Always at my side

One of the earliest prayers I learned was this:

Angel of God, my guardian dear
To whom God’s love commits me here
Ever this day be at my side
To light and guard, to rule and guide.
Amen

Today, the feast of the Guardian Angels, reminds us that on the journey of life we are not alone.  Many seek wisdom, friendship and protection.  With a mustard seed size of faith we can be sure that an angelic presence assigned to us at the first moment of our existence in the womb accompanies us.  Praying with and to one’s guardian angel is not a substitute for a living, deep and personal relationship with Jesus. Rather, it is a boost, a complementary help.

Eucharistic spirituality and social justice in the life of St Katharine Drexel

St Katharine Drexel (1858-1955) blazed a trail in the United States of America. Fearlessly moving ahead to provide relief and education for children including the racially excluded she linked devotion to the Blessed Sacrament to work for social justice and relief of poverty.

She came from one of the wealthiest families in America and inherited a substantial fortune. Yet she chose religious life and dedicated her inheritance to missions, schools and works among Nat
ive American and African American communities.

When searching for her vocation she went to Pope Leo XIII seeking more missionaries for Native American missions she was already supporting financially. The Pope responded: ‘Why not, my child, yourself become a missionary?’

Founder of Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament she lived a life entirely ‘poured out for others’. Though there are many parallels to the spirituality of St Peter Julian Emyard, the congregation established by St Katharine is different to that established by St Peter Julian (the Servants of the Blessed Sacrament) as well as to the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament established in 1715 by Blessed Peter Vigne. From the same eucharistic sources various congregations of women have undertaken different missions.

An act of spiritual communion

Today is the memorial of St Alphonsus of Liguori (1696-1787), founder of the Redemptorist Order.  He assumed some degree of renewed fame during the Covid epidemic when it was not generally possible for many to attend Mass or receive Holy Communion for months at a time.  As a result, many discovered (or re-discovered) the prayer of ‘spiritual communion’ which is attributed to St Alphonsus. It goes as follows:

An invitation to be still

The French philosopher, Blaise Pascal, once wrote:

I have often said that the sole cause of man's unhappiness is that he does not know how to stay quietly in his room [Source]

[..j’ai dit souvent que tout le malheur des hommes vient d’une seule chose, qui est de ne savoir pas demeurer en repos dans une chambre].

Remaining silent for even a few minutes seems harder than ever in an age of constant digital distraction and social media. Yet if we were to set aside just ten minutes each day for silence - whether alone or in the company of others who are likewise silent - we might begin to cultivate a habit that would serve us well. If we were then to integrate this practice into

The ripple effects of adoration

The butterflies have been active throughout the summer months, helping to pollinate flowers and contributing to a healthy garden ecosystem. These are insects of such delicacy and beauty – yet we seldom associate them with powerful effects. 

There is a theory that tiny changes in one place can have ripple effects elsewhere in the world. This idea, often associated with the ‘butterfly effect’, suggests that complex systems can be surprisingly sensitive to small changes. This might seem fanciful at first, but a moment’s reflection on just how complex, unpredictable and inter-related our world is suggests that these ideas associated with ‘chaos theory’ are not so far-fetched.

The flap of a butterfly's wings may not trigger a tornado across the ocean. Yet the insight behind the butterfly effect - that small actions can have consequences far beyond what we immediately perceive - reminds us not to underestimate acts of kindness, presence and adoration.

My interest in one particular application of the butterfly effect was triggered by a chance reading of this article – The “butterfly effect” in eucharistic adoration:

A thirty day challenge

Question: So, what do you say when you are in the Real Presence and focussed on adoration?

Answer: Nothing in particular.

A saint once said, “God looks at me and I look at God.” That is often enough.

If the Holy Spirit moves me to think, speak, or pray about something, then I follow that prompting. If I am lost for words, I simply remain there - quiet, attentive and receptive.

If I feel bored and find myself watching the clock, then that too becomes something I can offer to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament: “Here I am, Lord - bored and dry.”

If I begin to wonder what I am doing there, or whether I truly believe in the Real Presence, I pray the words of the Gospel: “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.”

The scandal of eucharistic living

Corpus Christi

Sunday 7 June 2026

Lectio Divina:*

Deuteronomy 8:2-3, 14-16 Psalm 147

1 Corinthians10:16-17 John 6:51-58

Meditatio:

‘..hose who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day.’  (John 6:54)

 

Commentary:

In the 1986 film The Mission, set in South America in the 1750s, the Jesuit priest Fr Gabriel leads the people forward, carrying the monstrance with the Blessed Sacrament as a joint Portuguese–Spanish force opens fire. The brutal destruction of the people – and the falling of the monstrance – becomes a powerful cinematic image of Christ’s Body suffering in the poor and the oppressed. After Fr Gabriel is cut down, a small child picks up the monstrance and continues the procession. Only a handful escape into the jungle.

Witness, community, persecution, violence, death, scattering, remnant, and new life: flesh, bread, life.

Silence and listening

How might our parish churches look like in 2050 #6

It seems to me that people hunger, thirst, and cry out inwardly simply to be heard — by someone, anyone, at some moment, in some way. A lack of opportunity, space, or means to be listened to lies at the heart of many personal and societal wounds. We carry so much within us, and often we do not even know the half of it.