About Today
Thursday 7 May 2026
Thursday of the 5th week of Eastertide
The Lord has truly risen, alleluia.
Year: A(II). Psalm week: 1. Liturgical Colour: White.
Other saints: St John of Beverley (-721)
Hallam, Hexham & Newcastle, Leeds, Middlesbrough
John of Beverley was born at Harpham a few miles from Driffield on the Yorkshire Wolds. He studied at Canterbury under St Adrian, the African-born abbot of the famous monastery there, who was a great scripture scholar and a fine teacher of Greek and Latin. When John returned to the North, he entered the double monastery at Whitby under the remarkable abbess, St Hilda, who had a great influence on many of the outstanding religious people of her time.
In 687 John was consecrated Bishop of Hexham in succession to Bishop Eata, one of the twelve disciples of St Aidan and the teacher of St Cuthbert. During his time at Hexham, John ordained the future St Bede as priest. He was a good pastoral bishop, a man who loved the Scriptures, and a patient teacher. Like many of his contemporaries he also had a deep seated need for prayerful solitude and used to retire to a quiet place on the banks of the Tyne for prayer and the study of Scriptures, especially during the season of Lent. In 705 he was appointed to the See of York in succession to St Bosa, himself a former monk of the monastery at Whitby. John remained in the diocese for 12 years but the call of solitude remained strong, and four years before his death he retired to Beverley to a religious house he founded there.
John died on 7 May 721, having worked for more than thirty years as a bishop. His shrine became famous up and down the country and was considered to be one of the chief places of devotion in England for many years.
Many miracles of healing are ascribed to John, and the popularity of his cult was a major factor in the prosperity of Beverley during the Middle Ages. He was celebrated for his scholarship as well as for his virtues. He was canonized in 1037. In 1541, his shrine was destroyed on the orders of Henry VIII. About a hundred years later workmen discovered a vault under the floor of the Minster’s nave. The inscription on it indicates that the contents contained the relics of St John. In 1738, when the present Minster floor was laid, these relics were disinterred and replaced in the same position with an arched brick vault over them. The inscription on the tomb now reads:
HERE LIES
THE BODY OF SAINT JOHN OF BEVERLEY
FOUNDER OF THIS CHURCH
BISHOP OF HEXHAM A.D. 687-705
BISHOP OF YORK A.D. 705-718
HE WAS BORN AT HARPHAM
Other saints: Bl. Albert of Bergamo OP (1214 - 1279)
7 May (where celebrated)
Lay Dominican and Husband.
Blessed Albert was born in Valle d’Ogna near Bergamo in 1214. As a married man he was known for his generosity to the poor, a virtue for which his wife reproached him. Upon the death of his wife, being childless, he left his father’s farm and went to Cremona where he lived in poverty. His poverty was a witness to a group of heretics there who boasted of their own poverty. Attracted by the life of Saint Dominic he joined the Brothers of Penance, which later became the Order of Penance of Saint Dominic, and lived at the Dominican priory. He died on May 7, 1279.
Today's Mass reading: Theological science
Outsiders are often under the impression that the Church decides things. For instance, they think that saying that this or that kind of action is morally right or wrong is a decision, a decision rather than a determination of fact. (Indeed, the word ‘determine’, at least in American usage, sits nicely on the hinge of the question, since when the government determines the rate of income tax and when the Surgeon General determines that smoking is harmful, they are two different kinds of ‘determination’, reached in different ways, one reformable, one irreformable).
It is convenient, in a world where journalists see everything as politics, to treat doctrine as what we decide to believe. But it is dangerous, because in the end the whole point of our encounter with God is that it is an encounter with Truth Itself, whereas if everything is politics, then nothing is definitely true: if we argue for long enough, we can decide that apples fall upwards.
Theology is a science. It determines things in the Surgeon General sense, not in the tax sense. When we decide that we all need to celebrate Easter on the same date, and then argue about which date, that is like tax or deciding which side of the road to drive on. It is not science, and it is not truth. But then again, it is not theology either, but religion. Theology asks ‘What is true?’ while religion asks ‘What shall we do about it?’, rather as engineering asks ‘What shall we do about it all?’ about the laws of physics.
Theology is a science, and it uses the methods of science. That is not some unrealistic aspiration. It is not an invention of mediaeval academics. We see it in action at the Council of Jerusalem in today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles.
