Lord, Who at Thy First Eucharist Did Pray

An old and familiar hymn to me is one composed by William Harry Turton (1856-1938), a British army officer (Royal Engineers) and hymn writer. Used across many parts of the Anglican communion and in recent time in Roman Catholic and other denominations it captures so well the sentiments for unity. That all may be one and that one day we may, all of us, share at the same table. May it be. Amen. Amen. Amen. Here it is:

The road to the altar

A particular town in Northern Ireland has made international headlines, once again, for all the wrong reasons. Two communities remain locked in a standoff along a road leading from a church on the hill.  Gathered early in the morning for a service of prayer a group of men wished to assert their cultural rights to walk along the King’s highway. Another community living down the road objected because of the historical associations between triumphalism and subjugation of a minority.  They will not budge.

My sense is that only a return to humility, repentance, obedience and reconciliation can bring a lasting peace. Let Christ’s words be said out loud:

Saying yes with our lives

 

Sunday 27 September 2026

Lectio Divina:*

Ezekiel 18:25-28 Psalm 25(24) Philippians 2:1-11 Matthew 21:28-32

Meditatio:

“Which of the two did the will of his father?” (Matthew 21:31)

Commentary:

An old Latin phrase says, dictum meum pactum -  ‘my word is my bond’.  Ideally, a person's word should be trustworthy. Yet experience teaches us that promises are often made in moments of enthusiasm, only to be tested when difficulties arise. Like the seed in Jesus' parable of the Sower, our good intentions can be threatened by worries, trials, distractions, and changing circumstances. Doubts emerge, enthusiasm fades, and the clarity we once possessed can become obscured.

This Sunday’s readings from Ezekiel, Philippians and Matthew invite us to reflect on the relationship between words, actions, repentance and true discipleship.

Beyond reformation and the counter reformation

 

Many Roman Catholics have only limited familiarity with the diverse traditions of Anglican thought and spirituality.  There is often an excessively simple narrative that traces Anglicanism to the Protestant reformation in the 16^th Century and ignores key developments and departures in the course of the centuries. Many will acknowledge the significance of ‘Anglo-Catholicism’ associated with Keble, Pusey and Newman in the 19^th Century.
 

However, there were strains of ‘high church’ theology much earlier in the writings of what are known as ‘Caroline Divines’ – theologians associated with the Stuart era, particularly the reign of Charles I and the decades surrounding it in the seventeenth century. We ought to recall that the disruptive decades of the 16^th Century did not precipitate a sudden and dramatic change in liturgical practice in all places and all at once. There were hold-out places, reversals, purges and splintering.  Much of the liturgical material was initially adapted from medieval Latin sources and rendered into the English of the day, although subsequent revisions reflected differing theological priorities.  From the very beginning of what we know call ‘Anglicanism’ there were notwithstanding significant official changes in doctrine and liturgy under successive Tudor monarchs considerable variations in theology, liturgical practice.

One faith, many tongues: Saints Cyril and Methodius and the Eucharist

 

Basilica of Saint Cyrillus and Methodius in Velehrad village in The Czech republic

Saint Cyril and Saint Methodius were ninth Century Byzantine missionaries in communion with Rome and Constantinople who brought the Gospel to the Slavic people of the time.  They translated the Bible and the Liturgy into Slavonic.  Pope Adrian II approved their use of the vernacular liturgy which more or less survives to the present day.  They understood that the people of God should be able to worship God in a language understood by the people.  Their witness showed that the Eucharist could be celebrated faithfully in languages other than Greek, Latin or Hebrew while preserving the same faith.

We are never alone

Newman's Church, Dublin

During a visit to the capital today, I grabbed a few moments to visit the lovely church on Clarendon Street (run by the Discalced Carmelites). I could not help noticing the beauty of this place, as is the case with most of Dublin's city-centre churches (among which I would include the Dominicans in Dominick Street, the Jesuits in Gardiner St, the Franciscans on Merchants Quay, the Capuchins in Church St, the Augustinians on Thomas Street, Newman's Church on St Stephen's Green (where I was baptised) and many more besides. Long may they remain open and accessible not only for the celebration of Mass each day but for at least a few hours each day when workers, residents, visitors and others can say a prayer, light a candle or just sit and absorb the atmosphere of the place. 

A thought occurred to me as I was dashing for the transport home – there are many things in our world and our little corner of it that we cannot change but we can change our own thinking and behaviour and, together, with others, make a difference. While we have the light of day let’s walk in the light and give thanks for the opportunities to take ‘time out’ in the presence of the One who is our Lord and Saviour (John 12:35).

The wisdom of St Pius of Pietrelcina

St Pius of Pietrelcina or, Padre Pio (1887-1968), has had a huge popular following in Ireland.  Devotion to the Capuchin Franciscan saint who carried what is known as the ‘stigmata’ (physical wounds corresponding to those suffered by Christ in his Passion) has touched every parish in Ireland at some point in the recent decades.  His life was given to prayer, penance, ministry of the sacraments and works of love for the sick, in particular. In his sufferings, he lived the Mass and gave his life for others.

One of his famous sayings was:

It would be easier for the world to exist without the sun than without the Holy Mass.

Padro Pio’s way of celebrating Mass was remarkable in a number of ways. In it, he entered deeply into the mystery of Christ's Passion.  Mass could take a longer time than usual as he poured himself out at the altar in contemplation.  Various accounts recount that Padre Pio wept at Mass on occasions; that he paused in silence for extended periods; and appeared overwhelmed at the consecration.