Attuning our way of thinking

 Saint Irenaeus famously once wrote according to many popular translations:

Our way of thinking is attuned to the Eucharist, and the Eucharist in turn confirms our way of thinking. 

Finding our tribe

Finding one’s tribe is a deep instinct of the human heart. We are made for belonging, and we feel its absence keenly. As we grow from childhood into adulthood, the search for identity can be confusing, painful, even traumatic. A certain distancing from parents is almost inevitable for a time. Beneath it all lies a simple longing: to be welcomed, included, and loved as we are. Many people struggle for years to accept themselves; some never fully reveal who they are, even to themselves.

Céad mile fáilte!

 

Céad mile fáilte! A hundred thousand welcomes.  This is a well known saying in the Irish language.  It befits a nation that has known hardship, emigration and integration in societies across the globe.  This morning a group of newcomers from another part of the globe were welcomed by the priest at mass to which the people clapped. There were pleasant salutations immediately after mass.  I must say this delighted me as we might have the impression that this island of the hundred thousand welcomes is not what it used to be. Small but significant acts of kindness, welcome and inclusion especially in the context of the Eucharistic banquet is a powerful sign of a Christian community that has not forgotten the central message of Jesus that all may know him and that all may be welcomed to the banquet.

 

Lift up your hearts to the Lord

‘Lift up your hearts to the Lord’ is declared by the priest after the offertory and as the community is invited to turn its attention fully to God.  We are about to enter into the great prayer of thanksgiving and join our voices with those of the heavenly host in the great ‘Holy, Holy, Holy’ or Sanctus.  It is entirely appropriate to sing this part of the mass as often as we can.  It should not be just left to the choir.  Yet, that is often the case. 

Singing the mass

 

We Irish are famously shy about singing at Mass. Perhaps because many Catholics once saw congregational singing as “a Protestant thing,” the habit has been faithfully passed down: keep your head down, keep your mouth shut, and let someone else do the singing. Even when hymn books or sheets appear — on those rare Sundays when they do — most of us still remain resolutely silent. The choir or folk group, if there is one, is expected to carry the load. Heaven forbid anyone in the pews might actually join in.

Getting ready

 

pic - Zbynek Pospisil - Getty Images

It is as easy to arrive 10 minutes before the start of mass than it is to rush in the door as the priest is arriving at the sanctuary to begin the mass. In a way the mass begins before anyone arrives.  Someone might have to put on the heating if it is winter and someone has to prepare the altar along with the various items for use in the liturgy.

Shocking the world

 

There was a fair queue after Mass this morning—people of roughly my own vintage and capacity—each holding small white envelopes to collect a modest supply of moist ashes. I found myself chatting with one of the ladies about the state of the world and the state of the faith. We agreed that it is all in the hands of the good Lord. Yet the good Lord has only people like us to go out into the world and quite literally proclaim the Good News.

A time of trial, a time of grace

 

Sunday 22 February 2026

 Meditatio:

“…and suddenly angels came and waited on him” (Matthew 4:11)

Lectio Divina:*

Genesis 2:7-9; 3:1-7

Psalm 50(51)

Romans 5:12-19

Matthew 4:1-11

Commentary:

There is something in many people – even atheists and agnostics  -  that senses the need for a kind of Lent. If it did not exist, we might have to invent it. Arriving as it does with spring in the Northern Hemisphere, Lent naturally invites clearing out, cutting back, reviewing, planting, and sowing.

But Lent is far more than seasonal self‑improvement. For Christians it is a time of renewal and preparation: renewal, because we periodically need to reset our spiritual compass and turn away — metanoia — from what harms us and others; preparation, because Lent leads us to the greatest day of the year, Easter Sunday. We only ever have now.

Sharing goods

 

Here is another private prayer I’ve borrowed from the Anglican liturgy. At this stage I’m probably in danger of being accused of plagiarism 😊

A small secret

 

I’m blessed to live in a rural village where, every so often, I can slip away for a quiet audience with the King of the universe. It’s a small secret, really — no announcements, no fuss. Just a place where conversation, complaint, or simple silence are all welcome. You might try it yourself sometime; you’d be surprised who’s waiting.

