Lectio
Divina:*
Meditatio:
“…Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is
coming at an unexpected hour” (Matthew 24:44)
Commentary (1,082 words):
Stop.
Breathe.
Rest.
Six years ago, I wrote a blog here on the same readings for
the first Sunday of Advent. Then, I reflected:
The best way to prepare for death is to live life to the full now and to live it well so that we leave a good memory and example and find our well-being in this thought.
Lectio
Divina:*
Meditatio:
‘…Jesus, remember me when you come into your
kingdom....’ (Luke 23:42)
Commentary (878 words):
The idea of royalty sits uneasily with many political sensibilities today. Even in private religious devotion, the image of the crowned, suffering servant on the cross resonates more deeply than that of a High King seated in judgment in the heavenly courts. Yet, we recite the Our Father daily, often without pausing to consider the implications of the phrase: “Thy Kingdom come.”
Pic: The 'End Things' are depicted in the painting of
the
'Opening of the Sixth Seal' in the National Gallery in Dublin.
Lectio
Divina:*
Meditatio:
‘By your endurance you will gain your souls.’ (Luke 21:19)
Commentary (954 words):
There’s something strangely comforting about today’s
readings. Though they unfold against a backdrop of chaos—trial, judgment,
destruction, war, and pestilence – they carry an unmistakable undercurrent of
hope. The Old Testament, the Gospel, and the Psalm all point to a higher power guiding
us through darkness toward light, toward greener pastures.
I often feel a quiet sorrow for those who find solace in the rituals and stories of the Bible but struggle to believe in life beyond death—or even more poignantly, in life before death. For what is faith if not the conviction that joy and meaning can be found now even amid despair as well as forever?
Lectio Divina:*
Meditatio:
‘Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s
Spirit dwells in you? ’ (1 Cor 3:16)
Commentary (1,051)
This Sunday’s readings are steeped in rich symbolism, drawing us into a deeper understanding of Temple—both the ancient one in Jerusalem and the living temple of the Christian community. These texts were chosen for the Feast of the Dedication of the Basilica of St John Lateran (celebrated annually on November 9) which happens to fall on a Sunday this year. The next time this alignment occurs on a Sunday will be in 2031. So let’s pay close attention!
Lectio
Divina:*
Meditatio:
‘..this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose
nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day. ’
(John 6:39)
Commentary
Today we are experiencing a crisis of meaning. Although many benefit, more than ever, from education, income, wealth, travel and access to healthcare there is a widespread unease. This sense of unfulfilled lives can spill over into depression, addictions as well as political and religious intolerance and extremism. We seek for meaning where none is to be found. The other side of this coin is a widely shared sense that our lives are a waste. We come from nowhere, we are not heading anywhere even beyond death and, essentially, our lives have no meaning other than whatever fleeting or momentary meaning we decide to give it at this time – or so we think. In the Northern hemisphere, the arrival of winter and the presence of damp, cold and rain signal a season of decline and death.
Yet, bulbs are being sown for the spring and winter cuttings
are stored in dry places inside.
This weekend marks at least two significant days in the
church calendar – All Saints on Saturday 1 November and All Souls on 2 November
in the case of Western Catholics. In the
East, prayers for the dead are said on various Saturdays of the year but not
specifically this weekend. The ancient
pagan Celtic festival of Samhain which marked the end of harvest in a world
marked by a thin veil between the living and the dead was appropriated by the
early Christian church in Ireland. The eve
of All Saints (Halloween) was a time of prayer and purification just in advance
of the Holy Day. In recent times, a
combination of neo-paganism and commercialism has switched the weekend back to something
other than the Christian tradition. A feature of such celebrations is a strange
focus on death, ghoulish spirits and dabbling in the darker recesses of myth
and pagan custom with more than a hint of human sacrifice. Harmless and fun?
perhaps. But this seems to be far from the message of Christ that death has been conquered and along
with it fear. We are heaven-bound and called to the light as a communion of
souls living and deceased. This has radical
implications for how we live and how we worship. Christian worship God and God
alone. However, we worship together as a
communion and we can be assured that the Saints who have gone before us pray
for us and rejoice with us not least in the celebration of the Eucharist.
