Author: Simon Sleeman

Fr. Simon Sleeman: John, in his gospel is on an urgent mission but he is not in a hurry. He is patient…he gives us every chance to get it – gives us sign after sign to convince us that this man, Jesus, was sent by God and is truly the Son of God. Sent, sent, sent….40 times John says it in one way or another….Today we have the sixth sign…one more to go…the raising of Lazarus…and then the biggest one of all, the resurrection…Today he is after our possible blindness to the truth.

John sets this ‘sign’ up carefully. First, Jesus heals the man born blind – something he didn’t even ask for – breaks the Sabbath, and having stirred things up sufficiently, disappears – his longest absence in the gospel.

And then John then goes at…challenging us, putting us, his audience to work for some self-reflection on the health of our sight  – invites to watch his carefully chosen protagonists, enter the stage, in pairs – and decide…. ‘Who do you say I am?’ ‘A man sent by God?’  Well, I’m not sure about that…and we watch as blindness unfolds before our very eyes.

First the Indifferent Eye: the locals – friends, neighbours – filled with curiosity at this happening in our quiet village…nothing ever happens here. They are don’t care who did it they just can’t wait to bring him to the religious experts, the Pharisees and see how they react. Their indifference and sense of inadequacy blinds them.

And the man born blind sees this man, Jesus.

Next the Judgemental Eye: Enter the Pharisees –  the respectable people, the religious experts of their day, the recognised authority on the scriptures and the law – they don’t hesitate – they pronounce their verdict quick time, their minds settled…closed…‘he is a sinner’ ‘breaking the Sabbath’. No question…end of matter.

Judgement blinds them and the man born blind acknowledges Jesus as a prophet.  (I sometimes wish this man had a name, but maybe he is all of us)

Next up, ‘The Fearful Eye: The Pharisees, irritated by the whole scene send, as one does on such occasions, for his parents.  ‘The parents are out of their depth and intimidated by the authorities. ‘It is not our fault, we know nothing about this’, ‘Ask him. He is old enough’. And fear takes over, and blinds them.  And the Pharisees murmur.

The Man born blind acknowledges that Jesus is from God.

The parents exit, quietly, and more Jews arrive. Our friend gets a further grilling …Now it is his turn to be irritated – he even makes fun of them and is not the least intimidated but just astonished at their lack of insight.

Next the Resentful Eye: The Jews, angry with this once blind man and resentful of this disruptive, meddling Jewish Jesus, chase the Man born blind into darkness – they think, they hope…their anger and resentment spilling over, they are blind.

And then as if from nowhere, Jesus re-appears. He heard how the Pharisees had mistreated his friend and he went looking for him… they meet and Jesus looked at him and loved him. The man born blind sees Jesus for the first time and recognises the sign which everyone else missed… God present and at work in his life and the man born blind believed in this man sent by God, this Son of Man and worshipped him.

John leads us slowly.. Who do you see? Maybe we don’t, can’t see- sight dimmed by indifference, sight closed by judgement, by murmuring, sight shut down by fear, clouded by resentment and anger? 

And finally, John  presents the Loving Eye. See the ‘truth’, ‘love’ standing before you  …The Son of Man inviting you…. ‘Unless you see a thing in the light of love’, John tells us, ‘you will not see it at all’. It is with the loving eye that reality is revealed, blindness healed, and life transfigured and renewed. Love is the light in which we see light.

‘Yes’ you are the Christ, the Son of God’. You have the message of eternal life….Yes, yes, yes.’  I see….

Fr. Denis Hooper: THE ENGLISH COMEDIAN NOEL COWARD SANG A SONG IN THE 1950’S TITLED “MAD DOGS AND ENGLISHMEN GO OUT IN THE MIDDAY SUN”

SOME OF YOU WILL HAVE GONE ON HOLIDAYS TO HOT COUNTRIES IN THE SUMMER AND WILL HAVE EXPERIENCED WHAT IT IS LIKE DURING A SEVERE HEATWAVE. ANYONE WITH A BIT OF SENSE STAYS INDOORS DURING THE MIDDAY SUN WITH THE AIRCONDITIONING TURNED UP TO FULL!

I CAN ONLY IMAGINE THE HEAT OF THE MIDDAY SUN IN PALESTINE. PEOPLE CAN COLLAPSE FROM HEAT EXHAUSTION. SOME PEOPLE EVEN DIE FROM IT.