A science has data, and a scientific discussion starts from the data and makes sense of them. So the Council hears one important item of data – the descent of the Holy Spirit onto the family of the Gentile Cornelius – which conflicts with certain ideas of what it means to be chosen, and righteous, and justified – ideas which have themselves come from other data, from the accumulation of scripture and salvation history.
The scientific task is to make sense of the whole.
Even in Luke’s compressed account, it is clear that the Council is not having a ‘What shall we choose to say?’ discussion but a ‘What is true?’ discussion: that is to say, a scientific one. Such discussions are of a fundamentally different nature from political or decision-making ones. It is not about getting a majority on the committee. It is about taking the data, however discordant they may seem, and making sense of them all. That is what science is. Is this an impossible goal, or a possible one? In the case of the physical world we believe that it can be done because we believe that the physical world really exists. When it comes to theological matters we know that it can be done because we know that we are commanded to love the Lord our God with all our mind: that is to say, we are told that God makes sense.
Arguments will never cease, of course. That is the glory of having one race made up of many minds. But we do need to remember that when we believe, the root of our belief is not decision (let’s all drive on the right, or let’s all drive on the left) but truth. Then our arguments, and even our disagreements, can be truly scientific in the original, root sense, of the word: ‘productive of knowledge’.
Today's gospel reading John 15:9-11 That my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full
At that time: Jesus said to his disciples, ‘As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.’
Reflection on this painting
In these days between Easter and Pentecost, many young people in our parishes (and here at Westminster Cathedral) are preparing to receive the Sacrament of Confirmation. In the First Reading from Acts of the Apostles, Saint Peter speaks of how God gives the Holy Spirit freely, pouring His life into hearts without distinction. It is this same Spirit that our candidates are preparing to receive in a new and deeper way. And when we speak to them about the gifts of the Spirit, we also speak of its fruits. Again and again, Peter and Paul remind us that just after love comes joy. The two are inseparable: love and joy given by the Holy Spirit. Where God's love is welcomed and lived, joy begins to take root.
In these days between Easter and Pentecost, many young people in our parishes (and here at Westminster Cathedral) are preparing to receive the Sacrament of Confirmation. In the First Reading from Acts of the Apostles, Saint Peter speaks of how God gives the Holy Spirit freely, pouring His life into hearts without distinction. It is this same Spirit that our candidates are preparing to receive in a new and deeper way. And when we speak to them about the gifts of the Spirit, we also speak of its fruits. Again and again, Peter and Paul remind us that just after love comes joy. The two are inseparable: love and joy given by the Holy Spirit. Where God's love is welcomed and lived, joy begins to take root.
This is exactly what Jesus speaks of in today’s Gospel reading: “I have told you this so that my own joy may be in you, and your joy be complete.” The Lord does not offer a fleeting happiness, but a deep joy. And He shows us the way to it: to remain in His love. So many people spend their lives searching for happiness in all sorts of places, often without finding it. Temporary joys will last for a little while, but the are not the eternal joy that God cannot wait to share with us, to give us. And the Gospel is clear: joy is not something we take or achieve; it is something we receive! And when we open our hearts to receive this gift through the Holy Spirit, then true happiness can take root.
If we want to see pure joy made visible, look at our painting Children’s Games by Pieter Bruegel the Elder. The whole town square is alive, bursting with more than 230 children, occupied in 83 games, completely absorbed in joyful play. There are no adults in sight. The world belongs to them. Everywhere you look, something is happening: children racing, climbing, spinning, laughing, inventing games, copying the world of grown-ups, and yet transforming it into something lighter, freer, more joyful. What is really charming is how serious they are in their play, utterly present, utterly alive. And yet, for us looking in, it is sheer delight. This is joy without calculation, without anxiety, just life being lived fully in the moment.
And perhaps that is why this painting is such a perfect image for today’s reflection. Children at play don’t worry about tomorrow, they don’t carry burdens from yesterday: they simply are in the moment, and in that being, they are joyful. Bruegel reminds us that joy is not something complicated or distant 'to be obtained'. It is something given, something received and something to be lived in the moment. And maybe, just maybe, in the laughter and energy of these children, we catch a glimpse of the joy that Christ speaks about: the kind of joy that fills the heart when it is fully alive.
Children's Games,
Painting by Pieter Brueghel the Elder (1526/1530–1569),
Painted in 1560,
Oil on panel
© Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vianna
Thursday of the 5th week of Eastertide
The Lord has truly risen, alleluia.
