Deacon Peter

The M – Z of Advent

(Bar.5:1-9; Phil.1:4-6; Lk.3:1-6)

Today is the 2^nd Sunday of Advent, and Advent, of course, occupies the first four weeks of every new liturgical year. It’s during these four weeks that we are invited to prepare ourselves well for the coming of Jesus Christ into our lives.

Today we continue exploring what Advent is all about, by focusing on the alphabet. Last week we covered the letters A to L. Today, it’s the letters M to Z.

M is for St. Martin of Tours, who is well known for sharing his cloak with a beggar who turned out to be Jesus. St Martin is a good example of the kindness and generosity we’re all called to show others during Advent.

N is for the Nativity, the birth of Jesus which is central to the Advent season. It was St. Francis of Assisi who set up the very first nativity scene in the 13th century. He did this to make the story of Christ’s birth accessible to everyone and to inspire us to reflect on God’s extraordinary humility in becoming a man.

O is for the O Antiphons, which are prayers recited during the last seven days of Advent. Each prayer begins with ‘O’ and addresses Jesus with various titles such as ‘O Wisdom’ and ‘O Emmanuel.’ These antiphons are full of biblical references, and have been used by many saints to prepare themselves for the coming of Christ. They are paraphrased in the popular Christmas carol, O Come, O Come Emmanuel.

P is for Prayer, because Advent is the ideal time for prayer and spiritual reflection. In her writings, St. Teresa of Avila tells us that contemplative prayer is a wonderful way to deepen our relationship with God.

And Mother Teresa offers us this prayer for Advent:

Mary, Mother of Jesus, be a mother to each of us, so that we, like you, may be pure in heart; that we, like you, love Jesus; that we, like you, serve the poorest, for we are all poor. Amen.

Q is for Quiet, which is what we all need for fruitful prayer and reflection. In his writings, the mystical poet St. John of the Cross teaches us that silence and solitude are essential for deepening our relationship with God.

R is for Repentance, which means changing the way we do things. This is what we all need to do in Advent to truly connect with God. The great missionary, St Francis Xavier, stressed the need for everyone to experience personal conversion and a return to God’s grace.

S is for St. John the Baptist, who dedicated his life to preparing others for the coming of Christ. He called everyone to repent, to change the way they live, and to immerse themselves in the cleansing waters of Baptism.

T is for Tradition, because Advent is rich with wonderful traditions, like buying Christmas presents, erecting Christmas trees and nativity scenes, putting up lights and decorations and planning celebrations. Advent calendars also help families count down the days until Christmas.

U is for Unity, which is what Advent seeks to foster among all Christians. St. Catherine of Siena worked tirelessly for the unity of the Church, and she encouraged believers to come together in faith and love during this holy season.

V is for Vigil, because we are all called to keep vigil, to stay watchful for Jesus’ arrival. Our vigil Masses give us a special opportunity to do this, in a spirit of communal worship and reflection. St. Benedict used to stress the importance of these gatherings in preparing us for the coming of Christ.

W is for Waiting, which is what we all do in Advent. We’re waiting for Jesus to come into our lives. St. Anne, the mother of Mary, is a good example of someone who waited in hope and faith. Her story encourages us to be patient, and to trust in God’s timing.

X is for Xmas, which is shorthand for Christmas. Many people think this is just a secular abbreviation, but the ‘X’ comes from the Greek letter Chi, which is the first letter of the Greek word Christós. So, the X literally means Jesus, and in Advent this is who we are preparing ourselves to meet.

Y is for Yearning, which is something we all do. We all yearn for peace, joy and love; we all long for a sense of meaning and purpose in our lives. In her writings, St. Teresa of Avila expresses this longing and tells us to seek a closer relationship with God, for he is the source of all peace, joy and love.

And finally,

Z is for Zeal, which is the enthusiasm we all need to prepare ourselves well for Christmas. One saint who had plenty of zeal was St. Paul. He worked hard spreading the Gospel and encouraging people to prepare themselves for the coming of Jesus Christ.

May we all do the same.

The ABC of Advent

(Jer.33:14-16; Thess.3:12-4:2; Lk.21:25-28, 34-36)

Today we begin a brand-new liturgical Year C, the Year of the Gospel of Luke, and once again it starts with Advent. Let’s now explore what the season of Advent is all about, using the letters A to L of the alphabet. (Next week we’ll cover M to Z).

A is for Advent, the liturgical season that begins every Church year. The word ‘Advent’ comes from the Latin adventus, meaning ‘coming,’ and it typically lasts for four weeks before Christmas. It’s a time of preparing, anticipating and reflecting on the threefold coming of Christ: his birth in Bethlehem at Christmas, his Second Coming at the end of all time, and in between, when he comes to us in our day-to-day lives.

