Deacon Peter

On Choice and Consequence

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

According to Newton’s third law, every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

Something similar happens when we make decisions, because every choice has its consequences.

That’s why we sometimes worry when young people make their own decisions. Neurologists tell us that the parts of the brain that control higher order decision-making don’t fully develop until adulthood. So, a young person’s developing brain places them at greater risk of making poor choices. They’re more likely to overestimate the rewards (fun! friends!) and under-consider the risks. [i]

But with time, education and experience, hopefully we all come to develop well and make sound decisions. The sweep of human history does make us wonder, however.

The Bible is full of stories about choices and their consequences. It even begins with Adam and Eve choosing to eat the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. God lets them do this, but we’ve been suffering the consequences ever since.

There are other stories, too, as Max Lucado points out. Cain and Abel were the sons of Adam and Eve. Abel chose God, but Cain chose murder, and God let him.

Abraham and Lot were both pilgrims in Canaan. Abraham chose God, but Lot chose Sodom, and God let him. 

David and Saul were both kings of Israel. David chose God, but Saul chose power, and God let him.

Peter and Judas both denied Jesus. Peter sought mercy, but Judas sought death, and God let him.

All through history, and all through Scripture, God lets us make our own decisions. He won’t stop us doing the wrong thing, but we need to remember: our choices can have eternal consequences. [ii] 

In our first reading today, Joshua is the man who takes over from Moses after the Israelites enter the Promised Land. But now he’s old, and he tells the leaders of the twelve tribes of Israel that they must decide: either to follow the false gods of their new land, or to stay faithful to the God of their ancestors who gave them their new home.

Joshua declares that he will serve the true God, but the others must decide for themselves. And they do decide: they all agree to do the same.

Our Gospel reading for today comes from the end of John’s Bread of Life discourse. It represents a turning point in the life of the disciples, for Jesus gives them a choice: either to stay and accept the Eucharistic gift of eating his flesh and drinking his blood, or to leave with those who can’t understand him or who refuse to change.

‘Do you want to leave me, too?’ Jesus asks, and Peter replies, ‘Lord, where else would we go? You have the words of everlasting life.’

CS Lewis once wrote, ‘If you want to get warm, you must stand near the fire. If you want to be wet, you must get into the water. If you want joy, power, peace and eternal life, you must get close to or even into the thing that has them.’

‘Once a person is united to God, how could they not live forever?’ he asks. ‘Once a person is separated from God, what can they do but wither and die?’ [iii]

Many people have chosen to leave the Church, and often because of disappointment. But in his reflection on today’s Gospel, Patrick van der Vorst says, ‘It’s precisely in these moments that Christ is asking us to stick with him, to walk with him and his Church.

‘The temptation to flee our Christian duties is at times very real and even attractive. But it’s precisely in those moments when we’re asked to keep a deep commitment going, that we draw the closest to God. 

‘To see so many people leaving our Church can be crushing at times,’ he says, ‘so today’s reading is relevant like never before.’

LS Lowry’s painting Going to Work (1943) depicts a multitude of people leaving. Reflecting on this image, van der Vorst asks, ‘Where are they going, what are they walking towards?’ [iv]

We might well ask ourselves that same question, because our choices do have consequences. Where are we going if we’re not walking with Christ towards heaven?

‘For Jesus, being a disciple is all about staying with him and being committed. It’s about discipleship, and not just being a passive follower.’

As William Barclay puts it: Once someone was talking to a great scholar about a younger man. He said, ‘So and so tells me that he was one of your students’.

The teacher answered devastatingly, ‘He may have attended my lectures, but he was not one of my students. You see, there’s a world of difference between attending lectures and being a student’. [v]

In the end, it’s our choices that matter. Not our wishes, not our words, not our promises.

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[i] https://news.stanford.edu/features/2015/decisions/age.html

[ii] Max Lucado, He Chose You, Thomas Nelson, Nashville. 2001:71-73

[iii] https://www.cslewisinstitute.org/Catching_the_Good_Infection_of_Christ

[iv] Laurence Stephen Lowry (1887-1976), Going to Work (1943). Imperial War Museum North, Manchester.

[v] Patrick van der Vorst, Reflection on John 6:60-69. https://www.indcatholicnews.com/news/42054

On the Science of Mary’s Assumption

(Rev.11:19a; 12:1-6a, 10ab; 1Cor.15:20-27; Lk.1:39-56)

Today we celebrate the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, body and soul, into heaven.

Why is this important? It’s because it confirms Jesus’ promise: that if we truly follow him, then we can expect to go to heaven, too (Jn.5:24; 1Jn.5:13).

The Church has believed in Mary’s Assumption ever since the time of the first Apostles, but this teaching was only formally defined by Pope Pius XII in 1950.[1]

Mary’s Assumption isn’t the same as Jesus’ Ascension.  The word ‘assumption’ comes from the Latin ‘assumere’ (‘to take up’), for Mary was taken up into heaven by God’s power. Jesus, however, ascended to heaven under his own power.[2]

Where did Mary’s Assumption occur? It’s generally believed to have been either in Jerusalem or Ephesus, and some 3 to 15 years after Christ’s Ascension. Church tradition also tells us that the Apostles were present when Mary died.

Now, some people wonder about Mary’s Assumption because it’s not explicitly mentioned in the Bible. But Pope Pius XII says Scripture implicitly mentions it several times. In today’s second reading, for instance, St Paul describes Christ’s resurrection as the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep, and he says ‘in Christ shall all be brought to life, but each in proper order’.

Mary’s Assumption certainly is in proper order, given her role as queen mother and her victory in the battle between good and evil, as told in our first reading.

It’s also significant that no relics of Mary’s body have ever been reported, and no Marian tomb or gravesite has ever been venerated. This is notable, given the historical fascination of Christians for the relics of saints.

But what is interesting today is what science can tell us about the Assumption.

Elizabeth Scalia says that when she studied anatomy and physiology, she was amazed to learn about the biological process called Microchimerism.[3] 

When a woman gets pregnant, the child always leaves within her a microscopic bit of himself in the form of cells. These living cells remain in her bloodstream and organs for the rest of her life, even if the foetus dies. This means that some of Jesus’ cells remained inside Mary all her life.

Recent research has found that these remnant cells aren’t dormant – they help to protect the health and well-being of the mother. They are found around healing wounds, helping with faster tissue repair. And they stimulate the formation of new blood vessels to injured and diseased structures in the body.

Microchimeric cells also improve im­mune system function, and they may lead to longer life for the mother. [iv]

Scalia points out that Psalm 16:10 says that God will not allow his Holy One to see decay, and we know that Jesus’ divine body did not decay because he ascended to heaven. So, it follows that Mary’s body, with cellular traces of Jesus inside her, could not be allowed to decay, either. After all, a particle of God is still God.

So, Mary was assumed into heaven, body and soul (Ps.132:8). She really is the Theotokos, the new Ark of the Covenant, containing our living God.

But what does this mean for us today?

When Pope Pius XII defined the doctrine of the Assumption in 1950, the world was still recovering from WWII. He hoped that the story of Mary’s Assumption would help us all better appreciate the value of human life, and most especially a life focussed on doing the will of God.

He hoped that we might all be inspired to live like Mary, whose only purpose was to bring God’s love into the world, through Jesus.

In 2006, Pope Benedict XVI said that Mary’s presence in heaven reminds us that the earth is not our final homeland. Heaven is our true home, and if we can stay focussed on the eternal, then one day we will share in the same glory as Mary and the earth will become more beautiful.

In today’s Gospel we are given Mary’s song, the Magnificat. It tells the story of Mary as the lowly handmaid who lovingly submitted to God’s command and agreed to bring Jesus into this world. In response to her fiat, Jesus became a permanent part of her and she was rewarded with eternal life in heaven.

Through the Holy Eucharist, Jesus becomes a part of us, too, though not a permanent one. That’s why we seek to receive him as often as we can.

And so this is our challenge: to become like Mary, the Blessed Mother – filled with Jesus, totally focussed on Jesus, and doing all we can to bring him into our world.

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[1] Pope Pius XII, Munificentissimus Deus. https://www.vatican.va/content/pius-xii/en/apost_constitutions/documents/hf_p-xii_apc_19501101_munificentissimus-deus.html

[2] Note that Mary’s wasn’t the first assumption. Scripture tells us that Elijah (2Kgs.2:11; 1Mac.2:58) and Enoch (Sir.44:16; 49:14; Heb.11.5) were also assumed bodily into heaven.

[3] https://www.osv.com/OSVNewsweekly/Story/TabId/2672/ArtMID/13567/ArticleID/17567/Better-Theological-Living.aspx accessed 12.05.15

[iv] Timothy Millea, The Eternal Mother-Child Connection, 2019 http://www.catholicmessenger.net/2019/01/the-eternal-mother-child-connection/ accessed 12.08.21

On the Widow’s Cruse

[1Kgs.17:8-16; Col.3:12-17; Mt.6:25-34]

‘We could all do with the widow’s cruse,’ my dear father used to say, and he was right.

What is a cruse? It’s a small earthenware jar for liquids, and the widow’s cruse is a small supply that never runs out.

This expression comes from the story of Elijah and the widow in our first reading today. During a terrible drought, Elijah asks the poor widow of Zarephath for a drop of water and a scrap of bread. But all she has to feed herself and her son is a small handful of meal in a jar and a little oil in a jug.

She knows, however, that God wants her to do this, so she makes Elijah some bread and God rewards her by ensuring that her jars of food are never empty.

There’s a similar story in the life of St Frances of Rome (1384-1440). During a great famine, many poor people came to her seeking alms, but her father-in-law resented her generosity. He cut off Frances’ supplies and left her with only a small amount of corn and wine for herself. But because she was doing God’s work, the corn never ran out, and the wine cask never ran dry. [i]

Today in Australia we celebrate the Feast of St Mary of the Cross McKillop (1842–1909). She, too, was blessed with the widow’s cruse.

Mary was born the first of eight children to Scottish migrant parents, Alex and Flora McKillop, in Melbourne. Alex was a former seminarian, but quite hopeless with money and soon after Mary’s birth they lost everything, including their house.

To help pay the bills, Mary started working as a governess when she was 14. At 18, she moved to Penola, South Australia, to care for her nieces and nephews. There she met the local parish priest, Fr Julian Tenison-Woods, who was very interested in educating poor children.

Mary later wrote: ‘I heard the Pastor … Speak of the neglected state of the children in the parish … I had to go and offer myself to aid him’. And so began her teaching career.

