Deacon Peter

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?

To Be a Good Shepherd

(Acts 4:8-12; 1Jn.3:1-2; Jn.10:11-18)

Today, on Good Shepherd Sunday, we’re reminded that Jesus is the Good Shepherd who truly cares for his flock.

He knows each of His sheep by name, and He loves them so much that He’s even prepared to sacrifice His life for them.

In one way or another, we are all called be good shepherds, caring for others as best we can – in our families, at work, at school and in our communities. Many of us do this in the ordinary course of our lives, but sometimes it can be a confronting challenge.

Someone who discovered this for himself was Martin Luther King, who led the American civil rights movement in the 1960s. To give hope to millions of downtrodden black Americans, he organised peaceful protests, including the March on Washington in 1963.

He won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964, and today he’s recognised as a man of extraordinary strength and courage. But it was not always so.

He once wrote, “One night… I settled into bed late… and just as I was about to doze off, the telephone rang. An angry voice on the other end of the line said, ‘Listen nigger, we’ve taken all we want from you; before next week you’ll be sorry you ever came to Montgomery.’

“I hung up…and sleep would not come. It was as if all my fears coalesced into one giant terror. I got out of bed and began to walk the floor.

“Finally I went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. I was ready to give up. With my cup of coffee sitting untouched before me, I tried to think of a way to move out of the picture without appearing a coward. In this state of exhaustion, I decided to take my problem to God.

“With my head in my hands, I bowed over the kitchen table and prayed aloud. The words I spoke to God that midnight are still vivid in my memory. ‘Lord, I am here taking a stand for what I believe is right. But now I’m afraid. The people are looking to me for leadership, and if I do not stand before them with strength and courage, they will also falter. I am at the end of my powers. I have nothing left. I can’t face it alone.’

“At that moment, I experienced the presence of God as I had never experienced Him before. It seemed I heard the quiet assurance of God’s voice saying: ‘Stand up for righteousness, stand up for truth; and I will be at your side.’

“My fears evaporated and my uncertainty disappeared. I was ready to follow God and face anything.” [i]

To be a truly good shepherd, you must love your flock and be prepared to sacrifice yourself for them. And as Martin Luther King tells us, you must pray. You must ask God to help you, because this work is ultimately God’s project, and the original Good Shepherd knows exactly what’s required.

Let’s close with a story from the great storyteller, Fr Arthur Tonne.

A bus driver had just finished his rounds, taking the children home from school. As he parked the bus in the schoolyard, Fr Arthur came along.

‘Father,’ the bus driver said, ‘I’d like you to do something. Come on, sit in this driver’s seat.’

When Fr Arthur sat down, the driver said, ‘Look in that mirror. What do you see?’

‘I see a bunch of seats,’ Fr Arthur replied.

Then with a serious look the bus driver said, ‘I see those seats, fifty of them every day. But I see them filled with kids. I am responsible for every one of them. We’ve had some close calls, but, thank God, we have not had any serious accidents.’

The bus driver saw himself as the shepherd of his flock of schoolchildren.

Reflecting on this, Fr Arthur said later that the bus driver had given him a new slant on his own responsibility as a pastor.

‘I look out over our congregation,’ he said, ‘and I realise that I am responsible for every one of them. The bishop must do that with his entire diocese. The Pope must do it with the entire world. And on a smaller scale, but just as truly, a teacher looks out over her class, a coach looks over his team, and a father and mother look at their family.’ [ii]

We’re all meant to be good shepherds to others.

If you find it a challenge, then pray. Ask Jesus for His help.

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[i] Gerard Fuller, Stories for All Seasons, Twenty-Third Publications, Mystic CT, 1997:63-64.

[ii] Arthur Tonne, Stories for Sermons, Vol 15. St John Church – Pilsen, Marion, Kansas, 1978.

This Mysterious Limp

(Acts 3:13-15, 17-19; 1Jn.2:1-5; Lk.24:35-48)

What is the spiritual life?

It’s recognising that there’s more to life than what we can see, hear and touch. It’s knowing that we are far more than our physical selves.

It’s realising that we’re all part of something much bigger than ourselves; that we’re all part of God’s story, and not just our own. For we all come from God, and one day we’ll return to God. And we need to prepare for that.

The Ancient Greeks recognised two different kinds of life: biological life (called ‘bios’) and a deeper spiritual life (‘zoe’). Both words were used when the New Testament was first written in Greek. [i]

But translated into English, these two words simply became ‘life,’ and their differences were lost.

So, when we hear Jesus say, ‘I came that they may have life, and have it to the full,’ (Jn.10:10), most people aren’t aware that Jesus originally said, ‘I came that they may have zoe, and have it to the full.’