B is for the Blessed Virgin Mary, who is central to Advent. She is the simple Jewish girl who humbly and courageously accepted God’s invitation to become the Mother of Jesus. In Advent, we too are invited to help bring Jesus into the world.

C is for the Candles in our Advent wreath. There are five of them, all symbolising the light of Christ, and one is lit each week. The first (purple) candle signifies our hope for the Messiah’s coming. The second (purple) candle reflects the peace that only Christ can bring. The third (pink) candle represents our joy in knowing that Jesus is coming. The fourth (purple) candle symbolises the love God has for us. And the final (white) candle, which is lit on Christmas Day, represents Jesus himself.

D is for the Decision we must all make to find and follow Jesus, and the Determination we need to keep doing so faithfully.

E is for Expectation, because Advent is a time of joyful expectation. In his writings, St. Bernard of Clairvaux encourages us to prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ in a spirit of anticipation and longing, just as the ancient Israelites waited for the Messiah all those years ago.

But E is also for Eternity, because we know the earth is not our final home, and it’s important that we prepare ourselves for our real home in heaven.

F is for Faith, because Advent is a good time to strengthen our faith through prayer, reflection and community. Here, St. Therese of Lisieux teaches us that faith can be both simple and profound. In her ‘Little Way,’ she encourages us to always be loving towards each other, even in tiny little ways, and to always trust in God’s love and mercy.

G is for St. Gregory the Great, who was an important figure in the early Church. He emphasised the importance of the liturgical seasons, including Advent. His teachings on preparation and prayer remind us to engage deeply with the spiritual practices of the season.

H is for Hope, which is a central theme of Advent, for it reflects our waiting for Christ’s coming. In his writings, St. Augustine calls hope a theological virtue, and he encourages us to always trust in God’s promises, especially in times of uncertainty and waiting.

I is for the Incarnation, the mystery of God becoming man in Jesus. This is fundamental to Advent, because Christmas is all about God becoming one of us. St. Athanasius often talked about this mystery, and emphasised how important it is for our salvation.

J is for Jesus, who is the Son of God and the very heart of Advent. He is the source of all life and the One we all yearn for, even when we don’t know it.

But J is also for Joy, which Jesus brings and which we celebrate on Gaudete Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent. It gives us joy to know that Jesus is coming to save us. St. Francis of Assisi was filled with this joy, and he spent his life spreading the Gospel and celebrating God’s creation.

K is for Kindness, which is a reflection of Christ’s love. St. Vincent de Paul modelled this kindness by spending his life serving the poor and marginalised. As Christmas approaches, we all need to be just as kind. Why?

It’s because L is for Love, which is exactly what Advent is all about. God loves each of us unconditionally, and that’s why Jesus came to live among us. He wants to tell us personally how much he loves us.

And that’s why he is coming again.

Advent, then, is the perfect time for us to reflect on our own lives: are we as kind, loving and forgiving as we need to be? Are we ready to receive Jesus when he comes?

It’s only by living lives of love that we will truly be prepared to receive Jesus, who is love itself.

(Next week we will explore Advent through the letters M – Z.)

The Pearl of York

(Dan.7:13-14; Rev.1:5-8; Jn.18:33b-37)

On the last Sunday of each liturgical year, we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King. This is the day we’re reminded that Jesus Christ is our ultimate leader, for he reigns over heaven and earth with immense wisdom and the most selfless love.

Jesus’ kingship is totally different to the rule of so many earthly leaders, who too often are cruel and only interested in themselves. Take Henry VIII, for example. He was desperate for money and a divorce from Catherine of Aragon. He grabbed these things by ruthlessly trying to destroy the Catholic Church and installing himself as head of the Church of England.

Twenty years later, in 1556 and during the reign of Henry’s daughter Queen Elizabeth I, Margaret Middleton was born in the City of York. She grew to detest the persecution of Catholics and the laws enforcing attendance at Anglican church services.

When she was 18, Margaret married John Clitherow, a wealthy butcher twice her age, and together they ran his shop. Three years later, and with her husband’s blessing, she secretly became a Catholic.

Margaret raised their children as Catholics, and often sheltered priests in their home. She encouraged them to say Mass there, and later she sent her first child, Henry, to the Catholic college at Douai in France.

But people started to ask questions, and in 1577 she was gaoled for almost a year for refusing to attend Anglican services. While in prison, she gave birth to her third child and she taught herself to read and write, so that she could teach her children the faith.

Margaret was often in trouble, but her husband always paid her fines. And then in 1586, the sheriff and his men raided their home and found children being taught the Catholic faith. They threatened one boy with torture, forcing him to reveal the location of the secret ‘priest-hole,’ and again Margaret was arrested.

This time she knew the penalty was death, but she wanted to protect her family, so she refused to plead her guilt or innocence. ‘No, no, Mr. Sheriff, I die for the love of my Lord Jesu,’ she said. ‘I know of no offense whereof I should confess myself guilty. Having made no offense, I need no trial.’