I LEARNED A LESSON FROM A PARAMEDIC WHO TREATED A MAN WHO HAD COLLAPSED FROM HEAT EXHAUSTION – NEVER WEAR LONG PANTS IN A HEATWAVE – THEY TRAP THE HEAT. ONLY WEAR SHORTS…

IN FLORIDA THEY SAY THAT AT MIDDAY YOU COULD FILE A MISSING PERSON REPORT. LOOKING FOR YOUR SHADOW.

WHEN YOU COME INTO THIS CHURCH – ON THE LEFT AS YOU ENTER – YOU WILL SEE A PAINTING OF JESUS AND THE SAMARITAN WOMAN AT THE WELL. THE TITLE OF THE PAINTING IS “DE PROFUNDIS” WHICH TRANSLATES “OUT OF THE DEPTHS”

“OUT OF THE DEPTHS” IS A QUOTE FROM PSALM 130 AND THE PAINTING IS INSPIRED BY THIS QUOTE – ALONG WITH TODAY’S GOSPEL FROM JOHN

THE COLOURS IN THE PAINTING SUGGEST THE BURNING HEAT OF THE MIDDAY SUN 

THE SAMARITAN WOMAN IN THE PAINTING IS HOLDING A BUCKET. JESUS HAS HIS HANDS FREE  – SHE LOOKS STRESSED – HE LOOKS CALM. LOTS OF CONTRASTS

JEWS AND SAMARITANS DID NOT GET ALONG – THEY BELIEVED IN THE SAME GOD BUT HAD FUNDAMENTAL DIFFERENCES ABOUT HOW AND WHERE THEY WORSHIPPED GOD.

JESUS STARTS THE CONVERSATION WITH THE WOMAN

IT SOON BECOMES CLEAR THAT THEY ARE NOT ON THE SAME WAVELENGTH. BOTH OF THEM TALK ABOUT WATER BUT THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT DIFFERENT KINDS OF WATER.

SHE IS TALKING ABOUT WATER THAT QUENCHES THE THIRST. IT IS A LIQUID JUST LIKE A COLA OR ANY LIQUID WHICH QUENCHES OUR THIRST

JESUS OFFERS A WATER WHICH IS DIFFERENT – A SPIRITUAL WATER – THE WATER OF LIFE – “UISCE BEATHA” -THE WATER WHICH ADDRESSES OUR MOST FUNDAMENTAL SPIRITUAL LONGINGS

I RECENTLY LISTENED TO BOB GELDOF BEING INTERVIEWED BY BRENDAN O’CONNOR ABOUT HOW HE DEALT WITH THE TERRIBLE GRIEF HE HAS EXPERIENCED IN HIS LIFE: THE DEATH OF HIS MOTHER WHEN HE WAS NINE; HIS FORMER WIFE; AND HIS DAUGHTER. I RECOMMEND ANYONE TO LISTEN TO THE PODCAST OF THE INTERVIEW AS IT IS – PROFOUNDLY DE PROFUNDIS- PROFOUNDLY “OUT OF THE DEPTHS”!

I CAN’T HELP ASKING MYSELF THAT IF HE WAS AWARE OF THE HEALING WATER JESUS OFFERS THAT IN SOME WAY BOB GELDOF WOULD HAVE FOUND A DEEPER WELL HE COULD HAVE DRAWN FROM. 

JESUS TELLS US: “BLESSED ARE THOSE WHO MOURN, THEY SHALL BE CONSOLED”

BOB GELDOF SAID HE DIDN’T PICK HIS SCABS OF GRIEF. BUT I KNOW THAT WHEN I HAVE A SCAB I INEVITABLY BUMP IT AGAINST SOMETHING, OFTEN CAUSING IT TO BLEED. 

TO CONTINUE WITH THAT IMAGERY, I AM CERTAIN THAT THOSE OF US WHO EXPERIENCE GRIEF AND WHO TURN TO JESUS FOR THE HEALING WATER HE OFFERS US IN OUR GRIEF –

– WE DO NOT HAVE “SCABS OF GRIEF”. RATHER THOSE SCABS FOR US ARE HEALING SCARS WHERE WE FIND SOME COMFORT AND MEANING IN OUR GRIEF… –  BUT THEY ARE SCARS NONETHELESS AND THEY NEVER DO GO AWAY

THE LESSON FROM TODAY’S GOSPEL IS THAT IF YOU TURN TO THE LORD YOU WILL NOT BE DISAPPOINTED. YOU TOO MAY DRINK OF THE WATER OF LIFE – “THE UISCE BEATHA” –  JESUS OFFERS TO EACH AND EVERY ONE OF US

