About Today
Saturday 2 May 2026
Saint Athanasius, Bishop, Doctor
on Saturday of the 4th week of Eastertide
Christ is the chief shepherd, the leader of his flock: come, let us adore him.
Year: A(II). Psalm week: 4. Liturgical Colour: White.
Saint Athanasius (295 - 373)
He was born in Alexandria. He assisted Bishop Alexander at the Council of Nicaea and later succeeded him as bishop. He fought hard against Arianism all his life, undergoing many sufferings and spending a total of 17 years in exile. He wrote outstanding works to explain and defend orthodoxy.
Athanasius’s passion for the truth seems tactless to many of us today, to the point where some Catholic devotional works even express embarrassment over it. This is grotesque. Before we congratulate ourselves on being more gentle and civilised than Athanasius and his contemporaries, we should look at the lack of charity that characterizes academic controversies today (from string theory to global warming) and the way that some of the participants are willing to use any weapon that comes to hand, from legal persecution to accusations of madness to actual assault. The matters in dispute with the Arians were more important than any of these scientific questions. They were vital to the very nature of Christianity, and, as Cardinal Newman put it, the trouble was that at that time the laity tended to be champions of orthodoxy while their bishops (seduced by closeness to imperial power) tended not to be. The further trouble (adds Henry Chadwick) is that the whole thing became tangled up with matters of power, organization and authority, and with cultural differences between East and West. Athanasius was accused of treason and murder, embezzlement and sacrilege. In the fight against him, any weapon would do.
Arianism taught that the Son was created by the Father and in no way equal to him. This was in many ways a “purer” and more “spiritual” approach to religion, since it did not force God to undergo the undignified experience of being made of meat. Islam is essentially Arian, granting Jesus a miraculous birth, miracles, death (though not crucifixion) and a resurrection, but all as a matter of God demonstrating his power by committing more spectacular miracles than usual.
Arianism leaves an infinite gap between God and man, and ultimately destroys the Gospel, leaving it either as a fake or as a cruel parody. It leaves the door open to Manichaeism, which mixes Zoroastrian, Buddhist and Gnostic elements into Christianity, so that God is good but creation is bad (or at best, a mistake) and the work of an evil anti-God. Only by being orthodox and insisting on the identity of the divine natures of the Father and the Son and the Spirit can we truly understand the goodness of creation and the love of God, and live according to them.
See also the article in the Catholic Encyclopaedia.
Saint Athanasius, Bishop, Doctor
Today's gospel reading Matthew 10:22-25a
At that time: Jesus instructed his Apostles: ‘You will be hated by all for my name’s sake. But the one who endures to the end will be saved. When they persecute you in one town, flee to the next, for truly, I say to you, you will not have gone through all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes.
‘A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for the disciple to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master.’
Reflection on the Icon
Today we celebrate Athanasius of Alexandria (c. 296–373), one of the great saints of early Christianity. As the 20th Patriarch of Alexandria, he lived at a time when the very identity of Christ was fiercely contested. Known as “the Father of Orthodoxy,” Athanasius became the great defender of the truth that Jesus Christ is truly God, equal to the Father, against the widespread error of Arianism, which denied Christ’s full divinity. The Arian heresy taught that Jesus Christ was not fully God, but a created being: higher than all others, yet not eternal, not equal to the Father. In other words, Christ was seen by the Arians as the greatest of creatures, a kind of superhero, with unique powers, but still only a creature, not divine.
Athanasius of Alexandria opposed this strongly. He insisted that if Christ were not truly God, then He could not truly save us. Only God can bring us into union with God. Drawing on Scripture and the living faith of the Church, Athanasius defended that the Son is of the same substance as the Father (con-substantial and co-eternal with the Father). For Athanasius, this was not a technical debate, but a matter of salvation itself: if Christ is not truly God, then the Cross does not redeem us. But because He IS God, His life, death, and resurrection have the power to transform us completely.
And why does Athanasius of Alexandria still matter for us today? Because he reminds us that the truth about Christ is not something we can dilute or reshape to suit the spirit of the age. In a world that often prefers compromise to conviction, Athanasius calls us back to clarity: Jesus Christ is not half-God or half-man, but fully divine and fully human. This matters greatly for us. If Christ were not truly God, He could not save us. But if He were not truly human, He could not reach us. In the mystery of the Incarnation, God does not remain distant: He enters fully into our humanity, our suffering, our frailty, our death. And precisely because He is fully God, He transforms all of it from within.
Our late 16th century icon depicts our saint. He is presented in a solemn pose. There is no movement, in typical icon-style. He holds the Gospel close, not casually, but with reverence, almost as if he is both guarding it and being shaped by it. His right hand touches the book, reminding us that his authority comes not from himself, but from the Word he proclaims. The black crosses on his vestments are striking. They are not just decorative; they are theological. They speak of the weight of truth he defended, often at great personal cost. These dark crosses echo suffering, exile, and fidelity; they are signs that orthodoxy is not merely about correct thinking, but also about carrying the Cross. The painter, Michael Damaskinos, was one of the leading figures of the Cretan School, a movement that stood at the crossroads of East and West. Living in the 16th century, he travelled widely within the Venetian world and absorbed elements of the Italian Renaissance, while remaining deeply faithful to the Byzantine tradition. His icons often hold this beautiful tension: timeless spiritual stillness of icons, combined with a subtle richness of Italian Renaissance colour and form.
