Why Sunday matters #2

 

Last Sunday I reflected on how our experience of Mass might be enriched. Today I turn to a related question: what makes our Sunday celebration come alive?

From time to time it does us good, I think, to step outside our own parish and savour a different atmosphere or approach. Earlier today I attended Mass in my local “Mother Church”: the Cathedral of the Assumption in Carlow, a town of some 30,000 souls in the South East of Ireland. The Cathedral serves one of the town’s three parishes.

I was not disappointed.

Rays of light and truth

 

Yesterday evening I was kindly invited to join Muslims at their centre in Kilkenny to share an iftar meal.  The iftar is the meal Muslims share beginning precisely at sunset each day of Ramadan. It was a privilege for me to join the event.

Of course, as a Christian I did not participate in the religious rituals and prayers used by Muslims.   I remained in my place quietly and prayerfully as others recited the prayers including the various postures used throughout the world. It was a humbling experience to be welcomed and to show solidarity with those who share a common humanity and a common belief in the One, Merciful and Almighty God.  Though we understand and relate to God in different ways we are called to live in friendship and mutual care according to the precepts of good religion.

A child-friendly Eucharist

 

My late uncle, a Columban missionary priest, served in China and Burma at various stages between 1946 and 1966.   I recall his stories about children playing at an open-air mass in some very basic conditions in a village mountains.  This was a far cry from the fine architecture and marble church of Dalgan Park where he completed his seminar training in the early 1940s.  For Fr Michael, children were always of central importance in any family gathering. And, on those occasions when mass was celebrated, devoutly and properly, on the kitchen table there was a job for everyone including the smallest.

Introducing children to the mass takes time and patience especially when they are not used to the surroundings, actions and sights associated with mass.  If a kind, calm and warn environment is created this can help to put children at ease and lead them in curiosity to a place of encounter.  

Bringing the children to mass

 

When I was a child, going to Mass was simply what families did. In this part of Ireland, well over 90% of households attended every Sunday. When I stopped going as a teenager in the 1970s, it was unusual enough to be noticed.

About thirty years ago, I first became aware of a real shift. Sunday congregations were suddenly older. Families still came, but in smaller numbers, and the age profile was unmistakably changing.

The full armour

 

Continuing on from yesterday's blog, I consider once again the grounds for the practice of first Holy Communion in the Roman Catholic Church. The present-day sequence is as follows:

Baptism → Holy communion → Confirmation

This sequence, which has been in place since the early decades of the last century is a relatively modern practice and was fairly unique among the main branches of Christianity up until recent times.

Welcome little children

 

At this time of year, most parishes across the world in the Roman Catholic Church are preparing children for the reception of first Holy Communion. It is a special moment on the spiritual journey undertaken by families who wish that their children be admitted to full eucharistic communion with the worldwide church.  It is no small thing to receive the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ. Jesus once told his disciples:

‘Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs’  (Mark 10:14)

Hopefully, all of these children will continue to experience the blessings of attending Sunday Mass on a weekly basis wherever they are.  It is, of course, a family choice and parents are the guardians and the exemplars. If the Eucharist means a huge amount to us then we will take the time, effort and trouble to make it a top priority every weekend no matter what.

As one sent only for today

 

Sunday 15 March 2026

 Lectio Divina:*

1 Samuel 16:1-13

Psalm 23(22)

Ephesians 5:8-14

John  9:1-41

 

Meditatio:

“We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day” (John 9:4)

 Commentary:

What? A blind man presents himself to Jesus in the presence of the disciples. Immediately the question arises: Who sinned? Who was to blame? You see (pardon the pun), a condition like blindness—or poverty, or any of the many burdens known to modern humanity, from divorce to exclusion—must surely be someone’s fault. It couldn’t simply be. It must have a cause rooted in someone’s bad behaviour, or in the failings of their parents. If we are honest, we may even detect traces of this warped thinking in ourselves.

