About Today
Tuesday 14 April 2026
Tuesday of the 2nd week of Eastertide
The Lord has truly risen, alleluia.
Year: A(II). Psalm week: 2. Liturgical Colour: White.
Other saints: Blessed Lucien Botovasoa (1908-1947)
Madagascar
Other saints: Bl. Peter Gonzalez OP ( - 1246)
14 Apr (where celebrated)
Dominican Friar and Priest.
Today's gospel reading John 3:7-15 The wind blows where it wishes
At that time: Jesus said to Nicodemus, ‘ Do not marvel that I said to you, “You must be born anew.” The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.’
Nicodemus said to him, ‘How can these things be?’ Jesus answered him, ‘Are you the teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things? Truly, truly, I say to you, we speak of what we know, and bear witness to what we have seen, but you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.’
Reflection on the painting
In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of the wind.... how it blows where it wills, not according to our plans or preferences. We cannot summon it, direct it, or restrain it. Some days it comes sharp and cold from the North, other days gentle and warm from the South; often it carries a dampness we did not choose. We may learn to work 'with' it (to set sails, to harness its energy), but its strength and direction are never truly ours to command. The wind remains something elusive, powerful, and ultimately beyond our control.In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of the wind.... how it blows where it wills, not according to our plans or preferences. We cannot summon it, direct it, or restrain it. Some days it comes sharp and cold from the North, other days gentle and warm from the South; often it carries a dampness we did not choose. We may learn to work 'with' it (to set sails, to harness its energy), but its strength and direction are never truly ours to command. The wind remains something elusive, powerful, and ultimately beyond our control.In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of the wind.... how it blows where it wills, not according to our plans or preferences. We cannot summon it, direct it, or restrain it. Some days it comes sharp and cold from the North, other days gentle and warm from the South; often it carries a dampness we did not choose. We may learn to work 'with' it (to set sails, to harness its energy), but its strength and direction are never truly ours to command. The wind remains something elusive, powerful, and ultimately beyond our control.
And Jesus tells us: so it is with the Spirit. In the language of Gospel of John, the same word can mean both “wind” and “Spirit”, drawing the two together. The Spirit of God moves with a freedom that cannot be contained or predicted. It comes from God, who is always greater than our understanding, and it leads us in ways we would not have chosen for ourselves. Yet when the Spirit enters a life, something moves. The spirit moves us in the right direction. The risen Lord breathes that Spirit into us, so that, slowly and quietly, our lives too may begin to bear the marks of a life propelled forward by God.
On the left of our painting by Sandro Botticelli, the wind is given human form in the figure of Zephyrus, who is entwined with a female figure often identified as Aura, the dawn, the breeze. Together they blow a gentle but steady breath across the sea, their cheeks puffed, their bodies leaning forward in motion. It is their breath that fills the air, ripples the water, and carries the shell with Venus standing in it towards the land.
t has always been remarkably difficult for artists to depict something like wind. You cannot see it, you cannot grasp it, and yet you know it is there by what it does. So most artists do not attempt to paint the wind itself, but rather its effects: a ship driven forward across the sea, sails billowing, garments lifted, trees bending, hair flowing. The movement reveals the presence of something invisible. And so, throughout the history of art, artists often chose another path: they personified the wind. They gave it a face, a body, even breath, so that what is abstract could become tangible. In works like Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, the wind is no longer just an unseen force, but a figure in action, literally blowing life into the scene. By doing this, artists help us to see what cannot be seen.
The Birth of Venus,
Painting by Sandro Botticelli (1445–1510),
Painted circa 1485,
Tempera on canvas, 173 x 279 cm
© Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence
Tuesday of the 2nd week of Eastertide
The Lord has truly risen, alleluia.
Year: A(II). Psalm week: 2. Liturgical Colour: White.
Other saints: Blessed Lucien Botovasoa (1908-1947)
Madagascar
Other saints: Bl. Peter Gonzalez OP ( - 1246)
14 Apr (where celebrated)
Dominican Friar and Priest.
Today's gospel reading John 3:7-15 The wind blows where it wishes
At that time: Jesus said to Nicodemus, ‘ Do not marvel that I said to you, “You must be born anew.” The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.’
Nicodemus said to him, ‘How can these things be?’ Jesus answered him, ‘Are you the teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things? Truly, truly, I say to you, we speak of what we know, and bear witness to what we have seen, but you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.’
Reflection on the painting
In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of the wind.... how it blows where it wills, not according to our plans or preferences. We cannot summon it, direct it, or restrain it. Some days it comes sharp and cold from the North, other days gentle and warm from the South; often it carries a dampness we did not choose. We may learn to work 'with' it (to set sails, to harness its energy), but its strength and direction are never truly ours to command. The wind remains something elusive, powerful, and ultimately beyond our control.In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of the wind.... how it blows where it wills, not according to our plans or preferences. We cannot summon it, direct it, or restrain it. Some days it comes sharp and cold from the North, other days gentle and warm from the South; often it carries a dampness we did not choose. We may learn to work 'with' it (to set sails, to harness its energy), but its strength and direction are never truly ours to command. The wind remains something elusive, powerful, and ultimately beyond our control.In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of the wind.... how it blows where it wills, not according to our plans or preferences. We cannot summon it, direct it, or restrain it. Some days it comes sharp and cold from the North, other days gentle and warm from the South; often it carries a dampness we did not choose. We may learn to work 'with' it (to set sails, to harness its energy), but its strength and direction are never truly ours to command. The wind remains something elusive, powerful, and ultimately beyond our control.
And Jesus tells us: so it is with the Spirit. In the language of Gospel of John, the same word can mean both “wind” and “Spirit”, drawing the two together. The Spirit of God moves with a freedom that cannot be contained or predicted. It comes from God, who is always greater than our understanding, and it leads us in ways we would not have chosen for ourselves. Yet when the Spirit enters a life, something moves. The spirit moves us in the right direction. The risen Lord breathes that Spirit into us, so that, slowly and quietly, our lives too may begin to bear the marks of a life propelled forward by God.
On the left of our painting by Sandro Botticelli, the wind is given human form in the figure of Zephyrus, who is entwined with a female figure often identified as Aura, the dawn, the breeze. Together they blow a gentle but steady breath across the sea, their cheeks puffed, their bodies leaning forward in motion. It is their breath that fills the air, ripples the water, and carries the shell with Venus standing in it towards the land.
t has always been remarkably difficult for artists to depict something like wind. You cannot see it, you cannot grasp it, and yet you know it is there by what it does. So most artists do not attempt to paint the wind itself, but rather its effects: a ship driven forward across the sea, sails billowing, garments lifted, trees bending, hair flowing. The movement reveals the presence of something invisible. And so, throughout the history of art, artists often chose another path: they personified the wind. They gave it a face, a body, even breath, so that what is abstract could become tangible. In works like Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, the wind is no longer just an unseen force, but a figure in action, literally blowing life into the scene. By doing this, artists help us to see what cannot be seen.
The Birth of Venus,
Painting by Sandro Botticelli (1445–1510),
Painted circa 1485,
Tempera on canvas, 173 x 279 cm
© Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence