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Sunday, April 29, 2012

Singapore

The pilgrims have landed in Singapore. But we are also aware that this was the point that most of the group reached two years ago before the volcano put an end to the journey.

We have six hours here, in a comfortable transit lounge.

I just asked the group if they want to blog anything...their comments included:
  • thanks for the prayers - they seem to be working so far!
  • Singapore Airlines doing well so far - particularly with lost hearing aid which was found after the staff searched the cabin!
Keep the prayers coming as we are for you.

departure

Christchurch airport. 

29 April 2012, 10.30am







Thomas Merton's Pilgrim's Prayer:

My Lord God,
I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end....
Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you,
does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this,
You will lead me by the right road, though 
I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though
I may seem lost in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

pilgrimage departs tomorrow

Tomorrow morning the pilgrims depart from Christchurch for the Holy Land.

Please keep us in your prayers.  If you have a special prayer intention you wish us to carry for you let me know foodforfaith@me.com.  We will remember these intentions every day in prayer, especially as we celebrate the Mass at the Holy Places.  These intentions will be left (on paper) at the Western Wall of the Temple.   I will receive emails while on pilgrimage so feel free to email at any time.

Personally I will remember in prayer all readers of this blog.  We have become something of a family of pilgrims ourselves, coming often to this 'virtual place'.  

I will update this blog regularly with reflections from our travels and with photos.


Friday, April 27, 2012

Vocations Sunday



When did you last encourage someone to consider that God might be calling them to serve as a priest?

This Sunday (“Good Shepherd Sunday”, the Fourth Sunday of Easter) is celebrated throughout the Church as Vocations Sunday.

In a real sense every Sunday of the year is a day of focus on the Christian vocation to live every moment in relationship with Jesus.

There are as many vocational calls as there are human people. The call of God to you is renewed daily. 

The call of God is not only given to the young as they discern how they will spend their lives. A vocational call is the call of God given to every person every day. If I am nearing retirement and old age is imminent, I am being called to hear anew (or even for the first time) the call of God.

Whatever age or stage of life I am in, God is calling me to live in response to the divine call: God is gifting me anew a life-purpose that is my vocation.

A vocation is not simply a job or even a career to which I am committed. To work in such a way may be a useful contribution to society. I may find this occupation to be satisfying and earn a salary enabling me to lovingly provide for my family. I may even be aware of God using me in this work to assist others or even to spread the Gospel. None of this turns a job, into vocation.

A starting point for a life of vocation is, as Cardinal Newman prayed, a unique call that God gives to me personally. I am created by God for some specific service. 

The heart of this life is personal intimacy with Jesus. It is this ultimate relationship that give meaning to all human life. In this personal and lived relationship I am freed from all superficial compulsions. I am able to see beyond worldly successes and rewards.

In seeking to live in response to God’s Vocational call to me I experience “life, and have it in abundance.”  John 10:10

I will give you Shepherds

Today, Good Shepherd Sunday, there is a particular focus for our vocational reflection. We know that human people cannot live without the Eucharist, and the Eucharist cannot be a reality among us without priests. Today we pray especially for vocations to the priesthood.

We hear much talk about a shortage of priests. While there may be fewer priests in parishes in our diocese than there were forty years ago, there are many more priests today than there were eighty years ago when there was a much greater number of Catholic at Mass every Sunday in the diocese. 

This awareness has prompted pastoral planning to ensure that the Mass and sacraments are available for all the people of the diocese. This process has been a difficult adjustment for both people and priests.

Many people argue that the ‘shortage’ of priests is a sign that the Church needs to change the criteria for ordination to the priesthood. But many other denominations have made these changes and they still face the difficulty of attracting people who are willing to give their lives in ministry. These communities also still struggle with attracting worshippers on Sunday.

Practical solutions are never an adequate response to crises of faith.

The reason that our pastoral plans and practical response cannot resolve the problem of a ‘shortage of priests’, is that we are being invited to consider the deeper issues. 

