About Today
Thursday 12 March 2026
Thursday of the 3rd week of Lent
Christ the Lord was tempted and suffered for us. Come, let us adore him.
Or: O that today you would listen to his voice: harden not your hearts.
Year: A(II). Psalm week: 3. Liturgical Colour: Violet.
Today's gospel reading: Luke 11:14-23 Whoever is not with me is against me
At that time: Jesus was casting out a demon that was mute. When the demon had gone out, the mute man spoke, and the crowd marvelled. But some of them said, ‘He casts out demons by Beelzebul, the prince of demons’, while others, to test him, kept seeking from him a sign from heaven. But he, knowing their thoughts, said to them, ‘Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and a divided household falls. And if Satan also is divided against himself, how will his kingdom stand? For you say that I cast out demons by Beelzebul. And if I cast out demons by Beelzebul, by whom do your sons cast them out? Therefore they will be your judges. But if it is by the finger of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you. When a strong man, fully armed, guards his own palace, his goods are safe; but when one stronger than he attacks him and overcomes him, he takes away his armour in which he trusted and divides his spoil. Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters.’
Reflection on the painting
“Whoever is not with me is against me” we hear in today’s Gospel. It is a stark and unsettling line. It leaves no comfortable middle ground, no neutral territory. So we are invited to ask ourselves: on which side do I truly stand? With Jesus or against Jesus?
Instinctively, we would all say: with Christ, of course. And yet, if we are honest, our actions do not always reflect that conviction. There is a quiet tension within us. There is a gap between what we profess with our lips and what we live with our lives. In our hearts, we desire to be with Him; but in our choices, our habits, our compromises… we often drift away.
And it is precisely this inner division that becomes more visible during Lent, when we slow down and look more honestly at ourselves. Lent offers us this grace-filled space to step aside, to be alone with God, and to reflect more deeply. Like the woman in our painting, seated in quiet solitude, we too are invited into a moment of stillness. And perhaps, in that stillness, there is a gentle sadness, a gentle melancholy, a realisation that we are not yet as close to Christ as we would like to be.
The painting by Constance-Marie Charpentier titled Melancholy (1801) captures this solitude with great sensitivity. A young woman sits alone in a wooded landscape, absorbed in thought. The historical context behind the work is both tragic and telling. In the aftermath of the French Revolution and the wars that followed, countless young men had died, leaving many women widowed. Life had to go on, and with it came unexpected shifts: some women began to pursue artistic careers in greater numbers than before. Our painter is one such artist. These painters brought with them a deeply personal and emotional perspective, often expressing grief. Yet, as powerful as these works are, they also reflect the limitations of their time, as women artists, sadly, often struggled to survive and have a career in the arts.
Melancholy,
Painted by Constance-Marie Charpentier (1767-1849),
Painted in 1801,
Oil on canvas
© Musée de Picardie, Amiens
Thursday of the 3rd week of Lent
Christ the Lord was tempted and suffered for us. Come, let us adore him.
Or: O that today you would listen to his voice: harden not your hearts.
Year: A(II). Psalm week: 3. Liturgical Colour: Violet.
Today's gospel reading: Luke 11:14-23 Whoever is not with me is against me
At that time: Jesus was casting out a demon that was mute. When the demon had gone out, the mute man spoke, and the crowd marvelled. But some of them said, ‘He casts out demons by Beelzebul, the prince of demons’, while others, to test him, kept seeking from him a sign from heaven. But he, knowing their thoughts, said to them, ‘Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and a divided household falls. And if Satan also is divided against himself, how will his kingdom stand? For you say that I cast out demons by Beelzebul. And if I cast out demons by Beelzebul, by whom do your sons cast them out? Therefore they will be your judges. But if it is by the finger of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you. When a strong man, fully armed, guards his own palace, his goods are safe; but when one stronger than he attacks him and overcomes him, he takes away his armour in which he trusted and divides his spoil. Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters.’
Reflection on the painting
“Whoever is not with me is against me” we hear in today’s Gospel. It is a stark and unsettling line. It leaves no comfortable middle ground, no neutral territory. So we are invited to ask ourselves: on which side do I truly stand? With Jesus or against Jesus?
Instinctively, we would all say: with Christ, of course. And yet, if we are honest, our actions do not always reflect that conviction. There is a quiet tension within us. There is a gap between what we profess with our lips and what we live with our lives. In our hearts, we desire to be with Him; but in our choices, our habits, our compromises… we often drift away.
And it is precisely this inner division that becomes more visible during Lent, when we slow down and look more honestly at ourselves. Lent offers us this grace-filled space to step aside, to be alone with God, and to reflect more deeply. Like the woman in our painting, seated in quiet solitude, we too are invited into a moment of stillness. And perhaps, in that stillness, there is a gentle sadness, a gentle melancholy, a realisation that we are not yet as close to Christ as we would like to be.
The painting by Constance-Marie Charpentier titled Melancholy (1801) captures this solitude with great sensitivity. A young woman sits alone in a wooded landscape, absorbed in thought. The historical context behind the work is both tragic and telling. In the aftermath of the French Revolution and the wars that followed, countless young men had died, leaving many women widowed. Life had to go on, and with it came unexpected shifts: some women began to pursue artistic careers in greater numbers than before. Our painter is one such artist. These painters brought with them a deeply personal and emotional perspective, often expressing grief. Yet, as powerful as these works are, they also reflect the limitations of their time, as women artists, sadly, often struggled to survive and have a career in the arts.
Melancholy,
Painted by Constance-Marie Charpentier (1767-1849),
Painted in 1801,
Oil on canvas
© Musée de Picardie, Amiens