Year: A(II). Psalm week: 1. Liturgical Colour: White.
Other saints: St John of Beverley (-721)
Hallam, Hexham & Newcastle, Leeds, Middlesbrough
John of Beverley was born at Harpham a few miles from Driffield on the Yorkshire Wolds. He studied at Canterbury under St Adrian, the African-born abbot of the famous monastery there, who was a great scripture scholar and a fine teacher of Greek and Latin. When John returned to the North, he entered the double monastery at Whitby under the remarkable abbess, St Hilda, who had a great influence on many of the outstanding religious people of her time.
In 687 John was consecrated Bishop of Hexham in succession to Bishop Eata, one of the twelve disciples of St Aidan and the teacher of St Cuthbert. During his time at Hexham, John ordained the future St Bede as priest. He was a good pastoral bishop, a man who loved the Scriptures, and a patient teacher. Like many of his contemporaries he also had a deep seated need for prayerful solitude and used to retire to a quiet place on the banks of the Tyne for prayer and the study of Scriptures, especially during the season of Lent. In 705 he was appointed to the See of York in succession to St Bosa, himself a former monk of the monastery at Whitby. John remained in the diocese for 12 years but the call of solitude remained strong, and four years before his death he retired to Beverley to a religious house he founded there.
John died on 7 May 721, having worked for more than thirty years as a bishop. His shrine became famous up and down the country and was considered to be one of the chief places of devotion in England for many years.
Many miracles of healing are ascribed to John, and the popularity of his cult was a major factor in the prosperity of Beverley during the Middle Ages. He was celebrated for his scholarship as well as for his virtues. He was canonized in 1037. In 1541, his shrine was destroyed on the orders of Henry VIII. About a hundred years later workmen discovered a vault under the floor of the Minster’s nave. The inscription on it indicates that the contents contained the relics of St John. In 1738, when the present Minster floor was laid, these relics were disinterred and replaced in the same position with an arched brick vault over them. The inscription on the tomb now reads:
HERE LIES
THE BODY OF SAINT JOHN OF BEVERLEY
FOUNDER OF THIS CHURCH
BISHOP OF HEXHAM A.D. 687-705
BISHOP OF YORK A.D. 705-718
HE WAS BORN AT HARPHAM
| DK, Middlesbrough Ordo |
Other saints: Bl. Albert of Bergamo OP (1214 - 1279)
7 May (where celebrated)
Lay Dominican and Husband.
Blessed Albert was born in Valle d’Ogna near Bergamo in 1214. As a married man he was known for his generosity to the poor, a virtue for which his wife reproached him. Upon the death of his wife, being childless, he left his father’s farm and went to Cremona where he lived in poverty. His poverty was a witness to a group of heretics there who boasted of their own poverty. Attracted by the life of Saint Dominic he joined the Brothers of Penance, which later became the Order of Penance of Saint Dominic, and lived at the Dominican priory. He died on May 7, 1279.
Today's Mass reading: Theological science
Outsiders are often under the impression that the Church decides things. For instance, they think that saying that this or that kind of action is morally right or wrong is a decision, a decision rather than a determination of fact. (Indeed, the word ‘determine’, at least in American usage, sits nicely on the hinge of the question, since when the government determines the rate of income tax and when the Surgeon General determines that smoking is harmful, they are two different kinds of ‘determination’, reached in different ways, one reformable, one irreformable).
It is convenient, in a world where journalists see everything as politics, to treat doctrine as what we decide to believe. But it is dangerous, because in the end the whole point of our encounter with God is that it is an encounter with Truth Itself, whereas if everything is politics, then nothing is definitely true: if we argue for long enough, we can decide that apples fall upwards.
Theology is a science. It determines things in the Surgeon General sense, not in the tax sense. When we decide that we all need to celebrate Easter on the same date, and then argue about which date, that is like tax or deciding which side of the road to drive on. It is not science, and it is not truth. But then again, it is not theology either, but religion. Theology asks ‘What is true?’ while religion asks ‘What shall we do about it?’, rather as engineering asks ‘What shall we do about it all?’ about the laws of physics.
Theology is a science, and it uses the methods of science. That is not some unrealistic aspiration. It is not an invention of mediaeval academics. We see it in action at the Council of Jerusalem in today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles.