Thirty years ago when I was considering a vocation to priesthood, the family, parish and school environments saw priesthood as a worthwhile vocation worthy of an entire human life. I am not sure that this environment is still present in our families, parishes and schools.

When did you last encourage a young (or not so young) man, to consider giving his life to God as a priest?  

Have you encouraged your sons, grandsons, godsons or nephews to consider priesthood? Have you spoken to single men (even strangers) whom you see at Mass each Sunday suggesting that God might be calling them to priesthood?

When your children and grandchildren and workmates hear you speaking about priests, do they hear you valuing the priestly ministry that God carries out through these men (who remain his imperfect but willing servants)?

building environments of faith

Today, on this vocations Sunday, let us pray for all priests; that they may be faithful servants of Christ the priest. That they may be loving shepherds. Let us also pray for those discerning a call to priesthood in the seminary. 

We pray especially for the seminarians of our own Christchurch diocese. We also remember those of our diocese who are in seminaries of religious communities around the world. 

Let us also pray that our own families, schools, parishes and our diocese will be environments of encouragement and support for any parishioner who is being called by God to serve as a priest.  

Easter IV newsletter

The weekly newsletter for the Catholic Parishes of the Hurunui and the Chatham Islands is now uploaded at www.catholichurunui.co.nz



brain food

Too often we seek nourishment for our faith only in what is labelled 'spiritual'.  Then we thing that 'spiritual' is a synonym only for what is 'nice' or 'good feeling' or 'apart from normal reality'.

We forget that is something is real, beautiful, true, or intellectually stimulating, even if it upsets us or causes us to lose sleep in the process of stretching our minds and hearts, then it is truly spiritual, that is, 'of the Spirit of God'.

A couple of articles that might help to re-engage your brains in your life of faith:






Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Anzac Day

On Anzac day in 2008, thirty pilgrims from Our Lady of Victories parish, Christchurch prayed at the NZ Monte Cassino war graves in Italy.  

The day had not gone according to plan in many ways. Our bus from the Rome hotel was four hours late. We would not be able to see both Pompeii and Monte Cassino in the one day as planned.   

After a frustrating morning waiting for the bus in Rome, our wonderful tour guide (Paola) took us to lunch (paid for by the bus company).  A second bonus was the bus would arrive at 1pm, take us to Monte Cassino, then the following day the bus would also be at our disposal enabling us to have a more relaxed trip to Pompeii.

So there we were at midday, Anzac Day in Rome, eating good free food, drinking very good "Seven Hills" wine (also 'on-the-bus - company), and early afternoon we headed to Monte Cassino.


It was later clear to us that God was in control ensuring that our planned single busy day, would become two relaxed days with time to savour the depth and beauty of all we were to experience.

Benedictine Monastery. Monte Cassino.  Photo Peter Fleming
The Benedictine Monastery of Monte Cassino is on the hill top above the town - a great vantage point. This was part of the reason that a significant battle of WWII was fought there.


After visiting the monastery, founded by Benedict in the sixth century (a blog entry for another day), we bussed back down the hill to the cemeteries.

Polish Graves.  Monte Cassino.  Photo Peter Fleming
Our first stop was the Polish Cemetery. This was significant for our group since Joseph, originally from Poland was with us.  It was deeply moving to see Joe move from grave to grave recognising names and families of compatriots.  

An inscription at these graves reads:

"We Polish soldiers
For our freedom and yours
Have given our souls to God
Our bodies to the soil of Italy
And our hearts to Poland"


Joseph then led us in prayer in his original language.

Then we moved to the New Zealand war graves.

New Zealand Graves.  Monte Cassino.  Photo: Peter Fleming.


343 New Zealanders died at Monte Cassino. The total casualty count from this four-month battle was over fifty thousand soldiers.

We wandered among these graves, silently, recognising family names and home towns.

Then we gathered and prayed, singing the soldiers sun-down prayer:

Day is done.
Gone the sun.
from the sea, 
from the hills, 
from the sky.
All is well.
Safely rest.
God is nigh.