But four days later, she was formally charged with having sheltered priests and attending Mass. Once again she refused to enter a plea, and when she was sentenced to death, she exclaimed, ‘God be thanked, I am not worthy of so good a death as this.’

After sentencing, she had her shoes sent to her daughter Anne as a reminder to follow in her faithful footsteps.

On Good Friday in 1586, Margaret was stripped naked and a handkerchief was tied over her face. Like Jesus on the Cross, her arms were stretched out wide and tied to stakes, and her own door was placed on top of her. Her executioners then crushed her with some 700 pounds of rocks.

‘Jesu! Jesu! Jesu! Have mercy on me!’ she cried out.

Fifteen minutes later Margaret Clitherow was dead. She was only 33 years old, and pregnant with her fourth child. She was buried near a dunghill, and today her right hand is preserved at St. Mary’s Convent in York.

Every martyrdom has its fruits.

Margaret would have been pleased to learn that her children Henry and William became priests, and Anne became a nun. And she would have been humbled to discover that in 1970, Pope St Paul VI canonised her among the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales.

Today, St Margaret Clitherow is the patron saint of converts, martyrs and the Catholic Women’s League.

If ever you visit that oddly-shaped street known as The Shambles in York, go to number 35. On the wall outside is a green plaque which reads, ‘The Shrine of St Margaret Clitherow.’ This was her home, and today it serves as a chapel. The priest-hole is still there, near the fireplace.

The English poet-priest Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-89) was deeply moved by Margaret’s story, and wrote a poem about her. In it, he condemns the deceitful authorities who tried to talk her out of her faith:

‘Fawning fawning crocodiles
Days and days came round about
With tears to put her candle out;
They wound their winch of wicked smiles
To take her; while their tongues would go
God lighten your dark heart – but no,
Christ lived in Margaret Clitheroe.’ [i]

St Margaret’s faith in Jesus Christ was unbreakable, even in the face of the most brutal persecution. That’s why today she is known as ‘The Pearl of York.’

May she inspire us all.

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[i] https://catholicism.org/the-poets-eye-gerard-manley-hopkins-margaret-clitheroe.html

Last Will and Testament

(Dan.12:1-3; Heb.10:11-14; Mk.13:24-32)

When they realise that their days are numbered, most people like to ensure that their affairs are in order. This usually includes preparing a last will and testament.

It makes life so much easier for those they leave behind.

William Shakespeare did this. He left most of his property to his daughters, and to his wife he surprisingly left his second-best bed. [i]

In the Scriptures, too, several important figures gather their family or followers together in their last days, to give them their final testaments.

Jacob, for example, calls his twelve sons together to give each a blessing, and then he announces that Judah will next be ruling the family (Gen.49:1-28). In Deuteronomy 31-32, Moses knows he’s dying. He gathers the Israelites together, he sings God’s praises and encourages them all to stand firm in the faith, and he announces that Joshua will succeed him.

And in Mark’s Gospel today, Jesus knows his days are numbered. So, he calls his disciples together to give them one last teaching on what is to come.

Jesus warns them (and us) that the world as we know it will not last. But before it ends, there will be a period of terror, persecution and great distress. People will be betrayed, and there will be wars, earthquakes and famines. (See also Mt.24, Lk.21). The prophet Daniel describes some of this in our first reading today.

In these end-times, there will be cosmic upheavals, too – the sun will be darkened, the moon will fade, and stars will fall from the sky.

All this sounds quite frightening, but Jesus then adds a note of hope by promising to return, like a good shepherd, to gather the elect into one community, who will then live in peace. This parousia, Christ’s second coming, will mark the beginning of ‘a new heaven and a new earth’ (Rev.21:1), and the fulfilment of God’s plans for us.

But who are the elect? They are Jesus’ disciples, scattered across the globe. They are the people of God who lived their lives in faith, hope and love, and who tried to nurture some peace, justice and beauty in the world.

And when might all this happen? Jesus says that not even he knows, so don’t waste time trying to predict it. However, it’s important that we prepare ourselves.

How? By reading the signs. By learning to distinguish between what is of God and therefore essential, and what is merely fashionable and worldly. Some of these signs will be obvious, while others will be more subtle, like the sprouting leaves of a fig tree.

By mentioning the fig tree, Jesus is alluding to his famous parable in which a barren tree is given a second chance to bear fruit (Lk.13:6-9). Here, he’s making the point that we, too, need to be fruitful, for God is on his way. Are our hearts full of love, and are we truly ready to receive him?

Our challenge is not to predict the end of the world, but to start getting our lives in order. And in doing this, we need to remember that God knows us better than we know ourselves (Lk.12:7), so there’s no point trying to pretend. We must try to follow the Gospel, and live as though these days are our last.

Jesus’ last testament does not read like a legal document; it sounds more like apocalyptic poetry. But the things he is saying are no less important: you cannot put your faith in the powers of this world to give you the peace and security you need for the future. The world is going to end one day, and it’s important that we prepare ourselves.

Not long before my dear mother died, she gave me a little envelope with a handwritten note inside. It was a personal and loving farewell that included a little card, on which she had written out the beautiful little prayer known as ‘St Teresa’s Bookmark.’

St Teresa of Avila always kept this with her in her prayer book. It was found after her death in 1582.

These are good words to remember as we try to get our lives in order:

Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you
All things are passing,
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things,
All that it strives for.
He who has God
Finds he lacks nothing.
God alone suffices.

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[i] https://www.shakespeare.org.uk/explore-shakespeare/shakespedia/william-shakespeare/second-best-bed/

A Generous Heart

(1 Kgs.17:10-16; Heb.9:24-28; Mk.12:38-44)

All over Italy, there’s a well-loved tradition known as La Passeggiata.

At certain hours after work and on weekends, people of all ages go out for a casual stroll around their local area. This is a great time for people-watching, so they tend to dress up – fare bella figura. It’s also an important time for talking, laughing and building community.

But sometimes, if you look, you’ll see un uomo che si pavoneggia – a well-dressed man strutting about like a peacock. He’s not much interested in building community; he’s trying to draw attention to himself.

There are people like this in every society.

They’re even in Mark’s Gospel today, and Jesus warns us about them. They’re the Temple scribes, who love to strut about in fine clothes, parading their wealth and importance. They like being seen and admired for their success.

But Mark then contrasts this life of pride and selfishness with the story of a poor widow. She quietly donates two tiny copper coins to the Temple, a sum that’s barely enough to buy two sparrows (Mt.10:29).

It’s not much, but Jesus says her gift is the greatest of all because she’s given all she had. This is a real sacrifice, compared to the wealthy who only give from their abundance.

This widow’s tale is the final story from Jesus’ public ministry in Mark’s Gospel, before he begins his passion. It’s significant, because it summarises what Jesus has been trying to teach us about discipleship.

This widow represents Christ himself, because soon afterwards Jesus does the same thing. He gives up everything has – even his life – for the people he loves: you and me.

This widow is an icon of Christ, a living image of Jesus himself. And her two coins represent his two greatest commandments: to love God and to love each other, with all our hearts, souls and minds. This is the challenge Jesus has set for all of us.

But can we do that? Can we let go of our worldly attachments, and turn our hearts, souls and minds towards God and our neighbours?

Someone once said that if we want God’s kingdom to come, then we need to let go of our own personal kingdoms.  

Let me tell you of three people who did just that.

The first is Dolores Hart, an aspiring Hollywood actress who was raised by her grandparents. Her grandfather, a film projectionist, had spurred her love for the movies. In the 1950s, she found herself acting with several famous stars, including Elvis Presley (in Loving You and King Creole).

In 1961, she was a nun in Francis of Assisi, and in 1962 she starred in Lisa, as a Jewish woman who has a spiritual awakening during WWII. This started her thinking, and soon afterwards she gave it all away to become a nun.

Since then, she has dedicated her life to prayer and service, and helping young people to find their vocation in Christ through the medium of the theatre.

The second is Kevin Fagan, an Australian doctor who became a prisoner-of-war at the fall of Singapore in 1942. He was imprisoned first at Changi, and then on the infamous Thai-Burma Railway. His selflessness, courage and endurance became legendary.

To the best of his ability, and in the most appalling conditions, he treated anyone who needed help. He carried men who fell, and he carried the kit of those in danger of falling.

He marched up and down the length of the column as it moved – meaning that if everyone else marched 100 miles in the jungle, he marched 200. And at night when everyone collapsed and slept, he was there to clean ulcers, set bones and give first aid to anyone in need. But his biggest challenge was controlling a severe epidemic of cholera among the men.

And he did all this with the humour of someone who wasn’t tired at all. [i]

The third person is Laura, a simple woman who has served for years as the sacristan at a local parish church. She is only a pensioner, but for years she has given all she can to ensure that her local church has everything it needs for daily Mass – including flowers, altar wine, breads and freshly starched altar linens. She has dedicated her life to this work.

Laura has a generous heart, just like the poor widow in today’s Gospel. She has no interest in preening her appearance or drawing attention to herself. She simply wants to help Jesus.

What can you do that would make a difference?

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[i] Braddon, Russell, The Naked Island, Atheneum Books, NY, 1982.

The Golden Rule

(Deut.6:2-6; Heb.7:23-28; Mk.12:28-34)

With so much violence and war around our world today, it’s worth remembering that the call to love our neighbour is actually universal.

They express it differently, but all the major religions – Christianity, Islam, Hinduism and Judaism – share the same Golden Rule to love your neighbour.[i]

It’s there again in today’s Gospel, where Jesus spells out his two greatest commandments. The first, he says, is to love our Lord God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. And the second is to love your neighbour as yourself.

‘There’s no greater commandment than these,’ he says.

With these few words, Jesus has summarised the entire Bible and the essence of the Christian life. But why does he mention two commandments instead of one? It’s because loving God and loving our neighbour are two sides of the same life-giving coin (1Jn.4:7-8).

St Basil the Great used to say that we can only love our fellow human beings because we love God first. If we don’t love God, he said, we will never be open to enemies and strangers. And the only way we can fully express our love for God is by loving our neighbour who he created in his own image and likeness.

This is Jesus’ Great Commandment, which is also often called the Golden Rule because it sets the gold standard for how to live our lives. St James called it the Royal Law (Jas.2:8) because Jesus is our king, and love is the first law of his kingdom.

But whatever its name, the call to love our neighbour remains universal. And yet, so many people seem to ignore it these days. Perhaps they don’t know who their neighbours are, or they simply don’t know how to love. 

When he was the Archbishop of Milan, Pope St Paul VI spelt out the neighbours we should love. He said, ‘Let us love those nearby and those afar; love our own country and those others; love our friends and enemies; love Catholics, schismatics, Protestants, Anglicans, the indifferent; love Moslems, pagans, atheists; love members of all social classes, particularly those in most need of help and support; love children; love the old, the poor and the sick; love those who deride or despise us, obstruct or persecute us; love those who deserve love and those who do not; love our adversaries – we want no man as our enemy …’

‘Let us love and try to understand, esteem, appreciate, serve and suffer for (them),’ he continued. ‘Let us love (them) with the heart of Christ.’ [ii]

And how might we love with the heart of Christ? St Thérèse of Lisieux tells us in her autobiography, The Story of a Soul.

She found one nun in her convent particularly irritating. ‘The devil was mixed up in it,’ she wrote, ‘for he made me see so many disagreeable traits in her.’

St Therese of Lisieux

However, Therese did not want to give in to her natural dislike for this nun, so she told herself that charity isn’t just about feelings, but should also show itself in deeds.

She decided to do for this sister what she would have done for someone she loved.

Every time Thérèse met her, she prayed for this sister and she praised God for all her virtues and merits. She was sure this would delight Jesus, because every artist likes to have his works praised.  

As well, Thérèse tried to do as many things for her as she could, and whenever she was tempted to speak unpleasantly to her, she gave her a pleasant smile and tried to change the subject.

And when she found herself violently tempted by the devil, she slipped away quietly, like a soldier deserting the battlefield.

After all this, one day that sister asked Thérèse: ‘Please tell me what attracts you so much to me. You give me such a lovely smile whenever we meet.’

Thérèse answers this question in her book: ‘It was Jesus hidden in the depth of her soul who attracted me, for Jesus makes the bitterest things sweet!’ [iii]

And that’s the point. That’s why Jesus has given us his Golden Rule in two parts: that we must love both God and our neighbour.

As St Basil the Great said all those years ago – we cannot truly love God without also loving his Creation, which includes all our neighbours.

And we really cannot love our neighbours until we start recognising Jesus’ presence within them.

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[i] In Islam, the Qur’an says, ‘Serve Allah… do good to your parents, to kinsfolk, to orphans, to the needy, to neighbours who are near and far, to the companion by your side, to the wayfarer… (Qur’an 4:36).

The Hindu tradition says, ‘This is the sum of duty. Do not unto others that which would cause you pain if done to you’ (Mahabharata 5,1517).

In Judaism, it’s ‘Love your neighbour as yourself – I am the Lord (Lev.19:18).

[ii] Cardinal Montini, quoted in Robert Morneau, A New Heart, Orbis Books, Maryknoll, NY, 1970:37.

[iii] St Thérèse of Lisieux, The Story of a Soul, https://lci-goroka.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/saint-therese-of-lisieux-story-of-a-soul-the-autobiography.pdf

Layers of Blindness

(Jer.31:7-9; Heb.5:1-6; Mk.10:46-52)

It’s said that there’s none so blind as they who will not see.

At school I needed glasses, but foolishly I refused to wear them. Thankfully, I’m now one of some 10 million sensible Australians who wear glasses or contact lenses.

Our eyesight is such a precious gift; we often take it for granted. But having good eyesight doesn’t always mean we see well, for there are many kinds of blindness, and sometimes that blindness comes in layers.

A California eye doctor once removed 23 layers of contact lenses from an elderly woman. She had forgotten to remove the previous contact lenses before using a new one. As her vision deteriorated, she tried to fix it by adding more lenses. Fortunately, no permanent damage was done.

Captain Edward Smith had a different kind of blindness. He refused to believe the Titanic was in trouble until water was ankle-deep in his mailroom. His blindness meant that he wasted time getting help, and hundreds of people died needlessly.

‘What we see depends on what we’re looking for,’ John Lubbock once wrote. ‘Looking at the same field, farmers will notice the crops, geologists will see fossils, botanists will see flowers, and artists will see colours. We might all look at the same things, but we won’t always see the same things.’ [i]

In today’s Gospel, Bartimaeus is blind, perhaps with acute conjunctivitis – it was common in those times. He’s in Jericho, sitting by the roadside on his cloak, begging. As Jesus walks by with a crowd of disciples, Bartimaeus calls out, ‘Son of David, have pity on me!’

Now, I wonder if you noticed some things in this story.

Firstly, did you notice that Jesus doesn’t actually call Bartimaeus himself?  He gets his disciples to call him. We should remember this, because Jesus doesn’t always contact us directly. He often works through other people.

Secondly, did you see how Jesus responds to Bartimaeus? Rather than asking, ‘What do you want?’ he asks, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ This is the same question Jesus asked his disciples James and John in last week’s Gospel. He doesn’t guess what’s in our hearts. He wants us to talk with him personally, to tell him what we need.

And did you notice what the crowd does? They try to keep Bartimaeus quiet, to keep him away from Jesus. This often happens today.

In subtle and not-so-subtle ways, many people are trying to suppress our Christian faith. They don’t like us following or even talking about Jesus. Indeed, they’d like to banish Jesus altogether. So, they ridicule, they criticise and they even push for laws that undermine our Christian beliefs and practices. In some places, too, Christians are actively persecuted.

But Bartimaeus won’t be put off. He ignores the crowd and keeps calling for Jesus. And when he’s given his chance, he throws off his cloak, he jumps up and goes to Jesus.

Now, this is a significant act.

The Rich Young Man in Mark’s Gospel (10:17-31) was too scared to let go of his possessions to follow Jesus. But not Bartimaeus. His cloak is all he has. He uses it to collect coins, to sleep in and to protect himself. And yet, he’s prepared to toss it aside for his new life with Jesus. It’s a powerful symbol.

So, what about you? What’s holding you back from really seeing Jesus? Is it your obsessions? Or laziness? Or fear? Can you let these things go?

Bartimaeus knows he’s blind. But what about you? Lots of people today have blind-spots but don’t know it, for there are layers of blindness.

There’s emotional blindness, moral blindness and cultural blindness. There’s also spiritual blindness, which is much more common than physical blindness. Many people are blind to God’s Creation. They’re blind to Jesus’ love and compassion. They’re blind to the suffering and injustice that surrounds them. 

In his song, ‘Blowing in the Wind,’ Bob Dylan asks:

‘…how many times can a man turn his head, and pretend that he just doesn’t see? The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind.’

In 1997, Pope St John Paul II said that this wind is the Holy Spirit. It’s blowing right now, and it’s leading us to Christ.

When Bartimaeus says, ‘I want to see,’ Jesus heals him and he begins a brand-new life.

Why not do the same?

Tell Jesus that you really want to see.

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[i] John Lubbock, The Beauties of Nature and the Wonders of the World We Live in, McMillan, London, 1892. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/28274/pg28274-images.html

The Cup of Greatness

(Is.53:10-11; Heb.4:14-16; Mk.10:35-45)

Some people love priming their own egos. They crave the recognition that comes from winning trophies and titles.

We saw this recently in Mark’s Gospel (9:30-37), where Jesus’ disciples were caught arguing about which of them was the greatest.

And today, James and John ask Jesus if they can sit to his left and right – places of great honour – when he returns to heaven. For them, these are prize seats, the equivalent of winning the cup of greatness.

But Jesus responds by talking about a very different kind of cup. ‘You don’t know what you’re asking for,’ he says. ‘Can you drink from the cup that I must drink? Can you be baptised with the baptism with which I must be baptised?’

‘Yes,’ they reply, but really they don’t understand what he’s saying.

In Scripture, the word ‘cup’ often refers to our lives, which can be filled with many different things. Our cup can be filled with blessings (Ps.23:5) or salvation (Ps.116:13). It can be filled with desolation (Ezek.23:33) or God’s fury (Is.51:17). And it can be filled with suffering and trials (Ps.75.8; Is.51:17).

At Gethsemane, Jesus prays, ‘Father, if it’s possible, take this cup away from me’ (Mt.26:39). Sadly, this cup is not taken away, and he dies a painful death. But then Jesus returns to new life, and that’s why he also calls his suffering his baptism, for baptism always leads to new life.

Now, in the Mass, whenever we are offered the Precious Blood with the words, ‘The Blood of Christ,’ we are in effect being asked the same question that Jesus asked his disciples: ‘Can you drink the cup that I must drink?’ Our reply ‘Amen,’ in effect means ‘yes, I will follow you, Jesus. I will be wine poured out for others.’

And when at Communion we are offered the Body of Christ, our reply ‘Amen’ means ‘yes, I will follow you, Jesus. I will be bread broken for others.’

This is a radical commitment. The Holy Eucharist is not meant to be received passively. It’s a gift that nourishes and strengthens us to live like Jesus himself.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus says, ‘anyone who wants to become great among you must be your servant.’ What kind of servant is that?

In the 1700s, the English Archbishop Thomas Secker said that God has three kinds of servants in this world. The first are the slaves who serve him out of fear. The second are the hirelings who serve him because they are paid.

And the third are God’s sons and daughters who serve him because they are filled with love. This is the kind of servanthood we are called to.

Mother Teresa was such a servant; she was absolutely filled with love.

In Calcutta one day, she rescued a woman who was covered in festering sores and crawling insects. As she quietly cleaned and dressed her wounds, the woman shrieked and swore and insulted her. Then she asked, ‘Sister, why do you do this? Not everyone behaves like you. Who taught you?’

Mother Teresa replied, ‘My God taught me.’

The woman said she wanted to know her God. Mother Teresa kissed her on the forehead and said, ‘You know my God. My God is called love.’

Recently I heard another story about selfless love. A young boy had burns to 85% of his body. He was saved by his parents, three doctors and three nurses, but the nurses were the real heroes.

Dressed in caps, gowns, masks and gloves, they stayed with him every day, working 8-hour shifts around the clock, helping him through operations, skin grafts and other critical procedures.

The boy came to hate these nurses and he blamed them for his pain, but they kept working. The room was small, hot and cramped, and it smelt of chlorine and burnt flesh. But they stayed with him. Then one day, after 14 months, he started to walk again.

Their love saved his life. It was tough, but they said they’d do it again if they had to.

Each of us is called to greatness, but not the worldly kind.

The cup of greatness Jesus invites us to drink may seem like a bitter drop, but as St Terese of Lisieux once said, ‘I’ve always found his bitter chalice full of sweetness… Your lot is indeed a beautiful one, since Our Lord has chosen it for you, and has first touched with his own lips the cup which he holds out to yours.’

When you next come forward for the Holy Eucharist, remember that it’s your invitation to be transformed, to become bread broken for others.

And to become wine poured out for others, just like Jesus himself.

The Secret to Eternal Life

(Wis.7:7-11; Heb.4:12-13; Mk.10:17-30)

Most people don’t like the idea of dying; they would much rather live forever.

That is why so many pharaohs, philosophers and alchemists through the ages tried searching for the secret to eternal life.

The Greek historian Herodotus once wrote about a fountain of youth someone had found in Africa. Alexander the Great looked for it, but he died young, aged only 32.

In China, the emperor Qin asked his doctors for a potion to prolong his life. They gave him mercury pills, but they turned out to be poisonous.

And today, some scientists are experimenting with cryogenic freezing and rejuvenating body cells. However, all this fascination with immortality ignores the eternal life that Jesus talks about in Mark’s Gospel today.

A rich young man has decided that he’d like to live forever, so he approaches Jesus, asking: ‘Master, what must I do to earn eternal life?’

Jesus replies, ‘Sell all you have, give the money to the poor and come follow me, for then you’ll have treasure in heaven.’

That price is much too high, the young man thinks, and he goes away sad. He just can’t let go of his possessions.

About 250 years later, St Anthony of Egypt heard this story. He was another rich young man but his response was very different.

Anthony and his sister were raised on a large estate near present-day Cairo. Their parents died when Anthony was 20, and he inherited their wealth.

However, he actually listened to Jesus, and like St Francis of Assisi after him, he sold everything.

He gave the money to the poor, leaving just enough to support his younger sister. Then he became the disciple of a monk, learning how to live a life of poverty, prayer and meditation. He also supported himself by working as a swineherd.

Over the next 15 years, Anthony suffered many physical and spiritual hardships, but he overcame them and then he moved into an abandoned Roman fort deep in the desert.

He loved his solitude, but other hermits heard about him and started moving into nearby caves and huts. They begged him to share his wisdom and holiness, and to be their spiritual guide.

At first Anthony refused, but later he agreed. And when the other monks finally met him, they expected that he’d look hungry and emaciated, but he actually looked fine, in both mind and body. 

Anthony taught and organised these monks, and he supported victims of Roman persecution. But deep down he yearned for a quiet life of prayer, and after six years he moved again, spending his last 45 years in a desert cave.

Emperor Constantine once wrote to St Anthony, asking for his prayers. He wrote back, telling the emperor and his sons not to put their faith in this world but to remember the next.

St Anthony tempted by gold

Today, St Anthony of Egypt is remembered as the father of Christian monasticism. And we know that he achieved everlasting life, not because of his money or talents, but because he faithfully followed Jesus. 

