Edith Stein: a Eucharistic Witness unto Death

St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross – Edith Stein - died a martyr on this day 84 years ago.  She was among the Catholics of Jewish origin arrested after the Dutch bishops publicly condemned Nazi persecution of the Jews.  They were transported to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where they were murdered in the gas chambers.  I recall seeing aghast the remains of that place when I visited there in 2011: it was a ghastly reminder of the industrial scale of evil perpetrated by the Nazi regime and its accomplices.

Edith Stein was born in 1891 in Germany in what is now modern-day Poland.  She was a gifted child - encouraged by her mother to think critically.  During her teen years, she abandoned the Jewish faith of her childhood and described herself as an atheist in her early adulthood.  She was awarded  a doctorate in philosophy at the age of 26.  A reading of the autobiography of St Teresa of Avila in 1921 made such a deep impression on her that she decided to embrace Catholic Christianity in 1922.  She is on record for saying this:

Eucharist without borders

A strange development, in recent times, has been the rise of anti-migrant sentiment among a great many Catholics including many who would describe themselves as devout and loyal members of the church. Usually couched in language of being opposed to ‘uncontrolled mass, ‘illegal immigration’, ‘open borders’, ‘endangering our women and children’ and ‘civilisational erasure’, the view is presented as middle of the road and reasonable unlike that held by ‘woke’ or ‘radical left’.  These views – spoken or half-spoken are sometimes prefaced with ‘while I am not a racist…’

Even among Christians the polarising language around immigration is now commonplace online as well as offline.  Just listen to any conversation, now, in Ireland or elsewhere.  Sometimes, it seems to me that the more devout and the more ‘prolife’ a person is the more likely they are to be exercised about immigrants.

I generalise and, now, I risk jumping to judgmental conclusions

What real Eucharistic worship means in practice

Elevation at a Solemn Tridentine Mass
in Prostějov, Czech Republic

Just over a hundred years ago, Frank Weston (1871–1924), the Anglican Bishop of Zanzibar (now part of Tanzania), delivered a rousing address in the Royal Albert Hall, London, at the conclusion of the Anglo-Catholic Congress in July 1923.

The title of his address was Our Present Duty. Weston pulled no punches: he challenged all present to leave behind their lives of ease and comfort and seek out Jesus in the slums and other places. He directly linked service to Christ in our neighbour, especially the poor, with worship of Christ in the Eucharist.

It is good to be here

Croagh Patrick, County Mayo, Ireland

The story of the Transfiguration, celebrated today throughout the Church, is one of the most dramatic moments in the Gospel. It contains surprise, excitement, fear, bewilderment, joy and even a warning. The scene is steeped in Old Testament imagery, with Moses, the Law-giver, and Elijah, the great prophet, appearing beside the promised Messiah, Jesus.

Peter, overwhelmed by the experience, immediately offers to build three tents, or ‘tabernacles’, as dwelling places for Jesus, Moses and Elijah. Like many of us, he wants to hold on to a moment of light and joy, to keep it safe and permanent. Yet God's purpose is not that we remain fixed in one moment. The disciples must come down from the mountain and continue the journey.

The care of souls

While visiting a church in a nearby parish earlier today, I spotted a little shiny laminated card tucked away in a small corner of a noticeboard with the inscription, “The holiness of a priest is built by his community that prays, loves and supports him”.  The phrase caught my attention.  I am not sure of its prevenance.  The saying is true in a wider sense that all of us travel to God together with others and our growth is helped (or hindered) by the prayers, love and support of those around us.  Of course, this in no way diminishes our own personal responsibility for our decisions and actions.

The idea of praying for our local parish priest is an excellent one. Too often, we take so much for granted: that there will always be a priest to baptise infants (or adults as the  case may be), that a priest is on hand to celebrate mass every Sunday, that a priest is on hand to hear confessions or be a sounding board in times of difficulty and that a priest will be there to accompany us on our final journey. None of this can be taken for granted as the age-profile of priests shifts and as vocations to the priesthood have collapsed over a sustained period of decades.

The Mass that formed a martyr

Not many have heard of Blessed Franz Jägerstätter, an Austrian farmer, who was martyred for his faith in 1943.  He joined a large cohort of saints who would not sacrifice their conscience and their faith to something or someone else. He refused to take an oath to Adolf Hitler. To do contradicted his faith. He paid the price at the guillotine on 9 August1943. In the Vatican biography of his life (here) it recounts that he stated shortly before his execution:

But I cannot believe that, just because one has a wife and children, a man is free to offend God.

This line very much echoes the witness of St Thomas More who was executed four centuries before.  Throughout the twentieth century many Catholics, including some church leaders, regarded certain right-wing movements and governments as a lesser danger than communism. This sometimes led to accommodation, misjudgement or silence in the face of terrible injustice and atrocities.

Staying focussed in choppy waters

Sunday 9 August 2026

Lectio Divina:*

1 Kings 19:9-13 Psalm 85(84)

Romans 9:1-5 Matthew 14:22-33 Walks With My Father — Matthew 14:22-33. [22] “Immediately Jesus made the...

Meditatio:

‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’ (Matt 14:27)

Commentary:

(See, also, Mark 6:45-52 and John 6:16-21)

In today’s first reading we hear of Elijah meeting God on mount Horeb – not in scenes of thunder, noise and commotion but in the ‘sound of sheer silence’ (1 Kings 19:12) according to one English language translation (NRSVA). Other versions have ‘a still small voice’ (RSV) or ‘a gentle breeze’ (CEV) 

The message that emerges is that God speaks gently and almost silently.  We can hear if we are still and at rest. The idea of a whisper or a gentle breeze evokes memories of a time when the Holy Spirit spoke to us in a delightful way.