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).

Something beautiful for God (Bread for the Journey 11)

 

The beauty of buildings and art can help to raise our minds and hearts to the divine.  

I have a childhood memory of watching up at a wall mural painting by the famous Irish artist, teacher, broadcaster and public commentator, Seán Keating, in the Church of the Holy Spirit in Ballroan, in south Country Dublin. I recall my later mother telling me, once, that the same Seán Keating (who died in 1977) would spend time gazing at one or other of the murals from the pews beneath during mass. Not only is this a beautiful work of art but the artist, so it is claimed, saw himself in the person of John the Baptist who resembled him in the painting. They are extraordinarily beautiful works of art in an extraordinarily beautiful church.  Perhaps the artist was gazing as much at the truth and beauty in and under and beyond the physical composition mounted on the transept walls as he was at the artistic beauty he had conceived and brought to life.  There is a mystery about the things of the Holy Spirit and the earthy world in which we have been planted that invites us to stop and gaze, to pause and wonder, to ask and remain awhile. In those moments we might sense an inner feeling or even voice that speaks ‘This is a wonderful world – immerse in it’ or ‘I saw the Spirit coming down from Heaven like a dove and resting on him’ (John 1:32 ).

The still point (Bread for the Journey 10)

 

There are days, like today, when it feels as though there is scarcely a moment to draw breath. It was a long but very pleasant day, with travel to and from Dublin and meetings there on fundamental human rights issues. Before setting out this morning, I read these words from Chiara Lubich (1920–2008):

Every neighbour we meet gives us the opportunity ‘to open the door’ to him and communicate with him. And yet, in reality, it is Jesus who welcomes us and showers us with his gifts. So then, perhaps at the end of a whole day spent in listening and giving of ourselves to Jesus in our neighbours, we will feel our hearts overflow with a pure and deep joy.

If we stay attuned to the person beside us, moment by moment, we leave ourselves open to blessing by nightfall. We may be fortunate enough to find ourselves before the Blessed Sacrament. Or we may simply follow the counsel of Jesus in Matthew 6:6:

But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you

An experience in disruption (Bread for the Journey 9)

 

The first reading for mass this Sunday is taken from Isaiah 42:6-7:

I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations,  to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.

Lest anyone think that the celebration of mass is an entirely private matter where people can take time out from the world of business, community, politics as if we can divide up and compartmentalise life. The mass brings heaven down to earth and raises earth up to heaven.  We offer our worldly concerns, struggles and hopes to God the Father through his son Jesus Christ.  

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)

The Eucharist does not end with the priest’s blessing and dismissal. Rather, the mass sends us back out into the world to live and work to his praise and glory. We do not have the luxury of not playing our part with others in a struggle against injustice and for human dignity, rights and freedoms near and far.  In this sense, mass is political because it challenges our complacency just as Isaiah tells us in the reading for this Sunday.  If we are not shaken by what we hear and experience at mass then we must ask if we are really present and attentive and well disposed to receive the immeasurable graces, inspirations and mandate that flows from this source and summit of all Christian life.

This wonderful world

 

Pic: Newhalen celebrates the Great Blessing of Water at Theophany

 

Sunday 11 January 2026  The Baptism of the Lord

 

Lectio Divina:*

Isaiah 42:1-7

Psalm 27 (28)

Acts 10:34-38

Matthew 3:13-17

 

Meditatio:

“This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17)

 Commentary:

The baptism of Jesus marks the beginning of his public ministry—a decisive turning point as he steps from obscurity into the full light of his mission. From this moment, the path toward death and resurrection is already in view. Jesus, the Christ, is God’s anointed one, the fulfilment of Isaiah’s prophecy in our first reading. Now the call passes to us: to stand in God’s light and share in the ministry entrusted to Jesus and his followers.

This feast is especially cherished in the Eastern Orthodox churches. The Baptism of the Lord—Theophany—is one of their highest celebrations, gathering into a single feast the birth of Jesus, the visit of the Magi, the wedding at Cana, and the baptism in the Jordan. The Eastern tradition is less concerned with historical sequence and more intent on celebrating the glory of God made flesh: the One who transforms water into wine, old ritual into new life, fallen humanity into risen humanity, sorrow into joy.

Getting ready for Sunday (Bread for the Journey 8)

 

The liturgy of the Word is a crucial part of the celebration of the mass. In the first part of the mass we are prepared for what follows by feeding on the Word of God.  Typically, there are three or four short readings: the first reading (usually from the Old Testament) is followed by a responsorial psalm and then the Gospel. On Sundays there is a second reading and it comes from the New Testament other than the gospel.  It used to be referred to as the ‘lesson’.  The Gospel of the day is an important point of reference and may match the first reading from the Old Testament in theme.