There is the matter of purgatory – doctrine of the Roman
Catholic church and still very much part of the practices and belief of Western
Catholics. Indulgences, masses and visits to graveyards especially on 2 November
are woven into the traditions of Catholics in the West. In the East, Catholics
pray for the dead throughout the year – as in the West – but do not subscribe
to a doctrine of purgatory understood as a place or state. However, Eastern
Catholics do accept a purification after death as the soul meets Christ and is
purified by God’s love (rather than simply subjected to punishment).
On the edges of life and death we encounter deep mysteries
and doctrine can be a guide but not a definitive answer to what happens and
how. It is in the practice of communal and private prayer that we are immersed
in the love of God and can experience the consolation and hope of everlasting
life. In this sense it is entirely
appropriate and in keeping with early Christian tradition to pray for the dead
and in particular those we have known and loved and who have gone before us. It
is a way of giving thanks for them but, also, helping them on their way to
fullness of life in Christ. As today’s first reading says:
"Those who trust in him will understand truth, and the faithful will abide with him in love because grace and mercy are upon his holy ones, and he watches over his elect" (Wisdom 3:9)
“And hope does not disappoint us” (Romans 5:5) because we have submitted our questions, our doubts, our struggles to God who is love.
In approaching the throne of God’s grace, Jesus assures us that
nobody will be turned away. No matter who we are and what we have done or
failed to do God’s love seeks us out. He is unrelenting. For our part, we
need to be honest, to be open and to
take seriously the commandment to love our neighbour as ourselves. This is the
way to eternal life – faith and faith alone but not a faith that is divorced
from loving deeds.
Even as the dark evenings close in and we batten down the
hatches here in the northern hemisphere we can look to the light that Christ alone
offers and that this world can never. Our celebration of new life beats the
culture of death that seems to dominate the world.
Oratio
(Collect of the Word for this Sunday - Church
of Ireland)
Almighty and eternal God, you have kindled the flame of love
in the hearts of the saints: Grant to us the same faith and power of love, that, as we rejoice in their
triumphs, we may be sustained by their example and fellowship; through Jesus Christ our
Lord.
Footnotes *
These readings are taken from the Sunday lectionary
used in most Catholic churches. The source is BibleGateway.com: A searchable online
Bible in over 150 versions and 50 languages (using the New Revised
Standard Version - anglicised catholic edition). Psalms in this Blog are
numbered according to the Hebrew (Masoretic) text with the Greek
Septuagint/Vulgate numbering in parenthesis where applicable.
Lectio
Divina:*
Meditatio:
‘Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.’
(Luke 17:19)
Commentary (1,113 words):
Hanging out with the other side
One day Jesus was skirting the borders of Samaria and Galilee. This was troublesome territory on the borders between two very similar but ethnically, religiously and politically hostile communities. It was as if Jesus – a Jew and a Galilean - were walking up the Garvaghy Road in Portadown Northern Ireland or along the international frontier at Aughnacloy some miles to the West! Or, perhaps on the border of some area in Dublin or Colchester where political elements erect flags to claim territory and keep the others out. I strongly suspect that were Jesus, a brown-skinned Palestinian Jew, to walk by some of these man-made frontiers he would not be recognised and might very well be subjected to abuse or rejection.
Lectio
Divina:*
Meditatio:
“we have done only what we ought to have done” (Luke 17:10)
Faith is a form of trust. Not any type of trust.
Faith is a lingering hope when all seems hopeless.
Faith is a stubborn conviction when the evidence seems
thin.
Faith is received more than it is given.
Faith is lived more than it is scripted.
Faith is grace – amazing grace – when we feel utterly lost.
Faith is the bar on which we manage to hang on.
Faith is more about a living and loving relationship of trust than intellectual assent to some doctrines (important as these may sometimes be).
