About Today
Tuesday 7 April 2026
Easter Tuesday
The Lord has truly risen, alleluia.
Year: A(II). Liturgical Colour: White.
In other years: St John Baptist de la Salle (1651 - 1719)
He was born in Rheims in France in 1651. He became a priest and devoted himself wholeheartedly to the education of children, founding schools for the poor. He and his colleagues formed a congregation called the Brothers of the Christian Schools, in whose cause he suffered many tribulations. He died in Rouen in 1719. See the articles in the Catholic Encyclopaedia and Wikipedia.
Other saints: St Henry Walpole (1558-1595)
East Anglia
Henry Walpole was born at Docking (Norfolk) in 1558, the eldest son of Christopher and Margery Walpole. He was educated at Norwich Grammar School, at Peterhouse, Cambridge, and at Gray’s Inn. He is said to have become a Catholic as a consequence of the martyrdom of Edmund Campion. In 1582 he went abroad to study, first to Reims and then to the English College, Rome. Shortly afterwards he joined the Society of Jesus. In spite of poor health he was ordained priest at Paris in 1588, served as chaplain to the Spanish army in the Netherlands, and then taught in the English seminaries of Seville and Valladolid. In 1593 he returned to England, landing at Bridlington on 6 December, but was arrested the very next day on suspicion of being a priest. He was interrogated at York, transferred to the Tower of London where he was frequently tortured. He was indicted on a charge of high treason because he was ordained abroad to minister in England; he was condemned to death. He was executed at York on 7 April 1595, by being hanged, drawn and quartered. DK
Today's gospel reeading
John 20:11-18 ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’
Mary stayed outside near the tomb, weeping. Then, still weeping, she stooped to look inside, saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been, one at the head, the other at the feet. They said, ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’ ‘They have taken my Lord away,’she replied, and I do not know where they have put him.’ As she said this, she turned round and saw Jesus standing there, though she did not recognise him. Jesus said, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? Who are you looking for?’ Supposing him to be the gardener, she said ‘Sir, if you have taken him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will go and remove him.’ Jesus said, ‘Mary!’ She knew him then and said to him in Hebrew, ‘Rabbuni!’ – which means Master. Jesus said to her, ‘Do not cling to me, because I am not ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers, and tell them, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” So Mary of Magdala went and told the disciples that she had seen the Lord’ and that he had said these things to her.
Reflection on the painting
There is a strong focus in this morning’s Gospel on the tears of Mary Magdalene. She stands outside the tomb, weeping. She is asked the same question twice in our short reading. First the angels ask her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” and then Jesus himself repeats the very same question: “Why are you weeping?” She weeps because she cannot find the one she loves. We recognise that experience: when someone dear to us has died or is alive but feels lost, distant, or beyond our reach, grief rises within us. We, like Mary at the tomb, weep.
Yet Mary’s story does not end in loss. In her searching, something unexpected happens. The Lord she is seeking finds her. He calls her by name, “Mary,” and in that moment everything changes. This is the quiet promise at the heart of the Gospel: while we may not always succeed in finding those we long for, but the Lord is never beyond reach... always there, always already seeking us even before we seek him.seeking us even before we seek him.
There is something, dare I say, sacred about weeping. We do not cry for what means little to us; we weep for those we love. Tears are love made visible, the heart overflowing when words are no longer enough. They come when bonds are stretched by distance, by loss, by misunderstanding, or by the quiet ache of seeing a loved one maybe make wrong choices. In those moments, tears are not a sign of weakness, but of depth and love. The tears are a testimony that we have allowed others into our lives, that we have cared, that we have loved. And perhaps that is why they hold such dignity: every tear carries within it a story of relationship, a silent prayer rising from the heart, reminding us that where there are tears, there is love.There is something, dare I say, sacred about weeping. We do not cry for what means little to us; we weep for those we love. Tears are love made visible, the heart overflowing when words are no longer enough. They come when bonds are stretched by distance, by loss, by misunderstanding, or by the quiet ache of seeing a loved one maybe make wrong choices. In those moments, tears are not a sign of weakness, but of depth and love. The tears are a testimony that we have allowed others into our lives, that we have cared, that we have loved. And perhaps that is why they hold such dignity: every tear carries within it a story of relationship, a silent prayer rising from the heart, reminding us that where there are tears, there is love.There is something, dare I say, sacred about weeping. We do not cry for what means little to us; we weep for those we love. Tears are love made visible, the heart overflowing when words are no longer enough. They come when bonds are stretched by distance, by loss, by misunderstanding, or by