It is a good practice to prepare carefully for the coming Sunday’s mass by reading, digesting, and pondering the readings well in advance.  This is not the same thing as bible study. There is a time and a place for study. A slow, intentional, prayerful pondering of the readings and particular sentences or parts of sentences is an act of preparation.  It attunes our minds and hearts to the work of the Holy Spirit.  The inspirations of the Holy Spirit are at work even when we sleep.  A phrase, a feeling or an insight can await us in the most ordinary things of our daily life.

"It is I" (Bread for the Journey 7)

 

In the first reading at today’s mass we hear ‘So we have known and believe the love that God has for us.’ (1 John 4:16).  An experience of the love of God is the foundation of a living faith.  We know because we have been loved and we have come to a realisation of that love.  The great mystery of our Christian religion is that God became flesh and that flesh became our bread of life.  God in Jesus Christ made himself a vulnerable baby.  Today, God makes himself a vulnerable victim in the host we receive at the Eucharist.  If we doubt God’s love let us stop and consider the words of Jesus reassuring the disciples on the stormy waters: ‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’ (Mark 6:50).  Through holy communion he lives in us and we live in him.  Love has conquered fear. When the minister declares to each of us, “The Body of Christ” we respond with “Amen” At that moment the Body of Christ speaks to us: “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid” Amen!

On the move (Bread for the journey 6)

 

An open‑air crib at the entrance to Terminal 1 in Dublin Airport greets the thousands who pass through each day of this Christmas season. Just a few hundred metres away stands the modern airport church, its bell tower proclaiming boldly that God is love.

After leaving some Christmas visitors at Departures, I slipped inside the airport church to join fellow Christians for the Eucharist on this Epiphany day. A kindly Capuchin priest of African background welcomed us all, pausing to greet especially two young children near the front.

Life moves quickly—from birth to death we pass along in a quick procession. Before long, a new generation will take our place in the living tradition of faith. They will, God willing, hear the same stories of the Magi, of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, and receive the same sacrament of the Lord’s Body and Blood.

Will there be faith? I believe there will, even if for a time it survives only in a small remnant before Christ is born again in new and surprising ways. There will be a second spring. For now, we simply sow seeds while we still have the light of day.

Source and summit (Bread for the Journey Day 5)

 

This is an in‑between day: poised between Sunday and the feast of the Epiphany, which brings the Christmas season to a close in the Western Church. The secular world is still recovering from the commercial and culinary excesses of the winter‑lights industry, even as ordinary life shifts back into a higher gear.

Tomorrow’s Epiphany is, in many parts of the Catholic world, a Holy Day of Obligation, akin to Sunday. There was a time in Ireland when this was instinctively understood: schools closed, the self‑employed arranged their day around Mass, and public servants could slip out for an hour to attend a nearby church. Today, most people scarcely register the feast at all. The secular celebration of Nollaig na mBan has partly taken its place, carrying its own worthy themes of equality and empowerment.

Yet one constant remains amid all the changes of culture and custom: the Mass, “the source and summit of the Christian life.” I have always preferred to see the Eucharist not as a legal duty but as an immeasurable privilege — something no one with a living faith would willingly miss, given the chance to participate and to receive the Body and Blood of the One once adored by the magi in an obscure corner of the world.

See previous blogs in this series of 'Bread for the Journey'

Remembering those we love in the Eucharist (Bread for the journey 4)

 

Today we attended our first Sunday mass of the year.  A special intention was included by the priest for my late father. Remembering and praying for the dead is an integral part of the mass including the Eucharistic prayers (“Remember also our brothers and sisters who have fallen asleep in the hope of the resurrection”). Although I am no expert or authority on this matter it is my understanding that the practice of praying for the dead goes back to very early Christian times both in the East and in the West. While important theological differences arise among Christian denominations today we can, all, agree that God’s love is not limited by death; that the  Church is one communion across heaven and earth and that we can entrust the departed to God’s mercy not to so much as to “earn” salvation for them as to recall, in the eucharist, the great sacrifice of our Lord for everyone who died in the faith and fear of God (“We bless thy holy Name for all thy servants departed this life in thy faith and fear” is found in the Anglican Book of Common Prayer).

Overwhelmed with joy

 

Tuesday 6 January 2026

Lectio Divina:*

Isaiah 60:1-6

Psalm 147

Ephesians 3:2-6

Matthew 2:1-12

 

Meditatio:

“When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.“ (Matthew 2:10)

 Commentary:

‘Arise, shine; for your light has come,  and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.. (Isaiah 60:1)

‘’ The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1:5)

These two verses speak powerfully to us at the start of another calendar year, especially when it feels as though our world is sunk in darkness and the light has been overshadowed for a time in the depths of our Northern winter. Christmas draws to a close with the feast of the Epiphany — from the Greek theophaneia, meaning the appearance of God to human beings. The story of that first epiphany is rich in symbolism, and we do well to read it in that spirit, without trying to fill in every historical gap. Matthew invites us into a larger narrative, one that asks for imagination as well as faith.

