We have begun the month of October, the month associated with devotion to and the Marian prayer of the Rosary—a prayer through which we contemplate the mystery of Christ through the eyes of His Mother and our Mother, Mary. During the general audience on Wednesday, 24 September 2025, Pope Leo XIV invited Catholic Christians to pray the Rosary daily throughout this month—personally, with the family, and in community—and to offer it for peace in the world.

Undoubtedly, what comes to mind immediately is the genocide currently taking place in the Gaza Strip and, in a more subtle way, the seizure of control of the other Palestinian territory stretching from the east of Jerusalem to the Jordan River. We also think of the ongoing conflict between Russia and Ukraine, which has now lasted for more than three years.

This topic is also being discussed at present during the 80th General Assembly of the United Nations. These two wars—especially the one currently afflicting the Palestinian people—are receiving particular attention. But what struck me most was the speech by the representative of the Holy See, Archbishop Paul Richard Gallagher, Secretary for Relations with States and International Organisations within the Secretariat of State. His words closely align with the Pope’s appeal to pray the Rosary for peace throughout October.

What touched me most about Archbishop Gallagher’s speech wasn’t any emotional or impassioned tone. It was the way this English prelate, in the context of wars waged under the pretext of religion, unequivocally recalled the first words spoken by Pope Leo XIV to the city and to the world following his election:
“Peace be with you all! … A peace without weapons, a peace that disarms—humble and persevering.” Peace is not achieved when you have destroyed your enemy, as we are witnessing in the two conflicts mentioned earlier, but rather when we allow love to take hold of us and bring us face to face as human beings, vulnerable as we are. In a world that is increasingly fragmented, we must remember that peace is

an active and demanding gift. It engages and challenges each of us, regardless of our cultural background or religious affiliation, demanding first of all that we work on ourselves. Peace is built in the heart and from the heart, by eliminating pride and vindictiveness and carefully choosing our words. For words too, not only weapons, can wound and even kill.

Leo XIV, Address to the Diplomatic Corps accredited to the Holy See, 16 May 2025

But what most moved me in the speech by the Holy See’s representative was precisely the universal—truly Catholic—gaze at the state of peace, development, and human rights. He did not focus solely on what everyone is already talking about. Instead, he reminded the world of many ongoing conflicts in various regions, which, at least in the West, we have all but forgotten or are ignoring—simply because they are not close to us.

Throughout his address, Gallagher reminded us that over 360 million Christians live in areas where they are persecuted or discriminated against for their faith. He spoke about the trampling of human dignity and fundamental rights as a widespread phenomenon. He highlighted the commitment to eradicating poverty and hunger, the need for debt relief for countries weighed down by underdevelopment, the care of creation and the climate crisis caused by humanity, the phenomenon of migration and refugees, the rights of workers, the protection of the family—and he also warned of the challenges posed by artificial intelligence. All of these are necessary for there to be true peace.

And, if that general overview wasn’t enough, Gallagher even mentioned specific situations in particular countries and regions. Beyond Ukraine and the Holy Land, he mentioned the entire Middle East and Syria. He referenced several African nations plagued by instability, including the Sub-Saharan region, Cabo Delgado, the Horn of Africa, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Sudan, and South Sudan. He listed various issues such as drug trafficking in Latin America, conflicts in the Caribbean, Haiti, and Nicaragua. He then turned to the Asian continent and spoke about the situation in Myanmar and the human trafficking happening along its borders with Thailand, China, Cambodia, and Laos. His wide-reaching summary closed the loop by returning to where it all began, discussing recent developments in the Balkans and the road ahead for fuller reconciliation between Armenia and Azerbaijan.

When you see such an exhaustive list, you can’t help but feel struck. And surely, we need to pray for peace! Surely, not just one Rosary, but even two or three are needed in the face of this global scenario! But we believe in a God who is faithful to His children, and in this month we place ourselves—and the world—under the maternal protection of the Mother of the One who died precisely to reconcile humanity with God. May this truly Catholic and universal vision of the world move us not only to not lose heart, but to pray even more, and to let our hearts be touched, not just by the desire for peace, but by the suffering of so many people, following in the footsteps of Christ and His Mother who stood at the foot of His Cross and and stands under every cross borne by humanity.

