Category Archives: Daily Reflections

Monday after Epiphany Sunday
1 John 3:22-4:6 | Psalm 2:7-8,10-11 | Matthew 4:12-17,23-25

The people that lived in darkness has seen a great light;
on those who dwell in the land and shadow of death
a light has dawned. (Matthew 4:16)

I’m sure many of us have flipped a light switch sometime in our lives…and be left in the dark. We’d then grumble to ourselves, switch on our smartphone’s flash, then hunt for a replacement bulb or tube, cursing the darkness while stubbing our toes against unseen obstacles outside the phone’s meager beam. In pre-smartphone eras, we’d often knock stuff over in our desperate search for the emergency flashlight that’s somehow never where we remember leaving it the last time.

We’ll swear a blue streak, and nurse whatever bruises we collect from blind collisions, but We Will Fix That Light, come hell or high water.

Because we can’t imagine passing the rest of the night without it, dreading the dark unknowns that lurk even in the familiar surrounds of our own home.

Modern smartphone flashes are remarkable in their brilliant output, but their narrow beams just don’t hold a candle to a simple omnidirectional ceiling fixture, that banishes shadows from all corners of the room.

We humans need a great light.

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That explains why large crowds converged on Jesus from all over the Middle East, following in the footsteps of a teacher who was willing and able to shed light on the Kingdom of God, and offer a foretaste through numerous healings.

For when a great light appears out of the darkness of nature or spirit, our natural instinct is to run to it. Only those who live for the stygian blindness of sin would shy away.

So why are we so reluctant to spend time with the great light of the Divine each day?

Perhaps it’s because it also brings to light that which we would prefer to remain hidden: our uglier side, stained by selfishness and twisted by over-indulgence.

Of course, ignoring it doesn’t make it go away, neither our sin-riddled visages nor the Light of self-sacrificing freedom. Far better to embrace clarity, to walk to and in the light, to see our festering wounds that need to be soothed with holiness, and to apply the healing salve of the Way, Truth and Life.

But it all starts with accepting the Light that is Christ, not just with empty words, but with heart and soul.

Maranatha. Our Lord has come. Let us be on our way to meet Him. Amen.

The Epiphany of the Lord
Isaiah 60:1-6 | Psalm 71(72):1-2,7-8,10-13 | Ephesians 3:2-3,5-6 | Matthew 2:1-12

Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh. (Matthew 2:11)

Back in my college days, when my faith was skating on thin ice, I came across an unusual score for the familiar carol We Three Kings. It was unusual in that it deliberately omitted the penultimate verse:

Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume
Breathes a life of gathering gloom
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying
Sealed in the stone-cold tomb

I can only imagine that whoever put that score together ran out of space, and decided to drop those words as “too depressing for Christmastide”. It might have also been motivated by the tide of political correctness that swept across America at the time, giving rise to gender-neutral alterations of familiar words that, well, neutralized a lot of the sacred in our liturgical hymnody.

Now, of course, I look back and shudder, especially at the memory of joyfully skipping to the final verse:

Glorious now behold Him arise
King and God and sacrifice
(oh yeah, gold=king, frankincense=God, and…um…)

but those were the days when I just shrugged and went “meh”.

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And yet…those days of “meh” aren’t entirely behind me.

There are still times when I think about reading the day’s scripture, or spending some quality time in prayer, or even just thinking about God…and the M word pops into my head, instantly sending my train of thought skittering towards the latest tech news, or that new programming language I’ve been trying to master, or that insidious earworm I heard this morning that’s sunk its fangs deep in my brain.

Truly, now more than ever, seeking the Almighty requires sacrifice, an act of will to ignore the secular calls that incessantly clamour for our attention, and consciously set aside time and energy to just be still and know that God is with us, is quietly waiting for us to turn to His loving embrace.

“He is our KING,” oh yes He is!

“He is our GOD”…hallelujah, you better believe it!

“He is our SACRIFICE”…um…

Time for us to own that too, instead of metaphorically dumping the myrrh down a rubbish chute.

“Meh” is mine, but it shouldn’t be
When our Saviour beckons to me
Infant holy, infant lowly
Dying to set us free

Lord, open our eyes to see You in our daily lives, so that we may not stray far from you. Amen.

A dear friend asked me last night why I’d stopped blogging. I honestly couldn’t answer her, so I guess it was a wake-up call…

As I reflect upon this week that straddled two different years, I noticed a disturbing pattern.

From the Faith Formation session I conducted for my choir…

to my answer to a friend asking how to rebut an atheist’s sharing of an anti-religious skit by George Carlin…

to my reply to that same friend remarking how she heard a priest at midday mass revealing that John the Baptist was the apostle with Mary at the foot of the Cross and one of the Evangelists…

my “output” in all three cases was detailed, theologically correct (to the best of my ability)…and clinical. Dry fact upon dry fact,  with nary a drop of love mixed in.

That my Faith Formation session was on Agape a.k.a. Caritas a.k.a. Charity could be seen as supremely ironic, as was my quoting that famous “wedding reading” about love from 1 Corinthians, when just a few verses earlier was St. Paul’s stinging rebuke pointing right back at me:

If I have all the eloquence of men or of angels, but speak without love, I am simply a gong booming or a cymbal clashing.  —1 Cor 13:1

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

Lord, you know I love you, yet your message of love is often lost in the way I bear witness to others. Help me soften my passion for your Word of Life with the understanding that only love can light the Way of Truth.

Jesus, reduce me to love. Amen.

Monday of Week 33 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
1 Maccabees 1:10-15,41-43,54-57,62-64 | Psalm 118(119):53,61,134,150,155,158 | Luke 18:35-43

Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me, and let me see again.

Let me see to the heart of everyone I meet…

the bus driver who greets everyone, yet is greeted by no one,

the cleaner facing mountains of food detritus, strewn indiscriminately by uncaring diners,

the grandmother struggling with three squalling children and a loaded pram.

Let me see them as they really are, my own siblings in You.

Let me see their worries, their weariness, their need for just a little kindness in an unkind world.

And having seen all that, give me the courage to act…

to greet cheerfully when I board, and thank with a wave when I alight,

to leave the bones and fat of my meal neatly ensconced in the tray, then bus the entire lot,

to reach out and lift the jammed wheels out of the train gap, then fascinate the children with little antics to buy her some peace and quiet.

Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me, and let me see again. Let me not ignore the plight of those around me. Amen.