Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things
have passed away; behold, all things have become new.
2 Corinthians 5:17
I have included a selection of my scribblings going back to
2005, just reflecting on some of the many ways in which the events of Jesus'
last Passover, Passion, death and resurrection can be seen - poetic, music,
art, family, mystery, discipleship. Whichever way you view and experience this
most extraordinary week - edge ever closer to the one who loves us, who still
gives totally of himself that we might live fully.
In a most fruitful and discerning conversation with several
colleagues yesterday on the Sacrament element for Years 7 and 8, we pondered on
this statement: Students will understand that: The wonders of creation and the sacramentality of life
offer an opportunity to encounter God’s
presence. I was grappling with how a student would perceive that
presence when the opportunities for encountering God are manifold, but what it
is that enables that child to see the face of God and know they are loved? Yes,
I know it is faith - but how to we lead them from the awesome sunrise to a
relationship with the Creator himself?
Holy Week, at first very different from the
wonder of creation, is, for the Church, a week-long and then a life-long, and
finally an eternity-long revelation of God himself. The God of Abraham's
ultimate outpouring is of himself in the person of Jesus. St Paul maintains
with utter clarity that without the cross and resurrection all is in vain (1 Corinthians
15ff). So when we walk the way of the cross with Jesus these coming days and
celebrate on Easter Day the dawn of a new creation, we are all made new, for
now, for eternity. Pray for, and be there for those who are holding the door to
faith even slightly ajar - that the gift of faith might be theirs - even with
the slightest glimpse of our marvellous and wonderful God.
Wishing you and happy and holy Easter and
well-earned rest.
Peter
14 March 2005
Bread is broken, a
cup shared. At his final Passover meal Jesus gives himself spiritually,
ritually, totally. He is the bread, he is the wine. There is communion at the
one table. As an act of humility he washes feet in the sacrament of service.
From the garden of
agony, an anguished Jesus is arrested and stands trial. He is mocked, beaten
and spat upon. King of the Jews. He must die. Hands are wiped clean, a cross
upon his shoulders, his Calvary on the hill of skulls. He is torn by whip and
by love, finally broken by the giving up of his Spirit. A curtain tears, the
earth trembles. The son of David is dead.
The tomb is empty.
‘He is not here.’ He is risen. He has been raised. A gardener meets the women.
There is no recognition. They seek out the disciples, hearts on fire. They know
he is LORD, Lord of all. The gift of life. Alleluia. Alleluia.
This beautiful story
is deeply embedded in our hearts. It satisfies our yearning that there must be
more to life than this. It is a hope, a promise of what is now, what is to come
and of what has passed. The resurrection transforms all time, nothing is the
same again.
We give each other
symbols of that transformation, of the true miracle of life, an egg, a sign of
our own uniqueness, vulnerability, placed into the hands of those we love.
May you be truly blessed
this Easter.
13 April 2006
The name
Maundy is most likely derived from a Latin word that means mandate or
commandment. In particular is refers to Jesus' commandment that His disciples
wash one another's feet as He had washed theirs. This gesture is linked with
His words to the disciples, "A new commandment I give you, that you love
one another (John 13:34)." In our Catholic tradition we call today Holy
Thursday, the night on which we commemorate Jesus’ institution of the Eucharist
– and the night during which Jesus placed himself at the service of his own
disciples by the washing of their feet. In Britain, the Maundy Thursday washing
of feet and giving of alms originated with the medieval monks, a practice taken
up successive monarchs. To this day, the Queen distributes Maundy pence on this
day, though it is probably more ceremony than substance.
Holy Week is full of richness and surprise: the stories that emanate from 2000 years of experience and tradition which overlay and envelope the gospel record to give us the colour and taste of chocolate Easter eggs, the sombre and beautiful Stations of the Cross, the fire and candlelight of the vigil. Here is the story of our faith, literally and figuratively the crux of who we are as Christians: here we get taken up into the very life, death and resurrection of Jesus. As real as the Passover is to every Jewish family which celebrates the ritual meal this evening, so it is that the paschal mystery makes real and becomes real as the Church unfolds once again the events of Jesus’ last hours. It is we who eat at the Lord’s own table, who pray in the garden, who follow Jesus from pillar to post in Jerusalem, who stand before the cross on Calvary, and we who ultimately view the empty tomb.
This weekend, join us in remembering, celebrating and making real the Jesus of our hearts and hope. A very happy and safe Easter to you all.
29 March 2007
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My late mother-in-law Marjory was an O’Halloran - from a long line of O’Hallorans who now populate the far North West and West Coast through to Devonport. They are ubiquitous. When I began teaching in Burnie, I had two O’Halloran descendents in my home room. I have since taught many more. I have worked with a number of O’Halloran descendents too, Mrs Wootton being one, and last year, Miss O’Leary (unbeknownst to me at the time she was hired!) is another. The O’Hallorans have their Tasmanian origins in former convicts who settled around Irishtown. Apart from the name, the O’Hallorans also passed on their Catholic faith. My children are justly proud of their Tasmanian heritage - as they are of the faith into which they have been baptised.