There’s a big difference between bios and zoe. We’re all born with bios, but physical life doesn’t last. It naturally degrades over time, and eventually dies.

The spiritual life of zoe, however, is eternal, but we aren’t born with it. Why not? It’s because of the original sin of our first parents, Adam and Eve.

You know the story (Gen.3): God gave Adam and Eve everything they needed in the Garden of Eden: a life of perfect harmony between themselves and God; a life of perfect balance between their physical and spiritual selves; as long as they didn’t touch the tree of knowledge of good and evil.

But they chose to eat that fruit and everything went pear-shaped. They lost their zoe, and so did we.

Because of their original sin, we were all born spiritually dead, and the world has been in constant trouble ever since. Why? It’s because we’re all out of balance and tend to do the wrong thing – we sin. Like a car with badly aligned wheels, we keep drifting to where we should not go.

In the original New Testament, the Greek word for ‘sin’ was ‘hamartia,’ which means ‘to miss the mark’ or ‘to veer off course.’

The French theologian Henri de Lubac called sin ‘this mysterious limp’ (cette claudication mysterieuse). It’s a corruption that stops us from walking straight.

And at the heart of that corruption is the lie that ‘I’ am the centre of the universe. That all my needs and fears are more important than anything else. [ii]

When we put ourselves at the centre of everything, the harmony between ourselves and everything else, including God, is lost, and what’s left is dishonesty, rivalry, selfishness, mistrust and sometimes even violence.

So, how do we regain our zoe? Through baptism. This is when we are welcomed into communion with God and we’re filled with the graces of the Holy Spirit. These graces are the seeds we need to develop our spiritual life, but like all seeds, they must be nourished if they are to grow strongly in our hearts.

In today’s second reading, John says, ‘I am writing this to stop you sinning.’ He knows that sin damages our relationship with God (1Jn.1:6), and he wants to help us fix it.

John basically says two things: firstly, that Jesus Christ can help us. In fact, He already has helped us, because by dying on the Cross He has paid the ultimate price for our sins. And not only for our sins, but also the sins of everyone else.

So, our debt has been paid. But this brings us to John’s second point: that we need to get close to God. How? By keeping His commandments.

As Jesus says, ‘They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father and I will love them and reveal myself to them’ (Jn.14:21).

So, which commandments? There are 613 in the Torah, the first five books of the Bible.

The story is told of the great rabbi Hillel who claimed that he could recite all 613 commandments while standing on one leg. Someone challenged him, so he lifted one leg and said, ‘Love your neighbour as yourself. The rest is commentary, go and learn.’ Then he put his leg down. [iii]

At the Last Supper, Jesus said: ‘I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you…’ (Jn.13:34).

If you want to fix your mysterious limp, this is a good place to start.

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[i] CS Lewis, Mere Christianity, Fontana Books, London. 1969:135.

[ii] Bishop Robert Barron, Daily Reflection, March 21, 2018.

[iii] https://www.gatewaysonline.org/torah-on-one-foot/

St Faustina and Divine Mercy

(Acts 4:32-35; 1Jn.5:1-6; Jn.20:19-31)

Today, on the Feast of Divine Mercy, let’s hear the story of St Faustina Kowalska.

She was born in Poland in 1905, the third of ten children. Her father was a carpenter; their family was poor.

Faustina always loved Jesus. When she was 7, she wanted to be a nun, but her parents discouraged her, even when she left school. At 19, she saw a vision of Jesus at a dance. She went straight to a church, where Jesus told her to join a convent. That night she packed her bags and left for Warsaw, telling no-one.

She approached several convents there, but they all said no, probably because she was so poor. However, one convent did agree to accept her if she paid for her own habit. So, she worked as a housemaid for a year, saved up and in 1925 joined the Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy.

For 13 years she lived a life of humble service, cooking, cleaning and gardening in Polish and Lithuanian convents. But Jesus had other plans for her. Over several years she had many visions of Jesus, and experienced ecstasies, hidden stigmata and even bilocation. [i]

Jesus wanted Faustina to become the Apostle of Divine Mercy, reminding the world of God’s merciful love and His hope that everyone would trust Him and love their neighbour.

In 1931, Jesus appeared to her as ‘the King of Divine Mercy,’ wearing a white garment with red and white rays streaming from his heart. The white ray, He explained, represents the water of Baptism and Penance which purifies souls. The red stands for the Blood of the Holy Eucharist which is the life of souls.