A science has data, and a scientific discussion starts from the data and makes sense of them. So the Council hears one important item of data – the descent of the Holy Spirit onto the family of the Gentile Cornelius – which conflicts with certain ideas of what it means to be chosen, and righteous, and justified – ideas which have themselves come from other data, from the accumulation of scripture and salvation history.
The scientific task is to make sense of the whole.
Even in Luke’s compressed account, it is clear that the Council is not having a ‘What shall we choose to say?’ discussion but a ‘What is true?’ discussion: that is to say, a scientific one. Such discussions are of a fundamentally different nature from political or decision-making ones. It is not about getting a majority on the committee. It is about taking the data, however discordant they may seem, and making sense of them all. That is what science is. Is this an impossible goal, or a possible one? In the case of the physical world we believe that it can be done because we believe that the physical world really exists. When it comes to theological matters we know that it can be done because we know that we are commanded to love the Lord our God with all our mind: that is to say, we are told that God makes sense.
Arguments will never cease, of course. That is the glory of having one race made up of many minds. But we do need to remember that when we believe, the root of our belief is not decision (let’s all drive on the right, or let’s all drive on the left) but truth. Then our arguments, and even our disagreements, can be truly scientific in the original, root sense, of the word: ‘productive of knowledge’.
Today's gospel reading John 15:9-11 That my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full
At that time: Jesus said to his disciples, ‘As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.’
Reflection on this painting
In these days between Easter and Pentecost, many young people in our parishes (and here at Westminster Cathedral) are preparing to receive the Sacrament of Confirmation. In the First Reading from Acts of the Apostles, Saint Peter speaks of how God gives the Holy Spirit freely, pouring His life into hearts without distinction. It is this same Spirit that our candidates are preparing to receive in a new and deeper way. And when we speak to them about the gifts of the Spirit, we also speak of its fruits. Again and again, Peter and Paul remind us that just after love comes joy. The two are inseparable: love and joy given by the Holy Spirit. Where God's love is welcomed and lived, joy begins to take root.
In these days between Easter and Pentecost, many young people in our parishes (and here at Westminster Cathedral) are preparing to receive the Sacrament of Confirmation. In the First Reading from Acts of the Apostles, Saint Peter speaks of how God gives the Holy Spirit freely, pouring His life into hearts without distinction. It is this same Spirit that our candidates are preparing to receive in a new and deeper way. And when we speak to them about the gifts of the Spirit, we also speak of its fruits. Again and again, Peter and Paul remind us that just after love comes joy. The two are inseparable: love and joy given by the Holy Spirit. Where God's love is welcomed and lived, joy begins to take root.
This is exactly what Jesus speaks of in today’s Gospel reading: “I have told you this so that my own joy may be in you, and your joy be complete.” The Lord does not offer a fleeting happiness, but a deep joy. And He shows us the way to it: to remain in His love. So many people spend their lives searching for happiness in all sorts of places, often without finding it. Temporary joys will last for a little while, but the are not the eternal joy that God cannot wait to share with us, to give us. And the Gospel is clear: joy is not something we take or achieve; it is something we receive! And when we open our hearts to receive this gift through the Holy Spirit, then true happiness can take root.
If we want to see pure joy made visible, look at our painting Children’s Games by Pieter Bruegel the Elder. The whole town square is alive, bursting with more than 230 children, occupied in 83 games, completely absorbed in joyful play. There are no adults in sight. The world belongs to them. Everywhere you look, something is happening: children racing, climbing, spinning, laughing, inventing games, copying the world of grown-ups, and yet transforming it into something lighter, freer, more joyful. What is really charming is how serious they are in their play, utterly present, utterly alive. And yet, for us looking in, it is sheer delight. This is joy without calculation, without anxiety, just life being lived fully in the moment.
And perhaps that is why this painting is such a perfect image for today’s reflection. Children at play don’t worry about tomorrow, they don’t carry burdens from yesterday: they simply are in the moment, and in that being, they are joyful. Bruegel reminds us that joy is not something complicated or distant 'to be obtained'. It is something given, something received and something to be lived in the moment. And maybe, just maybe, in the laughter and energy of these children, we catch a glimpse of the joy that Christ speaks about: the kind of joy that fills the heart when it is fully alive.
Children's Games,
Painting by Pieter Brueghel the Elder (1526/1530–1569),
Painted in 1560,
Oil on panel
© Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vianna