LET’S TURN TO PSALM 130 ONCE AGAIN 

TOWARDS THE END OF THE PSLAM GIVES MEANING TO THE KIND OF WATER JESUS OFFERS THE SAMARITAN WOMAN:

PSALM 130 SAYS: “HOPE IN THE LORD

FOR WITH THE LORD THERE IS UNFAILING LOVE AND FULLNESS OF REDEMPTION”

I HAVE JUST FINISHED READING JAMES PLUNKETT’S BRILLIANT NOVEL, STRUMPET CITY. ONE OF THE CENTRAL CHARACTERS IN THE BOOK IS RASHERS TIERNEY – A MAN BARELY ABLE TO SURVIVE FROM DAY TO DAY, LIVING IN THE AWFUL POVERTY OF THE DUBLIN SLUMS IN THE EARLY 20TH CENTURY.

RASHERS HAS A ROW WITH A YOUNG PRIEST, FR.O’CONNOR AND SAYS HE IS GOING TO CHANGE PARISHES AS A RESULT. HE SAYS HE IS GOING TO KNOCK ON THE DOOR OF A CHURCH IN A NEARBY PARISH. HE KNOWS WHAT GOD WILL SAY TO HIM: “COME ON IN RASHERS, I KNEW YOUR KNOCK”.

WE PRAY THAT GOD WILL RECOGNISE OUR KNOCK ON THE DAY WE CALL ON HIM FOR THE WATER OF LIFE

Fr. Jarek Kurek: Some fifteen hundred years ago there lived a holy man who, like Abraham, who we heard about in the 1st reading, was not afraid to take risks. Because of that courage, that holy man was richly blessed by God; and again, like Abraham, he became a blessing for countless people in the centuries that followed.

Most of you here, I’m sure, know this saint well, as students of a Benedictine school. It is St Benedict—Benedictus in Latin, a name that simply means “blessed”—whom I want to speak to you about today.

Benedict must have been around your age when he made his first major life decision. Disappointed with the world he lived in—despite receiving a good education—he chose to leave it behind. At first glance, this might seem like a reckless move. But deep down, Benedict knew exactly what he was doing. It was not an impulsive escape, but a well-informed decision. As his biographer tells us, “even as a boy, Benedict had the heart of an elder.” Already as a boy he had the heart of and elder…

So he left everything because he wanted to respond fully to God’s call and to serve Him alone. This marked the beginning of Benedict’s journey into the mountains—both literally and spiritually.

The beginnings were not easy. Benedict chose a harsh way of life: high up in the wilderness, with little food and great isolation. Yet aren’t these very challenges the ones that test a person’s character and shape true resilience?

Before long, word of his radical way of life spread, and disciples began to arrive. People wanted to learn from him and to live as he did. Eventually, Benedict was asked to lead a nearby community. This is where he truly began to learn about human nature—about how difficult it can be to guide others. And believe me, this was not an easy lesson. In fact, this was the moment when Benedict lived out, in its fullest sense, the exhortation we heard from St Paul in today’s second reading: “Join with me in suffering for the Gospel.”

What happened? The very community he was leading tried to poison him. Why? Because Benedict’s standards were too demanding for them. He aimed too high. And how did he respond? He did not retaliate or argue. Instead, he calmly left. Once again, he made a wise and well-discerned decision.

At that time, Benedict felt it was better to live alone with God. He withdrew because he saw things differently. He had a broader, more global vision—one that allowed him to grow even further in wisdom.

In time, Benedict was blessed with deeper spiritual insight and new disciples who truly wanted to learn from him. It was through these experiences, and his remarkably visionary approach, that the Rule of St Benedict was born. This famous document responded to the needs of people in Benedict’s own day, it paved the way for many generations—and it continues to guide thousands of monks around the world, as well as many lay people who strive to live according to its spirit.

It was also Benedict who set the pattern of placing monasteries high in the mountains—think of Monte Cassino. Even today, many Benedictine monasteries are blessed with truly spectacular locations, places that lift both the eyes and the soul.

Finally, consider Benedict’s own experience of a kind of Transfiguration. All his life, he aimed high, relentlessly moving upward. In the final phase of his life, he was granted an overwhelming vision of light. We are told that he saw the whole world gathered into a single ray of sunlight. Within that light, he saw a soul being carried upward by angels in a ball of fire. And I like to believe that there, as in today’s Gospel, Benedict beheld Christ himself—revealed in his cosmic glory.

