Thursday 30 April 2026 — Daily Mass Readings

 

Thursday of the 4th week of Eastertide

First Reading — Acts 13:13–25

God has raised up one of David’s descendants, Jesus, as Saviour

Paul and his friends went by sea from Paphos to Perga in Pamphylia where John left them to go back to Jerusalem. The others carried on from Perga till they reached Antioch in Pisidia. Here they went to synagogue on the sabbath and took their seats. After the lessons from the Law and the Prophets had been read, the presidents of the synagogue sent them a message: ‘Brothers, if you would like to address some words of encouragement to the congregation, please do so.’ Paul stood up, held up a hand for silence and began to speak:

‘Men of Israel, and fearers of God, listen! The God of our nation Israel chose our ancestors, and made our people great when they were living as foreigners in Egypt; then by divine power he led them out, and for about forty years took care of them in the wilderness. When he had destroyed seven nations in Canaan, he put them in possession of their land for about four hundred and fifty years. After this he gave them judges, down to the prophet Samuel. Then they demanded a king, and God gave them Saul son of Kish, a man of the tribe of Benjamin. After forty years, he deposed him and made David their king, of whom he approved in these words, “I have selected David son of Jesse, a man after my own heart, who will carry out my whole purpose.”

To keep his promise, God has raised up for Israel one of David’s descendants, Jesus, as Saviour, whose coming was heralded by John when he proclaimed a baptism of repentance for the whole people of Israel. Before John ended his career he said, “I am not the one you imagine me to be; that one is coming after me and I am not fit to undo his sandal.”

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Responsorial Psalm — Psalm 88(89):2–3,21,22,25,27

I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord;
through all ages my mouth will proclaim your truth.
Of this I am sure, that your love lasts for ever,
that your truth is firmly established as the heavens.

I have found David my servant
and with my holy oil anointed him.
My hand shall always be with him
and my arm shall make him strong.

My truth and my love shall be with him;
by my name his might shall be exalted.
He will say to me: ‘You are my father,
my God, the rock who saves me.’

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Gospel — John 13:16–20

Whoever welcomes the one I send welcomes me

After he had washed the feet of his disciples, Jesus said to them:

‘I tell you most solemnly,
no servant is greater than his master,
no messenger is greater than the man who sent him.

Now that you know this, happiness will be yours if you behave accordingly. I am not speaking about all of you: I know the ones I have chosen; but what scripture says must be fulfilled: Someone who shares my table rebels against me.

I tell you this now, before it happens,
so that when it does happen
you may believe that I am He.

I tell you most solemnly,
whoever welcomes the one I send welcomes me,
and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.’

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Reflection

Paul’s speech is not rushed. He does not jump to conclusions. He walks through history—patiently, deliberately—because understanding requires looking back. The movement of God is not always visible in the moment. It becomes clear when you are willing to trace it.

This is difficult for us. We want immediate meaning. Immediate direction. But faith often asks for something else—to trust that what feels unresolved is still being shaped. The Catechism reminds us that God’s plan unfolds through time, not outside of it (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church 302–314).

In the Gospel, Jesus removes another illusion. To follow Him is not to rise above others, but to enter into the same pattern of service. “No servant is greater than his master.” If He kneels, then so will we. Not as performance, but as participation.

And yet, there is something easily missed. Christ is encountered through those He sends. Not always in obvious ways. Often through people, moments, or interruptions we would overlook. This reflects a deeper truth: God mediates His presence through real, human encounters (CCC 1088).

So growth becomes less about seeking something new, and more about recognising what is already there.

Where you are placed.
Who is in front of you.
What you are being asked to respond to.

The difficulty is not that God is absent.

It is that His presence does not always look the way we expect.

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One line to carry today:
Pay attention—God often meets you in what you would normally overlook.

Wednesday 29 April 2026 — Daily Mass Readings

 

Saint Catherine of Siena, Virgin, Doctor (Memorial)

First Reading — Acts 12:24–13:5

‘I want Barnabas and Saul set apart’

The word of God continued to spread and to gain followers. Barnabas and Saul completed their task and came back from Jerusalem, bringing John Mark with them.

In the church at Antioch the following were prophets and teachers: Barnabas, Simeon called Niger, and Lucius of Cyrene, Manaen, who had been brought up with Herod the tetrarch, and Saul. One day while they were offering worship to the Lord and keeping a fast, the Holy Spirit said, ‘I want Barnabas and Saul set apart for the work to which I have called them.’ So it was that after fasting and prayer they laid their hands on them and sent them off.

So these two, sent on their mission by the Holy Spirit, went down to Seleucia and from there sailed to Cyprus. They landed at Salamis and proclaimed the word of God in the synagogues of the Jews; John acted as their assistant.

