6th Sunday of Ordinary Time

The township of Pukekohe lies some 45km south of Auckland city in Aotearoa, New Zealand.

In the township, there is a store called Pik n Mix. It’s an online lolly store with over 400 different types of loose lollies.

Yes, you read right – 400!

When purchasing, you need to make a choice. Is it the size, the colour, or the taste that influences your choice of lolly?

What you choose and pay for then becomes your responsibility.

This simple act of choosing mirrors a deeper spiritual truth.

In our First Reading today (Ecclesiasticus 15:16–21), the author invites us to make a choice.

“God has set fire and water before you; put out your hand to whichever you prefer. People have life and death before them; whichever a person likes better will be given to them.”

God summons us to a radical way of living. We are called to be more than just moral: God invites us to be virtuous.

We become virtuous by habitually choosing to do good.

Naturally, we are not perfect. However, God calls us to reflect on how we live and to understand what has gone right and what has gone wrong for us.

Such reflection can lead us to insight that will help us to live better and be virtuous in the future.

Therefore, by reflecting on our experiences in the light of our faith, we grow in wisdom.

The author of today’s first reading, Sirach, affirms that God knows every human action. St. Paul reminds us that God has many riches for those who love him.

Jesus, in Matthew’s Gospel, says that he has come not to abolish but to fulfil the Law and the Prophets.

What we see clearly in the readings today is that there are repercussions – good or bad – for all our actions.

Our challenge is to avoid opportunities that do harm and to choose those that lead us to God.

Sirach, the Psalmist, Paul and Jesus embraced this way of life. They are examples of how we can become virtuous and wise.

If we take to heart their messages from the readings this Sunday, we too, like them, will be true beacons of virtue – people of faith, hope and love.

5th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Before the publication of Dan Brown’s novel “The Da Vinci Code,” few knew the intricate details of the artwork on which the book is based. The novel centres on a painting by the Italian Renaissance artist Leonardo da Vinci known as “The Last Supper.”

The painting is massive, measuring about 15 feet high by 28 feet wide. It remains in its original location on the wall of the dining room of the former Dominican convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie—exactly the place for which it was commissioned.

While the novel remains an engaging read, many have questioned its historical accuracy. Church leaders have criticized claims in the book regarding a Jesus-Mary Magdalene bloodline as blasphemous.

However, Leonardo’s intent was not to portray the institution of the Eucharist, nor to provide a charming tableau of fellowship. Instead, he chose to illustrate the dramatic moment described in John 13:21-30, when the Lord prophesies the betrayal of Judas.

Leonardo captures the shock and bewilderment among the Apostles in the moments after Jesus says, “Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.”

As Matthew writes: “And they became greatly distressed and began to say to him one after another, ‘Surely not I, Lord?’” (26:17-30). Mark records the same question, while Luke writes that they began to ask which of them would do such a thing.

Yet it was John’s report that fired Leonardo’s imagination. This provides the context for a detail frequently missed by viewers.

To the left, a figure sits in front of the disciple who is pointing. This is almost certainly Judas. He holds a money bag, signifying his role as treasurer for the 12.

Subtly placed near his arm is a salt container that Judas has knocked over, spilling its contents. In the Book of Leviticus, salt is seen as a symbol of the covenant.

Judas spilling the salt symbolizes that his covenant relationship with Jesus has ended. Because the salt is lost, a haunting question remains: Has the gift been wasted?

As Matthew 5:13 warns: “You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is good for nothing.”

4th Sunday Advent

The first true Christmas card was not produced until the 19th century. The card was designed by J.C. Horsley, a British academic painter of genre and historical scenes and illustrator, in 1843 after being commissioned by Sir Henry Cole, an English civil servant and inventor.

At first glance, the card does not look particularly Christmassy. However, a closer look reveals it is, indeed, very Christian.

The card is a triptych, a picture that has three panels next to each other. The two panels on the left and right give examples of two Christmas charities: feeding and clothing the poor. These charitable works are encouraged by Jesus. We read in Chapter 25 of Matthew, “for I was hungry, and you fed me, naked and you clothed me” (Mt. 25:35–37).

In the centre, a traditional upper-middle-class family is shown giving a toast to an absent family member or friend.

Part of the reality of Christmas, for Christian persons, is to dare to take the Christ child out of the comfort of the manger and let our world feed off him.

All Souls Day

This Sunday our Church celebrates a feast known as All Souls Day. In the Ordo (the daily Mass Calendar) the day is named as ‘Commemoration of the Faithful Departed.’It is a day when we remember with devotion those who have died.

It is common for us to remember family members and close friends.

Many include a visit to the grave side of the person(s) being remembered.

“Human beings have always cared for their dead and sought to give them a sort of second life through attention, care and affection, In a way, we want to preserve their experience of life; and paradoxically by looking at their graves, before which countless memories return, we remember how they lived, what they loved, what they feared, what they hoped for and what they hated, They are almost a mirror of their world.” —Pope Benedict XVI. All Souls Day 2011

The first burial at Karori Cemetery in Wellington, NZ was a month-old infant, Frederic William Fish who died on 3 August 1891 and it was another six months before the next burial.

Margaret Alington in her book Unquiet Earth evokes the barrenness of the Karori Cemetery at that time. “In the midst of the vast acres of rough hillside, the ground was first broken to receive the tiny body. [His remains] lay in isolation on the windy slopes for six months before the next burial.” There was no marker or headstone on Fish’s grave until a plaque was placed at the centenary of the cemetery in 1991.

In the Eucharistic Prayer used by the presider at our Eucharist there is a prayer remembering the dead.

The presider prays, “Remember also our brothers and sisters who have fallen asleep in the hope of the resurrection and all who have died in your mercy: welcome them into the light of your face.”

While the presider prays the pray aloud and alone, the Eucharistic Prayer is, in fact, the prayer of the community.

As the presider I am frequently caught up by the phrase, “And all who have died in your mercy.”

Interiorly, I find myself asking, ‘who doesn’t die in the mercy of our God? Whom would God exclude?

The choice to include or exclude belongs to God!

It can be worth recalling the ‘names’ we have for our God; all loving, all merciful, all compassionate, all forgiving, all redemptive.

Would this all loving, merciful, compassionate, forgiving, redemptive God exclude anyone?
The exclusion is of our doing not, I suggest, of God’s doing!

Here is a suggestion: if you visit the cemetery this All Souls Day, take a moment to stop in front of an old, well worn grave, a grave that maybe somewhat overgrown by grass, brambles, or other sort of vegetation and pause for a moment and offer a prayer for the person whose remains lie there and whose grave is a memory of a life lived, of a life lived and died in the merciful embrace of God.