Victorious in Christ

 

In the Cross, we are reminded that God became one of us, sharing all our vulnerabilities. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14). He who did not sin made himself one with us on the Cross (Hebrews 4:15; 2 Corinthians 5:21). God invites us to offer him our weaknesses, our uncertainties, even our despair, casting all our anxieties on him, for he cares for us (1 Peter 5:7). It is in uniting ourselves with the Cross of Jesus in the celebration of the Eucharist — especially on this, the Lord’s Day, the day of the Resurrection (Luke 24:1-8; Acts 20:7) — that we draw new hope and new strength for the journey ahead.

We do not walk this road alone, nor do we walk it under our own power. The same Christ who emptied himself on the Cross rose again on the third day, and it is his risen life we receive at every Eucharist. Whatever weighs on us this week — the world’s brokenness or our own — we can bring it to the altar and leave transformed, 'more than conquerors through him who loved us' (Romans 8:37). That is the hope of the Lord’s Day: not that our struggles vanish, but that we face them carried by a strength not our own. 

Jesus at the door and on the altar

 St Teresa of Calcutta served the dying, the abandoned, and the poorest of the poor. She famously insisted that the Eucharist and service of the poor were inseparable. She often taught that the Christ received in Holy Communion is the same Christ encountered in the distressing disguise of the poor.

In July 1981, I attended a Mass in Dublin at which Mother Teresa, as she was known at the time, spoke to a packed church of some 1,500 people. She spoke about holiness, love of the poor, family life as well as abortion. On the subject of family life, she called for prayer and love. When family life breaks down, bitterness and wrongdoing can take root, she said. Holiness was not just for a few but for everyone. 'We must all imitate Jesus, meek and humble of heart', she urged.

Three years later, during a visit to Liverpool, I was brought to a house in a very deprived area of the inner city where the Missionaries of Charity lived and served the local community. I cannot forget the bare floor on which the sisters prayed as Mass was celebrated. I had the honour of being given a chair, notwithstanding my youth! Nor can I forget the constant ringing of the doorbell as people continued to come seeking help.

Jesus was adored in the Blessed Sacrament in the living room and served in the poor in the hallway.

A universe drawn towards Christ in the Eucharist

 Earlier this week, I have written about the essay-poem of Teilhard de Chardin (TDC), The Mass on the World (MOW).  Although largely sidelined and to some extent silenced, Fr Teilhard de Chardin remained a priest in good standing until his death in 1955. His writings and thinking have had a profound effect within and beyond the Catholic world.  One person, in particular, deeply influenced by TDC is the US Franciscan priest, Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM. In many ways, he has helped popularise many of TDC’s ideas. In The Influence of Teilhard de Chardin, Rohr has written:

Teilhard gives a beautiful coherence to the universe and unites the disparate strands of knowledge into one unified whole, which is exactly what our deepest soul invariably insists must be true. Whether you agree with his precise interpretation or not, you cannot help but breathe fresh air when you absorb even a bit of his optimism, faith, and intelligence—in what, for him, was a certain and positive future, which he called the Omega Point, the Cosmic Christ.

Rohr closes his short article with the following:

How the Fathers shaped the Church's Eucharistic faith

Among the great teachers and Fathers of the early Christian Church is Pope St. Gregory the Great (c. 540–604 A.D.). Just as monastic Christianity was flourishing in Ireland, the entire Christian Church that was in communion with the see of Rome was, directly, under the leadership of the successor to Peter.

Sometimes, writers like to believe that Celtic Christianity was something very separate and unique, to such an extent that something called 'Roman Christianity' arrived, more or less, with the Normans in the 12th Century. This is a distortion of Irish history. Yes, there were features unique to Ireland and what is now Britain, including an emphasis on nature, monasticism, asceticism and fashions and habits that might hint at ties to Eastern Christian traditions. Pragmatically, Christianity, as it did elsewhere, had to negotiate its way into local cultures, 'baptising' some pagan symbols and rites by removing what was idolatrous and centring attention on the Son of God and not the Sun. Pagan ritual sites became holy wells, and some scholars argue that the cult of St. Brigid absorbed elements of an earlier pagan goddess of the same name — though the extent of any direct continuity is debated among historians of early Ireland and should be taken as a contested thesis rather than settled fact.

One area of interest is the Eucharist, because we can be assured that what was believed and practiced in the universal Church - East and West - was also held in Ireland, notwithstanding any particular local adaptations in the liturgy.

How to correct one another with Jesus in our midst

Sunday 6 September 2026

Lectio Divina:*

Ezekiel 33:7-9 Psalm 95(94) Romans 13:8-10 Matthew 18:15-20

(See also Luke 17:3)

Meditatio:

 For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.’  (Matthew 18:20)

Commentary:

Today's Gospel comes from a section of Matthew concerned with life within the Christian community. Written at a time when the early Church was emerging amid persecution, division and uncertainty, it addresses a persistent question: how do Christians deal with sin, conflict and reconciliation?

A consistent Eucharistic thread in Teilhard de Chardin

In yesterday's blog I introduced some of the ideas of Fr Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (TDC), the French Jesuit priest and scientist who left a significant mark on the spiritual, ecclesial and scientific worlds.

His essay-poem The Mass on the World (MOW) is a remarkable meditation on creation and its relationship to the Eucharist. It is important to state at the outset that The Mass on the World is not a sacramental Mass. TDC wrote it while on an expedition in the Ordos region of Inner Mongolia, where he had no access to bread, wine or altar for the celebration of Mass. What he offers is a meditation and prayer, not an attempt to celebrate the Eucharist without the matter required for the sacrament.

Underlying Catholic theology of the Eucharist are three fundamental realities:

• Presence
• Communion
• Sacrifice

At the Altar of the World

Today, the first day in the Season of Creation marks an important moment in the Church's annual observance of prayer and care for creation.  We are mindful of the creative power of God in creating all that is seen and unseen.  Christ, the eternal Word through whom all things were made, has entered creation to redeem, sanctify and bring it to its fulfilment.

 In the celebration of the Eucharist we return thanks for all that we are and have.  Not just that, but we are united in a mysterious way with Heaven and Earth in one single chant of praise, adoration and thanksgiving.  Immersed in the universe we are joining a chorus that lifts up the world.

Over a century ago, a French priest, Fr PierreTeilhard de Chardin (1881-1955) wrote a short and remarkable piece of work entitled The Mass on the World. Finding himself in the Ordos desert in Mongolia, in 1923 without bread, wine or altar, Fr Teilhard de Chardin was moved to write this piece that captures his mystical and scientific insights into a beautiful piece of prose. As a Jesuit priest, scientist, paleontologist, philosopher, mystic and teacher he was able to bring a unique synthesis of insight in a unity that stretches our understanding and concepts.