There are occasions when families draw together to celebrate their common heritage, reunions, weddings, baptisms, funerals. These occasions are often built around and upon a shared faith. Such celebrations dig deep into the shared memory: stories are recollected, reinterpreted for a new generation.
The community of faith also gathers through Holy Week to remember our common heritage: to hear, commemorate and re-live the words and deeds of the Passion and Death of Jesus. On Palm Sunday the entire Passion narrative is proclaimed. We walk with Jesus and his family and disciples, enduring the exaltation, the joy and then the humiliation, pain and suffering, the mockery, the misunderstanding, the agony and injustice. These emotions and experiences are lived afresh each day in our world, and our televisions bring their stories into our lounge rooms. The words become real.
None of us can place flesh
on those words and walk away unaffected. The Passion is the story par excellence, transported to us by the Gospels (from
Luke this year), and its remembrance is marked with the deepest respect, and
accorded great honour. You are invited to be with the community of faith as it
is once again declared.
This story is our
story. Come and worship.
2 April 2009
My life changed yesterday afternoon – definitely for the better. I will get to bed earlier and sleep longer. I will regain some ‘me’ time. And, yes. My daughter has finally got her P plates. Time to celebrate!
Such a change – though welcome, does, of course, bring other difficulties – some foreseen, some unforeseen.
The solemnity of Passion Sunday signals the beginning of Holy Week – from the joyous welcome into Jerusalem, from his acceptance and acclamation as king. Holy Week ends with the death and burial of Jesus.
This is a journey that we know intimately. Retelling it has not altered its meaning or impact. We wonder what was in these people’s minds as they waved their branches and laid out their cloaks along the road. It is not only a question of who they were welcoming. It is equally a question about who they were and what they were expecting. This entrance of Jesus is Messianic. This event has been prophesied by Zechariah, the throwing of the cloaks alludes his royal status, while the strewn and waving branches recall the procession of the Feast of Tabernacles. This is the Davidic king whom they have awaited. They cry, ‘Hosanna!’ – using this term of praise to God, taken from the Jewish liturgy, and attributing it to this man who arrives seated on a colt.
Did they see more than a man? What drove them to gather in crowds to see him? What had they heard about him? What did they want from him? Did they know who he was? Is this the same crowd that days later would call for his death? For a crime in which they complicit?
Undoubtedly their patience with God was running thin. They had been promised salvation, and now, following the Greeks, the Romans now controlled the country. Hundred of years of subservience to foreigners. How strong was their desire to offload their oppressors? What kind of Messiah did they long for? A general? A politician? A high priest? A great prince? A carpenter’s son from Nazareth?
We know how this story ends. We’re heard it before. It’s not good. And yet it is also a beginning, and in the continuing story, it is all revealed.
I don’t know what lies ahead as my daughter takes to the road. Yes, I’m free. Others on the road will expect her to follow the rules, to drive safely. In turn she will expect the same from other road users. She will have to use her common sense, her growing skill. There are consequences if you get it wrong. It’s about choices
Who are you waiting for? And, why
are you waiting? Start your journey today.
20 April 2011
Only this I want…
You might never have heard of the St Louis Jesuits. In the 1970s and 80s they were the Church’s answer to The Beatles. Wonderful engaging tunes with lyrics drawn directly from or with beautiful allusions to and images from the sacred scriptures of our forebears.
In 1981 one their members, former Jesuit Dan Schutte, penned an extraordinary song, one of my favourites, Only this I want:
Only this I want,
but to know the Lord,
and to bear his cross,
so to wear the crown he wore.
Let your hearts be glad,
always glad in the Lord,
so to shine like stars
in the darkness of the night.
This is the plaintive call from the depths of the heart: if I have faith, what I am asking for? For me it is to have that relationship with my Lord, Jesus, and that while I acknowledge what he has done for me in his dying and rising, I want to share part of that agony, that suffering so that I too can make a difference, and share in his rising. And in the final verse, the gladness that comes from knowing Jesus, from sharing his cross and his crown is like the shining of stars in the darkness of the night.
These next few days are the most sacred days of our religious calendar. The fascination and focus we have on the events of Jesus’ last days is not morbid. If at one end Jesus’ incarnation is the most radical event in human history, then our salvation, our redemption through suffering, death and rising fundamentally moves the boundaries for all eternity. Christ continues to suffer and die each day – through our inhumanity to one another, and yet each day there is resurrection. This mystery is past (what happened circa AD 30 – 36), present (what we now experience in our daily lives) and future (what is yet to come, what is yet to be fully revealed).