May all who have died in war, 
rest in God's peace.
and may rulers and governments learn 
that true peace
can never be achieved
through violence of any kind.




seven years

Last night a great group gathered at Robbies Elmwood for Theology in the Pub.  Seven years earlier, to the hour, Pope Benedict celebrated his first Mass as pope (April 24 2005).

Without making this date connection, I mentioned his first homily as a most powerful and beautiful exhortation to all that is best in human life.  Whatever topic I am reflecting on, this masterful homily is relevant.

You might set aside a few minutes to savour this encouragment.

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 
During these days of great intensity, we have chanted the litany of the saints on three different occasions: at the funeral of our Holy Father John Paul II; as the Cardinals entered the Conclave; and again today, when we sang it with the response: Tu illum adiuva – sustain the new Successor of Saint Peter. On each occasion, in a particular way, I found great consolation in listening to this prayerful chant. How alone we all felt after the passing of John Paul II – the Pope who for over twenty-six years had been our shepherd and guide on our journey through life! He crossed the threshold of the next life, entering into the mystery of God. But he did not take this step alone. Those who believe are never alone – neither in life nor in death. At that moment, we could call upon the Saints from every age – his friends, his brothers and sisters in the faith – knowing that they would form a living procession to accompany him into the next world, into the glory of God. We knew that his arrival was awaited. Now we know that he is among his own and is truly at home. We were also consoled as we made our solemn entrance into Conclave, to elect the one whom the Lord had chosen. How would we be able to discern his name? How could 115 Bishops, from every culture and every country, discover the one on whom the Lord wished to confer the mission of binding and loosing? Once again, we knew that we were not alone, we knew that we were surrounded, led and guided by the friends of God. And now, at this moment, weak servant of God that I am, I must assume this enormous task, which truly exceeds all human capacity. How can I do this? How will I be able to do it? All of you, my dear friends, have just invoked the entire host of Saints, represented by some of the great names in the history of God’s dealings with mankind. In this way, I too can say with renewed conviction: I am not alone. I do not have to carry alone what in truth I could never carry alone. All the Saints of God are there to protect me, to sustain me and to carry me. And your prayers, my dear friends, your indulgence, your love, your faith and your hope accompany me. Indeed, the communion of Saints consists not only of the great men and women who went before us and whose names we know. All of us belong to the communion of Saints, we who have been baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, we who draw life from the gift of Christ’s Body and Blood, through which he transforms us and makes us like himself. Yes, the Church is alive – this is the wonderful experience of these days. During those sad days of the Pope’s illness and death, it became wonderfully evident to us that the Church is alive. And the Church is young. She holds within herself the future of the world and therefore shows each of us the way towards the future. The Church is alive and we are seeing it: we are experiencing the joy that the Risen Lord promised his followers. The Church is alive – she is alive because Christ is alive, because he is truly risen. In the suffering that we saw on the Holy Father’s face in those days of Easter, we contemplated the mystery of Christ’s Passion and we touched his wounds. But throughout these days we have also been able, in a profound sense, to touch the Risen One. We have been able to experience the joy that he promised, after a brief period of darkness, as the fruit of his resurrection. 
The Church is alive – with these words, I greet with great joy and gratitude all of you gathered here, my venerable brother Cardinals and Bishops, my dear priests, deacons, Church workers, catechists. I greet you, men and women Religious, witnesses of the transfiguring presence of God. I greet you, members of the lay faithful, immersed in the great task of building up the Kingdom of God which spreads throughout the world, in every area of life. With great affection I also greet all those who have been reborn in the sacrament of Baptism but are not yet in full communion with us; and you, my brothers and sisters of the Jewish people, to whom we are joined by a great shared spiritual heritage, one rooted in God’s irrevocable promises. Finally, like a wave gathering force, my thoughts go out to all men and women of today, to believers and non-believers alike.
Dear friends! At this moment there is no need for me to present a programme of governance. I was able to give an indication of what I see as my task in my Message of Wednesday 20 April, and there will be other opportunities to do so. My real programme of governance is not to do my own will, not to pursue my own ideas, but to listen, together with the whole Church, to the word and the will of the Lord, to be guided by Him, so that He himself will lead the Church at this hour of our history. Instead of putting forward a programme, I should simply like to comment on the two liturgical symbols which represent the inauguration of the Petrine Ministry; both these symbols, moreover, reflect clearly what we heard proclaimed in today’s readings. 