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Responsorial Psalm — Psalm 66(67):2–3,5–6,8

O God, be gracious and bless us
and let your face shed its light upon us.
So will your ways be known upon earth
and all nations learn your saving help.

Let the nations be glad and exult
for you rule the world with justice.
With fairness you rule the peoples,
you guide the nations on earth.

Let the peoples praise you, O God;
let all the peoples praise you.
May God still give us his blessing
till the ends of the earth revere him.

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Gospel — John 12:44–50

I, the light, have come into the world

Jesus declared publicly:
‘Whoever believes in me
believes not in me
but in the one who sent me,
and whoever sees me,
sees the one who sent me.

I, the light, have come into the world,
so that whoever believes in me
need not stay in the dark any more.

If anyone hears my words and does not keep them faithfully,
it is not I who shall condemn him,
since I have come not to condemn the world,
but to save the world.

He who rejects me and refuses my words has his judge already:
the word itself that I have spoken will be his judge on the last day.

For what I have spoken does not come from myself;
no, what I was to say,
what I had to speak,
was commanded by the Father who sent me,
and I know that his commands mean eternal life.
And therefore what the Father has told me
is what I speak.’

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Reflection

There is a difference between wanting direction and being willing to be sent.

In Acts, the Church is not searching for purpose—they are already rooted in it. Prayer, fasting, worship. And out of that comes something that cannot be manufactured: the voice of the Holy Spirit. “Set them apart.” Not because Barnabas and Saul are the most capable, but because they are available.

This is often misunderstood. Being “set apart” sounds like elevation, but in reality, it is exposure. It means being taken out of what is known and placed into something that will demand trust. The Church responds not by hesitating, but by releasing them. There is a quiet authority here—the recognition that mission belongs to God, not to human control (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church 849–851).

The psalm widens the lens. This mission is not contained. It is for all nations. God’s light is not selective—it is expansive. But expansion always requires movement. Someone must go. Someone must leave what is stable enough to remain.

Then the Gospel removes any ambiguity.

“I am the light.” Not a guide toward light. Not a reflection of it. The light itself. Which means belief is not passive—it is a step out of darkness. And darkness is not just ignorance. It is often preference. A choice to remain where things are manageable, where truth does not disrupt.

Jesus does not come to condemn. That is clear. But He also does not dilute what He speaks. His words carry consequence. They reveal what is real, and in doing so, they require a response (cf. CCC 679). To hear and not act is not neutrality—it is resistance.

Saint Catherine of Siena lived with a clarity that did not wait for permission. She spoke into disorder with a conviction rooted not in herself, but in God. She understood that truth is not something to be adjusted for comfort. It is something to be lived, even when it costs you standing, security, or acceptance.

This is where personal growth becomes honest.

Not in adding more, but in facing what is already there. Where you are resisting being sent. Where you are avoiding the light, not because you cannot see it, but because it will ask you to change.

The movement of God is rarely loud.

But it is precise.

And it will not force you.

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One line to carry today:
Being called is not about certainty—it is about being willing to go.

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Tuesday 28 April 2026 — Daily Mass Readings

 

Saint Peter Chanel, Priest, Martyr (Feast)

First Reading — 1 Corinthians 1:18–25

We preach a crucified Christ, the power and wisdom of God

The language of the cross may be illogical to those who are not on the way to salvation, but those of us who are on the way see it as God’s power to save. As scripture says: I shall destroy the wisdom of the wise and bring to nothing all the learning of the learned. Where are the philosophers now? Where are the scribes? Where are any of our thinkers today? Do you see now how God has shown up the foolishness of human wisdom? If it was God’s wisdom that human wisdom should not know God, it was because God wanted to save those who have faith through the foolishness of the message that we preach. And so, while the Jews demand miracles and the Greeks look for wisdom, here are we preaching a crucified Christ; to the Jews an obstacle that they cannot get over, to the pagans madness, but to those who have been called, whether they are Jews or Greeks, a Christ who is the power and the wisdom of God. For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.

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Responsorial Psalm — Psalm 116(117):1–2

O praise the Lord, all you nations,
acclaim him all you peoples!
Strong is his love for us;
he is faithful for ever.

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Gospel — Mark 1:14–20

I will make you into fishers of men

After John had been arrested, Jesus went into Galilee. There he proclaimed the Good News from God. ‘The time has come’ he said ‘and the kingdom of God is close at hand. Repent, and believe the Good News.’

As he was walking along by the Sea of Galilee he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net in the lake – for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, ‘Follow me and I will make you into fishers of men.’ And at once they left their nets and followed him.

Going on a little further, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John; they too were in their boat, mending their nets. He called them at once and, leaving their father Zebedee in the boat with the men he employed, they went after him.

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Reflection

There is something unsettling about the cross if we take it seriously.

Not the symbol, not the familiarity of it—but what it actually reveals. A God who does not dominate, does not force, does not prove Himself by spectacle, but instead gives Himself away. Completely. Quietly. Without defence.

St Paul does not soften this. He names it plainly: what looks like foolishness is, in fact, the wisdom of God. And that should disturb us more than it comforts us. Because it exposes how often we measure our lives by a different standard—efficiency, control, visible progress, recognition. We say we believe in the cross, but we still build our lives around avoiding it.

The truth is, we prefer a God who makes sense to us.

A God who fits within our expectations of strength. A God who resolves things quickly. A God who confirms that we are already on the right path. But the cross refuses all of that. It does not affirm our instincts—it confronts them. As the Catechism makes clear, the wisdom of God overturns human wisdom precisely because salvation comes through what we would never choose for ourselves (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church 272).

Then the Gospel becomes even more personal.

Jesus does not stand at a distance explaining this paradox. He walks into ordinary life and calls people out of it. Not the prepared, not the impressive—just fishermen. Working, mending, continuing as they always had. And into that normality comes a voice that changes everything: “Follow me.”

What is striking is not just the call—but the response. They leave. Immediately. Nets, security, identity, expectation—all of it. There is no visible guarantee, no roadmap, no clarity about what comes next. Only a person, and a call.

And this is where the discomfort deepens.

Because most of us want transformation without disruption. We want growth that does not require loss. We want clarity before obedience. But the pattern of the Gospel is the opposite. The call comes first. Understanding follows later—sometimes much later.

Saint Peter Chanel lived this in a way that strips away illusion. His mission did not look successful. There was no immediate fruit, no visible affirmation. And yet, he remained. He gave his life. What seemed like failure became the beginning of something that outlived him. This is not romantic—it is costly. But it is real.

The Catechism speaks of this participation in Christ’s sacrifice not as an optional path, but as the shape of Christian life itself (CCC 618). Not because suffering is good in itself, but because love, when it is real, inevitably becomes self-giving.

So the question is not whether the cross makes sense.

It doesn’t—at least not in the way we want it to.

The real question is whether we are willing to trust a wisdom that does not centre on us. Whether we are willing to follow before we fully understand. Whether we are ready to let go of what defines us, in order to receive something we cannot yet see.

Because the call of Christ is not an improvement to your current life.

It is an invitation to let it be redefined.

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One line to carry today:
You don’t need to understand the call—only to decide whether you will follow it.

Monday 27 April 2026 — Daily Mass Readings

 

Monday of the 4th week of Eastertide

First Reading — Acts 11:1–18

God can grant even the pagans the repentance that leads to life

The apostles and the brothers in Judaea heard that the pagans too had accepted the word of God, and when Peter came up to Jerusalem the Jews criticised him and said, ‘So you have been visiting the uncircumcised and eating with them, have you?’ Peter in reply gave them the details point by point: ‘One day, when I was in the town of Jaffa,’ he began, ‘I fell into a trance as I was praying and had a vision of something like a big sheet being let down from heaven by its four corners. This sheet reached the ground quite close to me. I watched it intently and saw all sorts of animals and wild beasts – everything possible that could walk, crawl or fly. Then I heard a voice that said to me, “Now, Peter; kill and eat!” But I answered: Certainly not, Lord; nothing profane or unclean has ever crossed my lips. And a second time the voice spoke from heaven, “What God has made clean, you have no right to call profane.” This was repeated three times, before the whole of it was drawn up to heaven again.

‘Just at that moment, three men stopped outside the house where we were staying; they had been sent from Caesarea to fetch me, and the Spirit told me to have no hesitation about going back with them. The six brothers here came with me as well, and we entered the man’s house. He told us he had seen an angel standing in his house who said, “Send to Jaffa and fetch Simon known as Peter; he has a message for you that will save you and your entire household.”

‘I had scarcely begun to speak when the Holy Spirit came down on them in the same way as it came on us at the beginning, and I remembered that the Lord had said, “John baptised with water, but you will be baptised with the Holy Spirit.” I realised then that God was giving them the identical thing he gave to us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ; and who was I to stand in God’s way?’

This account satisfied them, and they gave glory to God. ‘God,’ they said, ‘can evidently grant even the pagans the repentance that leads to life.’

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Responsorial Psalm — Psalm 41(42):2–3, 42:3–4

Like the deer that yearns for running streams,
so my soul is yearning for you, my God.
My soul is thirsting for God, the God of my life;
when can I enter and see the face of God?

O send forth your light and your truth;
let these be my guide.
Let them bring me to your holy mountain,
to the place where you dwell.

And I will come to the altar of God,
the God of my joy.
My redeemer, I will thank you on the harp,
O God, my God.

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Gospel — John 10:11–18

The good shepherd is one who lays down his life for his sheep

Jesus said:
‘I am the good shepherd:
the good shepherd is one who lays down his life for his sheep.
The hired man, since he is not the shepherd
and the sheep do not belong to him,
abandons the sheep and runs away
as soon as he sees a wolf coming,
and then the wolf attacks and scatters the sheep;
this is because he is only a hired man
and has no concern for the sheep.

‘I am the good shepherd;
I know my own
and my own know me,
just as the Father knows me
and I know the Father;
and I lay down my life for my sheep.

And there are other sheep I have
that are not of this fold,
and these I have to lead as well.
They too will listen to my voice,
and there will be only one flock,
and one shepherd.

‘The Father loves me,
because I lay down my life
in order to take it up again.
No one takes it from me;
I lay it down of my own free will,
and as it is in my power to lay it down,
so it is in my power to take it up again;
and this is the command I have been given by my Father.’

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Reflection

Acts 11 captures a decisive expansion in the life of the Church: the Gospel is not confined to one people, culture, or expectation. Peter’s vision dismantles a long-held boundary, not by argument but by revelation. What God declares clean cannot be restricted by human categories. This moment reflects the universal scope of salvation—God’s will that all are invited into repentance and life (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church 851).

Peter’s response is deeply instructive: “Who was I to stand in God’s way?” This is the posture of true obedience. It acknowledges that grace precedes understanding. The Church does not manufacture inclusion; it recognises and receives what God has already initiated. The Holy Spirit leads, and the Church follows.

The psalm gives voice to the inner dimension of this movement. Beneath every boundary and division is a deeper truth—the human soul thirsts for God. This longing is universal. It is not confined to one group or identity. It is written into the human heart (CCC 27), and it finds its fulfilment not in exclusion but in communion.

In the Gospel, Jesus reveals the heart of that communion. He is the Good Shepherd—not a distant authority, but one who knows, calls, and gives Himself. His leadership is defined by sacrifice: “I lay down my life.” This is not forced; it is freely given. Love, in its fullest form, is self-offering (CCC 609).

Crucially, Jesus speaks of “other sheep” not yet of this fold. This confirms what unfolds in Acts—the mission of Christ is outward, gathering, unifying. The one flock is not formed by narrowing the circle, but by the Shepherd drawing all into relationship with Him. Unity comes through His voice, not human control.

There is a tension we must face. Like Peter before his vision, we can hold assumptions about who belongs, who is “in,” and how God should act. But the Resurrection breaks those limits open. The Spirit moves where He wills (cf. CCC 2003), and often beyond what feels comfortable.

To follow the Good Shepherd is to trust His direction, even when it leads beyond familiar ground. His voice does not divide—it gathers. His life is not taken—it is given. And His mission does not exclude—it reaches further than we expect.

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One line to carry today:
Do not stand in the way of God’s grace—follow the Shepherd who gathers all.

Sunday 26 April 2026 — Daily Mass Readings

 

First Reading: Acts 2:14, 36-41

On the day of Pentecost Peter stood up with the Eleven and addressed the crowd in a loud voice: ‘The whole House of Israel can be certain that God has made this Jesus whom you crucified both Lord and Christ.’ Hearing this, they were cut to the heart and said to Peter and the apostles, ‘What must we do, brothers?’ ‘You must repent,’ Peter answered ‘and every one of you must be baptised in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The promise that was made is for you and your children, and for all those who are far away, for all those whom the Lord our God will call to himself.’ He spoke to them for a long time using many arguments, and he urged them, ‘Save yourselves from this perverse generation.’ They were convinced by his arguments, and they accepted what he said and were baptised. That very day about three thousand were added to their number.

Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 22(23)

R. The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want. Fresh and green are the pastures where he gives me repose. Near restful waters he leads me, to revive my drooping spirit. R.

He guides me along the right path; he is true to his name. If I should walk in the valley of darkness no evil would I fear. You are there with your crook and your staff; with these you give me comfort. R.

You have prepared a banquet for me in the sight of my foes. My head you have anointed with oil; my cup is overflowing. R.

Surely goodness and kindness shall follow me all the days of my life. In the Lord’s own house shall I dwell for ever and ever. R.

Second Reading: 1 Peter 2:20-25

The merit, in the sight of God, is in bearing punishment patiently when you are punished after doing your duty. This, in fact, is what you were called to do, because Christ suffered for you and left an example for you to follow the way he took. He had not done anything wrong, and there had been no perjury in his mouth. He was insulted and did not retaliate with insults; when he was tortured he made no threats but he put his trust in the righteous judge. He was bearing our faults in his own body on the cross, so that we might die to our faults and live for holiness; through his wounds you have been healed. You had gone astray like sheep but now you have come back to the shepherd and guardian of your souls.

Gospel: John 10:1-10

Jesus said: ‘I tell you most solemnly, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold through the gate, but gets in some other way is a thief and a brigand. The one who enters through the gate is the shepherd of the flock; the gatekeeper lets him in, the sheep hear his voice, one by one he calls his own sheep and leads them out. When he has brought out his flock, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow because they know his voice. They never follow a stranger but run away from him: they do not recognise the voice of strangers.’ Jesus told them this parable but they failed to understand what he meant by telling it to them. So Jesus spoke to them again: ‘I tell you most solemnly, I am the gate of the sheepfold. All others who have come are thieves and brigands; but the sheep took no notice of them. I am the gate. Anyone who enters through me will be safe: he will go freely in and out and be sure of finding pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I have come so that they may have life and have it to the full.’

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Deep Reflection

Today, the Church celebrates Good Shepherd Sunday, a title of Christ that bridges the gap between His sovereign authority and His tender, personal care. In the First Reading, St. Peter’s proclamation of Jesus as "both Lord and Christ" causes a visceral reaction: the people are "cut to the heart." This is the foundational movement of the Christian life. It is the realization that our sins—our "straying"—necessitated the sacrifice of the Shepherd. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches, the Church is the "sheepfold whose one and indispensable door is Christ" (CCC 764).

The Gospel offers a dual metaphor: Jesus is the Shepherd who calls us by name, and He is the Gate. To enter through the Gate is to accept the "narrow way" of the Gospel, which leads to true freedom and pasture. In a world of "thieves and brigands"—ideologies that promise fulfilment but lead to spiritual death—the voice of Christ remains the only one that leads to life "to the full." This abundance is not measured by material wealth, but by the peace of being "healed by His wounds" (1 Peter 2:24). We follow Him not because we are forced, but because we recognise the voice of the one who died to save us.

One line to carry: Jesus is the Gate and the Shepherd; by His wounds we are healed and through His voice we find our way home.

Saturday 25 April 2026 — Daily Mass Readings

 

ANZAC Day on Saturday of the 3rd week of Eastertide

First Reading — Wisdom 3:1-9
The souls of the virtuous are in the hands of God

The souls of the virtuous are in the hands of God,
no torment shall ever touch them.
In the eyes of the unwise, they did appear to die,
their going looked like a disaster,
their leaving us, like annihilation;
but they are in peace.
If they experienced punishment as men see it,
their hope was rich with immortality;
slight was their affliction, great will their blessings be.
God has put them to the test
and proved them worthy to be with him;
he has tested them like gold in a furnace,
and accepted them as a holocaust.
When the time comes for his visitation they will shine out;
as sparks run through the stubble, so will they.
They shall judge nations, rule over peoples,
and the Lord will be their king for ever.
They who trust in him will understand the truth,
those who are faithful will live with him in love;
for grace and mercy await those he has chosen.

Responsorial Psalm — Psalm 114(116):5-6,115(116):10-11,15-16

I will walk in the presence of the Lord in the land of the living.
or
Alleluia.

How gracious is the Lord, and just;
our God has compassion.
The Lord protects the simple hearts;
I was helpless so he saved me.

I trusted, even when I said:
“I am sorely afflicted,”
and when I said in my alarm:
“No man can be trusted.”

O precious in the eyes of the Lord
is the death of his faithful.
Your servant, Lord, your servant am I;
you have loosened my bonds.

Second Reading — 1 Corinthians 1:18-25
We preach a crucified Christ, the power and wisdom of God

The language of the cross may be illogical to those who are not on the way to salvation, but those of us who are on the way see it as God’s power to save. As scripture says: I shall destroy the wisdom of the wise and bring to nothing all the learning of the learned. Where are the philosophers now? Where are the scribes? Where are any of our thinkers today? Do you see now how God has shown up the foolishness of human wisdom? If it was God’s wisdom that human wisdom should not know God, it was because God wanted to save those who have faith through the foolishness of the message that we preach. And so, while the Jews demand miracles and the Greeks look for wisdom, here are we preaching a crucified Christ; to the Jews an obstacle that they cannot get over, to the pagans madness, but to those who have been called, whether they are Jews or Greeks, a Christ who is the power and the wisdom of God. For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.

Gospel Acclamation — Revelation 14:13
Alleluia, alleluia!
Happy are those who have died in the Lord:
let them rest from their labours
for their good deeds go with them.
Alleluia!

Or Gospel Acclamation — John 14:27
Alleluia, alleluia!
Peace I leave with you, says the Lord;
my own peace I give you.
Alleluia!

Gospel — John 12:23-28
If a grain of wheat falls on the ground and dies, it yields a rich harvest

Jesus said to Andrew and Philip:

“Now the hour has come
for the Son of Man to be glorified.
I tell you, most solemnly,
unless a wheat grain falls on the ground and dies,
it remains only a single grain;
but if it dies,
it yields a rich harvest.
Anyone who loves his life loses it;
anyone who hates his life in this world
will keep it for the eternal life.
If a man serves me, he must follow me,
wherever I am, my servant will be there too.
If anyone serves me, my Father will honour him.
Now my soul is troubled.
What shall I say:
Father, save me from this hour?
But it was for this very reason that I have come to this hour.
Father, glorify your name!”

Reflection

These readings are deeply fitting for ANZAC Day because they do not sentimentalise death, yet they do not surrender to despair either. They allow sorrow to remain real while placing it beneath the larger horizon of God’s truth. Wisdom begins with one of the most consoling lines in Scripture: “The souls of the virtuous are in the hands of God.” That is where remembrance must begin. Human memory is fragile, history is contested, and earthly honours fade, but God does not forget those who are his. The faithful dead are not abandoned to silence or annihilation. They are held.

This first reading is especially powerful because it acknowledges appearances. “In the eyes of the unwise, they did appear to die, their going looked like a disaster.” Scripture does not deny how loss feels. Death does look like disaster. Absence does wound. Grief does come with unanswered questions. On a day such as ANZAC Day, those realities must not be brushed aside. Yet Wisdom dares to say that appearances are not ultimate. Beneath what human eyes can see, there is another truth: “but they are in peace.” Christian remembrance is not based on denial, but on revelation. God sees more deeply than we do.

The reading also speaks of testing, purification, and faithfulness. “He has tested them like gold in a furnace.” This does not mean that every human conflict or tragedy is holy in itself. War remains one of the gravest signs of the disorder brought by sin. The Church never glorifies violence for its own sake. But within the brokenness of human history, God can recognise courage, fidelity, endurance, and self-giving love. He can receive what is offered in truth and judge it rightly. The Catechism teaches that human life is sacred and that peace is not merely the absence of war but the work of justice and charity (CCC 2258, 2304). ANZAC Day should therefore be marked not only by remembrance of sacrifice, but also by renewed commitment to the peace for which so much suffering was endured.

The Psalm carries the same honest reverence. “Precious in the eyes of the Lord is the death of his faithful.” That line does not make death good. Death remains an enemy, the last enemy to be destroyed in Christ. But it does declare that the passing of the faithful matters to God. Their lives mattered. Their suffering mattered. Their fidelity mattered. In a world where human beings are often reduced to numbers, the Psalm restores personal dignity. Each life stands before the Lord. Each death is seen by him.

The Second Reading takes us to the centre of Christian interpretation: the cross of Christ. Saint Paul does not speak of the cross as one symbol among many. He says it is the power and wisdom of God. From a merely worldly perspective, the cross looks like failure, weakness, shame, and defeat. But in God’s plan, it is precisely there that salvation is accomplished. This matters profoundly on a day of remembrance. Christians do not honour sacrifice in an abstract or nationalistic way. We interpret all sacrifice in the light of the crucified Christ. Without him, even noble suffering remains tragic and unresolved. In him, suffering can be taken up into redemptive love.

Paul’s words are especially sharp because they confront human ideas of strength. The world looks for visible triumph, argument, force, and certainty. God reveals his deepest wisdom through the crucified Son. The Catechism teaches that Christ’s sacrifice is unique, definitive, and the source of our redemption; it fulfils and surpasses all other sacrifices (CCC 613, 614). This means that all human courage and all costly service find their fullest meaning only in relation to him. Christ does not simply admire sacrifice from afar. He enters it, transforms it, and opens it towards resurrection.

Then the Gospel brings us the image of the grain of wheat. “Unless a wheat grain falls on the ground and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest.” These words must first be heard as Jesus speaking about his own approaching Passion. His death is not meaningless collapse. It is fruitful self-offering. The cross will look like the ending of hope, yet it will become the place from which life for the world is given. This is the pattern of the Paschal Mystery: death and resurrection, surrender and glory, burial and harvest.

On ANZAC Day, this Gospel gives a Christian lens for remembrance. It does not say that every death is automatically fruitful, nor that human suffering should be romanticised. But it does say that self-giving love is never lost in God’s economy. When a life is poured out in duty, service, protection of others, or fidelity to a calling, Christians can entrust that offering to the Lord who alone can bring a true harvest from what has been given. The Gospel also widens the application beyond battlefields. “If a man serves me, he must follow me.” Every disciple is called into this same logic of self-gift. The memorial of sacrifice is meant to shape the living, not only honour the dead.

There is also a sobering challenge here. “Anyone who loves his life loses it.” The Christian life is not preservation of self at all costs. Nor is remembrance meant to produce mere nostalgia. Rather, days such as this should ask us whether we live for ourselves alone, or whether we are willing to be spent in love, truth, service, and fidelity. The cross remains the measure. The grain must fall. The servant must follow. In that sense, ANZAC Day can become not only a national remembrance, but a spiritual examination.

These readings hold together three things that are often torn apart: grief, honour, and hope. Wisdom allows us to grieve, the Psalm teaches reverence, Paul grounds meaning in the cross, and the Gospel directs us to the fruitfulness of sacrificial love. All of it converges in Christ. He is the one in whom the dead are not lost, the one in whom sacrifice is not empty, and the one in whom peace is more than a wish. The resurrection does not erase the wounds of history, but it promises that they are not beyond redemption.

For Christian remembrance, that changes everything. We remember not as those who have no hope, nor as those who pretend sorrow is simple. We remember in the presence of the crucified and risen Lord. We commend the dead to his mercy. We ask for peace among nations. We honour costly service without idolising war. And we place our own lives before him, asking for the grace to follow him in courage, truth, and self-giving love.

One line to carry today:
In Christ, sacrifice is not lost, the faithful dead are not forgotten, and hope is stronger than death.

Friday 24 April 2026 — Daily Mass Readings

 

Friday of the 3rd week of Eastertide

First Reading — Acts 9:1-20
This man is my chosen instrument to bring my name before the pagans

Saul was still breathing threats to slaughter the Lord’s disciples. He had gone to the high priest and asked for letters addressed to the synagogues in Damascus, that would authorise him to arrest and take to Jerusalem any followers of the Way, men or women, that he could find.

Suddenly, while he was travelling to Damascus and just before he reached the city, there came a light from heaven all round him. He fell to the ground, and then he heard a voice saying, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” “Who are you, Lord?” he asked, and the voice answered, “I am Jesus, and you are persecuting me. Get up now and go into the city, and you will be told what you have to do.” The men travelling with Saul stood there speechless, for though they heard the voice they could see no one. Saul got up from the ground, but even with his eyes wide open he could see nothing at all, and they had to lead him into Damascus by the hand. For three days he was without his sight, and took neither food nor drink.

A disciple called Ananias who lived in Damascus had a vision in which he heard the Lord say to him, “Ananias!” When he replied, “Here I am, Lord”, the Lord said, “You must go to Straight Street and ask at the house of Judas for someone called Saul, who comes from Tarsus. At this moment he is praying, having had a vision of a man called Ananias coming in and laying hands on him to give him back his sight.”

When he heard that, Ananias said, “Lord, several people have told me about this man and all the harm he has been doing to your saints in Jerusalem. He has only come here because he holds a warrant from the chief priests to arrest everybody who invokes your name.” The Lord replied, “You must go all the same, because this man is my chosen instrument to bring my name before pagans and pagan kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he himself must suffer for my name.” Then Ananias went. He entered the house, and at once laid his hands on Saul and said, “Brother Saul, I have been sent by the Lord Jesus who appeared to you on your way here so that you may recover your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” Immediately it was as though scales fell away from Saul’s eyes and he could see again. So he was baptised there and then, and after taking some food he regained his strength.

He began preaching in the synagogues, “Jesus is the Son of God.”

Responsorial Psalm — Psalm 116(117)

O praise the Lord, all you nations,
acclaim him all you peoples!

Strong is his love for us;
he is faithful for ever.

Gospel Acclamation — John 6:56

Alleluia, alleluia!
All who eat my flesh and drink my blood
live in me and I in them, says the Lord.
Alleluia!

Gospel — John 6:52-59
My flesh is real food and my blood is real drink

The Jews started arguing with one another: “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” they said. Jesus replied:

“I tell you most solemnly,
if you do not eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood,
you will not have life in you.
Anyone who does eat my flesh and drink my blood
has eternal life,
and I shall raise him up on the last day.
For my flesh is real food
and my blood is real drink.
He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood
lives in me
and I live in him.
As I, who am sent by the living Father,
myself draw life from the Father,
so whoever eats me will draw life from me.
This is the bread come down from heaven;
not like the bread our ancestors ate:
they are dead,
but anyone who eats this bread will live for ever.”

He taught this doctrine at Capernaum, in the synagogue.

Reflection

Today’s readings bring together two overwhelming gifts of grace: conversion and communion. In the First Reading, Saul is on the road to Damascus not as a seeker, but as a persecutor. He is “breathing threats to slaughter the Lord’s disciples.” His energy is not neutral. It is violent, determined, and directed against the Church. Yet Christ intervenes. This is one of the great reminders in all Scripture that grace is not limited by human resistance. The Lord can break into a life at the very point where sin appears strongest.