Today, many people would like to know the secret to eternal life. Well, it’s not by preserving our bodies in dry ice or uploading our minds to a technological cloud. It’s by listening to Jesus who today gives us three simple steps to follow:

Firstly, keep God’s commandments. This is how you start building a life of love, focussed on God and your neighbour – because love is what it’s all about.

Secondly, be prepared to give up your possessions, your pleasure, your power and your pride. These are all empty distractions that steal your time and drain your energy. Jesus is not expecting you to live in poverty, but he does want you to let go of your false gods. He wants your life to be much simpler.

And thirdly, learn to follow Jesus himself. Give your heart to Jesus. Allow him to guide you and fill you with his graces. Let Jesus shape your life.

It has been said that we are all on the train of life, hurtling towards our destination at what seems an ever-increasing speed.

But most people don’t seem to give any thought as to where this train is heading. Why? Are we so preoccupied with the baggage, the amusements and the distractions along the way that we don’t have time to think?

Or could it be that, like the young man who approached Jesus, we’ve found it too risky to ask such questions?’ [i]

Today, it’s time to stop being tranquillised by the trivial, and start remembering our immortal souls.

It’s Jesus who has the secret to eternal life.

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[i] Flor McCarthy, New Sunday and Holy Day Liturgies, Year B, Dominican Press, Dublin, 2017:336.

From Ordinary to Extraordinary

(Gen.2:18-24; Heb.2:9-11; Mk.10:2-16)

‘It’s not good for a person to be alone,’ the Bible tells us, and the reason is clear: we were all made for love.

We know this is true because we’ve all been made in God’s image and likeness (Gen.1:26-27), and God is love itself (1Jn.4:16). Indeed, God in his Trinity is never alone.

Love and relationships, therefore, are at the very heart of our human identity, and our deepest purpose is to love and to be loved in return.

The story doesn’t end there, however, because in today’s Gospel Mark reminds us that God also created us male and female, and He established marriage as the sacred bond within which a man and a woman are to express their deepest love. 

This love, however, isn’t meant to be temporary or inward-looking. It’s meant to be exclusive and long-lasting, and it’s meant to grow beyond itself, giving birth to new love. For that’s what true love does: it always looks beyond itself, expanding outwards, creating and nurturing new life and new love.

In essence, this is what marriage is all about. Marriage is a life-long commitment of love between a man and a woman, freely entered into, that generates new life and new love. 

But what about Christian marriage? How is that different?

The Catechism tells us that Marriage was ‘raised by Christ the Lord to the dignity of a Sacrament’ (ccc.1601). What does that mean?

When a man and woman are baptised, they become members of the Church, the ‘Bride of Christ’ (Eph.5:22-33). Jesus loved his bride so much that he even died for her, and this sets the standard for every married couple. Ideally, the love between the spouses will be as deep as the love of Jesus for his bride.

Of course, building such a relationship is always a challenge, especially today, and this is where the Sacrament of Matrimony is particularly valuable.

St Augustine described the sacraments as ‘outward signs of an invisible grace.’ They are signs of God’s sacred presence in our midst today, and through them God gives us the graces we need in our journey through life.

In the Sacrament of Matrimony, the grace God imparts is his own supernatural power to live a life of love, compassion and mercy. This means that God is always embedded in the couple’s relationship.

Like the three persons of the Trinity, there are three persons in a Christian Marriage: the husband, the wife and God himself.

That’s why Christian Marriage is called a Sacrament.

And it’s because of God’s sacred presence that Christian Marriage is much more than a contract. It’s a Covenant.

A contract is a legal agreement between two parties, which basically says that I’ll keep up my end of the bargain as long as you keep yours.

A Covenant, however, is a sacred commitment made before God between two equals, and it’s a commitment that they will always be there for each other. It’s a one-way agreement, focussed on the good of the other, and it doesn’t depend on what the other person does.

This is the commitment Jesus made to us when he said ‘I will never leave you or forsake you’ (Heb.13:5).

Mother Teresa often talked about the sacredness of marriage and the importance of the family as the basic foundation of society. She called it the ‘domestic school of love,’ which gives children what they need to become mature and responsible adults.

But we know that married life has its challenges. In Amoris Laetitia, Pope Francis describes the family as a ‘challenging mosaic made up of many different realities, with all their joys, hopes and problems.’

Mother Teresa also used to say that it’s easier to love people far away than those close to us. But, she said, home is where our love needs to start. This isn’t always easy to do, and that’s why we always need God and his sacraments.

His graces make all the difference.

My dear parents, Esmé and Gerald, were inseparable – they were married for almost 76 years. Not long before they died, they said that the Church had always been the foundation of their marriage, and that everything they did, they did with God.

Even in their toughest times, God always came through with his graces.

They also shared a secret – that the difference between an ordinary marriage and an extraordinary one is the little extra that you give each day – with the help of God.