The Road to Emmaus

first published on my Contemplative Art page on 19th April 2026

The Road to Emmaus

It can be hard being a Christian sometimes. The promise that is given to us, however, is eternity in the bliss of heaven. Something of that bliss appears in this painting of Jesus meeting the two disciples on the way to Emmaus. The scene is very bucolic, there are no other people or animals getting in the way, it is just Cleopas and his companion, listening to the Lord. Perfection. Yes, being a Christian can be very hard, but if we focus on what Jesus says to us, heaven can, in a manner of speaking, come to us even in the difficulties that we face.

A Short Prayer

Dear Lord

Help me.

Help me to listen to you,

to focus on you,

to show heaven in my life now

by being faithful to you.

Amen

19th April 2026

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Emmaus Homes

Love is the Way

From Pinterest:

This quotation is currently on my mind. The Faith as a love affair. Well, we are in relationship with Jesus, I guess; indeed, with the Holy Trinity, so it makes sense to see ourselves as lovers with the Divine. 

But it also feels awkward somehow, because - to me, anyway - a love affair is a loose space where you, if not break rules, then potentially bend them in pursuance of the beloved and in the sharing of that love. 

The Catholic Faith, by contrast, feels a bit more rigid due to the importance it gives to right doctrine. 

Maybe my view of love affairs is too dominated by unrealistic films and books. Chesterton's words, however, have a ring of truth about them, and I hope I get the chance to ponder them more in the next few days.

A Prayer Answered

Over the last day or two I've had a cold coming on. Up till this morning, it was no more than a slightly runny nose. When I woke up today, however, my head felt heavy; I had a head cold. I went upstairs to wash last night's dishes. Before starting I said a quick, almost perfunctory prayer for healing. I then started saying the Rosary and doing the washing.

Within a minute or two the head cold lifted. The cold is still with me but the worst of it has gone. 

At the point at which the head cold lifted I hadn't taken any medication. I look upon what happened as Our Lady answering a very poor (sinner's) prayer. By-and-by, I had been thinking about going to confession today. Had the head cold stayed that wouldn't have happened. Now that it has gone, however, I am looking forward to setting out for some spiritual healing. 

Very few of my prayers tend to be answered so quickly. I can't really remember one that was (I should probably keep a record). I have to admit I am rather taken aback by what happened but also very grateful.

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Divina Clark (Unsplash)

St. Mary Magdalen (National Gallery, London)

This post first appeared on my Contemplative Art page on 14th April 2026

St. Mary Magdalen 

A few weeks ago I visited the National Gallery in London. Among the many works of art there, I found this one which portrays Mary Magdalen. It feels both classical with Mary being portrayed with her ointment jar (for now, let's not get into the fact that this was probably/definitely a different Mary) and curiously modern: her silver shawl really reminds me of the thermal or space blanket that marathon runners wear when they finish the race. 

This juxtaposition of ancient and new brings home to me how the imagery of Jesus' parables, despite being of their time, still remain completely relevant today. This is because while the imagery belongs to the first century AD, the truths that underpin the stories belong to eternity. This is the Gospel: eternally relevant.

a short prayer

dear Lord, you have blessed us

with your eternal truths;

help us always to see them

in art of all ages

14th April 2026

Prayer is the Answer

Over the last few days, we have seen an extraordinary attack on Pope Leo by Donald Trump. The American President attacked Leo on his Truth Social account, accusing the Holy Father 'of being soft on crime, cozy with the left and owed his papacy to Trump' (Crux). Trump then shared a blasphemous image of himself in the image of Jesus Christ, healing a sick or dead man in a hospital bed.  Why did Trump launch this attack? He was, Crux reports, 

responding to Leo’s calls for peace, in reference to the Iran war, and comments that Trump’s threat to annihilate Iranian civilization were “truly unacceptable.” (Ibid)

Leo has not taken Trump's attacks lying down, though neither has he responded in kind, saying that he is simply 'preaching the Gospel' (Ibid). Yesterday, though, he did speak a bit more sharply during his visit to Cameroon where, according to Crux , he 'blasted the “handful of tyrants” who are ravaging Earth with war and exploitation' (Crux). It is impossible to imagine that he did not have Trump also in mind when referring to those tyrants.

