Adoration at the heart of the city

My home city, Dublin, has been blessed with the presence of the Congregation of the BlessedSacrament since 1970. A modest chapel opened that year on D'Olier Street before moving, in 1995, to Bachelor's Walk, where it remains today.

Many hundreds of people pass through its doors each day - some to pause for a prayer before the exposed Blessed Sacrament, others to attend one of the daily Masses or celebrate the sacrament of reconciliation or, perhaps, seek spiritual help as I did from 1981 for a time. People come from every walk of life, representing a wide range of ages, backgrounds and circumstances. The visible signs of homelessness, addiction and mental health struggles that mark the streets of the city are not absent from this oasis of peace. Equally noticeable is the growing number of visitors from other continents, many of whom appear younger than those typically found in many parish congregations.

Discerning God's prompting in our hearts

Sunday 26 July 2026

Lectio Divina:*

1 Kings 3:5-12 Psalm 119(118)

Romans 8:28-30 Matthew 13:44-52

Meditatio:

‘Give your servant therefore an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil; for who can govern this your great people?’’  (1 Kings 3:9)

Commentary:

The gift of discernment is something we treasure especially as we learn, hopefully, from successes and mistakes in the course of one’s life.  In the first reading, we hear that God was pleased with his servant, Solomon, ‘because you … have not asked for yourself long life or riches’ but had asked for ‘understanding to discern what is right’. Listening to a moving and inspiring introductory speech by newly appointed Prime Minister, Andy Burnham, on the outside 10 Downing Street the other day prompted me to think about the role of political leadership especially at this time when all that we had taken for granted – democracy, human rights, freedom of the press, rule of law, international solidarity and peace – seem to be very much under attack.

The grain of wheat: the martyrdom of St Oscar Romero

About Romero –
The Archbishop Romero Trust

Central America has been a particularly troubled part of the globe over the decades; it has been the crossroads of competing political ideologies and economic interests. The Roman Catholic Church continues to play an important role, there as well as elsewhere, in speaking out for the poor and the  marginalised.  On 24 March,1980, Archbishop Oscar Romero was shot dead while celebrating Mass in the chapel of Divine Providence Hospital in El Salvador.

He died at the altar while offering the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, uniting his life to the sacrifice of Christ.  His crime was that he had spoken out courageously and continually against injustice and State terror. He had called on members of the security forces not to obey immoral orders to kill. 

A holy priest who had earned a reputation as a somewhat quiet and conservative man dedicated to piety moved into a troubled place when he had been appointed archbishop of El Salvador in 1977. As the Vaticannews site says:

Mind your language

Source: here

Some years ago I was buying provisions in a shop in the West Cork Gaeltacht (Irish-speaking area).  I spoke in Irish with the shop keeper. For some reason I burst out in tears afterwards. The conversation had triggered a strong emotion. You see, my late father used to speak to me, on occasions, in Irish using his ‘Muscaraí’ dialect of Irish as spoken today by a small number of people in West Cork. He was not a native speaker and I was not brought up through Irish. However, the inflections, cadences, rhythm and turn of phrase was, for me, like walking back in time.  It was a delightful experience even if tinged by sadness at my loss.

Language is a strange thing. People go to war over language; it  touches on identity, connection, meaning and continuity.  In the Church some people go to war over language in the liturgy…

Latin is the ‘official’ language of the Roman Catholic Church.  For over 1,500 years it was the only or main language used in the Roman rites of the Western Church.  I heard Mass only in Latin for the first 10 years or so of my own life before the ‘vernacular’ became the norm in the mid- to late-1960s following the reforms ushered in by Vatican II.

A common misconception, nowadays, is that Vatican II ‘abolished’ the Latin Mass.  Vatican II had relatively little to say about the language of the Liturgy. In Sacrosanctum Concilium (1963) it did confirm that:

More than words

A prayer meeting organized by the Taizé community.
Credit: Christian Pulfrich, CC BY-SA 4.0 DEED, Wikimedia 

As human beings, we are sentient creatures with the capacity to taste, hear, see, touch, and smell. God speaks to all our senses, not merely to our intellects or inner hearts. When we receive and taste what appears to be bread and wine in the Eucharist, we participate in something sacred and real. When we hear the Word of God proclaimed, we are listening to words of both divine and human authorship. Saint Paul reminds us that ‘faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes through the word of Christ’ (Romans 10:17). When we see beautiful works of art in a church, we are often moved to awe, praise and thanksgiving.

The God who draws near

Saint Lawrence of Brindisi (1559-1619) whose feast day is celebrated, today, in the Roman Catholic Church was a Capuchin friar and priest as well as one of the Doctors officially recognised as such by the Roman Church. Among his many gifts were a wide range of languages including Hebrew and Greek helping him to preach in ways that were thoroughly grounded in sacred scripture. This was of particular significance at the height of the controversies that ensued from the protestant reformation in the 16^th and 17^th centuries. He was also known as a great listener, diplomat and peacemaker. As oneFranciscan source said about him:

His constant devotion to Scripture, coupled with great sensitivity to the needs of people, present a lifestyle which appeals to Christians today.

Obligation or privilege?

Question: is it a mortal sin to miss Mass on a Sunday?

Answer: This, I suggest, is the wrong starting point.  The first question should be: How could a Christian possibly miss the celebration of the Lord’s death and resurrection on the Lord’s own day?  And, how could anyone, knowingly and intentionally, miss such a wonderful opportunity to unite one’s sufferings and joys with those of Christ and to do so in communion with other believers in a parish or specific geographical community?  Legally speaking, attendance at Mass is a strict requirement for Roman Catholics on Sundays and Holy Days (the latter as appointed by the local Church authorities).  It is written into Canon Law and is seen as part of the fulfilment of the Third Commandment to keep the Sabbath holy. There is no disputing that.

I recall being taught that there was a gradation of seriousness in missing parts of Mass, and that arriving after a certain point in the liturgy could mean that one had not fulfilled the Sunday obligation. My recollection was that the Gospel marked an important dividing line, though the actual moral theology was probably more nuanced than a simple venial-versus-mortal distinction. There were, also, the question of knowledge and consent. So, for example, a farm worker might have been delayed due to the lambing season or a family member suddenly got sick and had to be attended.

Just by way of reality check and based on my own personal calculations, a parish in Ireland today would count its good fortunes to get a turnout of more than 20% among nominally Catholic parishioners or 5% among those between the ages of 12 and 40. And, frankly, I would not vouch for the *orthopraxis* (as distinct from orthodoxy) of many of those who do attend.

As Catholics we need to grow up more and take responsibility for the wonderful faith in, and gift of, this sacrament. And, if the homily is less than inspiring and if the presence of others whose lives might appear to be less than exemplary we have yet another occasion to make our daily offering of suffering [thankfully the homilies are inspiring in my parish!].  After all the Church could be seen as a Refugium Peccatorum – a refuge of sinners (applied often to Our Lady who was of course without sin) - and there is always room for one more – me!

*orthopraxis* - denotes right practice (living according to those beliefs)