Eucharistic hospitality (Bread for the journey 3)

 

Pic: Christian Agape feast in the Catacombs di Priscilla, Roma (Greek chapel 2-4th C) wikimedia commons

Today we had unexpected guests.  It was an occasion to catch up, update and share stories over a meal and it was a welcome break from the little bit of gardening I did yesterday which took its toll on my back muscles this morning! Welcoming someone into your home can be a joy.  According to Irish customs it would be rude to at least not ‘put the kettle on’ and ask if your guests would have a cup of tea.  Coming to share a meal and listen to stories is what Mass is all about. There are three parts to it:

1. a real physical presence,
2. a sacrificial joy; and
3. A communion or fellowship over a meal.

We would missing the point of such an occasion if we were to invite someone to watch us eating our meal while they passively listen to our stories without partaking in the meal. This is how the Mass or the Eucharist is sometime experienced by people who are sent away empty, excluded and not edified by word and example. Our sharing with others especially those who turn up unexpectedly is an extension of the table fellowship of the Eucharist which is why in some traditions the Eucharist is referred to as simply ‘Holy Communion’.

A very real presence (Bread for the Journey 2)

 

January 2

Today while turning compost in our little garden I wondered about a reading for the day.  ‘Who are you?’ the people asked in today’s Gospel reading from the Mass. Every time we break the bread of God’s word we are challenged by the question asked again and again ‘Who is Jesus for me?’. In between celebrations of the eucharist we have a unique privilege to revisit the mass in various ways as we might be able to. This might include a time of prayer and petition based on the scripture readings for the mass of the day.  It might also entail a visit to the Blessed Sacrament in a church that is not locked up.  There, we can find refuge in the wings of the Lord’s eucharist presence. In psalm 46:1 we hear this, “God is our refuge and strength,  a very present help in trouble.”  One of the great consolations of our religion is that we can, on occasions, seek a very real refuge in the very real presence of Christ in the Tabernacle.  Not everyone is able to accept this truth. It is difficult to explain.  It is enough to be present and still and murmur the words, “‘I believe; help my unbelief!’” (Mark 9:24).

Keep turning these words over - like compost.

Write you own obituary!

 

Sunday 4 January 2026

 

Lectio Divina:*

Sirach 24:1-12

Psalm 147

Ephesians 1:3-18

John 1:35-42

 

Meditatio:

“What are you looking for?” (John 1:38)

 Commentary:

When did you last read an obituary (or hear a funeral eulogy) that went something like this:

‘He was a much revered person who worked all the hours God gave to become the head in this industry and organisation. He put in long hours, cut deals, fought off competitors and saved the organisation on more than one critical moment. He received numerous honorary doctorates and one real one while he wrote eight books, 40 journal articles and served on many commission and boards. He had many friends and contacts but none terribly close. He did make time for family life and local rotary club activities.  He will be missed but life goes on and things change. It was sad to see his health deteriorate in his final years.  He did recognise the few who visited him in the very final months at St Fachtna’ Nursing Home.  His farewell was an occasion of some sadness.’

Not often, I suggest. Not at all, in fact!

Write your own obituary or, better still, live in such a way that others will write an obituary that you can be justly proud of because you were a caring, loving, truthful and fair person in whatever role or responsibility was entrusted to you.

Every so often we need to stop for a few minutes, or hours or even days and ask the hard question that Jesus asked the two disciples: ‘what do I want?’ What do I seek?  Above and beyond the daily toils and struggles what is my purpose and aim in life? Truly?

Sometimes there are no immediate or clear answers. It may involve some trial and error. ‘Come and see’ was Jesus’ reply when asked ‘where are you staying?’

Oratio

Collect

 O God, whose Son is revealed as the Lamb who calls us by name, grant that, like Andrew and the first disciples, we may hear His invitation, follow where He leads,
and bring others into the joy of His presence.  Draw us to remain with Him, that in His light we may discover our true vocation and bear witness to the One who is our Teacher and our Lord, Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

A new day (Bread for the Journey 1)

 

January 1

A new year arrived – thank God.  It is a bright and sunny new year’s day.  On my way back from giving a lift I dropped into a local church for my first mass of the year.  I was pleasantly surprised to find a much larger than usual weekday congregation along with a very talented folk group that added to the celebration through song. Sing once and pray twice, as the saying goes. The readings were about peace, blessing and birth.  The gospel reading contained a reference to the circumcision of Jesus (“After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb” – Luke 2:21).  It reminded me that the Christian religion owes its origin to the fleshly, human, Jewish real-world in which Jesus Christ was conceived and born.  Here, in the house of bread, which is what Bethlehem means we are renewed, fed and send out as a eucharistic community to live and work to the praise of God’s glory.  Ite, missa est – go forth the mass is ended. Thanks be to God for a new day, another opportunity to repent, to believe, to turn again to be sent out again and again until our time is called.