The first symbol is the Pallium, woven in pure wool, which will be placed on my shoulders. This ancient sign, which the Bishops of Rome have worn since the fourth century, may be considered an image of the yoke of Christ, which the Bishop of this City, the Servant of the Servants of God, takes upon his shoulders. God’s yoke is God’s will, which we accept. And this will does not weigh down on us, oppressing us and taking away our freedom. To know what God wants, to know where the path of life is found – this was Israel’s joy, this was her great privilege. It is also our joy: God’s will does not alienate us, it purifies us – even if this can be painful – and so it leads us to ourselves. In this way, we serve not only him, but the salvation of the whole world, of all history. The symbolism of the Pallium is even more concrete: the lamb’s wool is meant to represent the lost, sick or weak sheep which the shepherd places on his shoulders and carries to the waters of life. For the Fathers of the Church, the parable of the lost sheep, which the shepherd seeks in the desert, was an image of the mystery of Christ and the Church. The human race – every one of us – is the sheep lost in the desert which no longer knows the way. The Son of God will not let this happen; he cannot abandon humanity in so wretched a condition. He leaps to his feet and abandons the glory of heaven, in order to go in search of the sheep and pursue it, all the way to the Cross. He takes it upon his shoulders and carries our humanity; he carries us all – he is the good shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep. What the Pallium indicates first and foremost is that we are all carried by Christ. But at the same time it invites us to carry one another. Hence the Pallium becomes a symbol of the shepherd’s mission, of which the Second Reading and the Gospel speak. The pastor must be inspired by Christ’s holy zeal: for him it is not a matter of indifference that so many people are living in the desert. And there are so many kinds of desert. There is the desert of poverty, the desert of hunger and thirst, the desert of abandonment, of loneliness, of destroyed love. There is the desert of God’s darkness, the emptiness of souls no longer aware of their dignity or the goal of human life. The external deserts in the world are growing, because the internal deserts have become so vast. Therefore the earth’s treasures no longer serve to build God’s garden for all to live in, but they have been made to serve the powers of exploitation and destruction. The Church as a whole and all her Pastors, like Christ, must set out to lead people out of the desert, towards the place of life, towards friendship with the Son of God, towards the One who gives us life, and life in abundance. The symbol of the lamb also has a deeper meaning. In the Ancient Near East, it was customary for kings to style themselves shepherds of their people. This was an image of their power, a cynical image: to them their subjects were like sheep, which the shepherd could dispose of as he wished. When the shepherd of all humanity, the living God, himself became a lamb, he stood on the side of the lambs, with those who are downtrodden and killed. This is how he reveals himself to be the true shepherd: “I am the Good Shepherd . . . I lay down my life for the sheep”, Jesus says of himself (Jn 10:14f). It is not power, but love that redeems us! This is God’s sign: he himself is love. How often we wish that God would make show himself stronger, that he would strike decisively, defeating evil and creating a better world. All ideologies of power justify themselves in exactly this way, they justify the destruction of whatever would stand in the way of progress and the liberation of humanity. We suffer on account of God’s patience. And yet, we need his patience. God, who became a lamb, tells us that the world is saved by the Crucified One, not by those who crucified him. The world is redeemed by the patience of God. It is destroyed by the impatience of man.
One of the basic characteristics of a shepherd must be to love the people entrusted to him, even as he loves Christ whom he serves. “Feed my sheep”, says Christ to Peter, and now, at this moment, he says it to me as well. Feeding means loving, and loving also means being ready to suffer. Loving means giving the sheep what is truly good, the nourishment of God’s truth, of God’s word, the nourishment of his presence, which he gives us in the Blessed Sacrament. My dear friends – at this moment I can only say: pray for me, that I may learn to love the Lord more and more. Pray for me, that I may learn to love his flock more and more – in other words, you, the holy Church, each one of you and all of you together. Pray for me, that I may not flee for fear of the wolves. Let us pray for one another, that the Lord will carry us and that we will learn to carry one another. 
