The story of the prodigal son
is truly heart-warming.
The arrogant, rebellious younger son
squanders the family fortune
and finds himself deserted by friends
in a foreign land.
Alone and penniless,
he realises the error of his ways
and returns home,
a much humbler man.
There, he is welcomed with open arms
by his Daddy.

This is comforting, reassuring.
It reminds us of our Daddy in heaven,
ever-ready to welcome each one of us
with open arms.
Our God is a God
of love and compassion.

I love that part of the story.

But I wonder
why did Jesus not stop the story
at this point?
Why did Jesus choose to tell us
about the older brother,
eaten up by jealousy,
who feels unable to even look at
the foolish son?

Why did Jesus include
that part of the story?

I suspect that,
in this story,
Jesus is calling me
to love and forgive others
in the same way
that My God loves and forgives me.
Jesus doesn’t intend this story
to be simply heart-warming –
He intends to challenge me
to live a life of love.

I can see his point
(but I would still have preferred
a happy ending!)

© Claire Murray, 19th March 2017

I feel troubled.

Events from the past
keeping coming to mind –
negative thoughts
that drag me down.

I turn to My God in prayer
and place before him
my concerns.
As I do so,
I think to myself,
“I make this over to the Lord”.

Praying these words
I’m aware
that I am echoing words used by Hannah,
the mother of Samuel
when she committed to God
her precious, long-awaited and only child,
saying, “I make him over to the Lord.”

Today I commit to My God
concerns that are close to my heart.

Now, I feel at peace.

©  Claire Murray, 20th November 2016

Today is the feast
of Our Lady of the Rosary
and at morning Mass I enjoy the treat
of hearing a Gospel story that I love –
the story of The Annunciation.
Usually I love to hear part
where Our Lady says “Yes!” to God.
But today a totally different phrase
grabs my attention –
“Nothing is impossible for God.”

I find myself thinking about Paul
who has been suffering from chest pain
for eighteen long weeks.
Paul’s pain persists
despite visits to doctors, consultants
and physios.
And as weeks of pain pass into months
with no respite
I sense despair.

Today’s reading offers hope –
“Nothing is impossible for God.”

I think of the woman who haemorrhaged
for twelve years
and the man who had been blind from birth.
Despite being ill for many years,
Jesus had touched and healed
both of these people.

Mass continues
and I pray for Paul
with a renewed sense of hope
because nothing is impossible
for God.

©  Claire Murray, 7th October 2016

At Vigil Mass
Fr Thomas reads a gospel story
which, for me,
contains the saddest words
that Jesus ever spoke.
It was the story of the poor man called Lazarus
who died at the gates
of an un-named rich man.

Lazarus goes to heaven
but the rich man doesn’t.
The rich man pleads,
begging for Lazarus to be allowed
to return from the dead
and warn the rich man’s brothers
so that they may repent
of their evil ways.

The rich man’s request is denied.
Jesus goes on to explain why
and I find His explanation
heart-breaking.
Jesus explains
that if people won’t repent
after hearing God’s word
from Moses and the prophets
they won’t change their ways,
even if someone was to rise from the dead.

These words fill me with sadness.
Jesus is preparing
to sacrifice His own life
by enduring a tortuous death
but His words tell me
that Jesus is fully aware
that, for some people,
nothing that He ever does
will be enough to convince them
to change their ways.

Jesus is fully aware that,
for some people,
his agonizing death will be in  vain.

Isn’t that just incredibly sad?

©  Claire Murray, 18th September 2016

Tonight I go to evening Mass
at St Peter’s the Rock
for the Month’s Mind
of Monseigneur John Murphy.

As I examine my conscience
before praying The Confiteor
my mind fills with memories
of many recent instances
when I have acted in a harsh manner
at home and at work –
times when I have not answered
the Christian call
to love others.

I feel deeply saddened, ashamed
and inadequate.

At the Gospel
we hear the story of the time
when Jesus challenged his disciples
to feed over five thousand people.
Jesus’ closest friends,
His disciples,
were incredulous –
they only had five loaves and two fish –
surely this was asking the impossible?

Yet the little that the disciples had
proved to be more than sufficient
when placed into Jesus’ hands.
And in fact there was actually food left over!

And as I stand listening to this Gospel
I find that I now feel undaunted
by the challenges that I face.
I feel convinced
that even my paltry, meagre best
when presented in faith to Jesus,
is transformed
so that it becomes more than enough
for any situation
that I may find myself in.

And as I stand listening to the Gospel
at the Month’s Mind
of Monseigneur John Murphy
I no longer feel inadequate –
I feel empowered.

©  Claire Murray, 16 September 2016
(Matthew 14:13-21)

I find myself wondering
about Bartimaeus,
the blind begger
who shouted and roared,
imploring Jesus
to have pity on him.

Bartimaeus’ shouting
went against the social niceties
of the time.
His behaviour was frowned upon
and was somewhat loutish.
People beside Bartimaeus
seem to have been
a little embarrassed by his loudness
and tried to shush him,
like you would do with a child.

But today
Bartimaeus would not be silenced.
Jesus heard his cry for help
and cured him.

I find myself wondering
about Bartimaeus.

Was it desperation
that made him so determined
to attract Jesus’ attention?
and was it sheer excitement
that caused Bartimaeus
to leap up
in answer to Jesus’ call?

On that day
Bartimaeus showed no interest whatsoever
in what other people
might think of him.

What about us?
In an increasingly secular world
do we allow fear
of what others might think of us
to stifle our own personal
quest for God?

© Claire Murray, 29 May 2016

Two thousand years ago
Jesus said
that the kingdom of God rejoices
when a sinner repents,
just like a woman who has lost a coin
and found it again.

If Jesus was telling
that same story today,
do you suppose
that He might say this?

“The kingdom of God
is like a woman
who has lost her handbag.
She tries desperately
to find it again.
The woman searches frantically,
racing from place to place
as she retraces her steps that day,
returning to every single shop
and asking everyone she meets
whether they have seen her handbag.

In her search she is acutely aware
and how precious that handbag’s contents are –
keys for home, work and the car,
money belonging to herself
and to others.
And the bank cards!

The woman fires highly-charged prayers
away up to heaven
and to Saint Anthony
in an appeal for help.

And when that handbag
is eventually found …
what a relief!
How carefree that woman feels!
She feels a need to celebrate,
telling friends, colleagues
and everyone she meets
her wonderful news!

That is the sort of celebration
and ecstasy
that is found in heaven
when someone returns to God.”

© Claire Murray, 11th April 2016

Two thousand years ago
Jesus said
that the kingdom of God rejoices
when a sinner repents,
just like a woman who has lost a coin
and found it again.

If Jesus was telling
that same story today,
do you suppose
that He might say this?

“The kingdom of God
is like a woman
who has lost her handbag.
She tries desperately
to find it again.
The woman searches frantically,
racing from place to place
as she retraces her steps that day,
returning to every single shop
and asking everyone she meets
whether they have seen her handbag.

In her search she is acutely aware
and how precious that handbag’s contents are –
keys for home, work and the car,
money belonging to herself
and to others.
And the bank cards!

The woman fires highly-charged prayers
away up to heaven
and to Saint Anthony
in an appeal for help.

And when that handbag
is eventually found …
what a relief!
How carefree that woman feels!
She feels a need to celebrate,
telling friends, colleagues
and everyone she meets
her wonderful news!

That is the sort of celebration
and ecstasy
that is found in heaven
when someone returns to God.”

© Claire Murray, 11th April 2016

(Luke 15: 8-10)

Lord,
at Mass today
the reading went,
“I prayed
and understanding was given to me.
I entreated
and the Spirit of Wisdom came to me.”

And I had a sense
that you stand, poised,
ready to give me
absolutely everything that I need
to deal with life –
if only I ask.

Somehow
I need to figure out
just what, exactly,
I should be asking for.
Because whatever I need
is there for the asking
– the grace to forgive others
– the grace to forgive myself
– the grace to accept
– the grace to refrain from thinking,
“if only … ”

(c) Claire Murray, 10/10/15