the quiet ache of seeing a loved one maybe make wrong choices. In those moments, tears are not a sign of weakness, but of depth and love. The tears are a testimony that we have allowed others into our lives, that we have cared, that we have loved. And perhaps that is why they hold such dignity: every tear carries within it a story of relationship, a silent prayer rising from the heart, reminding us that where there are tears, there is love.There is something, dare I say, sacred about weeping. We do not cry for what means little to us; we weep for those we love. Tears are love made visible, the heart overflowing when words are no longer enough. They come when bonds are stretched by distance, by loss, by misunderstanding, or by the quiet ache of seeing a loved one maybe make wrong choices. In those moments, tears are not a sign of weakness, but of depth and love. The tears are a testimony that we have allowed others into our lives, that we have cared, that we have loved. And perhaps that is why they hold such dignity: every tear carries within it a story of relationship, a silent prayer rising from the heart, reminding us that where there are tears, there is love.There is something, dare I say, sacred about weeping. We do not cry for what means little to us; we weep for those we love. Tears are love made visible, the heart overflowing when words are no longer enough. They come when bonds are stretched by distance, by loss, by misunderstanding, or by the quiet ache of seeing a loved one maybe make wrong choices. In those moments, tears are not a sign of weakness, but of depth and love. The tears are a testimony that we have allowed others into our lives, that we have cared, that we have loved. And perhaps that is why they hold such dignity: every tear carries within it a story of relationship, a silent prayer rising from the heart, reminding us that where there are tears, there is love.
Today I am sharing a detail of The Lamentation over the Dead Christ by Andrea Mantegna.The weeping woman stands on the left of the painting, leaning over the lifeless body ofChrist, her face contorted with sorrow, her mouth open in a cry that we can almost hear.These are not gentle tears; they are raw, unrestrained, almost violent in their honesty.Mantegna does not soften grief, he exposes it. Also look at the wrinkles on her face, it is as ifthe woman’s anguish is etched into every line of her face. This weeping woman is one of themost haunting expressions of mourning in all of art. And yet, precisely in that, it is also oneof the most beautiful expressions of love... a love that must weep because it has loved sodeeply...
The lamentation over the dead Christ (detail),Painting by Andrea Mantegna (1431–1506), Painted between 1475-1478,Oil on canvas © Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan
Easter Tuesday
The Lord has truly risen, alleluia.
Year: A(II). Liturgical Colour: White.
In other years: St John Baptist de la Salle (1651 - 1719)
He was born in Rheims in France in 1651. He became a priest and devoted himself wholeheartedly to the education of children, founding schools for the poor. He and his colleagues formed a congregation called the Brothers of the Christian Schools, in whose cause he suffered many tribulations. He died in Rouen in 1719. See the articles in the Catholic Encyclopaedia and Wikipedia.
Other saints: St Henry Walpole (1558-1595)
East Anglia
Henry Walpole was born at Docking (Norfolk) in 1558, the eldest son of Christopher and Margery Walpole. He was educated at Norwich Grammar School, at Peterhouse, Cambridge, and at Gray’s Inn. He is said to have become a Catholic as a consequence of the martyrdom of Edmund Campion. In 1582 he went abroad to study, first to Reims and then to the English College, Rome. Shortly afterwards he joined the Society of Jesus. In spite of poor health he was ordained priest at Paris in 1588, served as chaplain to the Spanish army in the Netherlands, and then taught in the English seminaries of Seville and Valladolid. In 1593 he returned to England, landing at Bridlington on 6 December, but was arrested the very next day on suspicion of being a priest. He was interrogated at York, transferred to the Tower of London where he was frequently tortured. He was indicted on a charge of high treason because he was ordained abroad to minister in England; he was condemned to death. He was executed at York on 7 April 1595, by being hanged, drawn and quartered. DK
Today's gospel reeading
John 20:11-18 ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’
Mary stayed outside near the tomb, weeping. Then, still weeping, she stooped to look inside, saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been, one at the head, the other at the feet. They said, ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’ ‘They have taken my Lord away,’she replied, and I do not know where they have put him.’ As she said this, she turned round and saw Jesus standing there, though she did not recognise him. Jesus said, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? Who are you looking for?’ Supposing him to be the gardener, she said ‘Sir, if you have taken him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will go and remove him.’ Jesus said, ‘Mary!’ She knew him then and said to him in Hebrew, ‘Rabbuni!’ – which means Master. Jesus said to her, ‘Do not cling to me, because I am not ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers, and tell them, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” So Mary of Magdala went and told the disciples that she had seen the Lord’ and that he had said these things to her.
