Pilgrim progress- a disciple on a journey!

As 2025 folds into memory, I am grateful— for memories, for experiences, for encounters. We said goodbye— to family, to friends, to Sisters, to those whose pilgrimage on this earth is complete. Their absence feels like a quiet room, waiting, still, softly echoing. We said hello— to a Jubilee of hope, of mercy, of remembering what it means to walk as seeker, follower, disciple. A year of hope, a gentle flame, lighting hearts, calling names. A Jubilee for all— the young, the old, families, the servants, the struggling, the curious, the doubting. All roads lead to Rome, to the unforgettable stillness of a million young souls in Eucharistic Adoration, in a field. Goodbye to Pope Francis, pilgrim to the end, who goes home to the Father, amidst Easter bells still ringing the Resurrexit song. Hello to Pope Leo, who takes the wheel, guiding St. Peter’s Barque with quiet strength and steadfast heart. A month with our silver jubilarians— listening, learning, walking slowly together, bringing us ...

In the old rite of the Mass, at the time of the consecration the priest would lean over on the altar, almost as if he was leaning on the heart of Christ. Even today, some priests still carry out this gesture. This is a beautiful thought because the most powerful heartbeat of Christ is heard when we come and receive Him in the Eucharist and sit with Him in silent Adoration before his Eucharistic presence. St. Augustine tells us that: “Because God has made us for Himself, our hearts are restless until they rest in Him.”  To enter God’s Heart, to rest on His heart, takes only a moment of quiet prayer. These moments will make a difference.  The first biography of a saint which I read was that of St. Faustina. Actually, it was her diary on Divine Mercy. I was about 17 years old and it really touched my soul and placed within me a deep desire for holiness and have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. From the Christ Child, St. Faustina learned a most important lesson for her ...

  There is absolutely nothing we can do on Holy Saturday, and that is the point. It is a day of desolation and nothingness, a day of darkness and utter emptiness. The day is and should be the most calm and quiet day of the entire Church year, a day broken by no liturgical function. Christ lies in the grave, the Church sits near and mourns. After the great battle He is resting in peace, but upon Him we see the scars of intense suffering. The mortal wounds on His Body remain visible.  There is nothing to do now except wait… and waiting is the hardest part in this digital and instant age. Holy Saturday is the silent pause between what we have done and what God will do – what only God can do. On this day God is silent, yet God is still at work. Scripture tells us Holy Saturday is the day Christ descended and ministered to those in Hades, or the place of the dead. This is not a trivial or side matter, which is why “He descended to the dead” finds mention in the Apostles’ Creed. Chr...

 Beauty and suffering are always hand in hand. At the top of the mountain is also the painful reality that we must descend. The beauty of truth also embraces offence, pain, and even the dark mystery of death, and that this can only be found in accepting suffering, not in ignoring it. The One who is Beauty itself let himself be slapped in the face, spat upon, crowned with thorns. However, in his Face that is so disfigured, there appears the genuine, extreme beauty: the beauty of love that goes "to the very end"; for this reason it is revealed as greater than falsehood and violence. This is Love Transfigured, it is the ‘beauty that saves the world’. This is Love lifted up on the Cross for me, for you, for the whole world.

Supper was special that night.  There was both a heaviness and a holiness  hanging in the air.  We couldn’t explain the mood.  It was sacred, yet sorrowful.  Gathered around that table          eating that solemn, holy meal          seemed to us the most important meal          we had ever sat down to eat. We were dwelling in the heart of MYSTERY.  Though dark the night,  Hope felt right—         as if something evil          was about to be conquered. And then suddenly  the One-Who-Loved startled us all.  He got up from the table  and put on an apron.  Can you imagine how we felt? GOD IN AN APRON! Tenderness encircled us          as He bowed before us.  He knelt and sa...

As we journey on this Holy Week, we have arrived at the day which has come to be known as Spy Wednesday where Judas Iscariot finalises the plans which will cost Jesus his life.  Yet Jesus knew exactly who would betray but still He continued to love Judas. He cared intensely for Judas. He was discouraged. He hurt. He felt pain. He wept. He loved Judas even when Judas was enshrouded by darkness because: “the light shines in the darkness” (John 1:5). The readings which we will hear today at Mass, although heavy with the impending doom of the death of Jesus, should also bring us hope and relief.  God loves us so much.  We should be both overwhelmed by what our sinfulness has done to our relationship with God and also touched by the extremes to which God goes in order to bring us into a closer, restored relationship.  During this Holy Week, it might be good to take some time to see how at times we can 'betray' others by our words or actions, by our silence and our ...