Gregory the Great, Benedict’s biographer, explains how such a vision was possible. It happened because Benedict’s mind and heart had grown so vast that they could embrace the whole world.

And that is my message to you: aim high. Take risks. Grow in wisdom. Imitate St Benedict by expanding your heart and your mind, and step by step, become a person of his stature. Thus you too will be a blessing for many.

 

Fr. Lino Moreira: When Jesus was baptised in the River Jordan, the Spirit of God descended upon him (cf. Mt 3:16), and a voice from heaven declared, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased’ (Mt 3:17). This event marked the public anointing of Jesus as the Messiah. One might expect him to begin his ministry immediately, but Matthew reports that he was first led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil (cf. Mt 4:1). Jesus spent forty days and forty nights in the wilderness fasting, and when he was hungry, the tempter came, seeking to divert him from his mission. 

“If you are the Son of God,” says the devil, “turn these stones into loaves” (Mt 4:3). The suggestion seems reasonable, even compassionate. Surely, the Messiah’s first and most urgent task would be to feed the hungry, starting with himself, by changing the stones of the desert into bread. Yet human experience shows that even if the world’s scarcity of food and necessities were suddenly overcome, a far deeper hunger would remain: the hunger of the soul. Therefore, Jesus replies, quoting from the Book of Deuteronomy: “It is written, ‘One does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God’” (Mt 4:4). It is only by turning to God that the human soul is satisfied, and it is only by listening to God’s word and living it out that a fair distribution of this world’s riches can be achieved. The role of the Messiah is not to act as a deus ex machina by miraculously providing for everyone’s material needs, but to purify our hearts from selfishness and greed.

Then the devil took [Jesus] to the holy city and set him on the pinnacle of the temple and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘they will bear you up on their hands, lest you strike your foot against a stone’” (Mt 4:5-6). This time the tempter urges Jesus to test whether God will protect him during his mission. Quoting Psalm 90 (91), the devil reminds Jesus that God has promised to watch over his own, particularly within the precincts of his sacred dwelling. Therefore, if the Son of God were to throw himself down from the pinnacle of the temple, his Father would surely keep him from harm. Jesus replies with another quotation from the Book of Deuteronomy: “It is also written, ‘Do not put your God to the test’” (Mt 4:7). Indeed, to seek a demonstration that God is true to his word would be an attempt to reduce him to an object of experimentation, and such pride, which makes genuine trust impossible, undermines the love that alone can sustain a real relationship with God. 

Next, the devil shows Jesus all the kingdoms of the world and their glory, saying: “All these I will give you, if you fall down and worship me” (Mt 4:8). Now Jesus is invited to establish a worldly kingdom, ushering in a golden age of peace and prosperity for all. However, to fulfil what the Law and the prophets say about him (cf. Lk 24:27), the Messiah must remain in the course of human history the seemingly powerless one. He is the suffering servant spoken of by the prophet Isaiah, and only through his obedience and self-giving – through his passion, death and resurrection – can he bring about salvation in accordance with God’s plan. Therefore, quoting from the Book of Deuteronomy for the third time, Jesus replies: “Away with you, Satan! For it is written, ‘The Lord your God shall you worship, and him alone shall you serve’” (Mt 4:10).

When we reflect on Jesus’ temptations, we begin to recognise our own temptations. Our preoccupation with solving immediate problems can make us forget that true life – and indeed peace and justice for our world – comes from listening to God’s word and putting it into practice. Bitter disappointment or fear of what lies ahead can lead us to seek certainty on our own terms rather than trusting in God’s unfailing love. And finally, we can be tempted to worship power and wealth instead of the Lord God, the only one we are called to serve. 

During the forty days of Lent, we are invited to spend time with Jesus in the desert, learning from him how to identify and resist the devil’s deceptions. In this way, our hearts are purified for the joyful celebration of Easter.

Fr. John O’Callaghan: ‘If you choose you will keep the commandments and so be faithful to his will’. This statement, which we heard from the Old Testament, was followed by the words of Jesus in the gospel ‘if your righteousness does not surpass that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never get into the kingdom of heaven.’ It was the Ten commandments, and a multitude of other precepts, that the scribes and Pharisees were teaching. So there is a difference between the teaching of the Pharisees and what Christ calls for, one surpasses the other. That is what we should consider today, with reference to the examples Christ himself used: murder, adultery and breaking an oath.