How should we as Catholics respond to Trump's attacks?

First and foremost, with prayer. Then, with more prayer. Then, you guessed it, with more prayer. 

• For Donald Trump - for his wisdom
• For Pope Leo - his safekeeping and strength
• For an end to tyranny in the world
• For peace in the world

If we find reading about the attacks on-line making us scared or angry then that's the time to get off the internet and pray. 

A few days ago, I had a few minutes spare between chores. I went to EWTN's Live Adoration page on YouTube. I thought I would be able to focus on Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament for a minute or two before my attention wandeed. In the end, I sat there and spoke to the Lord for over ten. It was a wonderful few minutes. If you can't go to Adoration in the flesh then using your laptop or phone is a wonderful option to have. Ultimately, our response to Trump's evil is love. It will heal us and God willing heal him too.

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Wikipedia

From Ash You Came

this post first appeared on my Contemplative Art page on 17th February 2026

Ash Wednesday

I have to admit, I am not sure if this photograph qualifies as a work of art. Not as I would ordinarily understand art to be, anyway. It does, however, take us to the heart of Ash Wednesday and the Lenten season and it is because of that, that I am using it here. 

God is a God of riches and wealth, of glory and joy. The way to these wonderful things, however, which is to say, the way to His heavenly kingdom, is through the cross. Whether or not you get to an Ash Wednesday Mass this week, contemplate the cross, what Jesus did upon it for you and those you love, for all of us. What an amazing thing!

short prayer

this lent, O Lord,

may I embrace your cross;

and in so doing,

embrace you.

17th February 2026

photo: Ahna Ziegler | Unsplash

Alleluia Is Our Song

I wrote my last post a month ago and so much has changed I hardly know where to start this one!

Lent has come to its end and we are now enjoying the fruits of Our Lord's Resurrection in Eastertide. I am still occasionally say the Rosary while I do the washing up (see last post) in the morning, though now I say it in the afternoon and on the road when I go for a walk

***

I served at all of the Triduum Masses and liturgies this year, including for the very first time, the Good Friday Liturgy. On that day, I not only venerated the cross but for a while held it while parishioners came up to perform their own act of veneration. Most people kissed the wood, usually at the bottom or Our Lord's feet; others, simply stood before it in contemplation before moving away, some after laying their self-kissed finger on the wood or Our Lord's body.

The Vigil Mass this year marked my thirtieth year as a Catholic. I can still hardly believe I am now 54. I can still remember being 18 and thinking 'I am the youngest adult generation. Wow.'. Now, I am very middle-aged. In just a few years I will be a proper oldie! I wish I felt as grown up as I physically am. Psychologically, I'm not sure I made it out of my twenties or early thirties. I wonder if that is 'a thing', as they say. I suppose what I'm getting at is that I don't feel as wise - and am certainly not as accomplished (in terms of family, money, or job) as I thought I would be by this age.

The funny thing, though, is that while I do wish I was more 'grown up', I am also very happy to be who I am. I'm sure it is all part of God's plan and that's fine by me.

***

There was no 8am Mass in my parish on Easter Day (this being the one I normally serve at), so instead I made a rare visit to the London Oratory for its 11am Sung Mass in Latin. When I arrived the church was absolutely packed with the 10 o'clock goers. The 11 o'clock attendees lined the side of the aisles as they waited for the 10am Mass to end. When it did and the congregation filed out, I waited a second too long to find a pew. Before I knew it, all the seating had been taken! Having walked nearly two hours to the Oratory I now had to stand for the Mass. I did so in the St. Joseph Chapel before moving across to the other side of the church to where the Newman altar is. 

At Communion time, priests came down from the Sanctuary to give the body of the Lord from the side chapels. I received in my favourite chapel, Mary Magdalen's, which made the special moment even more special.

***

Going back to the Vigil, I was received into the Catholic Church at the Vigil Mass in 1996, when I was in my third year at university. Being a Catholic isn't always easy, sometimes it can be very hard, but I am so happy, so happy, that I listened to the Spirit and said yes to His calling. My journey to the Faith was very quick: I started exploring the Catholic Faith in September 1995, started receiving instruction in January 1996, and was received in April 1996. I had it very easy. Some people have to go through years of struggle before arriving in Rome. I don't think about that blessing enough. I really ought to.

***

 

Last Sunday, I served again at my parish church. I have to confess, I was very rusty. I forgot to ring the bell at the start, and tried to hand the priest the water instead of the wine at the start of the Liturgy of the Eucharist. I made other small errors as well. It's amazing how quickly one can get out of practice.

***

But now, here I am at home writing this post. This Lent, for the first time in my Catholic life, I attended every Friday Stations of the Cross. I really miss it now! Still, hurrah for Easter!

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Pisit Heng / Unsplash

A Cleansing Experience

On most mornings, I get up early to do last night's washing up. This morning, I started washing and as I had nothing on my mind I thought I would say the rosary. This was a first. A couple of months ago my mother fell unwell and had to be admitted to hospital. While she was there, I said the four mysteries for her healing every afternoon. A little to my surprise, but great joy, I have managed to keep up the practice ever since, although since her return home I now say just one mystery per day.

Usually, I say the rosary in the afternoon. This morning, though, I thought to myself, Let's say it now; why not. Ora et Labora, right? To be sure, I didn't say all five decades. That was deliberate. You see, ever since I started saying the rosary every day, I have also got into the habit of reading a portion of St. John's Gospel and his letters afterwards. The rosary and St. John are now somewhat entwined in my mind and heart. To encourage myself to go back to St. John today, I decided to say four decades (if the washing lasted that long, which it did) this morning, and the fifth this afternoon before moving as normal to the Evangelist's gospel.

In future, however, I might make it my habit to say all five decades and the closing prayers in the morning because both it and St. John don't need to be said and read die-by-side and gosh, how good did it feel to say the rosary this morning? It was really good! I shouldn't be surprised but it was. I had that deep inner joy that only God can give, that comes from getting close to him. It isn't a feeling I enjoy very often so man I'm grateful for it.

As I write this, I am thinking I will say the rosary while doing the washing up tomorrow morning. I heartily recommend the practice to you, though I have to say, whether you do it while carrying out manual labour or not, it is a wonderful prayer. Deo Gratias! 

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James Coleman

for more of my writing visit my general blog Sehnsucht and Wine. I have updated it this week:

• Quickly, Making Sense (Hopefully)
• Written in the Calm of Morning
• Winning Big

Archbishop Moth's Visit to Our Parish

On Wednesday evening this week, Archbishop Richard Moth celebrated Mass at Our Lady and St. Joseph's in Dalston, Kingsland, my very own parish!

Prior to the Mass, he met with head teachers and priests from the central and east areas of the diocese, a pattern that he will be repeating as he visits the other parts of it over the next couple of weeks. I wonder what it was like for the headmasters, headmistresses, and clergy to meet their new boss. Relaxing? Nervous? Hopefully not so-so or 'meh'.

On Wednesday, I was definitely in the nervous category, though not at the thought of meeting him. I was part of the serving team for the Mass. We were ten or twelve in number; a lot, though nothing compared to the 50+ priests who were present. My role was that of cross-bearer. All I had to do was carry the crucifix into the church, place it in its stand, sit down, and stay out of the way until the end whereupon I would carry it back out of the church again. But what if I walk the wrong way? Or got up at the wrong moment? Spoiler: happily, none of these things happened!

Going back to the beginning, the servers met at 5:30pm - an hour before the Mass was due to start - to run through what we would all be doing. We have a seminarian staying in the parish at the moment and it was he who had the job of whipping everyone into shape. Some of the servers came from other parishes and their priests had told them to come for six o'clock, which was not ideal; in the end, though, it didn't matter. Everyone knew (more or less) what to do.

At just before six thirty we lined up outside the church. Below: here we are, and here I am holding the crucifix. Now, I'd love to be able to say that (to paraphrase St. Philip Neri) that is me in the centre loving to be unknown, but the truth is I was just hiding from the official photographer because I don't want to be photographed. To be fair to myself, it isn't all about shyness. It is all about Him, after all. I would not be unhappy to sit behind a wall every Sunday Mass, emerging only to perform my serving duties, so that the congregation have one less thing to look at instead of the altar.

I had expected the church to be packed out for the Archbishop's visit. This, however, turned out not to be the case. Seating was available at the back. I later learnt that at least some of the priests coming from other parishes had not told their own parishioners that they were able to come to the Mass. Good old Catholic organisation!

We processed in and took our seats in the sanctuary. Most of the priests present sat in the Lady Chapel behind us. That wasn't ideal for them as a supporting wall partially blocked their view of the sanctuary. The only alternative, however, would have been for them to occupy the front rows of the pews. But that would have obscured the view of the congregation. The servers sat on two rows of benches on the Lady Chapel side of the sanctuary. I sat in the front row. The servers behind me were seated on a light bench. Early on in the Mass, someone (presumably) accidentally pushed it back. It fell down the step into the Lady Chapel with a loud clatter, landing just in front of the priests. Thankfully, the bench was pushed back while the servers were standing. No one fell back. Also thankfully, the bench did not hit any of the priests in the front row. Disaster averted!

The rest of the Mass went without incident. The deacon who read the Gospel did so very dramatically. He reminded me of when I took part in a dramatic reading of a play at my English tutor's house while at University. Man, I enjoyed that so much. The Archbishop gave the homily. It was straight down the line - no surprises, and appropriate to the occasion. He is an engaging speaker, though, so it wasn't boring.

Something I haven't mentioned so far is that when I was asked if I could serve at the Mass, I hoped that whatever I was doing, it would not require me to be the first server in line - see my fear about going in the wrong direction above. At first, all seemed well: the thurifer and boat carrier were placed in front of me. But then, they were pulled to the back of the line! I was now first. Gulp. I was first in, and first out. Happily, though, I went the right way.

After the Mass was over and the Archbishop had said goodbye to all the parishioners, and given blessings to no few of them, he gave a blessing to each of the servers as well. I have never been blessed by an Archbishop before so I was rather happy. He, the Archbishop, then organised us all for a group photo. He did it with great efficiency, a product, he said, of his days as bishop to the Armed Forces!

I've written a lot. Let's have some photos.

Here's the Archbishop, photo'd in a moment of prayer. I wonder how easily he finds it to pray when he is the centre of attention:

These are (some of) the priests in the Lady Chapel, giving thanks no doubt for not getting clobbered by the bench. The priests near the statue of Our Lady had a view of the sanctuary (albeit one obscured by the servers). Those near the camera were behind the supporting wall.

A view of the altar at the consecration. 

The official photographer took 70 odd photos of the night; here is the only one in which I appear - that's me nearest to the wall just to the left of the crucifix on the altar:

Before finishing I should say that I nabbed these photos from the Diocese of Westminster's Facebook page and its Flikr page so I hope diocese and photographer don't mind. Thank you to both!

Reading (to the) Room

This morning, I served the 8am Mass as usual. I was also down to do the first reading as well.

So far so normal.

However, that is where normal ends.

After the parish priest had read the opening prayers, I left my seat and made my way to the ambo. I looked ahead. Where was the second reader? They should have been making their way from the pews to sanctuary. But of them there was no sight.

Oh dear, I thought, it looks like I'll be doing both readings today.

Now, as far as the first reading was concerned, that was fine. I read the daily readings every day when I read or say Lauds at home. I also had another look at the first reading before Mass started. I hadn't bothered to look at the second reading, though. No need, or so I thought!

To make matters worse, the second reading today was from St. Paul's Letter to the Romans. Paul likes his long sentences and you need to get at least a little familiar with the text to avoid making a mess of the words - putting the stress in the wrong place, ending a sentence in the wrong place, etc. 

I did the best I could: read slowly (though you can always go more slowly), reading two or three words ahead of what I was reading so that I know what was coming. It took me to about half way through the reading before I got comfortable and started reading properly, or, let's say, confidently.

In our parish, the second reader returns to the ambo after the Creed to read the bidding prayers. Fortunately, they are shorter and always clear so much easier to read.

One thing I notice about myself is that I always read the bidding prayers in a much softer voice than the one I use for the first or second reading. I guess it feels more appropriate to do this as they are prayers.

Speaking of different types of voice, when doing the first reading, I try not to read in a flat 'this happened, that happened' voice. Without going overboard I try to give at least a sense of the drama that is unfolding. With the second reading, because it is usually a letter, I try to read it as if I was a teacher in front of a classroom.

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Apostles of the Interior Life

Doing The Stations of the Cross

Last year I decided I would go to my parish's Friday night Lenten devotion, the Stations of the Cross.

I never made it. Friday at 7pm was just undoable. I was too comfortable at home.

I still wanted to go, though, and felt bad about not doing so. Last weekend, I decided come what may I was heading down the road on Friday.

Praise be because that's what I did. I got lucky, or else divine providence helped me, as an hour or so beforehand my corner of London got hit by a torrential downpour. By the time I left the house, however, it was no more than a few drops of rain. 

The Stations were preceded by Mass. There was no server so I stepped in, keeping an eye out for a reader as we (the parish priest and I) didn't know if anyone would come up to the ambo. Fortunately, they did. The most dramatic point of my evening was lifting the sanctus bell on its cushion from the bench to the floor while kneeling on the latter. Had I dropped it the whole church and a few people outside would have known about it. Happily, my hands were steady.

After Mass, I expected to disrobe and join the congregations for the Stations. Instead, the P.P. asked if I would act as cross-bearer. I don't know how other parishes (Catholic or otherwise) do their Stations, but in ours, we had two candle-bearers and myself as cross-bearer accompanying the P.P. as he went from station to station, reading out the prayers and meditations.

The Stations took somewhere between 30-45 minutes to complete. I'd be more specific but I forgot to check the time until I got home! It went well, though I have to admit I am not really a fan of our stations. We talk about how bloodied Jesus was but though they represent the Passion, there is no blood or any sign of physical injury in any of them. I'm not expecting to see anything like Mel Gilbson's Passion of the Christ, but some acknowledgment of the physical effects of what Jesus went through would be good. With that said, if you look at the image above, it too shows no blood or gore. Perhaps no station does; I'd never thought about that before. Maybe realism is eschewed because it would distract from the meaning of the Passion and death of Our Lord.

The cross was a wooden one and quite heavy. I am not the most muscular person in the world so was glad when we got to the end. With that said, I am already looking forward to next Friday. Whether I am serving and/or cross-bearing or in the congregation, it will be good to be there.

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Wikipedia

Ash Wednesday

Yesterday, I served at the 7am Ash Wednesday Mass at my parish church. At 6:45am there was one person in the church. At 7, a sprinkling - actually quite good for a large-ish building at that hour on a weekday. It never ceases to impress me at how good Catholics are at arriving at the last minute!

The Mass itself went well. I was given an exciting extra duty at the last minute, which was holding the missal for the P.P. while he blessed the Ashes. I fulfilled this mighty duty with my customary skill and élan.

Last week, I saw an advert on Instagram for the Ash Wednesday Mass at St. Mary-le-Bow church in Cheapside (in the City, just down the road from St. Paul's). St. Mary's is actually a Church of England (high) church, and a beautiful one at that:

For that reason, and because it was advertised as having a choir I thought I might go along to it.

The Mass began at 1:05pm. I arrived at 12:45. Guess what: there was hardly anyone there. Anglicans, it appears, are as good as Catholics as arriving at the last minute. By the time the service started, the church was not full but pretty well filled out. 

The choir was comprised of four voices - two men, and two women - and were heavenly. The Mass setting was Lennox Berkeley's (1903-89) Missa Brevis. I hadn't heard of him before so this was my happy introduction to his work. At the end, the organist played Prelude in E minor by J. S. Bach (1685-1750), who I am sure everyone has heard of. 

The Mass was similar to a Catholic Mass though not the same. Thus,

The response to The Lord be with you was And also with you, which, of course, is what we used to say. 

At the Peace, we shook hands, which I have rarely seen done in a Catholic church since Covid.