Reflection on the painting
There is a strong focus in this morning’s Gospel on the tears of Mary Magdalene. She stands outside the tomb, weeping. She is asked the same question twice in our short reading. First the angels ask her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” and then Jesus himself repeats the very same question: “Why are you weeping?” She weeps because she cannot find the one she loves. We recognise that experience: when someone dear to us has died or is alive but feels lost, distant, or beyond our reach, grief rises within us. We, like Mary at the tomb, weep.
Yet Mary’s story does not end in loss. In her searching, something unexpected happens. The Lord she is seeking finds her. He calls her by name, “Mary,” and in that moment everything changes. This is the quiet promise at the heart of the Gospel: while we may not always succeed in finding those we long for, but the Lord is never beyond reach... always there, always already seeking us even before we seek him.seeking us even before we seek him.
There is something, dare I say, sacred about weeping. We do not cry for what means little to us; we weep for those we love. Tears are love made visible, the heart overflowing when words are no longer enough. They come when bonds are stretched by distance, by loss, by misunderstanding, or by the quiet ache of seeing a loved one maybe make wrong choices. In those moments, tears are not a sign of weakness, but of depth and love. The tears are a testimony that we have allowed others into our lives, that we have cared, that we have loved. And perhaps that is why they hold such dignity: every tear carries within it a story of relationship, a silent prayer rising from the heart, reminding us that where there are tears, there is love.There is something, dare I say, sacred about weeping. We do not cry for what means little to us; we weep for those we love. Tears are love made visible, the heart overflowing when words are no longer enough. They come when bonds are stretched by distance, by loss, by misunderstanding, or by the quiet ache of seeing a loved one maybe make wrong choices. In those moments, tears are not a sign of weakness, but of depth and love. The tears are a testimony that we have allowed others into our lives, that we have cared, that we have loved. And perhaps that is why they hold such dignity: every tear carries within it a story of relationship, a silent prayer rising from the heart, reminding us that where there are tears, there is love.There is something, dare I say, sacred about weeping. We do not cry for what means little to us; we weep for those we love. Tears are love made visible, the heart overflowing when words are no longer enough. They come when bonds are stretched by distance, by loss, by misunderstanding, or by the quiet ache of seeing a loved one maybe make wrong choices. In those moments, tears are not a sign of weakness, but of depth and love. The tears are a testimony that we have allowed others into our lives, that we have cared, that we have loved. And perhaps that is why they hold such dignity: every tear carries within it a story of relationship, a silent prayer rising from the heart, reminding us that where there are tears, there is love.There is something, dare I say, sacred about weeping. We do not cry for what means little to us; we weep for those we love. Tears are love made visible, the heart overflowing when words are no longer enough. They come when bonds are stretched by distance, by loss, by misunderstanding, or by the quiet ache of seeing a loved one maybe make wrong choices. In those moments, tears are not a sign of weakness, but of depth and love. The tears are a testimony that we have allowed others into our lives, that we have cared, that we have loved. And perhaps that is why they hold such dignity: every tear carries within it a story of relationship, a silent prayer rising from the heart, reminding us that where there are tears, there is love.There is something, dare I say, sacred about weeping. We do not cry for what means little to us; we weep for those we love. Tears are love made visible, the heart overflowing when words are no longer enough. They come when bonds are stretched by distance, by loss, by misunderstanding, or by the quiet ache of seeing a loved one maybe make wrong choices. In those moments, tears are not a sign of weakness, but of depth and love. The tears are a testimony that we have allowed others into our lives, that we have cared, that we have loved. And perhaps that is why they hold such dignity: every tear carries within it a story of relationship, a silent prayer rising from the heart, reminding us that where there are tears, there is love.
Today I am sharing a detail of The Lamentation over the Dead Christ by Andrea Mantegna.The weeping woman stands on the left of the painting, leaning over the lifeless body ofChrist, her face contorted with sorrow, her mouth open in a cry that we can almost hear.These are not gentle tears; they are raw, unrestrained, almost violent in their honesty.Mantegna does not soften grief, he exposes it. Also look at the wrinkles on her face, it is as ifthe woman’s anguish is etched into every line of her face. This weeping woman is one of themost haunting expressions of mourning in all of art. And yet, precisely in that, it is also oneof the most beautiful expressions of love... a love that must weep because it has loved sodeeply...
The lamentation over the dead Christ (detail),Painting by Andrea Mantegna (1431–1506), Painted between 1475-1478,Oil on canvas © Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan