Every part of the Mass echoes scripture from start to
finish. In the communion rite the Priest
says:
Lord Jesus Christ, who said to your Apostles: Peace I leave you, my peace I give you…
This comes from John
14:27:
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.
Silence is increasingly rare in the noisy, fast‑moving
spaces where we work, socialise, and even worship. Noise has its place when it
carries good conversation, shared purpose, or lively activity. But it becomes a
burden when we grow dependent on it—when every pause must be filled, every gap
bridged, every quiet moment avoided.
Our liturgies, too, have become crowded with words. Jesus cautioned against multiplying words in prayer, yet the way we engage in Holy Mass often leaves little room for stillness. We feel compelled to speak – aloud or inwardly – and we hurry to fill every space. In doing so, we risk losing the eloquence of silence.
It is often said that the Irish “do death well.” A time of bereavement is usually marked by deep family and community support, and it is taken for granted that friends, neighbours, and extended family will show their respect for the deceased by attending the funeral Mass. In many other cultures, funerals are more private occasions, attended only by invitation. Not so in Ireland.
There is a risk that in focussing so much on the external reality of the Blessed Sacrament
offered in the Holy Mass and reserved for adoration and communion of the sick
between masses that we neglect the very real presence of the Eucharistic Jesus
in us in the moments, hours and days following Holy Communion. We should
receive with the same attitude and expectation that we might have that this
could be my last communion. Today’s Gospel reading from Matthew about the
transfiguration of the Lord reminds us that death and resurrection are never
far even as Jesus’ transfigured being was revealed to his disciples in a moment
of profound insight and joy.
Our bodies and souls live in hope, awaiting the glory that
faith assures us will one day be ours.
In Psalm 95 (v6) we shout out at the beginning of the day:
O come, let us worship and bow down, let us kneel before the Lord, our Maker!
The greatest act of humility by our saviour is that he
became a tiny, vulnerable human being in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
This is our faith.
The next greatest act of humility is that Jesus made himself the living bread broken, shared and given for us on the night of his betrayal and finished on the cross on Good Friday.
The Word is Jesus the Christ who was made flesh for us. He gave us himself – body, blood, soul and divinity. In the Eucharist he gives us Himself both in his Body and in his Word. True, the words of scripture were composed by human beings but they were directly inspired to write and their writings became over time authoritative in the church and were, eventually, entered into the ‘canon’ of the New Testament.
Sunday 1 March 2026
Lectio Divina:*
Meditatio:
“…they saw no one except Jesus himself alone” (Matthew 17:8)
