As we near the close of the liturgical year, this week’s Gospel invites us to look beyond the passing world. Though stars and moons may fade, the light of Christ remains steady, He is the source of life transcending time and space. His enduring presence guides us through life’s uncertainties, drawing our gaze upward like a clear night sky. In the words of the eucharistic hymn, Tantum Ergo written by Thomas Aquinas, “Types and shadows have their ending; for the newer rite is here,” reminding us that, in a world of constant change, Christ offers us assurance. His words, His love, and His truth endure beyond all.

I remember one Christmas morning eagerly tearing open a beautifully wrapped box to find a telescope. I was about ten years old, and that gift opened up a whole new world for me. Sitting in my mum and dad’s back garden, I spent countless nights gazing up at the stars, trying to comprehend the vastness of the universe. It stirred a sense of awe and wonder, a feeling that life was bigger and more mysterious than I could fully grasp. Little did I know that years later, this fascination with the heavens would connect with my journey of faith, reminding me of God’s boundless creativity and yet His intimate presence in the vastness of His creation.

Today’s Gospel, sometimes known as the ‘Little Apocalypse,’ invites us to that same sense of awe, though through images of cosmic upheaval: the darkening of the sun, the moon losing its light, and stars falling from the sky. For Mark’s early Christian community, facing persecution, this Gospel passage offered hope. These signs spoke of God’s enduring presence amid chaos. This passage is not simply about the end times; it’s a call to trust that even in times of upheaval, God’s hand is at work, guiding His people. The promise was clear, Jesus, as the Son of Man, would ultimately reign victorious.

In our time, we see the heavens differently, nowadays through images from satellites or the Hubble and James Webb telescopes that reveal the beauty and vast design of the universe. These glimpses into space evoke awe and wonder too, reminding us that the mystery of creation points to the mystery of God’s presence within it. Just as the universe holds mysteries beyond our comprehension, so too do our lives unfold in ways we cannot fully understand. Yet within this mystery lies a promise: the assurance of God’s faithfulness, even when the path is unclear.

Theologians help us understand this tension, describing it as the ‘already’ and the ‘not yet’, the reality that Christ’s Kingdom has been inaugurated, yet we await its full realization. They emphasize that God’s Word is not merely spoken, it’s embodied in Christ, who entered our world to live, die, and rise again for us. In Jesus, God’s promise is made visible. Jesus, the Word made flesh, is not just a comforting or philosophical idea, but an unchanging reality, someone in whom we can ground our lives, especially in times of uncertainty

Two thousand years later, we also live in a world marked by unrest and fragility. We see it in reports of conflict, environmental concerns, and the daily struggles of those around us trying to make ends meet. As a chaplain, I witness firsthand the trials faced by people dealing with illness, bereavement, loss, and uncertainty. In these moments, Christ’s promise resonates, reminding us to hold fast to hope and trust in God’s enduring presence and love.

St. Augustine, reflecting on passages like today’s Gospel, invites us to look beyond the temporary to the eternal. He saw in the cosmic signs a call to humility, to trust that even when life feels disrupted, God’s love is still at work. Our reading from Hebrews 10:11-14 reminds us that in His incarnation, Christ took on human suffering. The same God who created the stars and galaxies humbled Himself to walk among us, offering hope through His life, death, and resurrection.

In our daily lives, we can see this enduring presence reflected. Just as Christ’s love is steadfast, so too are the people who remain true under pressure, or relationships rooted in selfless love, glimpses of constancy that echo the strength and faithfulness we find in Christ. Imagine a nurse working a night shift in a busy hospital, tired, knowing they won’t have much sleep before the next shift. Yet, in the quiet hours, she carefully tends to each patient, sitting with an elderly man who can't sleep, listening to a young mother’s worries. These aren’t grand gestures; they’re small, consistent acts of care, rooted in a selfless love and devotion to her role. In them, we glimpse a constancy that reflects something deeper. St. Teresa of Ávila expressed this beautifully in her prayer:

Christ has no body now on earth but yours,

No hands but yours, no feet but yours.

Yours are the eyes through which He looks with compassion on this world,

Yours are the feet with which He walks to do good,

Yours are the hands with which He blesses all the world.

Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

Her prayer reminds us that we are invited to participate in God’s unchanging love, becoming His hands, feet, and eyes in the here and now. Just as Christ’s words promise to outlast heaven and earth, St. Teresa’s prayer calls us to make those eternal words visible through our actions. She points to the tangible ways we can embody the enduring truths of the Gospel. Christ, though ascended, continues His mission of compassion, healing, and blessing through us.

Her prayer is an invitation to live out the stability, hope, and love that Christ offers. By embodying His compassion and care, we become a visible reminder to others that God's love is steadfast.

With all this talk of the heavens, recently, some of us were lucky enough to glimpse the Northern Lights. Although I missed seeing them myself, they serve as a reminder of the grandeur of God’s creativity and His intimate care. Psalm 8 echoes this, asking, ‘What is mankind that you are mindful of them?’ Amid the demands of work, family, maybe frailty and other responsibilities, moments of awe in creation can draw us back to the truth of God’s love and attention for each of us.

As the nights grow longer, I invite you to look up at the heavens and see in them the handiwork of God. The same God who crafted the stars knows and cares for every detail of our lives.

Prayer Loving God, as we stand beneath the vastness of Your creation, fill us with awe and trust in Your presence. May we be Your hands, feet, and heart in the world, reflecting Your compassion and grace in all we do. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Fr Clive