Since we are travellers and pilgrims in the world, let us ever ponder on the end of the road, that is of our life, for the end of our roadway is our home (St Columban, 8th sermon).
09 May 2025
'You are Peter . . .' Sunday Reflections, 4th Sunday of Easter, Year C
You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of the nether world shall not prevail against it. To you I will give the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven (Matthew 16:18-19; Entrance Antiphon, Mass for the Pope).
Collect, Mass for the Pope
O God, who in your providential design willed that your Church be built upon blessed Peter, whom you set over the other Apostles, look with favour, we pray, on Leo our Pope and grant that he, whom you have made Peter's successor, may be for your people a visible source and foundation of unity in faith and of communion. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, for ever and ever.
Readings(Jerusalem
Bible: Australia, Ireland, New Zealand, Pakistan,)
Readings(English
Standard Version, Catholic Edition: England & Wales, India, Scotland)
GospelJohn 10:27-30 (English Standard
Version, Anglicised)
At that time: Jesus said, ‘My sheep hear my voice, and I know
them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish,
and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to
me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s
hand. I and the Father are one.’
This Sunday is known as 'Good Shepherd Sunday'. And this Sunday the Church has a new shepherd, Pope Leo XIV. One great example of a Good Shepherd who I learned about in kindergarten more than 75 years ago is Fr Willie Doyle SJ who was just short of five years of age when Pope Leo XIII was elected. A great source about him is the website of the Father Willie Doyle Association, edited and maintained by Dr Patrick Kenny.
Pat Kenny is also the compiler and editor of To Raise the Fallen, published by Veritas,where he writes on page 38: The precise details surrounding Fr Doyle's death are unclear. But at some time in the late afternoon of 16 August 1917, a group of soldiers led by 2nd Lieutenants Marlow and Green got into trouble beyond the front line, and Fr Doyle ran to assist them. It seems that Fr Doyle and the two officers were about to take shelter when they were hit by a German shell and killed. His body was never recovered.
In pages 65 - 68 Fr Doyle tells one of many stories he wrote in letters to his father from the front, this one dated 13 January 1917. Here are some extracts from it.
'Two men badly wounded in the firing line, Sir'. I was fast asleep . . . 'You will need to be quick, Father, to find them alive.' By this time I had grasped that someone was calling me, that some poor dying man needed help, that perhaps a soul was in danger. In a few seconds I had pulled on my big boots, I know I should want them in the mud and wet, jumped into my waterproof and darted down the trench.
It was just two a.m., bitterly cold and snowing hard . . . God help and strengthen the victims of this war, the wounded soldier with his torn and bleeding body lying out in this awful biting cold, praying for the help that seems so slow in coming . . .
Away on my left as I ran I could hear in the stilness of the night the grinding 'Rat-tat-tat' of the machine gun, for all the world as if a hundred German carpenters were driving nails into my coffin, while overhead 'crack, crack, crack, whiz' went the bullets tearing one after another for fear they would be too late . . .
The first man was in extremis when I reached him. I did all I could for him, commended his soul to the merciful God as he had only a few minutes to live, and hurried on to find the other wounded boy . . . [Note: Fr Doyle frequently referred to the soldiers as his 'boys' or 'lads'. The vast majority were in their late teens and early 20s.]
I found the dying lad, he was not much more, so tightly jammed into a corner of the trench it was almost impossible to get him out. Both legs were smashed, one in two or three places, so his chances of life were small as there were other major injuries as well. What a harrowing picture that scene would have made. A splendid young soldier, married only a month they told me, lying there pale and motionless in the mud and water with the life crushed out of him by a cruel shell. The stretcher bearers hard at work binding him up as well as they may his broken limbs; round about a group of silent Tommies ['Tommy' was the nickname for the enlisted men in the British army] looking on and wondering when their turn would come.
Peace for a moment seems to have taken possession of the battlefield, not a sound save the deep boom of some far-off gun and the stifled moans of the dying boy, while as if anxious to hide the scene, nature drops her soft mantle of snow on the living and dead alike. Then while every head is bared come the solemn words of absolution, 'Ego te absolvo,' I absolve thee from thy sins. Depart Christian soul and may the Lord Jesus Christ receive thee with a smiling and benign countenance. Amen.
Oh! surely the gentle Saviour did receive with open arms the brave lad . . . and as I turned away I felt happy in the thought that his soul was already safe in the land where 'God will wipe away all sorrow from our eyes, for weeping and mourning shall be no more'.
What a beautiful image of the Good Shepherd that Father Willie conveys in these words: Depart Christian soul and may the Lord Jesus Christ receive thee with a smiling and benign countenance. Amen.
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