Christians know well that the sixth commandment, against adultery, is concerned with the special respect due to, the inviolability of, the relationship between husband and wife: that that relationship is not to be intruded upon by a third party, it is not to be a transitory connection, but a permanent and profound one, where spouses share with each other their true worth and stature. The attraction of the sexes, which in the first instance is a biological law, one of nature’s tricks (one might say), receives a human and spiritual dimension within which fidelity and ties of love can develop.  It is a relationship in which what is sensual becomes spiritual and what is spirit become sensually tangible. A relationship of married love is a way in which a human being can open him or herself up for another.  And that love is not all giving, but it is not all taking either. Anyone who gives love must also receive it as a gift. As Christ said (Jn 7:37) one can become a source from which rivers of living water flow. Yet to become such a source, one must constantly drink anew from the original source. 

And this, we may add, gives us some insight into God. God’s love for us, by  contrast, is totally giving. We know, by simply reflecting, that by his very nature, by definition, God does not need us. He has choosen freely to enter into relationship with us. And his love is more than creative generosity for God is one who forgives, as we see in sacred history. Israel betrayed him, in the language of the Old Testament, committed adultery against him, broke the covenant made at Sinai and worshipped other gods. It would have been entirely fair and right for the people of Israel to be judged, condemned and repudiated. For the relationship to end. But his excess of love was revealed when, in the words of the prophet Hosea, he said: ‘How can I abandon you, O Ephraim! How can I hand you over, O Israel! My heart recoils within me my compassion grows warm and tender… I will not destroy… for I am God, not man, the Holy One in your midst’. God turned against Himself, God’s love is greater than his justice’. It is a prefiguring of the mystery of the Cross: God’s love for humankind goes beyond all reason, beyond justice, by becoming human in Christ, by sharing in our life, our death and gifting us with the resurrection. 

When we encounter this love, as an event, perhaps as a personal experience, we are inspired to a more mature discipleship than straightforward obedience to Ten Commandments and precepts. This is all the difference between the teaching of the Old and New Testaments. The Old is at best a preparation for the New, an education for a better way of living.

The same logic of love applies to the other demands made on us in today’s gospel. ‘You shall not murder’. Within ourselves we may find it obvious that we should not kill someone else. However at the two extremes of life, its beginning and its end, Christian love inspires us to go beyond evaluating life in terms of practical utility and therefore possibly eliminating it; rather we are inspired to  preserve life from conception through to death. We are called to help people to live rather than help them to die. 

And, thirdly, ‘you must not break your oath’. Tell no lie! Do not bear false witness! Truth is a fundamental gift for humanity. All the commandments are commandments of love or are developments of the command to love.  In that sense they all have to do quite explicitly with the precious gift of truth. One recalls the dictum of Edith Stein: ‘Accept nothing  as love if it lacks truth,  accept nothing as truth if it lacks love.’

To conclude, the Christian faith has retained the core of Israel’s faith, while at the same time giving it new breadth and depth. We are not simply called to obey commands for good behaviour; we are called to a personal response to the gift of love received from the God in Christ and which flows over to love of neighbour. The first line of the First Letter of St John articulates the heart of Christian faith and our calling: ‘God is love, and the person who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in that person’. (1 Jn 4:16)

Fr. Mark Patrick Hederman. You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. Salt and Light are two images suggesting the amazing reality of who we are if we only choose to realise this fact. Salt is a rock, perhaps the only one we eat to keep ourselves alive. It is also a mineral, a stable chemical compound, which never rots or decays. That is why it has been used for millennia as a way of preserving food, and as a way of embalming dead bodies, such as Egyptian mummies: Tutankhamun, or King Tut, for instance, who reigned as pharaoh in Egypt a thousand three hundred and thirty years before Jesus Christ came on earth.  

You are the salt of the earth means that you are potentially everlasting. So valuable was salt in ancient Rome that soldiers were paid with it as others might be paid with silver or gold. The word salary comes from the Latin word sal, meaning salt.    If you get a cut in your salary it probably means that you’re not ‘worth your salt.’ 

The light of the world, is another attempt to explain how powerful we really are, if we only reach down and turn on the switch. As of this weekend,  the majority of the 30,000 households  left without power by Storm Chandra will have had their power restored. They had been cut off from the energy supply normally available to us all. The Gospel this morning is telling us that we might all be in the same situation: the power available to us is being left dormant. We haven’t switched on the light.