A sacrifice of thanks

 

Those few quiet moments following the reception of holy communion are precious. They are a time to close in so to speak and savour the moment as well as enjoy – in faith – the loving presence of God. It is like sitting motionless and quietly with the beloved, hand in hand, seeing with the mind’s eye a beautiful landscape.  There is a special private prayer that I mull over at this point in the sacred liturgy and which is taken from the Anglican tradition:

Fulfilling the law of love

 

Sunday 15 February 2026

 Lectio Divina:*

Ecclesiasticus 15:15-20

Psalm 118 (119):1-34

1 Corinthians 2:6-10

Matthew 5:17-37

 

Meditatio:

“Let your word be “Yes, Yes” or “No, No”; anything more than this comes from the evil one.’ (Matthew 5:37)

Commentary:

Following the opening of the Sermon on the Mount with the eight Beatitudes, Matthew now presents Jesus’ elaboration of the Law of the Gospel. The “New Law” is not, strictly speaking, different from the “Old Law.” The Law is — and always has been — the Law of Love: to love God with all our heart and mind, and to love the person beside us as ourselves. This Law must be written on our hearts by its Author, who sent His Son to show us what love truly entails.

Love is in the air

 

Its spring here in the Northern Hemisphere.  The daffodils are budding everywhere.  Dashes of white snow drops appeared weeks ago already.

We do not presume

 

In the ‘sixth movement’ of the mass, a casual and routine approach to the reception of Holy Communion is something that we should guard against.  The best way to prepare for this sacred moment of the liturgy is to live our lives – as best as we can – according to the values of the Gospel we hear and read regularly.   Then we need to approach the sacrament not with an attitude of entitlement or presumption or indeed despair but an attitude of trust, gratitude, joy, humility and openness.  Holy communion is pure gift.  We receive rather take the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ.  This is why, if given  the choice and if it were customary to do so, I would rather receive on my knees and on the tongue as is still the case in Eastern Catholic churches.

Abandoned

 

In the eucharist we recall the sacrifice of Jesus.  We proclaim his death and resurrection as it says in scripture. St Paul writes, ‘For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.’ (1 Corinthians 11:26).

All of creation

 

There is a key moment in the mass as we move from what I call the fourth movement (offertory) to the fifth (The Great Thanksgiving or Eucharistic Prayer) when the priest declares (Common Preface III):

Thanks for the Word of God

 

Giving thanks for the Word of God is something we do almost without thinking at every celebration of the Eucharist. When the reader proclaims, “The Word of the Lord,” we answer, “Thanks be to God.” When the priest announces the Gospel, we respond, “Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.”

Being thankful for opportunities to show mercy

 

In approaching mass we give thanks for all the people whom we have encountered so far in life. These include, also, people who have vexed us, hurt us or harmed us in any way. We seek the good for them and healing and forgiveness. At the same time we ask for forgiveness from God for those times that we have vexed, hurt or harmed others knowingly or not. It might be feasible to seek forgiveness even before we approach the altar. Such is the sacrifice that is demanded of us who paid the ultimate sacrifice for everyone.

Let us be thankful for everyone including those we have found most difficult. Every person, every situation and every suffering can be turned to good by the good Lord who knows how to write straight on crooked lines.

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)

Finding the jackpot

 

Participation in the sacrifice of the Holy Mass while on holiday is a profound privilege.  It is something to be forever grateful for.  Although it is always beautiful to take part in the liturgy in any language, there is something especially moving about hearing it in one’s own mother tongue. A quiet bond forms with strangers who share the same faith, the same baptism, the same hope, and the same holy sacrament.

Thankful for being called

 

Consider someone in your life—living or deceased—for whom you are deeply grateful. Hold that person in your mind and heart for a few quiet moments.
Now, offer a prayer of thanksgiving for them.

How often?

 

How often do Christians take part in the Eucharist? How often should one take part?
The honest answer is: it depends.

From the Book of Acts we learn that the earliest disciples “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.” We also see that the breaking of bread occurred frequently and quite possibly on the first day of the week — the Lord’s Day (Acts 20:7). In his first letter to the Corinthians, St Paul speaks at length about the centrality of the Eucharist in the life of the Christian community (1 Corinthians 10–11).

Food for the sick

 

The earliest Christian practice of reserving the Eucharist arose from the pastoral need to bring holy communion—especially viaticum—to the sick and the dying. Over time, as the reserved sacrament came to be kept more permanently and securely in churches, theological reflection on the Real Presence and the growth of Eucharistic devotion led to practices such as adoration and Benediction. Thus, while Eucharistic adoration did not arise directly from viaticum, it developed historically from the Church’s practice of reserving the consecrated elements.

 

Not radical enough?

 

Sunday 8 February 2026

 

Lectio Divina:*

Isaiah 58:6-10

Psalm 111 (112):4-9

1 Corinthians 2:1-5

Matthew 5:13-16

 

Meditatio:

“let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.’’ (Matthew 5:16)

 

Commentary:

Have you ever wondered how certain people you meet seem to light your way? They appear for a moment, illuminate something you needed to see, and then move on. Longfellow captured this beautifully:

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another,
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

(Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Tales of a Wayside Inn, part 3, section 4)

Is an ‘online mass’ valid for someone watching?

 

During the dystopian period known as the ‘covid years’ online worship became a norm in many parishes. While priests celebrated on their own in front of a camera a significant number of persons were tuned in to watch.  In other cases, online worship was conducted over Zoom with a leader leading a service of prayer or meditation by sharing slides or music.  For sure, these temporary measures were very useful in connecting people and providing an opportunity for all of us to stay together albeit virtually.  We got through that experience.  Unfortunately, some got out of the practice of going to church while others continue to be incapacitated by reason of physical mobility or, indeed, lack of an opportunity to join other Christians in the celebration of the eucharist because of long distances and lack of available ordained ministers.

Must mass be entertaining?

 

One of the great challenges facing adults and young people today is the struggle to pay attention. Never has so much been said about “mindfulness,” even as our minds seem more scattered than ever. I am not speaking of the ordinary distractedness that has always accompanied daily life, long before social media and smartphones. Future research may well show long‑term changes in our ability to focus on a story or a single subject for any length of time without constant visual or auditory stimulation.

The most important part of the mass

 

I want to make what may sound like a controversial claim: the most important moment of the Mass is the very end. After the final blessing, the priest proclaims, “The Mass is ended, go forth in peace to love and serve the Lord,” and we respond, “Thanks be to God.” That response is not meant to be a sigh of relief but an expression of gratitude for what we have received and excitement for what now begins.

Why do I say this?

Divisions over the sacrament of unity

 

The terms Mass, Eucharist, Divine Liturgy, Lord’s Supper and Holy Communion are used across Christian traditions to describe the sacrament instituted by the Lord Jesus on the night of his betrayal and entrusted to those he called to celebrate it in memory of his death and resurrection.

Christians differ in how they understand the Eucharist and in the place it holds within their liturgical life. I hold to the catholic understanding of the Eucharist as a threefold gift of sacrifice, communion and presence; remove one and the others collapse.

Drink this all of you

 

picture: Confession & Communion - Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of Australia

The sixth movement of the Mass is the Communion Rite, which follows the Eucharistic Prayer and prepares us for the reception of Holy Communion. The bread and wine have been consecrated and changed into the Body and Blood of Christ, and we receive these gifts from the minister. For reasons that have never been fully convincing to me, Communion for lay people in the Roman Catholic Church is almost always given under one species, namely the consecrated bread.

A disciple's charter

 

Sunday 1 February 2026

Lectio Divina:*

Zephaniah 2:3, 3:12-13

Psalm 146

1 Corinthians 1:26-31

Matthew 5:1-12 

 

Meditatio:

“Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.’’ (Matthew 5:12)

Commentary:

Religion often gets a bad name. It is accused of spreading gloom, fear or a spirit of killjoy, and many today contrast religion with spirituality as if they were opposites—religion = bad, spirituality = good. The phrase “I’m not religious but I am spiritual” is now commonplace, sometimes spoken with a hint of self‑protection, as if being “religious” were old‑fashioned, reactionary or faintly embarrassing.

Facing the rising sun

 

Yesterday, I wrote about the moment of epiclesis in the Eucharistic Prayer and the value of being able to see what the priest is doing at key points in the liturgy. Many of us will remember attending Mass when the priest “said the Mass with his back to the people.” That was the norm for centuries until the post–Vatican II reforms.

Holy Spirit at work

One of the advantages of the priest facing the congregation is that we can see what is happening at different points during the liturgy. At key moments in the Eucharistic Prayer, the priest invokes—calls down—the Holy Spirit upon the assembly. Before the words of the Institution Narrative, “Take this, all of you, and eat of it…”, the priest asks the Spirit to bless the bread and wine that are to be consecrated and transformed. This is the first moment of the epiclesis, the Greek term meaning “calling upon.”

Scaling the heights

 

Staying with the Great Thanksgiving we reach the centre and summit of the Mass. Everything in the Liturgy of the Word leads us toward it, and everything in the Communion Rite flows from it. In this great prayer:

1. We give thanks – the very word Eucharist means thanksgiving.
2. We remember – not merely recalling, but actively entering into Christ’s Paschal Mystery in the here and now.
3. We invoke the Spirit – asking the Holy Spirit to sanctify the gifts and the gathered Church.
4. We unite ourselves with Christ’s sacrifice made present on the altar.

There is enough here to keep us occupied for an eternity.  Who said mass was boring?

The great thanksgiving

 

The Eucharistic prayer forms the fifth movement of the Mass. This is where worship comes together in one great prayer of thanksgiving.  It is a most sacred moment in the celebration as we kneel or stand in awe joining our voices with those of the priest and the choirs of angels and saints: “Holy, Holy, Holy God, Lord God of Hosts, Heaven and earth are full of your glory, Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, Hosanna in the highest”.

Days like this

 

It’s one of those days. I can’t get through to the people or organisations I need, and with so many commitments I wonder how to make space for what truly matters. The rain paused briefly earlier, but now the evening is closing in again. Days like this test us, and each one brings its own surprises — a little joy, a little trouble.

A living eucharistic community

 

Today we joined the Eucharist in a nearby parish, and I was struck by many aspects of the celebration: the multilingual welcome to immigrants on the screen near the altar, the strong congregational singing, and the many families and children preparing for First Holy Communion later this year.

Leaving the church, I couldn’t but help noticing the joy, friendliness, and genuine welcome on so many faces. It made Sunday feel special. Experiences like these happen because people step forward and offer their time and talents.

A church is not simply a building but a living, worshipping community called together by Christ.

Making a difference to people's lives

 

Sunday 25 January 2026

Lectio Divina:*

Isaiah 8:23-9:3

Psalm 26 (27)

1 Corinthians 1:10-17

Matthew 4:12-23

 

Meditatio:

“the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.’’ (Matthew 4:16

 Commentary:

This extract from the Gospel of St Matthew contains three key movements:

• A setting of the scene through Isaiah’s prophecy, applied directly to Jesus (vv. 12–16)
• A clarification of Jesus’ mission: what he came to proclaim and to do—repentance and healing (vv. 17, 23)
• A call to discipleship, addressed to particular individuals and describing their response (vv. 18–22)

Receiving the Word that makes us one

 

Tomorrow – or this evening - marks the vigil of the 3^rd Sunday in Ordinary Time. Since 2020 it has been referred to as the Sunday of the Word of God.  The Word is what unites Christians and it is the focus of what I refer to as the third part or movement of the Mass.  The heart of the movement to unite Christians is conversion – conversion rooted in the call to repentance, faith and following of Christ.  The closer each of us moves towards Christ in his word and in his sacrament (the two are inextricably linked) the closer we draw to each other.  In this way, we can see all things a anew in the light of Christ who is the light of the World and his church is destined to be a light on a hill for the world to see because through it shines the light of Christ.

To Mary, the first disciple of the Lord, we entrust the movement to restore unity to the broken and wounded body of Christ.

Entering into the mystery well

The Eucharist, or Mass, unfolds in seven movements—each one drawing us deeper into the mystery of Christ’s presence among us.
From the very first moment, we are already praying—standing, signing ourselves, and entering into the life of God. All the better if we are singing an entrance hymn which can help to raise our minds and hearts as well as enhance our sense of belonging to this community in this place and at this time.

Strengthening the heart

 

“You also must be patient. Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near” (James 5:8). This appeal feels especially relevant in a world that moves so fast and demands instant response. Patience, in Scripture, is not passive waiting but an active strengthening of the heart—an interior attitude of trust and hope.

The Eucharist becomes the sacred place where this strengthening happens. Each time we approach the altar, we step onto a path much like the one before us: steady, quiet, and sometimes long. We do not rush the Eucharist; we receive it. Christ comes to us not with noise or spectacle, but humbly—under the appearance of bread and wine—asking us to slow down enough to recognise Him.

In the Eucharist, we learn to wait with purpose. We remember Christ’s sacrifice, we encounter His real presence, and we are nourished for the journey ahead. This nourishment trains our hearts in patience, reminding us that God works on His own timetable, often hidden, always faithful.

As we strengthen our hearts at the Eucharistic table, we are prepared to walk forward with endurance, trusting that the Lord who comes to us now will come again in glory - right on time.

Body language at Mass

 

The Eucharist has been described as the great leveller.  This is one of the reasons I would prefer, if given the choice, to received the Sacrament kneeling.  I say this as someone brought up in the Western Christian tradition.  I started to received holy communion long before post-Vatican 2 adaptions set in.

It seems to me that when communicants kneel in a row this is a powerful statement of equality, humility and submission before Jesus Christ true God and true man giving himself under the forms or appearances of bread and wine. Sadly, the practice of kneeling when receiving has almost disappeared in the Roman Catholic church at least in parts of the world I am familiar with. This happened gradually in the course of the 1980s long after the initial liturgical innovations of Vatican 2 had taken their  effect. 

So varied and yet one

 

In the communion rite used in most Anglican churches, the congregation says: ‘we being many are one body for we all share in the one bread’.  This comes directly from St Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. The translation I use renders it:

Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread (1 Corinthians 10:17 –  New Revised Standard Version, Anglicised Catholic edition). 

A light within

 

Today has been labelled Blue Monday, apparently the product of an advertising campaign rather than any real science. A formula was even invented for it: W for weather, D for debt, T for time since Christmas, M for motivation, and N for the need to take action.

Whatever about the marketing, nobody can deny the widespread reality of mental ill health, anxiety, and depression. Strikingly, these conditions often flourish in relatively affluent societies, even though homelessness, poverty, addiction, abuse, and physical illness clearly correlate with psychological distress.

There is plenty of darkness in the world, but also light. If even a small flame still burns within us, we retain the freedom to seek out those pockets of light—both within ourselves and around us. This is where the Eucharist speaks so powerfully. A living faith in the real presence of Jesus, and a regular, suitable reception of the sacrament (for none of us is ever truly “worthy”), can fan that inner flame. We become, in a sense, walking candles—flickering, sometimes overshadowed, yet never finally extinguished.

A daily rhythm of thanksgiving, remembrance, repentance, and renewal, centred on the Eucharist, can steady us in times of mental strain and, at moments of real difficulty, bring healing not only to the mind but even to the body

Sunday and the Eucharist

 

The Sunday Eucharist is — and should be — the centre of the Christian week. When a priest is available, replacing it with a simple service of prayer makes no sense to me. Why would we not break bread, hear God’s word, and give thanks for the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ on the Lord’s Day?

If people grasped what is truly offered — beyond appearances, rituals, and words — our churches would be overflowing with those seeking healing and good news. Yet this is not our reality. Congregations are ageing and shrinking. Perhaps only 10–20% of the population attends weekly Eucharist, and the numbers are far lower among those aged 15–35. In some places, the presence of families and children at Sunday Mass has become so rare that it draws comment. At the same time, many urban congregations now include a growing number of people who are not White Irish — a welcome development, but it raises the question: where are the natives?

Eucharist on the way to unity

 

Christ desires that his followers be united in mind and heart. This unity finds its fullest expression in the Eucharist, the source and summit of all Christian life. Yet divisions within the Body of Christ have separated us into denominations, each with its own claims and counter‑claims. Across the centuries, the Eucharist has often been at the centre of these controversies.

It is striking, however, that for the first thousand years of the Church’s life the Eucharist was not a point of dispute. Christians, East and West, held a common faith that the bread and wine offered in the Divine Liturgy truly became the Body and Blood of Christ. The precise mechanics of this change were not defined, but believers recognised that the consecrated gifts were no longer what they had been before. This conviction remains alive in both traditions to this day.

We know not how

 

In recent days I have been pottering away – literally – sowing and planting on from tiny little seeds like the mustard seed. Jesus said:

The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head (Mark 4:26-28).

So, it is with the mass. We hear again and again the same words and familiar readings and responsorial psalms.  Much of the mass is taken directly from the Bible and the rest is steeped in it. We hear the word, we digest it, it germinates and it grows.  We do not know how.  The Sower is  in charge. From every mass we are sent forth (Ite, missa est).

And now at this late hour the words of Compline beckon:

Protect us, Lord, while we are awake, and guard us while we sleep, that we may keep watch with Christ and rest with him in peace.

Being present

 

picture: Church of the Resurrection 

Today, in the midst of many other commitments, I found myself taking part in two online webinars on topics close to my heart. The world of virtual meetings, of course, exploded during the Covid years. Even churches embraced the trend, offering “virtual worship” and “online Mass.”

There is no denying that real‑time online platforms provide an easy and efficient way to gather people—whether for a formal presentation or an informal conversation. They have their place, and they serve it well.

