by penetrating deeply into our hearts, minds and souls.

For the disciples, Jesus’ Ascension marks the end of their traineeship, but it’s also the beginning of a new life as they take responsibility for Jesus’ mission.

They don’t know how to start, however. Then two angels appear, saying: ‘why are you standing there, looking at the sky?’ In other words, what are you waiting for? Get going, there’s work to do.

So, they leave the mountain and head for the city.

Now, Jesus’ Ascension marks a new beginning for us, too, because we are His disciples today. Jesus is calling on us to rise above our ordinary lives, to lift up our hearts, minds and hands so that we might continue His unfinished work, just as the original disciples did.

Bishop Robert Barron says that if Caesar, Lincoln, Roosevelt and Churchill were still striding the world stage, no-one else would have the courage to enter the game. That’s why Jesus leaves, he says, so that we might act in His name and in accord with His spirit.

Barron also says that those who do the most good are those who focus on the things of heaven, like Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Dorothy Day, St John Paul II. And those who are most effective are those who pray most intently.

But leaving one life for another can be a wrenching experience. I remember leaving home at 17, and weeping that very first night. I had no idea what lay ahead, or how I would make a living, but I knew I had to leave home.

Jesus understands all this. That’s why He says to his disciples: ‘It’s better for you that I go away. You will be sad now, but your sadness will turn to joy’ (Jn.16:20).

In Matthew’s Gospel, just before Jesus ascends to heaven, we’re told that some of His disciples ‘doubted’ (Mt.28:17). Why did they doubt? Were they fearful? Did they doubt their own abilities?

They needn’t have, because in our second reading St Paul says that Jesus gives each person just what they need to do His work. And in 1 Corinthians he lists some of these special graces: the gift of tongues, strong faith, healing, miracles, wisdom, knowledge and discernment (1Cor.12:8-10, 28-30).

The point is that we are never alone in doing God’s work. When we go forward in faith, He’s always there to guide and strengthen us.

So, how do we say goodbye to one life and enter into a new one?

Perhaps we can learn from Arthur Ashe (1943-96), the legendary American tennis champion. He had a heart attack at the age of 36, and in 1983, during heart surgery, he was given HIV-infected blood.

Sadly, it destroyed his tennis career, but it also opened the door to an unexpected new life as an advocate for HIV/AIDS sufferers.

Arthur Ashe once said: ‘Happiness keeps you sweet; trials keep you strong; sorrows keep you human; failure keeps you humble and success keeps you glowing, but only faith keeps you going.’

And how might we begin our new life?

He said: ‘Start where you are, use what you have, and do what you can.’ [iii]

God will do the rest. So, trust Him.

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[i] Merrill Perlman, Of God and Goodbyes, Columbia Journalism Review, July 11, 2016 https://www.cjr.org/language_corner/god_goodbye_adieu_toodles_dickens.php#:~:text=You%20might%20spell%20it%20%E2%80%9Cgood,in%20shorthand%2C%20and%20partly%20by

[ii] Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven. Sphere, London. 2003.

[iii] Arthur Ashe, Days of Grace: A Memoir. Ballantine Books: NY, 1994.  https://www.amazon.com/Days-Grace-Memoir-Arthur-Ashe/dp/0345386817

The Elephant Man

(Acts 10:25-26, 34-35, 44-48; 1Jn.4:7-10; Jn.15:9-17)

Have you seen the movie The Elephant Man?

It tells the true but tragic story of an Englishman named Joseph Merrick (often called John), who was born in the slums of Leicester in 1862. He began life as a happy and healthy boy who did well at school. But as he grew, his appearance changed markedly, especially his face, arms and legs, and he became severely disfigured.

It appears he had a severe genetic disorder called Proteus Syndrome. [i]

He remembered his mother as very loving, but she died of pneumonia when he was eleven. He described this as the greatest sadness in his life.

Soon afterwards, his father married a widow who had her own children, but they all rejected Joseph, and his life became a ‘perfect misery.’

At thirteen he left school to support the family, and got a factory job rolling cigars. But he was sacked because his deformed hands were too slow.

His father then got him a job as a door-to-door salesman. Poor Joseph tried hard, but again he failed. Too many people couldn’t understand him or refused to open their doors to him, or they quickly slammed them shut.

In frustration, Joseph’s father started beating him, and at 17 he was thrown out of home. A kindly uncle rescued him, but Joseph didn’t want to be a burden, so he moved into a squalid workhouse for cripples and drunks.

His life became so miserable that he then offered himself to a carnival owner as a travelling sideshow act. There he was labelled as ‘half-man, half-elephant,’ and wore a cape and veil to hide his face. He was quite a hit, but he was also often harassed by mobs.

One day in London, Joseph met Dr Frederick Treves, King Edward VII’s surgeon. Treves took great interest in him and was appalled by his mistreatment. He offered to help and gave Joseph his card, but soon lost track of him.

The police disliked these sideshows; they always caused trouble. So, Joseph moved to Belgium where he found himself robbed and abused, and a year later he returned to London. When his train arrived at Liverpool Street Station, a crowd mobbed him and the police were called. They couldn’t understand his slurred speech, but they did find Dr Treves’ card, so they sent for him.

Dr Treves rushed over and took Joseph back to London hospital, where he was well looked after. Treves organised a successful fundraising appeal and gave Joseph a home of his own in the hospital grounds.

This marked a turning point in Joseph’s life. Instead of being frightened and hiding from visitors, he gradually began to talk. Dr Treves visited him daily, and they became close friends, enjoying long conversations together.