About a hundred years ago, in 1923 in fact, a young engineer from Drogheda called Thomas McLaughlin returned to Ireland after a period working with Siemens in Berlin and studying hydroelectric schemes throughout Europe. He proposed damming the River Shannon and building an electric power station at Ardnacrusha. We owe a debt to such visionaries and to those who raised the million utility poles that brought power to the homes and farms of rural Ireland.

 

The electrification of Ireland was always on a voluntary basis. You could freely choose to participate in this new kind of energy and many refused the offer because they did not believe in it or because they could not afford it. What better way to explain the huge gift on offer in terms of Divine energy: The choice is yours, it is up to you. There is a secret subway that provides access to an alternative energy. It introduces you to a co-pilot who takes all the worry out of navigation, who is as canny as a sherpa, and who never intervenes unless invited to do so. This person is polite, imaginative, personable, sympathetic, patient, self-effacing, practical, and will disappear at the slightest hint of disapproval. 

There is a great deal of discussion today about the surest, cleanest, cheapest, least toxic, most reliable energy in our world. Harnessing power is a major preoccupation for a world that wants to spin. The human race has used its ingenuity to a maximum in this regard. From the first discovery of fire through flint, to the hectic story of the Twentieth Century plundering expensive energy from an ever diminishing supply of fossil fuels, we have come to the more recently discovered uranium fuel. One pellet creates as much energy as a ton of coal or 17,000 cubic feet of natural gas. None of these sources of energy is as potent as the power of the Holy Spirit blowing everywhere in our world. But we, as human beings, have to harness this power; otherwise it blows where it will. You can become a generator if ‘you fan into flame the gift of God which is in you’[2 Timothy, 1:6]. “If you have faith even as small as a mustard seed, as one uranium pellet, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you” [Matthew 17:20]. Ardnacrusha in Irish árd na croise means the height of the cross, that 2,000 year old utility pole, raised up in Jesus Christ to hold us aloft in the Holy Spirit.

Fr. William Fennelly: Contemporary spirituality tends to identify holiness with wholeness. Given that theology has always affirmed that grace builds on nature, that equation is, if taken correctly, good algebra. What is less emphasised in contemporary spirituality is how difficult it is to attain any kind of wholeness.

Why is this? I think it’s partly because we are all so incredibly complex. We spend much of our lives sorting through various rooms within our hearts trying to find out where we’re really at home and trying on various personalities the way we try on clothes. It’s hard to come to wholeness when we aren’t always sure who we are or what’s ultimately truest within us.

I recently saw an interesting interview in youtube with Catherine de Hueck Doherty, the foundress of the Madonna House Apostolate, an originally lay spiritual movement in the US in the 1940’s. Like St Brigid whom we celebrate today who also founded a monastery that had such an impact on her native Kildare so Doherty had an important impact in Canada. She was already 80 years old in the clip and was reflecting upon her own spiritual struggles. “Inside of me,” she said, “there are three persons:

There is someone I call the Baroness. This person is very spiritual, efficient, and given to asceticism and prayer. The baroness is the religious person. She has founded a religious community and writes spiritual books challenging others and herself to dedicate their lives to God and the poor. The Baroness reads the Gospel and is impatient with the things of this world. For her, this life must be sacrificed for the next one.

Then there is Catherine. Catherine is, first of all and always, the woman who likes fine things, sensual things. She enjoys idleness, long baths, fine clothes. Catherine enjoys this life and doesn’t like renunciation and poverty. She is nowhere as religious or efficient as the Baroness and they don’t get along at all.

And finally, inside of me too there is another person, a little girl, who is lying on a hillside in Finland, watching the clouds and daydreaming. This little girl is quite distant from both the Baroness and from Catherine.

… And as I get older I feel more like the Baroness, long more for Catherine, but think that maybe the little girl daydreaming on a hillside in Finland is the true me.”

Had these words been written by someone with a lesser within the spiritual life, they would not be as meaningful. Human personality is so complex and the struggle for wholeness is so difficult. Like St Brigid who today has to carry the 5th century Brigid, modern Brigid of Brigid’s day festival also has to carry also the Celtic goddess Brigid who was celebrated at Imbolc.

Like Catherine Doherty, all of us have a number of persons inside of us. Inside of each of us there’s someone who hears the Gospel call, that’s drawn to the religious, to the beatitudes, to self-sacrifice, to a life beyond this one. But inside of us there is also the hedonist, the person who wants to luxuriate in this world and its pleasures. Beyond that, inside of each of us there is too a little boy or little girl, daydreaming still on some hillside somewhere.

John XXIII once said that to be a saint is to will one thing, “to desire holiness above all”. However, given all of these people inside of me, what can I really will?

Moreover, given that grace is not meant to demolish nature it is too simple to say that the spiritual life is merely a question of having the “spiritual person” win out over the “lover of this world,” and the “daydreaming child.” Wholeness must somehow mean precisely a making of one whole out of all of these parts. To ignore, demolish, invalidate, or bypass one part for another is unlikely to achieve real wholeness.

The truly spiritual person is a whole person and a whole person is, as Christ was, the ascetic and the lover of this life and the lover of the next life, the dreamer and the realist, and many more things, all at the same time. What must be rejected in our spiritual quest is not our own nature, with its endless paradoxes and seeming schizophrenia, but all spiritualities, ideologies, and conventional wisdom, which tell us that it’s simple, and would have us believe that holiness can be achieved quickly, without confusion and without great patience and perseverance. Doing holiness, wholeness is lived in time and over time.

All of us are pathologically complicated. Each of us could write our own book on our multiple personalities. But that points to the richness, not the poverty, of our personalities. It doesn’t suggest that there are parts of us that aren’t spiritual, but that the attainment of wholeness is a lot more complex than any one part of us would have us believe. Nikos Kazantzakis once wrote that “the spirit wants to wrestle with flesh that is strong and full of resistance … because … the deeper the struggle, the richer the final harmony.” This becoming is as St Paul wrote  God choosing the foolish of the world to shame the wise. To be as Zephaniah says one of the humble of the earth seeking the Lord. One of Matthew’s “poor in spirit” who are promised the kingdom of God.

Fr. Luke Macnamara: “Ground zero” once referred simply to the centre point of a nuclear explosion. Since 9/11, it evokes the World Trade Centre and the memorial to the 2,977 lives lost that day. New York’s city centre will forever be remembered as Ground Zero.

Something similar happens in today’s readings. Zebulun and Naphtali were tribal place names, long unused by Jesus’ time. His contemporaries would have called the region Galilee. Yet the Gospel deliberately uses these older names, which carry a history of suffering: oppression, exploitation, conquest, and displacement. Zebulun and Naphtali recall some of Israel’s lowest points.

By beginning his ministry here, Jesus shows that he comes to people at their lowest, where need is greatest. These struggles are not only caused by external forces but also by internal sin and division. Still, he comes: “I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.”

We all have our own “Zebulun and Naphtali”—places in our lives where things have gone wrong, often because of our own choices. The good news is that Jesus comes even to our darkest places. He brings the power of God’s kingdom to transform our lives: “The people who lived in darkness have seen a great light; on those who dwell in the land and shadow of death, a light has dawned.”

How do we receive this light? One way is through the Word of God. The psalmist reminds us: “The Word is a lamp for my steps and a light for my path” and “The Lord is my light and my help.” Even when darkness comes, God’s Word can reach the deepest parts of our hearts and shine a transforming light there. As Hebrews says: “Indeed, the Word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit… it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.”

God’s Word not only brings light but transforms us: fear becomes trust, despair becomes hope, hatred becomes love, and division becomes unity. It reshapes how we think, speak, and relate to God, to one another and to ourselves.

Let us honour the victims of 9/11—and all who suffer from violence and war—by walking in the light of God’s Word. May we nurture the gifts that flow from it: trust, hope, love, and peace. Just as Zebulun and Naphtali became “Galilee of the nations,” may we too become a land of freedom and courage—a home where God’s light shines, even in the darkest places. 

 

 

Fr. Simon Sleeman: ‘Look’, here is the lamb of God, John the Baptist calls out. At communion, I will say, ‘Behold’ ‘Look’, the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world –  twice I’ll say it. There we have an image of the lamb on the front of the altar. In the OT people bitten by snakes are told to look at a bronze serpent and be healed…Looking, looking, looking….it seems to be key. Yet it seems an easy, uncomplicated task.

But it is not simple – this capacity to look has taken 3.5 billion years to become the superpower it is today.

How we ‘look’ is unclear … it is a problem that has bedevilled scientists, philosophers and engineers for a long time and especially the last fifty years…It is the BIG issue for AI. Teaching a ‘robot’ to look.

The old idea was that the world is made of objects, we look at an object, the chair. Evaluate the object and then act.  I sit on the chair.

When I look down the church, what do I see?  and what determines what I see? I can’t look at everything…and there is an infinite number of things I could look at….

Six people were in a gym – three dressed in white bibs and three in black ones. Their task was to pass a basketball and to count the number of passes made to a person in a white bib. In the middle of the game a person dressed in a gorilla suit walks into the group, stops, thumps its chest and moves away. You can see it on tube only 45 seconds. Most of the group never saw the gorilla!

Looking is not that simple it turns out. When we look, what we see is in accordance with our aim.  What I look at, what I see, reflects my aim.  ‘Look’ there is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Sin means my aim is off.    

Our culture tempts us to aim low.  ‘Look’ it says – at stuff that brings your aim down – do things that bring your aim down – in some ways, our culture, doesn’t want us with any aim at all – just blind, confused and distracted, consuming in desperation, accumulating. Fulfilling every desire and whim – the secret to happiness and the economy growing…and our aim dragged down into the mud. 

The readings today, in contrast, challenge us to aim high. Look, there is the Lamb of God. ‘Oh Christian be aware of your nobility’: become a light to the world, saints of God. Aiming at the highest.

It is no accident that the cross hangs, high, above the altar inviting us to ‘look up’… to aim high.  ‘Look up’ at the fulfilment of the highest possible aim, behold the lamb of God, crucified, in an act of sacrificial love, inviting you and me to do the same – to die and to rise from the dead.

At this time of the year it is easy to for our aim to be off ….and thus to look down – it takes great courage and fortitude to live to the highest aim, to take on the responsibility of your life and live to your highest calling. And we fail but we come each week to urge each other to ‘look’ up again, to check our aim. You might say, that we don’t do it very well and that may be true but what happens doesn’t depend on you and me alone – you are, we are, the one on whom the Holy Spirit descends, nudging us upwards. The Cross hangs there, a challenge, right in front of us. Beckoning.

Fr. William Fennelly: On Christmas Day we asked the shepherds‘Whom have you seen? Who has appeared on earth?’ Then came their answer: ‘We have seen the New-Born Child, and choirs of Angels praising the Lord.’ Today’s Feast invites us to ask again: ‘Who has appeared on earth?’ Remember ‘epiphany’ means ‘appearance.’

Let’s ask the Magi. They saw the stars align. They were led to the manger by their own questioning and their following of the star. Maybe the Magi would reply: ‘The heavens tell us of a King born in Israel.’ If they had talked to Mary and Joseph, they might add: ‘This King chose the time of his own birth so the heavens proclaim him.’

This Feast traditionally celebrates three events. In the West, we spread them out; in the East, Our Lord’s Baptism is today’s main event. So let’s ask God the Father: ‘Who has appeared on earth? ’We will hear God add at the Lord’s baptism next Sunday: ‘This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.’

Let’s ask the Holy Spirit: ‘Who has appeared on earth?’ or, rather, let’s ask John the  Baptist what the Spirit meant by descending on Jesus. St John in his gospel records the Baptist’s answer: ‘He who sent me… said… “He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain, this is he who baptises with the Holy Spirit”.’

The third event is the Wedding at Cana, when Jesus worked his first sign. To the question, ‘Who has appeared on earth?’ it gives this answer: ‘The Creative Word who turns water into wine. The context in which Jesus worked this sign adds: ‘The Divine Bridegroom come to purchase his Bride.’ Let’s ask St John: ‘Who has appeared on earth?’ He replies, enigmatically: ‘Jesus… manifested (showed) his glory.’

In Greek, epiphany can refer to various types of appearances, among them to the appearing of a god. The Eastern Churches are a bit clearer, and call today Theophany, the Appearing of God. The Feast is not, primarily, about the visit of the Magi to Jesus; it’s about God’s Visit to us, the Solemn Visit in which the Divine King has let the world see him. The Magi, the star-sign they saw, and the others of whom we enquire, tell us whose Visit we celebrate.

They also point us towards a greater Theophany. Today’s the traditional day for the date of Easter to be announced. This points to the fact that it was on Calvary at Easter that Jesus, as King, drew all things and all people to himself. God isn’t only adored in some disembodied spiritual quest by an inward movement folded in upon myself and detached from all that might disturb and engage the heart. It has to be possible to find and adore God in the simple yet messy complexity of human experience’ of our experience.

Even in our own times which so profoundly distrust claims for absolute truth, there remains in the human heart a deep desire for the truth. The RB talks about the dilation or expansion of the heart. We believe that the child born in Bethlehem is the truth for which the human heart hungers. Like the magi, we need to be attentive and to seek the truth wherever it is to be found, for ultimately it is in Him who said, ‘I am the truth’, it’s in this great God who shows himself to us in a little child.