Yet virtual gatherings, including online worship, can never fully replace the real thing. Meeting one another in the flesh is woven into the very fabric of the Eucharist. If the Eucharist is about receiving, living, and giving the Body of Christ, then surely our own embodied presence matters. As people who live in time and space, we are called to be present to one another—especially when we celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist.

Lives of witness

 

http://bit.ly/2joDX8w

Sunday 18 January 2026

Lectio Divina:*

Isaiah 49:3-6

Psalm 39 (40)

1 Corinthians 1:1-3

John 1:29-34

 

Meditatio:

“I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.’ (John 1:34)

 Commentary:

Offices of newspapers and broadcast media are known to have a special filing cabinet with prepared obituaries for former Taoisigh, Monarchs, famous singers, business leaders, politicians and all sorts of notable persons near and far.  Some day and somehow our time will come. The three certainties of life are, as we know only too well since the age of reason: ageing, illness and death. That’s life. But, what sort of memory and legacy will we leave to those closest and dearest?  We will continue to live in the minds of those closest to us (for all the right reasons one hopes!). But, more importantly, our actions will have made a positive difference to at least the next seven generations. Our actions, words and decisions, today, will ripple out in a thousand ways across the generations just as, without realising it, our great-great grandparents made decisions and acted in particular ways that helped shape who we are today (including the obvious point that we would not exist today were it not for our great-great grandparents and theirs and so on back along the tree of humanity). Much is stored in our awareness and in who we are that is inherited ‘material’. Yet, we have an extraordinary and blessed freedom to choose, decide and act.

A place at the table (Bread for the Journey 14)

 

Back in the 1980s I saw a remarkable film called Babette’s Feast. Set in a remote and austere Danish village in the 19th century, it tells the story of two elderly sisters living in a small, devout Christian community marked by simplicity, restraint, and a certain spiritual severity. Into their world comes Babette, a once‑famous Parisian chef who has lost everything. When she unexpectedly receives a large sum of money, she spends it all preparing an extraordinary feast for the villagers — a feast through which joy is rediscovered, old wounds are healed, and hearts long closed begin to open.

What has stayed with me over the years are the film’s themes of generosity, community, and forgiveness. Food becomes more than nourishment; it becomes a medium of love, healing, and redemption. A meal can be a type of sacramental action mirroring the Sacrament of the Eucharist. ‘And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers’ (Acts 2:42).

Eucharistic politics (Bread for the Journey 13)

 

The Eucharist is inherently political - U.S. Catholic

While in Dublin visiting a family member, I took some time, today, to meet up with a local politician in Leinster House - the State parliament.  Our discussion ranged over many topics including, briefly, the role of faith in a struggle for justice and the integrity of creation.
It is rare - nowadays in Ireland - for anyone in public life to talk openly about their faith; it is a type of taboo.  At the same time, we rarely hear about politics in the Sunday sermon at mass.  It seems to be a case of 'whatever you say about that say nothing'.  Time was when clerics and bishops weighed on a wide range of moral and ethical issues from the pulpit. In the decades following Vatican 2, the Catholic bishops in Ireland spoke frequently and at some length on issues such as poverty, inequality and homelessness. In more recent times, the late Pope Francis placed particular emphasis on climate justice. 

Today, in Ireland at least, the rich wisdom of Catholic Social Teaching (CST) is a well kept secret.  Many of the latter day key board warriors who confuse the gospel with ethnic nationalism have either never taken CST on board or they have wilfully interpreted it to their own ends.

Repentance and the Eucharist (Bread for the Journey 12)

 

‘Repent, and believe the Good News.’ Says Jesus to his new disciples at the very beginning of the Gospel of Mark in today’s reading of the gospel at mass.  This is the beginning of Jesus’ ministry when he provides a stark choice to the disciples.  

In each celebration of the eucharist we begin with the sign of the cross when we invoke the blessed trinity. The mass then opens up with a short liturgy of reconciliation where we recall that we are, all of us, sinners and that God’s love invites us to here to repentance, renewal and conversation.  

In response to a collective and individual act of repentance and confession the priest gives an absolution in the name of Christ saying 

‘May almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us our sins and bring us to everlasting life’ 

This is possible because on the evening of his resurrection Jesus declared to the apostles: 

‘If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained’, John 20:23. 

To hear the Word of God, to believe and to repent marks the beginning of the sacred liturgy and prepares us to receive ‘grace upon grace’ (John 1:16).