He asked her to paint this image, with the words ‘Jesus I trust in you’ below. He wanted this image widely displayed, and promised that anyone venerating it would not perish (Diary, 47, 48). And He wanted the first Sunday after Easter to become the Feast of Divine Mercy.

In 1935, Jesus gave Faustina the words of the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, a powerful and deeply scriptural prayer that is at the very heart of the Gospels. ‘For the sake of His sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world,’ it implores (Diary, 475). [ii]

In 1937, He gave her the Hour of Mercy prayer. 3.00 pm is the hour of great mercy for the world, Jesus said, when He will allow the faithful to enter into His mortal sorrow. ‘Immerse yourself, even for a brief moment, in my Passion,’ He said. ‘In this hour, I will refuse nothing to the soul that makes a request of me in virtue of my Passion’ (Diary, 1320). [iii]

Jesus attached great promises to each of these new forms of worship, but only if we genuinely trust God and show mercy to our neighbours.

In 1933, Faustina moved to Vilnius, in Lithuania, where she met Fr Sopocko, who became her confessor. When she revealed her visions to him, he sent her to a psychiatrist. She passed the tests, however, and thereafter Fr Sopocko encouraged her to keep a diary.

The result is the book Divine Mercy in My Soul – 600 pages about God’s love for us and how he wants us to live and pray. [iv]

She struggled to paint the picture Jesus wanted, so Fr Sopocko found another artist. Faustina was never fully satisfied with his work, but Jesus said, ‘the image is never going to be perfect; it’s good enough.’ So, this is the image we see today (Diary, 313).

Interestingly, when the Divine Mercy image is laid atop the image of the Shroud of Turin, the faces match perfectly.

Sadly, Faustina caught tuberculosis and in 1936 went to a sanatorium in Kraków. Her last two years were filled with prayer, even more intense visions of Jesus, and keeping her diary. She died in October 1938.

Pope St John Paul II canonised her in April 2000, making her the first saint of the 3^rd Millennium. He also established the second Sunday of Easter as Divine Mercy Sunday, and that’s what we celebrate today.

But why is divine mercy so important? It’s because without God’s mercy, we are all lost. We have all failed God in some way, and yet he wants us with Him in heaven. That really is remarkable.

So, let’s take to heart the words written on every Divine Mercy image: Jesus, I trust in you.

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[i] https://www.thedivinemercy.org/articles/what-about-bilocation#

[ii] https://www.thedivinemercy.org/message/devotions/chaplet-history

[iii] https://divinemercy.life/divine-mercy-3-oclock-prayer/

[iv] Sr Faustina Kowalska, Divine Mercy in My Soul, Marian Press, Stockbridge MA, 2007.

Like Buttercups and Sunflowers

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

Christ is Risen! Alleluia! Happy Easter!

Where does the name easter come from? No-one’s quite sure. Some say it means ‘the feast of fresh flowers.’ Others say it comes from the old Norse word eostur, which means ‘the season of new birth.’

But from wherever it came, Easter is surely the most important day of the year.

Why? It’s because it’s the day when Jesus literally rose from the dead. That’s important because it proves that God is real, and powerful. It also confirms that everything Jesus has been saying to us is true.

And most importantly, Jesus’ resurrection proves that death is not the end of the road for any of us (1Cor.15:54-55), for Easter is the sign that Jesus always brings light and life wherever He goes.

This means that, as followers of Christ, we too can have our own personal Easter whenever we find ourselves facing physical death or a darkness of some kind, like an illness, a betrayal or a failed dream.

For Christianity is the promise of new life, whatever our circumstances.

Jesus’ resurrection confounded the first Christians. They struggled to understand it and didn’t know what to do about it. But gradually they adopted a new way of living.

One of the first things they did was to study the Scriptures, looking for what the prophets might have said about Jesus’ coming. They also looked for clues about what might happen next.

As well, they began teaching others about the Good News, at first orally, and then in writing, and some of this became our New Testament.

The early Christians also adopted Jesus’ lifestyle, by living modestly and meeting regularly in each other’s homes, to break bread and support each other by sharing what they had (Mt.25:31-36; Acts 6:1-6).

And they placed crosses and other sacred images on the eastern walls of their homes, to mark their Christian faith and help them face east whenever they prayed.

Why did they face east? It’s because Jesus entered Jerusalem from the east on Palm Sunday, and they expected that Jesus would one day return from the east (Mt.24:27). They wanted to be ready for Him.

Like the sun that always rises in the east, the early Christians saw Jesus as the ‘Bright Morning Star’ who makes all things new again (Rev.22:16; Jn.8:12).

In the 4^th Century, when they started building churches, they made sure they always faced east, too, wherever possible. They designed the churches and the liturgy to help carry the faithful into the arms of God (Lk.1:78-79).

It took years for the early Christians to settle into a new pattern of life after the first Easter. The Roman persecution made this difficult, however their passion for Jesus was so strong that it shaped their lives.

But what of us today? Here we are celebrating Easter, but does Jesus’ resurrection make any difference to our own lives?

Many people believe in the resurrection, but don’t understand it. Others understand it but do nothing about it. What should we be doing?

One good thing to do is to learn from the first Christians.

They studied the Scriptures to learn about Jesus. They decorated their homes with Christian images and prayed intently. They tried to live like Jesus, living modestly and in community, and often meeting in each other’s homes to break bread and support each other, sharing what they had.

And just like buttercups and sunflowers that naturally turn to face the sun each day, the earliest Christians always turned towards the Son of God in everything they did.

May we do the same.

Christ is risen! Alleluia!

The Donkey’s Cross

(Is.50:4-7; Phil.2:6-11; Mk.14:1–15:47)

Today, Palm Sunday, marks the start of Holy Week, the most important week of the year.

Most people these days seem to associate Easter with rabbits and chocolate eggs, but these things are but childish distractions. In the Middle Ages, people always associated Jesus with the donkey.

Why? It’s because all four Gospels tell us that Jesus rode a donkey into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. He could have chosen a horse or a camel, but He picked a donkey because it says so much about who He is and the kind of kingdom He represents.

In ancient times, horses and chariots symbolised power and status, and great leaders always rode mighty warhorses into battle. Donkeys, however, represented service, suffering and humility, and leaders only rode them if they came in peace (1Kgs.1:33).

So, by choosing a donkey, Jesus is clearly saying something. And at the same time, He’s fulfilling the ancient prophecy of Zechariah, who said: ‘…rejoice, O daughter Zion! Lo, your king comes to you, humble and riding on a donkey’ (Zech.9:9).

In other words, Jesus is publicly declaring that He is the promised Messiah.

In 2006, Pope Benedict said that to understand the significance of Zechariah’s words and Jesus’ behaviour, we need to listen to the prophet’s other predictions about the Messiah, for he tells us three things about Jesus (cf. Zech.9:10).

Firstly, he says that He’ll be a king of the poor, a poor man among the poor and for the poor.

Secondly, he says that Jesus will be a king of peace.

And thirdly, he says that Jesus will be a king for the whole world, for His kingdom of peace will extend ‘from sea to sea… to the ends of the earth.’ [i]

All this is symbolised by the humble donkey.

Now, some people think that donkeys are stupid animals, and they like to make fun of them. In the Scriptures, however, donkeys are always considered noble creatures that do important work.

For example, the kings David and Solomon and all the prophets ride them, and so does Abraham (Gen.22:3). In the Parable of the Good Samaritan, a donkey carries the wounded man to safety (Lk.10:34). Balaam’s donkey teaches his master a lesson (Num. 22), and another donkey carries bread and wine to Saul (1Sam.6:20).

All these animals are working for God. They’re carrying God’s messengers; they’re helping to spread God’s Word. They’re delivering help and wisdom to those who need it, and they’re carrying the bread and wine – the Body and Blood of Christ – to where they are needed.

Indeed, the donkey is the ultimate bearer of Salvation, for it carries Mary to Bethlehem at the start of Jesus’ life, and it carries Him to His end in Jerusalem.

In all this, the donkey serves as a wonderful symbol for Christian discipleship. It’s an ordinary creature doing extraordinary things for God, and all this animal has to do is co-operate. It doesn’t even need to understand what it’s doing; it only needs to be loyal and helpful.

Isn’t this an important lesson for us all?

Let’s close with a story. A poor farmer near Jerusalem had a donkey. It was too small to do much work, he couldn’t afford to keep it, and it was too small to sell. So, he decided to kill it.

His children loved that donkey, however. They begged him not to hurt it, and suggested that he tie the donkey to a tree on the way into town. Maybe someone would take it.

Well, the farmer did just that, and soon two men expressed interest. ‘It can carry almost nothing,’ the farmer warned.

‘Jesus of Nazareth needs it,’ one man replied.

The farmer couldn’t imagine what a great teacher would want with such a worthless animal, but he agreed.

The men took the animal to Jesus, who stroked the grateful donkey’s face and then rode it away. It was Palm Sunday, and riding that small, common donkey, Jesus led his followers into Jerusalem.

The donkey loved his gentle master so much that it later followed Him to Calvary. But seeing Jesus on the Cross broke its heart. The donkey turned away, but couldn’t leave. And just then the shadow of the Cross fell upon its back, and there it stayed.