The words Jesus speaks are deeply revealing: “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” He does not say merely, “Why are you persecuting my followers?” but “me”. The risen Christ so identifies with his Body, the Church, that persecution of Christians is persecution of Christ himself. This is a profound ecclesial truth. The Church is not an optional religious association loosely linked to Jesus. She is his Body. The Catechism teaches that the Church is the Body of Christ, united to him as head and animated by his life (CCC 787, 789, 795). Saul learns, in a single devastating encounter, that Jesus is alive, glorious, and inseparably united with those who belong to him.

Saul’s conversion also shows that grace humbles before it heals. He is struck blind and must be led by the hand. The man who came with authority arrives in weakness. The persecutor becomes dependent. There is a kind of death here already: the death of self-certainty, self-direction, and spiritual pride. Before Saul can preach Christ, he must be undone by Christ. This is not cruelty. It is mercy. God strips away what blocks true sight. Often conversion begins not with feeling strong, but with discovering how blind we really are.

Then Ananias enters the scene, and his role matters greatly. The Lord could have restored Saul’s sight directly, but instead he sends a disciple. Ananias is understandably afraid. He knows Saul’s reputation. Yet he obeys. In doing so, he becomes an instrument of reconciliation and grace. He addresses him as “Brother Saul” before Saul has done anything to deserve such a word. That is the language of the Church receiving a convert through mercy, not suspicion. Baptism, the laying on of hands, recovery of sight, and reception of the Holy Spirit all come together here. The Catechism teaches that Baptism is the gateway to life in the Spirit, incorporation into Christ, and entry into the Church (CCC 1213, 1267). Saul is not merely morally improved. He is sacramentally reborn.

The Lord also declares Saul’s mission: he is a chosen instrument to bring Christ’s name before pagans, kings, and Israel. Grace does not only forgive the past; it commissions for the future. Yet that mission comes with suffering. Saul is not converted into comfort, but into costly discipleship. This too is part of authentic Christian calling. To belong to Christ is to share not only in his life, but in his cross. The Catechism reminds us that discipleship means taking up the cross and following Jesus, participating in his Paschal Mystery (CCC 618).

Then the Gospel brings us to the heart of Eucharistic revelation. The crowd struggles with Jesus’ words, asking, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” Instead of softening the teaching, Jesus intensifies it. He insists that unless they eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, they will not have life in them. This is one of the strongest sacramental texts in the New Testament. Jesus does not speak here as though his flesh were merely a metaphor for ideas or inspiration. He speaks of real food, real drink, real life, and real abiding.

The Church has always received this teaching with full seriousness. The Catechism teaches that in the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist, the body and blood, soul and divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ are truly, really, and substantially contained (CCC 1374). The Eucharist is not a symbol emptied of reality. It is Christ himself given to his Church. When Jesus says, “He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood lives in me and I live in him,” he is speaking of a communion so deep that it participates in the very life he receives from the Father.

This is why today’s readings belong together so beautifully. In Acts, the risen Christ seizes Saul and transforms his life. In John, that same Christ gives himself as food for the life of the world. Conversion is not the end. Communion is the goal. Christ does not merely stop Saul from doing evil; he draws him into union with himself and into the life of the Church. The same is true for us. Christianity is not only about moral change, though moral change is real. It is about being united to Christ, fed by Christ, and living from Christ.

There is also a profound connection between Saul’s blindness and the Gospel’s Eucharistic realism. Human beings often resist what they cannot control or categorise. Saul could not see Christ until Christ revealed himself. The crowd could not accept Eucharistic teaching because it exceeded ordinary categories. In both cases, faith requires surrender. We do not master divine mystery; we receive it. The Father leads us beyond what seems manageable into what is true.

The Eucharist also reveals the intensity of divine love. Jesus does not simply instruct from afar. He gives his flesh “for the life of the world”. This anticipates the cross and continues sacramentally in the life of the Church. The Catechism teaches that the Eucharist is the memorial of Christ’s Passover, making present the one sacrifice of Christ and applying its fruit to us (CCC 1362, 1366). So the one who met Saul in glory is the same one who gives himself in sacrificial love. Resurrection and Eucharist belong together. The living Christ is the self-giving Christ.

For us, today’s readings ask several searching questions. Where do I still resist the Lord’s claim over my life? Where do I still need the scales to fall from my eyes? Do I truly believe that Christ can transform even a deeply disordered past? And do I approach the Eucharist as the real gift of Christ himself, or only as a religious routine? Saul’s story tells us no one is beyond grace. John 6 tells us no one is meant to live on grace at a distance. We are called not only to be converted by Christ, but to abide in him.

This is the great promise: the risen Lord who changes lives is also the Lord who feeds the lives he has changed. He calls, heals, baptises, fills, and nourishes. He does not begin a work only to leave it incomplete. He gives himself so that those who belong to him may have life, and have it for ever.

One line to carry today:
The risen Christ can completely change a life, and he gives himself to sustain the life he has changed.