The second symbol used in today’s liturgy to express the inauguration of the Petrine Ministry is the presentation of the fisherman’s ring. Peter’s call to be a shepherd, which we heard in the Gospel, comes after the account of a miraculous catch of fish: after a night in which the disciples had let down their nets without success, they see the Risen Lord on the shore. He tells them to let down their nets once more, and the nets become so full that they can hardly pull them in; 153 large fish: “and although there were so many, the net was not torn” (Jn 21:11). This account, coming at the end of Jesus’s earthly journey with his disciples, corresponds to an account found at the beginning: there too, the disciples had caught nothing the entire night; there too, Jesus had invited Simon once more to put out into the deep. And Simon, who was not yet called Peter, gave the wonderful reply: “Master, at your word I will let down the nets.” And then came the conferral of his mission: “Do not be afraid. Henceforth you will be catching men” (Lk 5:1-11). Today too the Church and the successors of the Apostles are told to put out into the deep sea of history and to let down the nets, so as to win men and women over to the Gospel – to God, to Christ, to true life. The Fathers made a very significant commentary on this singular task. This is what they say: for a fish, created for water, it is fatal to be taken out of the sea, to be removed from its vital element to serve as human food. But in the mission of a fisher of men, the reverse is true. We are living in alienation, in the salt waters of suffering and death; in a sea of darkness without light. The net of the Gospel pulls us out of the waters of death and brings us into the splendour of God’s light, into true life. It is really true: as we follow Christ in this mission to be fishers of men, we must bring men and women out of the sea that is salted with so many forms of alienation and onto the land of life, into the light of God. It is really so: the purpose of our lives is to reveal God to men. And only where God is seen does life truly begin. Only when we meet the living God in Christ do we know what life is. We are not some casual and meaningless product of evolution. Each of us is the result of a thought of God. Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary. There is nothing more beautiful than to be surprised by the Gospel, by the encounter with Christ. There is nothing more beautiful than to know Him and to speak to others of our friendship with Him. The task of the shepherd, the task of the fisher of men, can often seem wearisome. But it is beautiful and wonderful, because it is truly a service to joy, to God’s joy which longs to break into the world. 
Here I want to add something: both the image of the shepherd and that of the fisherman issue an explicit call to unity. “I have other sheep that are not of this fold; I must lead them too, and they will heed my voice. So there shall be one flock, one shepherd” (Jn 10:16); these are the words of Jesus at the end of his discourse on the Good Shepherd. And the account of the 153 large fish ends with the joyful statement: “although there were so many, the net was not torn” (Jn 21:11). Alas, beloved Lord, with sorrow we must now acknowledge that it has been torn! But no – we must not be sad! Let us rejoice because of your promise, which does not disappoint, and let us do all we can to pursue the path towards the unity you have promised. Let us remember it in our prayer to the Lord, as we plead with him: yes, Lord, remember your promise. Grant that we may be one flock and one shepherd! Do not allow your net to be torn, help us to be servants of unity!
At this point, my mind goes back to 22 October 1978, when Pope John Paul II began his ministry here in Saint Peter’s Square. His words on that occasion constantly echo in my ears: “Do not be afraid! Open wide the doors for Christ!” The Pope was addressing the mighty, the powerful of this world, who feared that Christ might take away something of their power if they were to let him in, if they were to allow the faith to be free. Yes, he would certainly have taken something away from them: the dominion of corruption, the manipulation of law and the freedom to do as they pleased. But he would not have taken away anything that pertains to human freedom or dignity, or to the building of a just society. The Pope was also speaking to everyone, especially the young. Are we not perhaps all afraid in some way? If we let Christ enter fully into our lives, if we open ourselves totally to him, are we not afraid that He might take something away from us? Are we not perhaps afraid to give up something significant, something unique, something that makes life so beautiful? Do we not then risk ending up diminished and deprived of our freedom? And once again the Pope said: No! If we let Christ into our lives, we lose nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing of what makes life free, beautiful and great. No! Only in this friendship are the doors of life opened wide. Only in this friendship is the great potential of human existence truly revealed. Only in this friendship do we experience beauty and liberation. And so, today, with great strength and great conviction, on the basis of long personal experience of life, I say to you, dear young people: Do not be afraid of Christ! He takes nothing away, and he gives you everything. When we give ourselves to him, we receive a hundredfold in return. Yes, open, open wide the doors to Christ – and you will find true life. Amen.