When she was 20, Mary was accidentally locked overnight in a church in Portland, Victoria. She later described this as a graced opportunity, because her all-night vigil with Jesus changed her life.

In 1866, aged 24, she started wearing a simple habit as the first member of a new religious institute, the Sisters of St Joseph of the Sacred Heart (the Josephites) that she established with the help of Fr Woods. They were determined to teach and serve the poor and vulnerable, and they opened their first school in a former stable in Penola.

In the following years, and with no government funding, Mary and her growing circle of sisters opened schools all over Australia and New Zealand. They also cared for Aborigines, unmarried mothers and the terminally ill, and established orphanages, shelters for former prostitutes and refuges for ex-prisoners.

As her missionary work grew, so did Mary MacKillop’s problems. Money was always scarce and many civic leaders and members of the public strongly objected to her work. Some powerful churchmen, including Bishop Shiel of Adelaide, objected to her independent spirit and she was falsely accused of alcoholism.

In 1871, Bishop Shiel excommunicated her for alleged insubordination. He also closed most of her schools and dispensed fifty sisters of their vows.

Mary faced obstacles all through her life, but her faith and determination were unshakeable and she refused to speak ill of anyone. In the following year, Bishop Shiel reversed his decision. [ii]

Mary MacKillop began with nothing, but by the time of her death in 1909, she had 650 Josephite sisters teaching 12,400 students in 117 schools, and serving poor Catholics and Protestants alike. [iii]

In 2010, Pope Benedict XVI canonized her as Australia’s first saint.

Mary MacKillop famously told her sisters, ‘Never see a need and do nothing about it’. And she always encouraged them to ‘strive to please God, rather than men, and always be ready to sacrifice everything for Christ’.

In return for her faithful service, God gave her the widow’s cruse. She always got what she needed, when she needed it.

‘Do not worry,’ Jesus says in our Gospel today. ‘God knows your needs. Just focus on what God wants you to do, and he will supply what you need.’ [iv]

That’s the widow’s cruse. We could all do with it.

Let’s close with this poem, The Meal and Cruse of Oil, by John Newton (1725-1809).

By the poor widow’s oil and meal
Elijah was sustained;
Though small the stock it lasted well,
For God the store maintained.

It seemed as if from day to day,
They were to eat and die;
But still, though in a secret way,
He sent a fresh supply.

Thus to his poor he still will give
Just for the present hour;
But for tomorrow they must live
Upon his word and power.

No barn or storehouse they possess
On which they can depend;
Yet have no cause to fear distress,
For Jesus is their friend.

Then let not doubts your mind assail,
Remember, God has said,
The cruse and barrel shall not fail,
My people shall be fed.

And thus though faint it often seems,
He keeps their grace alive;
Supplied by his refreshing streams,
Their dying hopes revive.

Though in ourselves we have no stock,
The Lord is nigh to save;
His door flies open when we knock,
And ’tis but ask and have. [v]

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[i] https://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=49

[ii] Melanie Rigney, Blessed are You. Franciscan Media, Cincinatti OH, 2015:116-119.

[iii] https://www.henleybeachparish.com.au/post/15-things-you-didn-t-know-about-st-mary-mackillop

[iv] It’s worth remembering that the words ‘Do not be afraid’ occur 62 times in the Old Testament, and 18 times in the New Testament.

[v] John Newton, The Meal and Cruse of Oil. https://hymnary.org/text/by_the_poor_widows_oil_and_meal. (John Newton also penned the famous hymn Amazing Grace.)

On the Bread of Life

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

For most people today, bread is cheap and plentiful, but it wasn’t so in biblical times.

In those days, ordinary families had to make their own bread. They 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 before they had any bread to eat. In fact, the typical housewife spent three hours each day just making enough flour to feed a family of five. [i]

So, it’s not surprising that Jesus included bread in the Lord’s Prayer. When the first Christians prayed ‘give us this day our daily bread’ (Mt.6:11), they weren’t just hoping for good harvests and sufficient flour. They also prayed for the strength to keep making their own bread each day.

In today’s Gospel, the crowds that Jesus had fed earlier are looking for him. They want more of his bread, and we can understand why: it’s easy, it’s free and it’s nourishing.

But Jesus thinks it’s time to offer them something more fulfilling. He says, ‘Don’t 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’. What does he mean by that?

Jesus is basically saying that these people are following him for the wrong reason. They’re only thinking of their stomachs, just like the ancient Israelites who only followed God as long as there was plenty of food (Ex.16:1-36).

But now it’s time, Jesus says, to focus on something more profound, for we cannot live on bread alone. God created us, he wants us to join him in heaven, and Jesus will show us how to get there.

In other words, if we believe in Jesus and accept his spiritual nourishment, then eternal life will be ours.

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 same God who just fed the 5,000 there in Galilee. 

Then he says:  ‘I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst’. 

Today, many people have everything they need, but they still feel empty inside. They hunger for something more, but just don’t know what it is. So, they keep searching for the latest ‘thing’.

But they’ll never be satisfied because they’re ignoring their souls. As St Augustine said, ‘You made us for yourself O God, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.’

In 2014, Pope Francis said, ‘As well as physical hunger, man also suffers from a hunger that cannot be sated with ordinary food. It’s a hunger for life, a hunger for love, a hunger for eternity. Manna is the sign … that prefigured the food that satisfies this profound hunger present in man.

‘Jesus gives us this nourishment – or rather, he himself is the living bread that gives life to the world. His body is the true food in the form of bread; his blood is the true sustenance in the form of wine. It’s not a simple form of nourishment to sate our bodies, like manna; the Body of Christ is the bread of the last times, able to give life, eternal life, because the substance of this bread is Love.’ [ii]

Jesus cares about physical hunger, but he cares even more about spiritual emptiness. That’s why he’s offering himself to us as the Bread of Life.

The fullness of life we seek is only available from Jesus, and the way to receive our fill is through the Church, through his Word and most especially through the Holy Eucharist.

At the end of World War II, while Europe was being freed from Nazi occupation, there was terrible hunger.

The allied forces grouped many starving orphans together in camps where they were fed and looked after. The children were lovingly cared for, but hardly slept at night. So, psychologists were asked to investigate. They found that the children were anxious because they feared that they’d wake up again to no food.

After that, every child was given some bread to sleep with at night. They were told to hold it and not eat it.

The results were amazing. All the children slept well. Knowing that they would wake up to food calmed their fears and made them trust they were now in good hands. [iii]

That’s what the Bread of Life does for us.

Just hold him close to your heart.

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[i] Miriam Feinberg Vamosh, Food at the Time of the Bible. Palphot Ltd, Herzlia. Undated:26-27.

[ii] Pope Francis, Homily given at Holy Mass in the Square of St. John Lateran, June 20, 2014.

[iii] https://www.indcatholicnews.com/news/42030

On Little Gestures

[2Kgs.4:42-44; Eph.4:1-6; Jn.6:1-15]

It’s amazing what little gestures can do. A gentle touch, a smile, a thank you note can really make a difference.

Today, the fourth Sunday in July, is the First World Day for Grandparents and the Elderly. Pope Francis has instituted this special celebration in this Amoris Laetitia Year of the Family, to highlight the importance of the elderly in our lives. It’s so close to the Feast of Saints Anne and Joachim, Jesus’ grandparents (26 July).

The theme chosen for this celebration, ‘I am with you always’ (Mt.28:20), expresses just how close Jesus is to all older people, and how important it is for families to stay connected to their elders.

Many families today have several generations and other close relationships living under the same roof. This is a social reality that’s nicely reflected in John Everett Millais’ painting Christ in the House of His Parents (1849-50). [i]

This masterpiece portrays an extended Holy Family working together in Joseph’s workshop, where he’s making a door. Young Jesus has hurt his hand, and Joseph and Mary are gently comforting him while his grandmother Anne is trying to remove the offending nail.

On the right, Jesus’ cousin John (in camel-hair shorts) is kindly carrying a bowl of water to bathe Jesus’ wound. And on the left, a helpful but unnamed young man is assisting Joseph. Is he a future disciple?

This painting is full of gestures of love. It’s also replete with Christian symbols. The wound on Jesus’ hand and the drop of blood on his foot prefigure his crucifixion, as does the wood stacked up against the walls. The tools represent the instruments of Jesus’ passion. [ii] John’s bowl of water points to his future as the Baptist, while the carpenter’s triangle at the rear represents the Holy Trinity. The dove perched on Jacob’s Ladder symbolises peace and love, and the Holy Spirit that fills their home.

The workbench represents an altar, and the door symbolises Jesus’ emerging role as our doorway to heaven (Jn.10:9). The blood stain on the door recalls the ancient Israelites in Egypt who smeared lamb’s blood on their doorposts (Ex.12:24). And the sheep gathered outside are the flock awaiting the Good Shepherd. [iii] [iv]

There was an uproar when this painting was first exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1850. The reviews were scathing and Charles Dickens was particularly outraged. Never before had the Holy Family been portrayed as poor, hardworking souls in such gritty surrounds. And it was unusual for Jesus’ grandmother and others to be presented as so integral to their family.

Today, however, we can relate to the earnest simplicity of Jesus, Mary and Joseph working at home with their extended family. Each person clearly is highly valued and has something important to do, and central to it all is Jesus himself.

For indeed, in a happy and holy family everything centres on Jesus.

At the World Meeting of Families in Philadelphia in 2015, Pope Francis said: ‘Like happiness, holiness is always tied to little gestures. “Whoever gives you a cup of water in my name will not go unrewarded,” says Jesus (Mk.9:41).

‘These little gestures are those we learn at home, in the family; they get lost amid all the other things we do, yet they do make each day different. They are the quiet things done by mothers and grandmothers, by fathers and grandfathers, by children, by brothers and sisters. They are little signs of tenderness, affection and compassion. Like the warm supper we look forward to at night, the early lunch awaiting someone who gets up early to go to work.

‘Homely gestures. Like a blessing before we go to bed, or a hug after we return from a hard day’s work. Love is shown by little things, by attention to small daily signs which make us feel at home. Faith grows when it is lived and shaped by love. That’s why our families, our homes, are true domestic churches. They are the right place for faith to become life, and for life to grow into faith.’ [v]

The American writer Louisa May Alcott once wrote, ‘A house needs a grandma in it’.  And someone else said, ‘A grandpa has silver in his hair and gold in his heart’. But we’re not always good at showing our appreciation.

The little, loving gestures that Pope Francis refers to come from Gentleness, which is one of the fruits of the Spirit that Paul writes about in Galatians 5:22. Gentleness is a mark of strength, and a quality that God would like to cultivate in our lives.

It’s also a quality that can make a real difference to those who feel overlooked and unloved in our busy world.

Today, let’s do something gentle – perhaps a small but kind gesture – to honour our elders and make them feel special.

Let’s make sure they feel loved and appreciated.

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[i] Sir John Everett Millais, Christ in the House of His Parents, 1849-50: Oil on Canvas, 86.4 x 139.7 cm. Tate Collection, London. (Public Domain, Wikipedia).

[ii] https://www.theartofpainting.be/AOP-Christ_in_the_House.htm

[iii] https://scotland.op.org/millais-christ-in-the-house-of-his-parents/

[iv] https://academic.oup.com/occmed/article/59/5/294/1410390

[v] https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2015/documents/papa-francesco_20150927_usa-omelia-famiglie.html

On Sabbath Rest

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

Perhaps one unexpected benefit of the current Covid pandemic is the way it’s making us rethink our use of time.

Before the restrictions, many of us lived very busy lives. We packed far more into our days than we needed to.

Why do we do this to ourselves when we don’t like stress or anxiety? Why do we ignore the doctors who tell us to slow down? We know that without rest, our bodies can’t recharge themselves and we risk getting sick.

Long ago, before they had machines, underground miners used horses and donkeys to pull coal-wagons. 

A visitor to a coalfield once asked why so many of these animals were grazing outside the coal-pits. The answer was that they work underground six days a week and every Sunday they’re brought to the surface. If they didn’t come outside periodically, they’d go blind.

Why don’t we schedule such breaks? Without them, we risk becoming blind, too – blind to what’s important in life: our families, our friends, our health and our souls.

In Mark’s Gospel today, Jesus tries to take his disciples to a quiet place for rest, reflection and prayer. They must have been disappointed to find a crowd waiting for them, but Jesus doesn’t turn them away.

The 3^rd Commandment is important to Jesus: ‘Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy’ (Ex.20:8). [i] But he’s not rigid about its observance like the Pharisees. They won’t lift a finger on the Sabbath, but Jesus always puts others first. Whenever he can, however, he takes time out to connect with his Father.

Resting on the Sabbath was, and is, fundamental to the Jewish people. When God rescued them from Egypt after 400 years of slavery, he commanded them to take a day off every week. They were not to live as slaves any more.

This was unlike most ancient societies, where the wealthy worked as little as possible and the peasants worked constantly, except during religious festivals.

By the first century, however, the idea of the Sabbath had spread right across the Roman Empire, and people started giving themselves a day off.

The Jewish historian Josephus wrote: ‘The masses have long since shown a keen desire to adopt our religious observances; and there is not one city, Greek or barbarian, nor a single nation, to which our custom of abstaining from work on the seventh day has not spread.’

The idea of the Sabbath caught on, not just because people were religious, but because it was the sensible thing to do.

In 1928, the economist John Maynard Keynes predicted that technological advances would reduce the working week to 15 hours within 100 years. Clearly, he was wrong because people today seem to work as hard as ever, and our electronic devices encourage us to work even harder.

The theologian Walter Brueggemann says that people who remember and keep the Sabbath find that they are less driven, less coerced, less frantic to meet deadlines, and free to be, rather than to do.

Instead of compromising productivity, he says, the Sabbath can increase it. But to use it for that purpose misses the point. The Sabbath is designed not only to make us more efficient and fruitful in our work, but more fundamentally to challenge our obsession with efficiency and with productivity. [ii]

On this point, William Barclay says there are two dangers in life. Firstly, there’s the danger of too much activity. We can’t work without rest; and we can’t live the Christian life unless we spend time with God. The whole trouble of our lives, he says, may be that we don’t let God speak to us, because we don’t know how to be still and listen. We give God no time to recharge us with spiritual energy and strength, because we never wait upon him.

The second danger, he says, is too much withdrawal. Devotion that does not issue in action is not real devotion. Prayer that does not result in work is not real prayer. We must never seek God’s fellowship in order to avoid human fellowship, but in order to fit ourselves better for it.

The rhythm of the Christian life, then, is the alternate meeting with God in the secret place and then serving one another in the marketplace. [iii]

It’s interesting to note that of the Ten Commandments, the command to keep holy the Sabbath day comes before any mention of murder, property and sex.

Clearly, God thinks it’s a major priority for us to take time out each week. We should spend at least one seventh of our lives doing something other than work. Otherwise, we risk burning ourselves out and forgetting our life’s purpose.

They say that if you can’t rest from something, then you must be a slave to it.

Is it time to start scheduling regular rest breaks?

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[i] This is the 3^rd Commandment in the Augustinian system of numbering the Ten Commandments. It’s the 4^th Commandment in the Philonic and Talmudic systems. The Catholic Church accepts all three approaches.

[ii] https://www.abc.net.au/religion/recovering-the-sabbath-rest-and-the-culture-of-work/10098980

[iii] William Barclay, The Gospel of Mark. Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville KY, 2001:179.

On a Friend for the Journey

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

In today’s Gospel, Jesus sends his disciples out into Galilee, to preach, to heal and to spread the love of God. But first he gives them some instructions.

‘Take nothing for the journey but a staff,’ he says. In other words, travel light.  And ‘Take no bread, no bag and no money.’ So, trust in God. He’ll supply all you need.

Then he says, ‘Wear sandals, but don’t take a spare tunic’. Back then, rich people wore shoes, but poor people wore sandals. So, dressing simply will help you connect with ordinary people. 

And then he says, ‘If you enter a house, stay there until you leave the district’. This means don’t be fussy. Accept what’s offered to you, and spend time getting to know the locals.

Interestingly, these instructions are very similar to the ones God gave the twelve tribes of Israel before they left 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). And like the twelve disciples, the twelve tribes were all expected to rely on God’s grace and providence.

Today, we are Jesus’ disciples, so these instructions are meant for us.  Jesus wants us to share our faith by going out into the world, preaching, teaching and healing in whatever way we can. And to be authentic, we should live simply and modestly, just as he did, relying less on ourselves and trusting more in God’s grace and providence. He’ll give us what we need.

Of course, we don’t have to be anyone special to do this. We only need faith and a willingness to try.

Now, it’s significant that Jesus sends his disciples out in twos. This is a pattern throughout Scripture. Had you noticed? In the Old Testament, Moses and Aaron, Nathan and David, and Jeremiah and Baruch all pair up to do God’s work.

In the New Testament, too, Jesus never sends his disciples to do something alone. For example, he sends two disciples to fetch a colt before he enters Jerusalem (Lk.19:29-30).  He sends Peter and John to prepare for the Passover (Lk.22:8).

John the Baptist sends two disciples to see Jesus (Mt.11:2). St Paul works with Barnabas (Acts 9:27), and he sends Timothy and Erastus to Macedonia (Acts 19:22). And two disciples walk together on the road to Emmaus. 

Almost nowhere in the Gospels and in the Acts of the Apostles do we see disciples working alone. Why?

Perhaps it’s because ‘two are better than one’ (Ecc.4:9).  Certainly, two people can be more effective than one. And when beginners work together, they can encourage and support and learn from each other.

St Gregory the Great said that the disciples were sent out in pairs so that they could demonstrate the two greatest commandments: to love God and each other.  

Certainly, it is much easier to communicate Christian love when you have a companion. 

Many years ago, a man was asked by his young daughter to explain why he believed in God. This seems like such a simple question, but at the time he couldn’t answer. Deep in his heart he loved God, but there was a problem: he rarely talked about his beliefs.

For years he’d used his eyes and his ears to absorb the faith, and what he learned he stored in his heart. But he almost never used his mouth to share or express what he’d learned. So, when his daughter asked him about his beliefs, he couldn’t find the right words. He was embarrassed.

That man was me. That experience taught me that as Christians we’re not meant to be ‘Lone Rangers’. Genuine Christianity means real connections with other people, where we share what’s in our hearts, our minds and our lives.

Have you found your voice? Can you express in words what you feel in your heart? Can you articulate your faith to others?

If you can’t, find someone to share your faith with. Perhaps a friend or a spiritual director. Practice talking to them about your faith experience, your doubts, your fears and your joys.

To really grow in faith, we need to talk about it. Learning to talk about our faith helps to give shape to our ideas, and it reinforces the learning.

Whenever we do this, it becomes much easier to do what Jesus wants us to do – to go out and share his good news.

Jesus said, ‘Whenever two or three are gathered in my name, I’m there with them’ (Mt.18:20).

So, go find yourself a faith friend and learn to talk about what you believe.

On Holy Indifference

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

How do you respond to rejection? Do you get angry and upset?

In today’s gospel, Jesus returns home to Nazareth. It’s early in his public ministry, and he’s gained quite a reputation across Galilee for preaching and healing. But his hometown neighbours can’t accept it. They refuse to see him as anything but a lowly workman. So, Jesus quietly leaves town again.

In 1917, something similar happened to the three shepherd children of Fatima (Francisco, Jacinta and Lucia). The local mayor refused to believe that they’d met the Virgin Mary. He bullied them and demanded that they admit their lies.

And in 1858, in Lourdes, young Bernadette Soubirous was also threatened. The police and the local priest thought she was lying, too, because ‘Mary would never choose to visit a poor peasant girl like her’.

How did these children respond? They stood firm, and learnt to show holy indifference. Now, what does that mean?

St Vincent de Paul (1581-1660) explained holy indifference by describing the donkey. This animal, he said, is indifferent about carrying one thing or another. It doesn’t care whether it’s guided by a rich or a poor man, or whether it’s in a fine house or a wretched stable. For the donkey, it’s all the same.

So, holy indifference means accepting whatever comes our way without complaining. Why would we do that? It’s because we trust God, and we know that ultimately, our only purpose in life is to do his will. [i]

After meeting Our Lady in Fatima, young Francisco caught the deadly Spanish ‘Flu.  And Bernadette of Lourdes contracted tuberculosis. They both suffered greatly, but neither complained. They accepted their sickness as God’s will. 

That’s holy indifference.

Have you seen Michelangelo’s Pietà? It’s in St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Michelangelo completed this sculpture in 1499, when he was only 24. It depicts the Blessed Virgin Mary cradling Jesus’ body, just moments after he was taken down from the Cross. 

Now, as a grieving mother, you might expect Mary to be crying and holding Jesus’ body tightly. But look closely: this is a good example of holy indifference.

See Mary’s face. Is she filled with sorrow, grief and tears? No. She’s very much at peace.

Now see her hand on the left. Is she touching Jesus? No. There’s cloth between her hand and his body. She’s detached from his lifeless form.

And her other hand? It’s not touching his body, either. Mary’s hand is open and she’s gently presenting the Body of Christ to us as a gift, as a sacrifice for our salvation. This image is deeply Eucharistic.

Now look at Jesus’ body. It seems to be sliding off Mary’s lap. Why? It’s because she’s letting him go.

This sculpture is a beautiful representation of holy indifference. To some, it may seem outrageous, for how could a mother let her son go? But remember: there’s a bigger story going on here. Jesus’ death isn’t the end. It’s actually the beginning of new life – a better life – for Jesus, for Mary and for us all. 

Mary is at peace because she knows that her own immediate needs aren’t as important as God’s bigger plan for all humanity.

She also knows that it’s not outrage or grief that heals our wounds. What truly heals us is our faith, our trust that God’s goodness will prevail over darkness. So Mary responds to suffering and sin not out of her anxiety and fear, but out of her absolutely serene trust in God. [ii]  

That’s holy indifference.

Sure, it’s not easy to detach ourselves from all that happens around us, for we are involved and we do care. But with practice, and inspired by Mary and the saints, holy indifference helps us to rise above the pain. It helps us become more patient, relaxed and joyful, and ultimately it will lead us to sainthood. 

St Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556), in his Spiritual Exercises (#23), said that the goal of life is to live with God forever. God gave us life, and when we respond with love to all that happens to us, we allow his life to flow into us without limit.

St Ignatius also said that all things in this life are gifts from God, given to help us know and love him more easily. But these gifts must not become the centre of our lives. If they do, they’ll displace God and stop us reaching our goal. So, we must be prepared to let go.

By detaching ourselves from the things of this world, including the pain and the emotion, we can more readily attach ourselves to the things of God.

That’s holy indifference.  

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[i] Louis Abelly, The Life of the Venerable Servant of God Vincent de Paul. New City Press, New York. 1993. Book 3, p.49.

[ii] Loretta Ross-Gotta, Letters from the Holy Ground. Sheed & Ward, Franklin, Wisconsin, 2000:41

On Waiting

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

In our society, we have fast food, fast shipping and high-speed internet. Clearly, many people don’t like waiting.

Houston Airport used to get lots of complaints about long wait times at their baggage carousel. They couldn’t speed up the baggage delivery, however, so they simply moved the arrival gates. Now people walk six times longer, but the complaints have dropped to almost zero. [i]

In Mark’s Gospel today, Jairus can’t wait; his daughter is dying. So, when Jesus arrives, Jairus begs him to save her. Jesus agrees to help, and starts walking towards Jairus’ home. But on the way he’s distracted by a woman who also needs help, and in the meantime Jairus’ daughter dies.

Now, why didn’t Jesus heal that child immediately? He healed the Centurion’s servant instantly in Capernaum (Mt.8:5-13), so why did Jairus have to wait? 

Perhaps Jesus wanted to spend time with him. Perhaps he wanted to encourage Jairus’ humility and patience. Perhaps he wanted Jairus to learn to trust him.

In any case, when Jesus arrives at Jairus’ home, he holds the dead girl’s hand and says, ‘Little girl, arise!’ And she does! This miracle reminds us that Jesus really is ‘the resurrection and the life’ (Jn.11:25). 

But the woman who asks Jesus for help also had to wait. She had waited 12 years for a cure for her ailment, and now Jesus is her last hope. She desperately touches his cloak and instantly she’s healed. ‘Your faith has saved you,’ Jesus says. [ii] 

So how do these stories touch our own lives?

In her novel The Underpainter, Jane Urquhard says there are two kinds of waiting: there’s the waiting that consumes our minds, and the waiting that happens just below the surface of our awareness. We might not know it, she says, but in one way or another we’re always waiting. [iii]

We wait for nine months to be born, we wait for our buds to bloom, for our child to grow, for the taxi to arrive and for the lights to change.

But most of us aren’t good at waiting, and that’s why so much of today’s technology aims to make life easier and faster, to give us more control.  The problem, however, is that this just gives us a sense of entitlement and pride.

And it can encourage our impatience.

This isn’t what God wants for us (Ps.37:34). Some of the greatest Biblical figures, including Abraham, Joseph, Moses and David, all waited for years for God’s promises to come through. And as they waited, God shaped and moulded them so that when their time came, they were blessed beyond measure (2Cor.4:16-18).

The Buddhist monk Thích Nhất Hạnh says that when we see a flower, and take the time to look deeply into it, we’ll see not only its shape and colour, but also the sunshine, the rain and the soil that are part of that flower and part of ourselves as well.

We can practice this deep reflection whenever we find ourselves waiting, he says. While we’re stuck in traffic, we can become aware of the clouds. When we have our morning coffee, we can savour its aroma and feel the warmth and weight of the mug.

In these quiet moments, the urge to do and to be somewhere else, subsides. Our breath, our heartbeat slows down, and the waiting becomes our friend.

In his book Balaam’s Donkey, the Cistercian monk Michael Casey reminds us that some things take time to develop. Rome was not built in a day, he says, and any worthwhile art or craft takes years to master. It can take years – even decades – before our spiritual life begins to develop the way we’d like it to.

God’s work in us proceeds at its own pace, Casey says. It has to work on several levels simultaneously, and the transformation it seeks to accomplish is so radical that there are many other issues that must be faced before it can flower. [iv]

Waiting, then, can be good for us. It gives us time to rest, reflect and learn. And it teaches us trust and endurance – and gratitude when things work out.

Now, have you noticed that God sometimes sends encouraging signs while we’re waiting for our prayers to be answered?  That’s what happens to Jairus. 

While he’s walking with Jesus, Jairus sees Jesus healing someone else. That gives him hope and it strengthens his faith.  

Such signs are a gift. May we, too, see the signs God sends us when we next find ourselves waiting.

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[i] https://www.nytimes.com/2012/08/19/opinion/sunday/why-waiting-in-line-is-torture.html

[ii] This is the only miracle in the Gospels where Jesus doesn’t initiate the cure.

[iii] Jane Urquhard, The Underpainter, McClelland & Steward, Toronto, 1997:95.

[iv] Michael Casey, Balaam’s Donkey. Liturgical Press, Collegeville. 2019:447.

On Rembrandt’s Storm-Tossed Sea

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

‘The bad time comes,’ wrote Doris Lessing, ‘and we don’t know why.’

On the Sea of Galilee, the bad time comes when the cool air from the mountains rushes down towards the warm sea air, creating violent storms.

In Mark’s Gospel today, Jesus is tired at the end of another long day of teaching, and he says to his disciples, ‘Let’s go to the other side of the lake’. The sea is calm as they board their boats, but soon they’re battling a tremendous storm.

In 1633, Rembrandt painted a picture of this scene. It’s his only seascape, and it’s called Storm on the Sea of Galilee. It shows Jesus and his twelve disciples in one boat, as a large wave smashes into their bow, tearing a sail. [i]

If you look carefully, you’ll see that there are actually fourteen people on board. Rembrandt has included himself: he’s the man holding his cap and facing us, the viewers.

‘Lectio Divina’ is the prayerful process whereby a person places himself inside a biblical narrative in order to reflect on what God might be saying to him. [ii] Here, Rembrandt is inviting us to do the same. He’s inviting us to insert ourselves into this scene, and to reflect on the storms we experience in our own lives.

Now, look at the rear of the boat: there’s a light shining on the figure of Jesus, and on those focussed on him. The message here is that even in the midst of a storm, the light of Christ will help you to stay calm. But you must keep your eyes fixed on Jesus.

In contrast, look at the disciples hidden in the shadows. They are only aware of their own anxiety and fear, and one is even vomiting overboard. Might they represent us in our own turbulent lives?

There’s also a third group of disciples. They are the figures nearest the mast, who are struggling to keep the boat afloat. In the midst of them is Peter, with his back turned to the light of the sky. That light indicates that the storm is about to break.

In this pose, Peter represents us when all we can see is darkness and misery, instead of the wonderful light that God is constantly shining on us.

So, here’s the question: are you battling a storm in your own life? Perhaps you’re struggling with some physical, emotional or financial distress. Which character, then, might you identify with in this painting?

William Barclay says that Jesus’ calming of the sea is a great miracle, but we should be looking at it symbolically, to see what we can learn from it.

To voyage with Jesus, he says, is to voyage in peace, even in a storm. Why? It’s because once the disciples understood that Jesus really was with them, they started to feel calm and the storm subsided.

This isn’t something that only happened once, Barclay says. It’s something that’s still happening today, and it can happen for us, too, if we have faith. [iii]

Mark’s Gospel today reminds us that whatever storms we face, Jesus is always with us. It might seem like he’s asleep, but we can be sure that he’s firmly in control.

So, our faith must be strong.

Sure, our faith won’t guarantee smooth sailing – even Jesus had to weather storms. But having faith means understanding who God is and knowing that he truly loves us. It means accepting that God is always looking after us.

And it means that in the presence of Jesus, I can have peace deep in my heart, even in the middle of a storm.

A retired sea captain used to take day-trippers to the Shetland Islands, north of Scotland. On one trip the boat was full of young people. They laughed when they saw the old captain say a prayer before setting out, because the day was fine and the sea was calm.

However, they weren’t long out at sea when a storm suddenly blew up. The terrified passengers came to the captain and asked him to join them in prayer. But he replied, ‘I say my prayers when it’s calm. When it’s rough, I attend to my ship.’

Here’s the point: If we don’t seek God in the quiet moments of our lives, we’re not likely to find him when trouble strikes. We’re more likely to panic.

But if we’ve learnt to seek God and to trust him in our quiet moments, then we can be sure we’ll find him when the going gets rough. [iv]

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[i] This painting was stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston in 1990. It’s still missing. The Netflix documentary This is a Robbery tells the story of this theft.

[ii] Lectio Divina is the process of reflecting on the words of a biblical passage. Visio Divina uses a picture rather than words.

[iii] William Barclay, The Gospel of Mark, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, KY.2001:133-134.

[iv] Flor McCarthy, New Sunday & Holy Day Liturgies, Year B. Dominican Publications, Dublin. 2017:239-240.