The Gospel was not read from the pulpit but brought into the nave. I mentioned this to my father (who is an Anglican) today and he said that that is not unusual.

The recitation of the Our Father included the final two lines 'for thine is the kingdom...' as part of the whole prayer; in the Catholic Church, they are split from the main prayer by a short prayer of the priest's.

Being a Catholic, I did not go to communion. For a Catholic, the Eucharist is a sign of our being in full (spiritual) communion with one another. This is why we do not allow non-Catholics to receive it. The Church of England's rules are different. They do allow non-C of E-ers to receive it. Nevertheless I stayed in my seat as it would not make any sense for me to disregard the teaching of my own Church, even though nowadays - praise God - there is great friendship between the Catholic Church and Church of England.

After the Mass, I made my way to the bus stop to return home. I got one or two looks from people on account of the big black mark on my forehead. As I walked down Ludgate Hill, a young man said to me, "You've got a black mark on your head!" I told him I had just been to Ash Wednesday Mass. He had no idea what Ash Wednesday was. Now, it would be easy to laugh at the ignorance of the young, but in this day and age, to know anything about religion, you really have to make the effort to find out about it yourself. Secular society and culture won't tell you - why would it. I spoke to the man briefly but fear I garbled my response. It was a wake up call to me to be able to, as St. Peter (is it?) commands, give an account of the hope that I have. Maybe that is something I could work on in Lent.

When I got home, I washed the ashes off. That was hard! I don't know what Mary-le-Bow used but it really stuck. Even as I write now, one or two marks are still there. 

All-in-all, though, I could not have asked for a more meaningful and beautiful start to this Lent. Now on my mind: the fact that in six or so weeks, I will also be celebrating my 30th year as a Catholic. I so wanted to go back to the church in Scotland where I was confirmed in the Faith and to walk the Camino again. Neither will be possible but I am glad to be where I am; here in London, writing this, helping my parents day-to-day as they get on in years, discovering Berkeley and listening to Bach.

deo gratias

St. Francis and the St. Damiano Cross

this post first appeared on my Contemplative Art page

St. Francis of Assisi
Matthew 1:18-24

Yesterday morning, the image of St. Francis and the St. Damiano Cross, through which God told Francis to rebuild His church, came to my mind. I don't know why at that moment the image came to me but I thought I would place it here in case it had value to some one else. 

short meditation

help me to embrace your cross, Lord.

help me to rebuild your Church.

O Lord, rebuild me.

St. Francis - pray for us

26th January 2026

Changing of the (Divine Office) Guard

I have just said Vespers and bid goodbye to my copy of The Divine Office Vol. 1 (Advent-Ordinary-Christmastide-Ordinary Time Wk. 1-9). 

After two and a half months of use it goes back onto the shelf until the end of the year. Tomorrow morning, Vol.2 (Lent-Eastertide) takes its place. 

To save myself time tomorrow morning, I put all the ribbons in the right place. It all went smoothly except for the hymns. Look for 'Lent nn 15-19' it said. What does 'nn' mean? I never found out before finding the hymns themselves and realising that the Lenten ones were numbered... 15 to 19. Well, I guess 'nn' is short for numbered (?).

Something else that confused me was what week of Psalter we begin Lent in. The current week (as I write this) is Week 2. Do we start there? That would make sense. But no, we don't. The book gives you the option of using the psalms from the Friday of Week 3 or the psalms from the Wednesday of Week 4. The former felt a bit random so I decided to use Week 4. After doing so, I looked at the Universalis website to see which week it was using. Week 4. That made me feel good.

Tomorrow morning, I will be leaving the house early to serve the 7am Mass at my parish church. Because it is the quick one I thought I might head into town later and go to a service at one of the Anglican churches in the City. I will certainly report back on how it went if I do so. I haven't been to an Anglican service for ages so it should be interesting.

As for Lent itself, what will I be doing to make it a meaningful time, a holy time, to bring myself closer to God? I admit I don't know. I'd like to give some things up - the usual junky food - but that's not enough. I think I am going to use the Catholic Truth Society's 'Lent Retreat with Newman' videos as my starting point.

St. John Henry Newman - pray for us