Monday, April 23, 2012

theology on tap Tuesday

I am on Theology on Tap tomorrow night at Robbies Elmwood (starting 7pm).  

Topic: "2012, Is this the End?"  This comes from the fact that many Christians (and others) make a hobby of predicting the end of the world.  

So what are some of the things I am thinking of addressing?
  • will there really be an 'end of the world'
  • what will it look like?
  • what happens to all the people when the end of the world comes?
  • why do Christians think consider the end of the world with 'hope-filled' anticipation?
  • what happened when the Mormons met my dad who was building a garage?
  • Ends and beginnings - what is the difference?
  • what difference does it all make?
  • many other related issues
  • your own questions - email me before if you want me to prepare an answer!

Open to all adult ages.  (I hope I am not the oldest there!)

Looking forward to seeing you there.  Bring a friend or two.


ps:   if the end of the world comes before tomorrow evening this session will be postponed until we get a table together at the heavenly banquet.


autumn


The colours of Autumn are covering the Hurunui parishes these days. 

While we appreciate the colourful autumn decline in the trees, the autumn years of human life are not considered as attractive.

Perhaps this suggests that we can still read the language that the trees (and nature) is about life. Life moves to death, and from the dead winter branch comes the new life of spring. We do not fear death when the leaves begin to fall from the trees.

However we may have forgotten the language that the human body is about God. We taste death when the hair turns great, the wrinkles deepen and the joints ache. We use lotions and potions to hide these 'signs of decline'.


Yet these 'signs of decline' are in fact reminders of the hope-filled journey we are making toward eternal happiness with God.

One of the great pieces of human poetry, studied by many of us at school, is John Keats "Ode to Autumn".

Take a moment to appreciate the beauty. Don't try to understand the poem, just relax and listen.




and some more Hurunui images:






Friday, April 20, 2012

to Jerusalem

In just over a week parishioners of Our Lady of Victories, with family and friends leave Christchurch on pilgrimage to the Holy Land.  

To journey as a pilgrim to the Holy city of Jerusalem is a goal of every Jew and Muslim. Along with Christianity, these three communities of faith are decendants of Abraham, our 'father-in-faith'.

The Temple at the heart of the city of Jerusalem was the centre of Jewish faith.

This video-clip from Denis McNamara (one of my teachers on my sabbatical leave last year), is a good introduction to the life of the Temple.



new evangelisation


Do you believe in the resurrection of Jesus from the dead?

This is a simple question. We know the answer. Yes, Jesus did rise from the dead. This reality is the heart of our faith. In the words of Peter’s testimony from today’s first reading: “The author of life you put to death, but God raised him from the dead; of this we are witnesses.”

Peter proclaims this with unhesitating confidence. He has no doubt.  But let’s go back a few weeks to the hours and days immediately following the resurrection of Jesus. Let’s take a few moments to recall these events.

The closest friends of Jesus had accompanied him for three years. They had walked and worked with him. They were a company of friends. 

Jesus had revealed to them the reality of God. Previously, good Jews had sought to please and appease God by acts of prayer, worship and good works. In Jesus, God was now their intimate friend, their closest confidant. In the person of Jesus they experienced the greatest love, true intimacy, and profound mercy surpassing all that they had every hoped for or even imagined. 

The apostles had heard him preach and seen him perform miracles of healing, feeding and forgiving. They had also seen him raise the dead to life.

