A disciple's charter

Sunday 1 November 2026

Lectio Divina:*

Revelation 7:2-4 Psalm 24 (23) 1 John 3:1-3 Matthew 5:1-12

(See also Luke 6:20-23)

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.

Given for you

Mahatma Gandhi is quoted as saying:

The political and journalistic world can boast of very few heroes who compare with Father Damien of Molokai. The Catholic Church, on the contrary, counts by the thousands those who, after the example of Fr. Damien, have devoted themselves to the victims of leprosy. It is worthwhile to look for the sources of such heroism [T.N. Jagadisan's 1965 publication Mahatma Gandhi Answers the Challenge of Leprosy]

Who was Father Damien of Molokai?  He was a Belgian Catholic priest of the Congregation of the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary, who was canonised in 2009.  He voluntarily ministered among people afflicted with leprosy in Hawaii for 16 years until his death in 1889.  He shared their lives, treated their wounds and eventually contracted the disease himself.  He frequently spoke of the Mass and the Eucharist as the source of strength that sustained his mission.

His story reminds me of a TV documentary made at the height of the Covid-19 pandemic when, in Tallaght University Hospital, Dublin, the chaplain was filmed in the wards behind curtains talking to God and a person who was dying. 

The road to the altar

A particular town in Northern Ireland has made international headlines, once again, for all the wrong reasons. Two communities remain locked in a standoff along a road leading from a church on the hill.  Gathered early in the morning for a service of prayer a group of men wished to assert their cultural rights to walk along the King’s highway. Another community living down the road objected because of the historical associations between triumphalism and subjugation of a minority.  They will not budge.

My sense is that only a return to humility, repentance, obedience and reconciliation can bring a lasting peace. Let Christ’s words be said out loud:

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:

Going to him when we are struggling

Sunday 5 July 2026

Lectio Divina:*

Zechariah 9:9-10 Psalm 145(144)

Romans 8:9-13 Matthew 11:25-30

Meditatio:

‘Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest’ (Matthew 11:28)

 

Commentary:

We tire from striving. We grow weary carrying burdens that were never meant to be carried alone. In his Son, God comes to us not as a despotic ruler but as a gentle king and suffering servant who gives his life for his people. God remains faithful when all around seems out of control. Evil never has the final word. Some may say that we are on the wrong side of history. Yet human history itself finds its meaning within God's greater plan of salvation. God's desire for his people is peace, life and communion with him. This is the theme running through each of the readings, today.

How do we know that the Holy Spirit has come?

Sunday 24 May 2026

Lectio Divina:*

Acts 2:1-11 Psalm 104(103)

1 Corinthians 12:3-7 John 20:19-23

Meditatio:

‘..the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord’   (John 20:20)

 

Commentary:

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The scene is set by John. The disciples are afraid - very afraid. They might well be like a small congregation in a tense situation today, glancing nervously at every uncertain movement, imagining the worst. Fear grips them at a deep, almost physical level. You can feel it in the gut.

Then, something extraordinary happens. Jesus stands among them again. As he does each time he appears after the Resurrection—and as he still does today in the life of the Church – he says: “Peace be with you.”

We are not alone

 

Sunday 10 May 2026

Lectio Divina:*

Acts 8:5-17 Psalm 66(65)

1 Peter 3:15-18 John 14:15-21

Meditatio:

‘ You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you’.   (John 14:17)

 Commentary:

We are drawing ever closer to that most wonderful of celebrations: Pentecost Sunday—the feast on which, once again and anew, the Holy Spirit comes among us in a special way, even as the Spirit is at work in our broken and wounded world day by day. As we remember the first great outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon the disciples and apostles shortly after the death and resurrection of Jesus—events that are inextricably bound together—we open ourselves to a fresh gift of the Spirit’s peace, joy, and freedom.

Offering our own prayers with the Mass

 

Last Wednesday, on the Solemnity of the Annunciation, I reflected on the wonderful mystery of the Incarnation and its inseparable link to the infinite value and dignity of every human being -  from conception to natural death. Today, I happened to come across an item: Pope backs “spiritual adoption of the unborn”. It resonated deeply with a practice I adopted some years ago: to choose one living person each day – known or unknown – and include that person in my morning offering, consciously uniting them to the offering of the Mass being celebrated anywhere in the world at that moment. One might even give that person a name.

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.