Wanted and welcomed

 

Sometimes people question why bother with church or prayer or mass?  We search for reasons as to why, nowadays, so few attend mass on a regular weekly basis. We speculate about the manifold influences of secularism, popular culture, relevance, the scandals, the pressures of life and so on. But, perhaps there is a more basic root cause of a lack of attendance?

What if people really felt wanted and welcomed at their local parish mass and community? What if their experience of joining with other believers (including people with doubts, questions and struggles) was so uplifting and so life-giving that they wanted to come back the next week? 

Why Sunday matters

The Irish Catholic Bishops Conference issued a short but significant document last year entitled “Why Sunday Matters”.  In the remaining Sundays of Lent I am going to explore, a little, a few aspects of this document and some of the questions raised therein. Today, I explore the following question:

“How can I enrich my experience of Mass and make it a central part of my life?”

I suggest just a number of approaches:

Thirst for honesty

 

Sunday 8 March 2026    Lectio Divina:*

Exodus 17:3-7

Psalm 32(33)

2 Timothy 1:8-10

John 4:5-42

 Meditatio:

“If you knew the gift of God” (John 4:10)

 

Commentary:

Typical of Lent as we draw closer to The Great Feast of Easter the tone and length of Sunday gospel reading become heavier and longer.   Enter John this Sunday.  Jesus crosses a ‘frictionless and seamless border’ as he left Judea and started back to Galilee going through Samaria. 

Now we are sitting near a well in a place called Sychar. It is a special place of religious significance. It is in the middle of the day. A traveller stops there for rest and for some of that precious cool water.  ‘Give me a drink’ says the traveller.  That was fairly direct and concise!  The conversation opens up. There is a play on words with deep, deep significance like the well of Jacob.  Jesus reveals himself as an unusual Jew. He is speaking in a public place to a woman and a Samaritan woman at that (‘They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman’ - v. 27). 

Now, Samaritans were a somewhat different breed to the Jews but not that different as not to share Jacob as their common ancestor and the first five books of what we know as the Bible as authoritative scripture. In other words, they were very much outside the pale as far as Jews were concerned but they were frustratingly near enough in theology, expectation and ethnic roots. Does any of this even sound remotely familiar to an observer of religious-political-ethnic identity on the island of Ireland?

 What do I thirst for?

When Jesus said to the Samaritan woman ‘Give me a drink’ he was about to prompt a discussion that led from the ordinary and immediate thirst for water to a deeper, spiritual and lasting thirst for new life. On the latter point, it is us – the Samaritan woman and everyone no matter what tribe or creed or colour or orientation – who thirst. We thirst to be understood. We thirst to be set free of the images and representations that in which others may try incarcerate us.

The conversation at the well leads to a realisation on the part of the Samaritan that she is speaking to someone extraordinary. She returns to her family and tribe and something has started. Other outsiders from this Samaritan tribe seek out this unusual Jew.  They invite him to stay in their town and Jesus ‘stayed there for two days’.  We have no further details but we may assume that, according to John, at least, there were some interesting conversations happening over 48 hours or so.  They knew, also, that they had encountered something wonderful and precious for ‘many more believed because of his word’ (v. 41). 

They said to the woman, ‘It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Saviour of the world.’ (v. 42). 

There are many strands to this story from the 4^th chapter of John but we should not miss that point that Jesus is, here, signalling a new departure from the religious culture he grew up in.  He is reaching out to other tribes and ‘religions’. It sits uncomfortably with the way we might want to represent Christ through our own particular tribal or nationalistic lens.

Talking and hanging out with the ‘wrong’ people

Talking to people who are very different by reason of background, orientation, status or outlook in life says something about us. Not infrequently, to be seen talking and associating with the wrong people – people who do not belong to ‘us’ or who come from the opposite or even enemy side in whatever stance, struggle or contestation ‘we’ are part of – attracts negative comment. Taken to its extreme, expulsion or marginalisation may be the price of ‘talking to the other side’ or sharing in their feasts. Hard borders and high walls run deep in our societies and in our hearts. The physical and visible borders and walls are not even as significant as those invisible ones that separate us from each other. This is where enmity and strife originate.