Joseph once said that apart from his mother, no woman had ever been kind to him. So, Treves asked an attractive widow to visit Joseph, to smile at him and shake his hand. When she did that, Joseph broke into tears.

That was a breakthrough, and in the following years he met many more kind men and women, including royalty. He regularly received letters and visitors, he wore nice clothes and went to concerts and parties, and he got to have intelligent conversations about things like poetry.

With all this loving attention, Joseph changed. He began to develop self-confidence and he started spending time travelling in the country.

But because of his deformities, poor Joseph could not sleep lying down. He tried to do that one day in 1890, and sadly it killed him. He was only 27. [ii] [iii]

In today’s Gospel, it’s just after the Last Supper and Jesus says to his disciples, ‘This is my commandment: that you love one another, just as I have loved you.’

What is this love that Jesus talks about? It’s caring for someone else with mercy and compassion. It’s being totally selfless and even sacrificial in what we do for them. And it’s unconditional, in that we expect nothing in return. 

This is the love Jesus gave to the poor, the sick and the hungry, and it’s the love that Dr Frederick Treves gave to Joseph Merrick.

Poor Joseph lived a tragic life, but his tragedy wasn’t so much his deformities; it was the way people ridiculed, rejected and abused him.

Dr Treves had a loving heart. He helped Joseph to find happiness, by making him feel accepted, valued, encouraged and protected.

What can you do to change someone else’s life?

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[i] https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3036577/ [ii] Sir Frederick Treves, The Elephant Man and Other Reminiscences, https://www.gutenberg.org/files/59865/59865-h/59865-h.htm

[iii] https://www.aruma.com.au/about-us/blog/the-extraordinary-life-of-joseph-merrick/

Fruitful Vines

(Acts 9:26-31; 1Jn.3:18-24; Jn.15:1-8)

Who was the very first gardener? The Bible tells us: it’s God Himself, ‘for there was no man to work the land’ (Gen.2:5).

The first time God cultivates the land is when He breathes on the ground, combining His spirit with clay to create Adam, the first man. Then He establishes the Garden of Eden and flora begins to flourish (Gen.2:8).

Among these flora are grapevines, and they appear all through the Bible.

In Genesis, Noah plants a vineyard after leaving the ark (9:20-23). In Revelation, John sees clusters of grapes in his vision of the final judgment (14:18-20). And in between, there are many appearances by the fruit of the vine, which ‘makes life merry’ (Ecc.10:19) and even comes to represent the Blood of Christ (Lk.22:20).

In today’s Gospel, Jesus reveals His knowledge of winegrowing as He teaches His disciples one last lesson before being crucified. Using the grapevine as a metaphor for life (cf. Ps.80:8-9), He says: ‘I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that bears no fruit He cuts away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes to make it bear even more.’

He’s reminding us that we’re all part of something much bigger than ourselves, and that we’re all connected to God and each other through a metaphorical vine, which is Jesus Himself.

Jesus knows that wild grapevines never produce good fruit. That’s because when leaves take over, they block the sun and steal the nutrition. This results in smaller and fewer grapes which are likely to taste bitter.

To encourage good fruit, winegrowers cut these leaves back and stretch out their vines on trellises. Soft, loose branches produce no grapes, so they are pulled and stretched to strengthen them. And to produce bumper harvests, they prune their vines regularly, removing dead and unhealthy branches to avoid diseases, and letting the sun in promotes new growth.

Our lives are like that. If we are untamed, we are likely to grow in unhealthy ways that sap our energy and we end up producing either bitter or no fruit at all.

But when we’re attached to Jesus’ vine, when we’re properly stretched and trained and pruned of unhealthy growth, and exposed to bright spiritual sunshine, then we’re likely to produce lots of wonderful fruit.

And what is this fruit? St Paul tells us: it’s the fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control (Gal.5:22-23).

It’s about each of us becoming the best person we can be. But that requires us to stay attached to Jesus, for as He says, ‘cut off from me you can do nothing.’

So, how are we first grafted onto Jesus? Through our Baptism.

That’s how we become branches of His vine. But to grow and thrive we need to stay connected to Jesus and keep drawing nourishment from Him.

That’s what happens to Paul in today’s first reading. After persecuting Christians, he receives the Holy Spirit at his conversion (Acts 9:10-21). Thereafter, he maintains his connection with Jesus and he becomes remarkably fruitful, even today.

And how do we stay connected to Jesus’ vine? John tells us in our second reading. He says: ‘Those who keep His commandments remain in Him, and He in them…’ John then spells out what it means to keep these commandments: ‘we should believe in the name of Jesus Christ, and love one another just as He commanded us.’

So, here’s the point: as Christians, we are all expected to bear fruit. After all, that’s what vines are for. But if a branch produces nothing, there’s a problem. It’s either dead, diseased, or poorly connected to the vine, and the vinedresser will cut it off.

And even if a branch is healthy and bears good fruit, sometimes it still needs to be trimmed to make it stronger and more productive. We need to remember this when we’re going through hard times, for God does cut us back from time to time to strengthen us and make us more fruitful.

This might be painful, but God is trying to shape us and help us become better people (Heb.12:4-11).

George Bernard Shaw

Let’s close with a little story. Towards the end of his life, the Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw was asked, ‘If you could live your life over again and be anyone you chose, who would you be?’

He thought for a moment and said, ‘I’d choose to be the man George Bernard Shaw could have been, but never was.’

He regretted not being more fruitful.

What about you?