Saint Athanasius,
Icon painting by Michail Damaskenos (also Damaskinos; Greek: Μιχαήλ Δαμασκηνός, 1530/35–1592/93),
late 16th century,
Saint Athanasius, Bishop, Doctor
on Saturday of the 4th week of Eastertide
Christ is the chief shepherd, the leader of his flock: come, let us adore him.
Year: A(II). Psalm week: 4. Liturgical Colour: White.
Saint Athanasius (295 - 373)
He was born in Alexandria. He assisted Bishop Alexander at the Council of Nicaea and later succeeded him as bishop. He fought hard against Arianism all his life, undergoing many sufferings and spending a total of 17 years in exile. He wrote outstanding works to explain and defend orthodoxy.
Athanasius’s passion for the truth seems tactless to many of us today, to the point where some Catholic devotional works even express embarrassment over it. This is grotesque. Before we congratulate ourselves on being more gentle and civilised than Athanasius and his contemporaries, we should look at the lack of charity that characterizes academic controversies today (from string theory to global warming) and the way that some of the participants are willing to use any weapon that comes to hand, from legal persecution to accusations of madness to actual assault. The matters in dispute with the Arians were more important than any of these scientific questions. They were vital to the very nature of Christianity, and, as Cardinal Newman put it, the trouble was that at that time the laity tended to be champions of orthodoxy while their bishops (seduced by closeness to imperial power) tended not to be. The further trouble (adds Henry Chadwick) is that the whole thing became tangled up with matters of power, organization and authority, and with cultural differences between East and West. Athanasius was accused of treason and murder, embezzlement and sacrilege. In the fight against him, any weapon would do.
Arianism taught that the Son was created by the Father and in no way equal to him. This was in many ways a “purer” and more “spiritual” approach to religion, since it did not force God to undergo the undignified experience of being made of meat. Islam is essentially Arian, granting Jesus a miraculous birth, miracles, death (though not crucifixion) and a resurrection, but all as a matter of God demonstrating his power by committing more spectacular miracles than usual.
Arianism leaves an infinite gap between God and man, and ultimately destroys the Gospel, leaving it either as a fake or as a cruel parody. It leaves the door open to Manichaeism, which mixes Zoroastrian, Buddhist and Gnostic elements into Christianity, so that God is good but creation is bad (or at best, a mistake) and the work of an evil anti-God. Only by being orthodox and insisting on the identity of the divine natures of the Father and the Son and the Spirit can we truly understand the goodness of creation and the love of God, and live according to them.
See also the article in the Catholic Encyclopaedia.
Saint Athanasius, Bishop, Doctor
Today's gospel reading Matthew 10:22-25a
At that time: Jesus instructed his Apostles: ‘You will be hated by all for my name’s sake. But the one who endures to the end will be saved. When they persecute you in one town, flee to the next, for truly, I say to you, you will not have gone through all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes.
‘A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for the disciple to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master.’
Reflection on the Icon
Today we celebrate Athanasius of Alexandria (c. 296–373), one of the great saints of early Christianity. As the 20th Patriarch of Alexandria, he lived at a time when the very identity of Christ was fiercely contested. Known as “the Father of Orthodoxy,” Athanasius became the great defender of the truth that Jesus Christ is truly God, equal to the Father, against the widespread error of Arianism, which denied Christ’s full divinity. The Arian heresy taught that Jesus Christ was not fully God, but a created being: higher than all others, yet not eternal, not equal to the Father. In other words, Christ was seen by the Arians as the greatest of creatures, a kind of superhero, with unique powers, but still only a creature, not divine.
Athanasius of Alexandria opposed this strongly. He insisted that if Christ were not truly God, then He could not truly save us. Only God can bring us into union with God. Drawing on Scripture and the living faith of the Church, Athanasius defended that the Son is of the same substance as the Father (con-substantial and co-eternal with the Father). For Athanasius, this was not a technical debate, but a matter of salvation itself: if Christ is not truly God, then the Cross does not redeem us. But because He IS God, His life, death, and resurrection have the power to transform us completely.
And why does Athanasius of Alexandria still matter for us today? Because he reminds us that the truth about Christ is not something we can dilute or reshape to suit the spirit of the age. In a world that often prefers compromise to conviction, Athanasius calls us back to clarity: Jesus Christ is not half-God or half-man, but fully divine and fully human. This matters greatly for us. If Christ were not truly God, He could not save us. But if He were not truly human, He could not reach us. In the mystery of the Incarnation, God does not remain distant: He enters fully into our humanity, our suffering, our frailty, our death. And precisely because He is fully God, He transforms all of it from within.
Our late 16th century icon depicts our saint. He is presented in a solemn pose. There is no movement, in typical icon-style. He holds the Gospel close, not casually, but with reverence, almost as if he is both guarding it and being shaped by it. His right hand touches the book, reminding us that his authority comes not from himself, but from the Word he proclaims. The black crosses on his vestments are striking. They are not just decorative; they are theological. They speak of the weight of truth he defended, often at great personal cost. These dark crosses echo suffering, exile, and fidelity; they are signs that orthodoxy is not merely about correct thinking, but also about carrying the Cross. The painter, Michael Damaskinos, was one of the leading figures of the Cretan School, a movement that stood at the crossroads of East and West. Living in the 16th century, he travelled widely within the Venetian world and absorbed elements of the Italian Renaissance, while remaining deeply faithful to the Byzantine tradition. His icons often hold this beautiful tension: timeless spiritual stillness of icons, combined with a subtle richness of Italian Renaissance colour and form.
Saint Athanasius,
Icon painting by Michail Damaskenos (also Damaskinos; Greek: Μιχαήλ Δαμασκηνός, 1530/35–1592/93),
late 16th century,