Don’t underestimate this mystery, for the huge armada we call the church is founded upon, driven and directed towards its understanding, of living it out, day by day.
Your child’s awareness of this mystery must go beyond chocolate eggs and the Easter bunny. As appealing as they are, they are distractions from the main event. While we have sanitized so much of our civilization, there is no escaping that our faith is balanced on the beams of the cross upon which Jesus was hung.
Wishing you a holy and happy Easter.
28 March 2012
He emptied himself, taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance,
he humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death,
even death on a cross.
Philippians
2:7-8
Sometimes it takes illness to remind us of our limitations and humanity. None of us is exempt from the onslaught of colds, flu, bacterial and viral infections, nor, in fact, the ravages of age itself. Those of us who have reached milestone, and honoured ages understand the process by which our physical goals diminish, but our desire to achieve great things has no bounds!
The three-year journey of Jesus to Jerusalem, during which he ministered, preached, healed, served and loved came to a close, beginning with his entry into the city, greeted by the cries of ‘Hosanna!’ and the heralding of palms. The coming week brought both the agony and the ecstasy of his decision to accept the will and plan of God. His acceptance is of heroic proportions and divine in accomplishment. He is not the aged, sagacious Father of his People. He is young, at his peak, his disciples have not yet understood his message, there is so much more he could do – and yet everything he has said and done these past three years is leading him, thrusting him to the tree of life.
These days of darkness and shadows reveal the fullness of Jesus’ humanity as he struggles with the choices before him, the finality of his decision, the acceptance of and release of his self, his body, his life, for his Father, for us. Indeed, as Paul writes: He humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death
What an awesome mystery this is, what surrender, what passion.
A part of us
too should ache with the knowledge of that passion, for that is our share in
the mystery. Join us this Sunday in worship as we remember and relive the
Passion of Jesus, our Lord and Saviour.
9 April 2014
St Paul of the Cross (1695 – 1775) was utterly convinced that God could be most easily found in the Passion of Jesus. He formed a community of men (and later a community of nuns) that would live an evangelical life and promote the love of God revealed in the Jesus’ Passion. His congregations of men and women are called Passionists.
Such a singular focus could be see to be unhealthy, and it was a reality that Paul had difficulty attracting members because of his congregation’s austerity.
But for you and me, our focus on Jesus’ Passion begins on Palm Sunday and ends on Good Friday. In that time we are deeply challenged to reflect on the efficacy of Jesus’ suffering and death. What it achieved for the first disciples; what it proclaimed to the people of Jerusalem; what it meant for the early Christian communities in Rome, Corinth, Thessalonica, Philippi, Galatia, Ephesus, Colossae etc., what it implies for all of creation; and finally how it impacts on me.
When we decide to learn about something, the greater the commitment we have to the learning experience, the greater is our learning. The learning itself can and ought lead to a changed, matured, and fuller understanding of the area of study. For those who chose to read, study and examine the Passion narratives the richness is quite overwhelming. Jesus’ Passion moves well beyond efficacy to transformative and ultimately, salvific. If we allow it, the impact will be extraordinary.
And if this is so, how does it change the way I live and work? Just as for Paul of the Cross, the Passion of Jesus becomes a lens through which I view the world, my behaviour towards others and my actions. If I act like Jesus, I am unselfish, I am full of compassion, I am prepared to carry the pain of those I love, I will share all that I am.
As we enter this final week of our preparation for Easter, I firmly encourage you to see beyond the latter day customs of chocolate eggs, hot cross buns and fluffy bunny rabbits.
A
community of Passionist priests and brothers is present in Hobart at St
Joseph’s in the city.
15
March 2018
Carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called
The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. There they
crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between
them. Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It
read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” Many of the Jews read
this inscription, because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the
city; and it was written in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek
John 19:17 - 20
10 very short years ago I walked with my family through the majestic St Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican. It is an awe-inspiring testament to humanity’s capacity to create beauty from the materials the earth provides. The churches of Rome and Florence overflowed with the treasures of the of the world’s great artists and artisans.
There is nothing more beautiful than Michelangelo’s Pieta. Smaller than you would imagine and shielded behind a Perspex window. It is surrounded by viewers from every part of the world. It speaks of the tragedy that is the death of Jesus, it is humanity expressed at its weakest moment, of a life ebbed away, of a mother bereft of her child, of the fragility of who we are, a reminder of our shared humanity, of despair, of loss. Michelangelo has captured this one moment as an expression of the tentative unfolding of God’s plan. For from these depths arises nothing less than a transformation of the world, a promise that we too will participate in this - the most extraordinary story - known to us. But the Easter event is not yet with us, our anticipation must rest like Jesus in the tomb, to await the fullest possibility – that God will raise him up
These coming days you are
invited to enter into the Church’s sacred Triduum, its three days of
reflection, penance, quiet and then joyous celebration. May you be blessed with
every Easter blessing.
