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 of Ordinary Time

Like many who have the responsibility of reflecting on the Liturgy of the Word, my immediate instinct was to offer a reflection on these “Blessings” from Matthew’s Beatitudes.

This instinct almost ‘forbids’ me from looking at the other readings included in the Sunday liturgy!

Well, this Sunday, I took the time to look, and the reading set down as the First reading, which comes from the prophet Zephaniah.

Zephaniah was a 7th-century BC Hebrew prophet who ministered in the southern kingdom of Judah during the reign of King Josiah (approx. 640–609 BC).

Today’s first reading is from chapters 2 and 3 (2:3, 3:12 – 13), and includes the line:

“But they will be able to graze and rest with no one to disturb them.”

I live in Aotearoa/New Zealand where approximately half of the total land area of the country is dedicated to agricultural activity; “grazing” is a very real and active presence.

Herbivores are apt to graze; they have their heads down and munch seemingly continually and forever. Our countryside is littered with sheep, dairy cows, and beef cattle – all with their heads down and chewing.

I just learned the other day that “grazing” is not limited to herbivores.

In a human context, the habit of snacking on small amounts of food throughout the day is also known as “grazing”. What if we applied this approach to the Gospel? Might “grazing” be a way for us to approach the Gospel and the message of Jesus, ‘snack on small amounts throughout the day’?

“Blessed are the poor in spirit” – goodness, there is enough to “graze” on for a lifetime!

3rd Sunday of Ordinary Time

I am sure I have told this story before; however, it is helpful for me to remember.

As the Dutch diarist Etty Hillesum began her diary: “All right, here we go.”

The island I lived on in the Lomaiviti group of Fijian islands was called Ovalau. Only half the island had electric lighting.

When night arrives in the tropics, darkness is absolute. Anyone who has visited knows this truth: the night is black.

On one occasion I had been to a village on the non-electrified side of the island. I had set out in daylight, and after Mass and singing and eating and more singing, I was to set off home.

But—and it was a significant challenge—how would I find my way back to the road and my vehicle? It was pitch black with lush tropical undergrowth in front of me and all around.

At that moment a young boy, seven or eight, took hold of my hand and said very calmly, “Saka, follow me.” (Saka means “father” or “priest” in Fijian.)

With the boy leading and me holding on for dear life, he led me along a path through the foliage. If you knew where the path was, the journey to the road was simple. If you did not, you might well be still walking.

This experience came flooding back when I read today’s Gospel (Mt 4:12-23), which includes the passage: “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light” (v. 16). It is a quote from the prophet Isaiah which we read as part of today’s First Reading (Is. 9:2).

Light, for me, immediately conjures images of daylight or an electric light being turned on, or perhaps a candle being lit. To imagine light as a person takes some effort.

The young boy leading me through the lush tropical undergrowth was as big a searchlight as I have ever experienced. A light might well be a person rather than a switch.

Take a moment to reflect: Who has taken me by the hand and led me through the darkness?