On the evening of the Passover these friends gathered. Jesus gave them his body and blood. It seems they understood little of what was happening, and within hours they had denied him, betrayed him and abandoned him as he suffered and died.

One of the central Easter Octave readings reveals something of their feelings after his death as they walked to Emmaus: “our own hope had been that he would be the one to...”  But after the death of Jesus it seemed that their hopes had been dashed. 

They were already speaking about Jesus in the past tense.  Like so many of our own wonderful experiences, their experience of Jesus was being relegated to the realm of history: a great memory, and already they were longing for the next uplifting event.

Then the ultimate happens: Jesus is alive, and with them. He greets them: “Peace be with you.” The hope of all human history plunges into eternally present reality: Jesus is with them and no longer a captive of time and space. His risen presence is not simply that of a resuscitated corpse (as Lazarus and the daughter of Jairus). 

Those who had been raised from the dead by Jesus went on to die again. But now Jesus has thrown open the door to full and eternal life to all who seek this life above all else.



The first readings of these post-resurrection liturgies (from the life of the early church in the Acts of the Apostles) show that the disciples of Jesus are totally transformed by this new reality.  


Previously they were prisoners to pride and ambition; captives to fear and to death.  Now, in their new intimacy with the risen Jesus, and filled with His Spirit, nothing can frighten them. They preach fearlessly and live abundantly.

For the first Christians, their faith is not a chore or an external demand. Their faith is not a burdensome moralism or legalism. 

Instead the first Christians allowed themselves to be captivated, overwhelmed, and therefore motivated by their newfound intimacy with Jesus who had passed through the fear and reality of death into life abundant and eternal.

It is a tragic reality, that in the minds of many today who were baptised and raised as Catholic, the Catholic faith is not such a joy-filled experience. 

There are many reasons for this including personal choices and a largely hedonistic society. But the Church also takes some responsibility for not communicating the beauty and truth of Catholic faith well to recent generations.

Acknowledging this challenging fact, Pope Benedict has called for a ‘Year of Faith’ to begin in October on the fiftieth anniversary of the opening of the Second Vatican Council.

At the heart of this year, is the call to a ‘New Evangelisation’. This is not primarily about Catholics seeking to share what they have received with the world.  The heart of the New Evangelisation is the challenge to use new language, methods and passion to renew contact with those who have been baptised and raised as Catholics, but who now have little (if any) contact with the Church.

This is an exciting and essential and hope-filled project.  In this year especially, we seek your assistance in re-presenting our Catholic faith, not only as attractive and life-giving, but as the answer to all the real questions of those who seek to live life fully.

Our preparation for this mission is a personal commitment to experiencing anew the love of Jesus for us, and the presence of Jesus with us in every moment.

+++

Pope Benedict on the Resurrection of Jesus from the dead:

“Now it must be acknowledged that if in Jesus’ Resurrection we were dealing simply with the miracle of a resuscitated corpse, it would ultimately be of no concern to us. For it would be no more important than the resuscitation of a clinically dead person through the art of doctors. For the world as such and for our human existence, nothing would have changed. The miracle of a resuscitated corpse would indicate that Jesus’ Resurrection was equivalent to the raising of the son of the widow of Nain (Luke 7:11-17), the daughter of Jairus (Mark 5:22-24, 35-43 and parallel passages), and Lazarus (John 11:1-44). After a more or less short period, these individuals returned to their former lives, and then at a later point they died definitively. 

The New Testament testimonies leave us in no doubt that what happened in the “Resurrection of the Son of Man” was utterly different. Jesus’ Resurrection was about breaking out into an entirely new form of life, into a life that is no longer subject to the law of dying and becoming, but lies beyond it – a life that opens up a new dimension of human existence. Therefore the Resurrection of Jesus is not an isolated event that we could set aside as something limited to the past, but it constitutes an “evolutionary leap” (to draw an analogy, albeit one that is easily misunderstood). In Jesus’ Resurrection a new possibility of human existence is attained that affects everyone and that opens up a new future, a new kind of   future, for mankind”.  Jesus of Nazareth pp.243-244