The unfortunate aspect of many human associations and belongings is that such belonging can be exclusive, excluding and sectarian. We are right; they are wrong. Justice and truth is on our side; wickedness, folly and betrayal is on the other.

 Even today, many who claim to follow Jesus operate like as if they are part of a doctrinally pure, liturgically valid-only and error-excluding self-contained island. The One True Island with the drawbridges pulled up and everyone safe and cosy on the inside.  Sharing the Table of our Master’s Word let alone his Bread is seen as betrayal of first principles. One must ask what principles and whose principles?

Honesty with ourselves

For the approaching week we might reflect on the very first line of the ‘Confessions’ of the spiritual patron of our island:

I, Patrick, a sinner, a most simple countryman, the least of all the faithful and most contemptible to man.

(see also 1 Timothy 1:15).

Perhaps a ruthlessly honest appraisal of where one is at is the best antidote to sectarianism, superiority, presumption and exclusion.

We would do well to aim to live by the Wesleyian maxim of ‘friends of all; enemies of none’ even if it is not possible to fulfil this at all times and with all peoples. It is worth the try.

Gratitude to my mother

 

Everyone has made their own journey of human development. Along the way we were nurtured physically, emotionally, culturally, linguistically and spiritually by our parents.  Twelve years ago on this day I said goodbye to my mother who had lived a good and long life.  Her quiet, unassuming and warm personality helped shaped my experience of childhood.  For her and, indeed, for most of her generation faith was a key part. And the practice of one’s faith was very much centred on the Mass. I am very grateful for that.  

Until He comes again

 

A great plague has infected the world: sadness, anxiety, division, hatred and despair have invaded many minds and hearts.  Atheism has taken hold. There is no God, it is claimed and there is no life after death.  Ultimately, our lives are deemed meaningless except in so far as we subjectively give it meaning, so they say.  And this stance means that for us there is no absolute right or wrong except what I think or what we think;  there is no ultimate reality or truth outside opinions, interpretations and self-determination. 

Honouring the gifts of creation

 

In the offertory of the mass the bread and wine are taken, blessed and offered. They are not, yet, consecrated.  This part of the Eucharist is particularly important because it links directly the temple liturgy of the Hebrews with the Christian Eucharist.  The early celebration of the Eucharist among Jewish Christians shaped the mass as we know it today. The Jewish table blessings - Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu – are incorporated into a new celebration initiated by the Lord Jesus at the Last Supper.

One reality - many names

 

The one sacrifice and memorial of the Lord’s passion and resurrection has many names:

Eucharist – eucharistein or giving thanks. 

Breaking of bread – found in many places of the New Testament including 1 Corinthians 11:24 (“and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, ‘This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’”).

Peace on earth starts in the human heart

 

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

 

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.

Living and dying

 

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.

Transfigured bodies

 

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.

Bowing low

 

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.

Who is the Word?

 

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.

From a distance

 

Sunday 1 March 2026

 Lectio Divina:*

Genesis 12:1-4

Psalm 32(33)

2 Timothy 1:8-10

Matthew 17:1-9

 Meditatio:

“…they saw no one except Jesus himself alone” (Matthew 17:8)

The Word at work

 

And we also thank God continually because, when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as a human word, but as it actually is, the word of God, which is indeed at work in you who believe.

So write Saint Paul in his first letter to the Christians at the church in Thessalonika (2:13).  The Word is always at work in us. It is the seed of our faith in Christ as Paul indicates in his letter to the Romans (10:17).  We hear the Word, it sinks deep into us and change happens. Maybe it is the work of a lifetime before the fruits are evident (let’s hope that it does not take so long!).

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.