On 29 September, the Church celebrates the feast of the Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. The word angel comes from Greek and means messenger. Therefore, archangel means a higher-ranking messenger—probably one sent with a more important message or entrusted with a greater mission. Although various Christian traditions and some ancient written sources mention other archangels—generally adding up to seven in total—the Church specifically celebrates only these three, because they are the only ones mentioned in the canonical books, that is, the books that form the Bible.

We are well aware of the significance of the messages delivered by the Archangel Gabriel. And we also know something of the battle fought by the Archangel Michael against the angels who rebelled against God, as well as his protection over God’s chosen people—both in the Old Covenant and the New. But perhaps we are less familiar with the story of Raphael the Archangel. Those of us who attended M.U.S.E.U.M. centres likely remember how, before setting off anywhere in the van, we would end the prayer by invoking a short prayer (ejaculation) to St Raphael, asking him to bring us safely to our destination. And rightly so!

The adventure of this archangel is recounted in the Book of Tobit, one of the so-called deuterocanonical books—literally, “those that form a second canon.” From the earliest centuries, Christian Tradition regarded these books as inspired by God and made use of them in liturgy and teaching, even though, from the second century onward, the Jews no longer included them in their sacred scriptures—though they continued to be valued as valid sources of knowledge and moral teaching. It is for this reason that Protestant Christians also do not consider these books to be inspired.

The narrative of the Book of Tobit revolves around the story of two Jewish families exiled among the nations, yet remaining faithful to the traditions of their ancestors, despite many obstacles. Raphael enters into the heart of these two families as a representative of God and assists them in the most delicate moments of their story. He appears in the form of a man who accompanies Tobias, whom his father Tobit sends to recover some money from a relative after the family falls into poverty due to Tobit’s blindness. On their journey, they catch a fish from the river Tigris after it tries to attack Tobias’ leg, and Raphael instructs him to open the fish and remove its gall, heart, and liver, as they will find good use for them.

During this journey, Raphael guides the young man to find his future wife, Sarah, and through the burning of the fish’s heart and liver on their wedding night, she is freed from an evil spirit that had killed every man who married her and approached her. After retrieving his father’s money, Tobias returns home with his wife, and, through the fish’s gall, God heals Tobit’s blindness.

It is at the end of these events that Tobias’ companion on the journey reveals his true identity: “I am Raphael, one of the seven holy angels who present the prayers of the saints and enter into the presence of the glory of the Holy One … Do not be afraid; you will be safe. But praise God for ever. I did not come as a favour on my part, but by the will of our God. Therefore praise him for ever” (see Tob 12:15–18). As soon as he said this, Raphael ascended and disappeared from their sight.

On the journey of life, you probably won’t encounter any fish trying to bite you. But you’ll certainly come across two-legged sharks, and you’ll experience no shortage of trouble from evil. So, it’s not a bad idea to pray to Raphael the Archangel, asking him to accompany you along your way and to bring healing of heart to you and, through you, to others.

As we find ourselves between the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, the Feast of the Apostle Thomas, and the Gospel reading for the Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)—where Jesus sends out the seventy-two disciples two by two to every place he intended to visit—we are naturally drawn to reflect on the apostolate. Again and again, we see the Lord choosing people not to remain idle, but to be sent.

The very word apostle comes from the Greek verb apostelló (ἀποστέλλω), which means “to send away” or “to dispatch on a mission.” It suggests movement, purpose, and being entrusted with something beyond oneself. In the New Testament, the term apostle does not only apply to the Twelve—the closest companions of Jesus whom the Evangelists often refer to simply as “the Twelve.” Rather, apostles were those who were sent by a living community of faith, usually in pairs, to proclaim and share the life they themselves had received in Christ.

This missionary identity did not end with the first generation of believers. Through the gift of the Holy Spirit received in the Sacrament of Confirmation, each of us is called to participate in this apostolic mission. The call to be apostles—heralds, witnesses, and ambassadors of the Gospel—is embedded in our Christian identity. For how could the joy of encountering Christ leave us satisfied with private devotion alone?

While not every Christian is an apostle in the formal sense of being specially chosen and sent, all of us are called to be living witnesses. Through what we think, say, and do, we prepare hearts to receive Christ and bring his peace into the world. According to our own place in the Church and in society, we are each sent—not to stand still, but to go forth with the Gospel.

From ancient times, the fish has been associated with Christianity. The Greek word for fish is ichthys. From the beginning Christians made an acronym from it: Iesous Christos Theou Yios Soter, which means Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour. In Scripture we find a number of references to fish. For example, Jesus fed five thousand men with two fish and five loaves. He also called his disciples ‘fishers of men’. Tertullian uses the Ichthys symbol to compare Christians to fish, since they were born of water into Jesus Christ. In the Gospel according to St Matthew, Jesus says: “the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind” (Mt 13:47).

After his resurrection from the dead, when Jesus appeared to his disciples on the shore of the sea of Galilee, we find Simon Peter on his boat bringing back to land a net containing one hundred and fifty-three large fish: “Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn” (Jn 21:11). Why does the evangelist specify that there were one hundred and fifty-three fish caught in the net? St Jerome in the fourth century writes that this number symbolises all species of fish, and therefore signifies that there is a place for everyone in the Church. It is also interesting to note that if we were to count the number of times Jesus blessed various individuals in the four Gospels, it would amount to one hundred and fifty-three people, on forty-eight different occasions.

What happened to Moses when he encountered God? Did his face shine or did he grow horns? When we look at Moses’ iconography, he is frequently portrayed as having horns on his head. According to what was written in the Bible, when Moses came down from Mount Sinai, his face changed. This is what is written in the Book of Exodus:

Moses came down from Mount Sinai. As he came down from the mountain with the two tablets of the covenant in his hand, Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God.

Exodus 34:29

In Hebrew the verb to shine is קרנ (q-r-n). The account in Exodus 19 describes the events at Mount Sinai. When the Jewish people arrive, God tells Moses: “If you obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession out of all the peoples” (Ex 19:5), and God offers to make a covenant with the people. Moses’ face begins to shine when he encounters God, but Moses does not realise it; it is the people who see his shining countenance. This verb caused numerous arguments to arise throughout history, because the noun ‘qeren’ means ‘horn’. Some of the principal reasons that this word is translated as ‘shining’ and not a ‘horn’ are as follows:

1. The subject of the verb ‘q-r-n’ is the face, not the head. It is unlikely that horns grew on Moses’ face without him noticing.
2. The horn as a symbol does not make sense in light of what Moses had experienced.
3. The majority of the principal Biblical translations, apart from the Vulgate, translate this verb as ‘shining.’

Since the Vulgate (the Bible translated from the original languages into Latin by St Jerome) was the translation used for many years, Michelangelo created his sculpture of Moses based on the Vulgate’s translation:

Cumque descenderet Moyses de monte Sinai, tenebat duas tabulas testimonii, et ignorabat quod cornuta esset facies sua ex consortio sermonis Domini.

And when Moses came down from the mount Sinai, he held the two tables of the testimony, and he knew not that his face was horned from the conversation of the Lord.

Ex 34:29 (Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition)

This is the reason why Michelangelo sculpted Moses with horns on his head. Throughout history, these horns have been interpreted as symbols of wisdom and leadership.

Because I got sick and tired of travelling back and forth with plastic bottles, I decided to make a more sustainable choice for the environment by purchasing a water filter jug. If nothing else, I have saved myself from having to buy and carry packs of water from the store to the car, and then from the car to my apartment, which is located on the second floor in a building with no elevator!

But, while this was a great solution during the winter months, it is not always ideal in summer. Although the water is not so hot as to be good to make a cup of coffee or tea, sometimes I end up filling the jug with warm water because the water supply pipes are exposed to the heat …

Doesn’t this remind you of two verses from the Book of Revelation?

“I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth.”

Rev 3:15-16

It’s true, that’s what you would feel like doing. It’s similar to when you’re thirsty and you have to drink from a bottle that was in a car parked in the sun!
But this verse is not simply imagery or a metaphor, because it describes a real situation in the city of Laodicea at that time. Although very rich—so much so that, when the city was destroyed by an earthquake, it was in such a strong financial position that it refused imperial assistance—the city lacked a natural source of water. Thus water had to be brought from somewhere else. And it was brought from such a long distance away that it became lukewarm and almost unpleasant to drink. This greatly contrasted with the thermal springs that were found in the city of Hierapolis, which, through their warmth, had curative properties, or the flowing pure springs of the city of Colossae that revitalised all who used them.

Therefore, the word of Christ, the “Amen, the faithful and true witness, the origin of God’s creation” (Rev 3:14), becomes more potent. If our words, attitudes, attentiveness, and compassion in our parish community and towards our neighbour do not bring the soothing relief of warm water, nor quench the thirst of those who are living an aimless life, we will be spat out because we would be living a mediocre Christian life—a life in which we may do nothing wrong but neither do we accomplish the good we should do …

Today Laodicea no longer has this problem because it was destroyed and abandoned in the thirteenth century, and I can be a bit more practical by placing a jug of water in the fridge. But our struggle not to become lukewarm is always present and cannot be resolved unless we give heed to the final proposition that Jesus gives to the Christians of Laodicea and to us also:

“Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me.”

Rev. 3: 20

If there is one word that every Christian in the world knows, no matter what rite or denomination they may belong to, is undoubtedly ‘Alleluia’. The origin of this Hebrew word is a combination of a verb and a noun. The verb is hillel which means praise—a verb which is used many times in the Hebrew Bible. This verb can also mean boasting. The noun jah is a concise form of God’s name. Therefore, the word Alleluia means “Praise God.”

The last five Psalms in the Book of Psalms are in praise of God in which ‘Alleluia’ is frequently used. Psalm 148 begins with, “Alleluia. Praise the LORD from the heavens; offer praise to him in the heights!” (v. 1), it concludes with the words, “He has raised high a horn for his people,
to the glory of all his saints, for the people of Israel who are close to him. Alleluia” (v. 14). The call to praise God is not addressed to God, but to all creation which is invited to praise God.

In the Roman Rite, the word Alleluia is associated with joy. Before the reading of the Gospel, the congregation sings Alleluia, in order that “the assembly of the faithful welcomes and greets the Lord who is about to speak to it in the Gospel” (General Instruction of the Roman Missal, par.62)

I don’t know about you, but I have always been curious about the medallion with an image of Jesus around St Jude’s neck in many of his images. This typical element of St Jude’s iconography is rooted in an ancient legend that goes back to the early Church, at about the fourth century, and recounted by St Eusebius of Caesarea (Historia Ecclesiastica, 1.13).

The legend says that King Abgar of Edessa (a city in modern day Turkey) was ill. When he heard about Jesus, he sent a letter asking for healing and offering him a place of refuge from those who wanted to kill him. Jesus refused to go because of his obedience to the Father’s will. However, Jesus was so impressed by the faith of this king that he wiped his face with a handkerchief on which he left an imprint of his face and sent it to King Abgar, while promising him that after he had suffered his passion and was lifted up, he would send one of his disciples to him. When the king saw this image, he placed it with great reverence in one of the halls in his palace.

One version of this legend states that after Jesus’ ascension into heaven and the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles, Thaddaeus (St Jude the Apostle) was sent to King Abgar of Edessa, as Jesus had promised. St Jude placed his hands on the King, and he was cured through the power of the name of Jesus. Astonished by this, the King converted to the Christian faith along with all the people in his kingdom.

Although we are not sure if this story did actually take place, it is certain that behind this story there is a hidden truth of great importance that enlightened the life of this holy Apostle and enlightens us in our Christian vocation. St Paul in his Second Letter to the Corinthians, writes:

And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.

2 Corinthians 3:18

Created in the image of God and adopted as his sons and daughters through baptism, we bear the image of Christ in our souls similar to the image imprinted on the handkerchief, an image that gives us our identity and our dignity. But this image also brings responsibility. Like St Jude, we are sent “with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror.” We are called so that, after we allow God’s mercy to be poured into our hearts, we approach our brothers and sisters and share with them this mercy, leading them to healing that can only come about through an encounter with the crucified and risen Christ. The Lord often uses us so that, like St Jude, after allowing the glory of the Lord’s face to rest upon us and gradually transform us into his likeness, we in turn gaze upon others and become instruments in the Lord’s hands by allowing his light to shine upon them through us, we allow him to look upon them with a loving gaze, through concrete gestures of love, a kind word, a loving silence which is ready to listen, and by the time we dedicate to others.

Through the intercession of St Jude, may we allow Christ’s image to be imprinted within us to continually transform us into a more perfect reflection of himself so, even if simply through our gaze or our smile, “with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror” upon our world and upon our brothers and sisters in our times.