Lewis Carroll, the English author, wrote a sequel to his much-admired novel Alice in Wonderland.
The sequel, titled Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There, sees Alice walk through a large mirror — the looking glass — only to discover that on the other side, life runs back-to-front.
Examples include:
Walking away from something brings you closer to it
Running helps you stay in the same place
You remember events and feel pain before the cause actually happens
Cake is shared by passing it around first and cutting it afterwards
To read the poem Jabberwocky, Alice needs to hold the text up to a mirror.
In today’s Gospel (Mt. 16: 21–27), Jesus, I suggest, is daring us to walk through the looking glass — to be audacious, and indeed courageous, enough to live back-to-front.
Jesus says:
“For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?”
P.S. Be cautious around full-length mirrors — who knows what might happen!
The illustration is by Jeanne Argent (1944–), a British sculptor, painter and printmaker best known for her 1990 bronze sculpture Alice Through the Looking Glass, located in the Castle Grounds of Guildford, Surrey.
There is a television programme that airs before the weekday 6pm news bulletin on TV1.
The programme is called The Chase. It’s a quiz show with a difference: four contestants must pit their wits against the Chaser, a ruthless quiz genius determined to stop them winning the cash prize.
On occasion, both the contestant and the Chaser interrupt the quizmaster with an answer before the question has been fully read out. At times, that interruption causes blunders — an incorrect answer that could have been avoided had the contestant simply paused.
Admittedly, today’s Gospel (Mt 16:13–20) is not a quiz. However, it involves asking questions, and it is advantageous to wait until the end before answering.
Jesus first asks: “Who do people say that I am?” Those around him reach back into the history of the Jewish people and respond: John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah and other prophets.
Jesus then turns to those he has lovingly invited into his community and patiently taught — those on whom the future of the mission depends — and asks: “Who do you say that I am?”
It is at this critical moment, between the question and the answer, that Jesus must wonder whether all he has shared with them has taken root.
This same question comes to each of us at some point in our own growth into spiritual maturity: “Who do you say I am?”
Do I, like those early disciples, reach back into my history and offer the answer given to me by my parents or caregivers, my teachers, or a religious leader?
Or do I dare provide an answer from the depths of my own inner self? This answer may well differ from that of those who first nurtured me in faith. However, it will be mine, and my relationship with Jesus will be founded on it.
To arrive at that answer, may I suggest we first need to be still and silent — to hear the whole question before we reply.
The image is a mosaic of the face of Jesus, constructed from a collage of many faces.
Today in our Church we celebrate the feast day known as the Assumption. It is a Catholic dogma that Mary, at the end of her earthly life, was taken body and soul into heaven.
While believed down the ages, this dogma was defined by Pope Pius XII on 1 November 1950 in his apostolic constitution “Munificentissimus Deus”.
Some readers of this page may be older than the formal declaration of the dogma.
Many people read this dogma as saying Mary never died. The dogma does not say this.
Orthodox spirituality has another name for this feast day: the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos. Literally, “the falling asleep of the Mother of God”.
The Musée de Cluny (‘Cluny Museum – National Museum of the Middle Ages’), in Paris, is a museum dedicated to the art of the Middle Ages.
One of its collection pieces is a 10th- to early 11th-century ivory plaque of the Dormition of the Virgin, apparently originating in what was then Constantinople (today known as Istanbul, Turkey).
The plaque shows the apostles gathered around a funeral bier. The Virgin Mary lies on the bier.
There is a sadness in the faces of the apostles.
One clings dearly to the feet of the Virgin – how often do we witness a similar scene at funerals? Family members gather around a casket, some with their hands touching the lid or sides.
Another of the apostles swings an incense burner – again, an action all too familiar from our own funeral rituals.
Earthquakes and fires are great news items. Both visual and written news stations provide up-to-date coverage of these events.
As I write, parts of Europe, notably France and Spain, are working to control major fires.
Similarly, earthquake recovery efforts are underway in Venezuela and Japan.
At times, family and community stories include a fire and/or an earthquake. The Ballantyne Department Store fire of 1947 forms part of the story of the city and people of Christchurch.
So too do the major earthquakes that struck that city in September 2010 and February 2011. The consequences of, and recovery from, such events take time for individuals and communities alike.
Both earthquakes and fires are also noisy. So is a very strong wind.
An event known by many as “the Wahine Disaster” involved the sinking of an inter-island ferry in April 1968. The ferry was caught in a violent cyclonic storm and foundered at the entrance to Wellington Harbour. Fifty-three people lost their lives.
Have you ever heard a major news station give coverage of a gentle breeze? Even a weather report ignores such an event.
A gentle breeze happens almost silently, though there may be a little rattle from an unsecured window. An important feature of a gentle breeze is that you can leave your door ajar and your windows open.
The artwork is titled “A Still Small Voice.” The artist is Sister Genevieve, a French national who joined the Salesian Missionaries of Mary Immaculate (SMMI) and worked as an art teacher in India. The image is sourced from the Christian Conference of Asia, India.
This Sunday’s First Reading is taken from the First Book of Kings (19:9, 11–13) and recounts the prophet Elijah’s encounter with his God.
God was not in the mighty wind, nor in the fire, nor in the earthquake. Then came a gentle breeze, and Elijah “covered his face with his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.”
Unfortunately, our text concludes at that point. What happens next is the important part: God asks Elijah, “What are you doing here?”
All who know the story will know that Elijah has in fact run away and is in hiding. So what does God say? “Go, return.”
The moral of the story is this: when you reckon you have found a safe hiding place and are letting the gentle morning breeze catch your face, be very cautious.