Ever since, all donkeys have carried the sign of the Cross on their backs. [ii]

So, this Holy Week, forget about the Easter rabbits. It’s the donkey that has something to teach us about our lives.

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[i] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily for Palm Sunday, 2006. https://www.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/homilies/2006/documents/hf_ben-xvi_hom_20060409_palm-sunday.html

[ii] Sue Weaver, The Donkey Companion (Storey Publishing, 2008). https://morningbrayfarm.com/2011/04/17/legend-of-the-donkeys-cross/ (Abridged).

When Life Follows Death

(Jer.31:31-34; Heb.5:7-9; Jn.12:20-33)

Years ago, a man played piano in a bar. One night, a patron asked him to sing. ‘I don’t sing,’ he replied.

The customer persisted, telling the barman, ‘I’m tired of listening to the piano. I want that man to sing!’ The barman shouted across the room, ‘Hey buddy! If you want to get paid, then sing a song!’

The piano player was reluctant. He’d never sung in public before, but he tried singing ‘Mona Lisa,’ and just then his life changed, forever. He was Nat King Cole, the jazz musician who became a famous crooner. [i]

Sometimes something in us must die before we can produce new fruit. That’s the Paschal Mystery.

Most people think there’s only one kind of death, and that it’s final. But in his book The Holy Longing, Ron Rolheiser says there are two kinds. There’s terminal death, which represents the end of life and end of all possibilities. And then there’s paschal death, which is real death because something precious dies. It ends one kind of life, but it’s followed by a new, deeper and richer experience of life.

It’s this paschal death that Jesus talks about in today’s Gospel. He’s in Jerusalem for the Passover festival, talking to some Greek pilgrims. ‘Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies it yields a rich harvest,’ He says.

This is the Paschal Mystery, where something dies so that something new can be born. We see it in our seasons, where spring always follows winter, and in controlled burns, where new growth always rises from the ashes. It also happens when we lose a job, a friend or a dream, and find that something new has taken its place.

This is the rhythm of life, but many people struggle to accept it.

Ron Rolheiser says that this is where we can learn from Jesus Christ, because the ultimate Paschal Mystery is His death and Resurrection, where Jesus experienced five key events: His death on Good Friday, His Resurrection on Easter Sunday, the 40 days after Easter, His Ascension and finally, Pentecost.

Together, these five events form a pattern which can help us understand what so often happens in our own lives.

Firstly, Good Friday represents the real death of something important to us, like losing our youth, our dreams or our wholeness. And Easter Sunday marks the beginning of new life.

But sometimes we’re so fixated on our old life that we don’t recognise the new one that follows. We are like the disciples who couldn’t recognise Jesus that Easter morning. ‘Don’t cling to me,’ Jesus says to Mary Magdalene. In other words, don’t cling to what I was. ‘See I am doing a new thing. Can you not see it?’ (Is.43:19).

Rolheiser says that’s why Easter is followed by 40 days. This is the time for us to grieve what we’ve lost and to adjust to the new. But we need to grieve well, and not bypass this experience with pious platitudes or allow alcohol or other distractions to smother the pain of our loss.

As Jesus says, ‘It’s better for you that I go away. Yes, you’ll be sad, but your sadness will turn to joy. But if I don’t go away, you won’t be able to receive my spirit. So, don’t cling; I must ascend’ (cf. Jn.16:7; 20:17).

Good grieving, Rolheiser says, means not just coming to terms with what we’ve lost, but allowing it to bless us. It means letting ourselves experience the sorrow of our losses, but also the pleasure of what we still have.

This is the moment of our Ascension, he says, when we let go of the old and allow it to bless us. It marks a refusal to cling to the old.

And finally, there’s Pentecost, where we receive a new spirit that will sustain us through our new life. We all need this new spirit as life changes, including the spirit of patience, courage and gratitude for all we have.

As Christians we know new life always follows death, but change can be hard.

If you’re struggling, remember Jesus’ Paschal Mystery and His 5-step process, where death and resurrection is followed by 40 days of grieving, then a glorious Ascension, followed by the spirit-filled joy of Pentecost. [ii]

The Paschal Mystery is an extraordinary gift. Through it, Jesus wants to heal our brokenness, just as He healed the brokenness of weeping Mary Magdalene and the two depressed disciples walking to Emmaus.

Jesus always offers us new life.

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[i] http://www.inspirationalstories.com/

[ii] Ron Rolheiser OMI. The Holy Longing: The Search for a Christian Spirituality, Crown Publishing, N.Y., 1999