Today we find ourselves sandwiched between two great feasts: of Our Holy Father St Philip yesterday and of Corpus Christi tomorrow. Even by the standards of any saintly priest, St Philip’s devotion to the Mass and the Blessed Sacrament were extraordinary. God seems to have recognised this feature of his spirituality by calling him to heaven on the feast of Corpus Christi itself.

St Philip’s devotion to the Eucharist was not complicated or unique. It was simply the logical consequence of the faith we all share. We believe that when Christ said, “This is my body,” he meant it. St Philip said, “Our sweet Jesus, through the excess of his love and generosity, has left himself to us in the Most Holy Sacrament.” God has given us everything that we have, but he still wanted to give us something more.

Christ’s presence on the altar during the Mass transforms the church into a small piece of heaven on earth. If we really believe that Christ himself is present, where else could we want to be? And so St Philip taught his spiritual children, “In order to begin well, and to finish better, it is quite necessary to hear Mass every day, unless there be some lawful hindrance in the way.”

Most people at the time received Communion just once a year (which is still the all the Church asks of us). But Philip encouraged people to receive Communion more often, so that they could grow even closer to Christ. One of the most important ways that he prepared people for this was by hearing their confession first, to ensure they would welcome their Lord with a clean conscience and a pure heart.

In his later years, St Philip’s devotion grew so great that it could be seen when he was saying Mass. When he elevated the Host after the consecration, he would sometimes be lifted up off the floor. And before he received Communion, the server had to extinguish the candles for safety, and leave him alone in silent prayer. A sign would be left on the door, “Silence! The Father is saying Mass.” The server would return when Philip had come back down to earth — sometimes as much as two hours later — and the Mass would continue.

We come to share in this Eucharistic faith ourselves through our exterior actions. We may know that the Church teaches that bread becomes Christ’s body, and we may accept that teaching happily. But if we do not respond to that with our actions, we will struggle to believe it. It is only by treating Christ’s Body as the most important and most precious thing in our lives that we will actually believe this to be so. This is, after all, how the Church has taught the faithful for hundreds of years — not by explaining the theology of transubstantiation endlessly, but simply by being treating the the Blessed Sacrament with the reverence that Our Lord deserves.

That is why we genuflect and kneel, to show with our bodies what at times we may forget in our minds. That is why for most of her history, the Church has allowed only the priest to touch the Sacred Host, and asked him to handle it as little as possible. That is why we expose the Blessed Sacrament with great solemnity for holy hours, benediction, and for the Forty Hours’ Devotion. That is why we will carry the Blessed Sacrament with great honour through the streets of our city this Sunday in our Corpus Christi procession, and why hundreds of people will turn out to show the world that this is not bread. That’s why we are asked to fast before receiving Communion so that when we approach the altar rail, we are hungry and thirsty for God himself. As St Philip said, “Let all go to the Eucharistic Table with a great desire for that Sacred Food. Thirsting! Thirsting!”

If we look forward to receiving Holy Communion — however often that may be — we have a real practical way of making Christ the centre of our lives. Then we may share some of St Philip’s appreciation for the greatest gift Christ has given us — himself.

We are in the Octave of Pentecost, the birthday of the Church, kick-started into life by the wondrous outpouring of the Holy Spirit of God, without whose presence the Church could not possibly fulfil her mission in the world. This is why at our baptism and then at our confirmation, we receive the gifts of the Spirit and also open ourselves to bearing the fruits of his presence within us. These fruits, St Paul teaches us (Galatians 5:22), are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. They are the hallmark of a Christian.

Developing a Christian character takes a lifetime of striving to exhibit the mind and heart of Jesus. “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind”, Paul tells us. Our holiness is, of course, God’s gift to us, and not ours to him, and since we allow so many obstacles to get in the way of his work within us, our sanctification is a work in progress. This is quite a liberating thought, because it assures us that the work is not ours alone. God gives us grace, his life, his assistance to enable us to respond freely and lovingly to his will. When we entrust our lives to Our Lord, God’s Powerful Spiritpurifies us and empowers us to be his ambassadors, mediating his divine presence to others. In our Catholic Faith, we have been given a tremendous gift, and what is required of us is that we live it and share it with others. For this we need to cultivate those fruits of the Spirit, beginning with love, joy and peace…

Our Lord reminds us, “A good tree does not bear rotten fruit.” At our baptism, we were anointed with the oil of chrism, the same oil which is used for confirmation and the ordination of priests and bishops. It is a symbol of election, of having been called and chosen by God for work in his Church. This oil, which has been fragranced with balsam, is a reminder to us that a Christian is “the fragrance of Christ”, that people must know that we are disciples of Christ by what they hear us say and what they see us do. If we profess one standard with our lips and behave in quite another way, people will only point and shake their heads and say, “Spot the discrepancy!” Our Catholic mission is to spread the Good News of God’s merciful and just love and to help build a family of faith in Jesus Christ through Catholic worship, education, and charity.

Dorothy Day challenges us to examine our conscience to see whether we are bearing good or evil fruit. She writes, “I really only love God as much as I love the person I love the least.” A thought which I find somewhat challenging. Next Tuesday, we shall be celebrating together the transferred feast of our Holy Father St Philip, who, if we were obliged to choose just one example of a Christian soul aglow with the presence of the Spirit of God and whose life exemplified the flourishing of the spiritual fruits, would easily be the most likely contender.

The one time Our Lady is mentioned in the Scriptures after the death of Christ is at the beginning of the Acts of the Apostles. It is the briefest of mentions, but as so often with brief mentions in Scripture, so important.

In Acts 1:14 we read that, after the Ascension of Our Lord, the Apostles were in the Upper Room, “joined in continuous prayer, together with several women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brothers”. The Apostles and the holy women were afraid: the Jesus they had known they had lost on the Cross — only to have him back with them after the Resurrection — and who then left them again when he ascended to heaven. They were huddled together in the Cenacle, fearful of the Jews, bereft of the presence of Christ, and awaiting the coming of the promised Holy Spirit. No doubt they were somewhat confused as to what exactly this Holy Spirit was supposed to be. And we find Mary at their centre, holding them together so to speak, praying with them — and no doubt for them.

There are a few pious traditions about Our Lord and Our Lady that are not mentioned in scripture, but which are very ancient, and are often depicted in art. One rather touching tradition has Our Lord visiting her immediately after his resurrection: that the first thing Jesus did when he rose from the dead was to go and see his mother. Another traditional belief is that in that Upper Room before the coming of the Spirit, Mary spent her time encouraging the Apostles, moving among them, telling them stories from Christ’s hidden life, praying with them and preparing them for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. Pope Leo XIII wrote beautifully about this in his encyclical on the Rosary, Adiutricem, when he said:

With wonderful care she nurtured the first Christians by her holy example, her authoritative counsel, her sweet consolation, her fruitful prayers. She was, in very truth, the Mother of the Church, the Teacher and Queen of the Apostles, to whom, besides, she confided no small part of the divine mysteries which she kept in her heart.

Parallels are thus obviously drawn between the cooperation between Mary and the Holy Spirit in bringing about the birth of the Lord, and the cooperation between Mary and the Holy Spirit in bringing about the birth of his Body, the Church. She is not only that human person most filled with the Spirit; she is also the Spouse of the Holy Spirit in the story of our salvation — at the birth of Christ, at the beginning of the Church, and now, today, in the lives of you and me.

All joined in continuous prayer together with Mary.

That is what it meant to be a Christian in those earliest days, the days immediately after the Ascension of the Lord. Waiting on God, together with Mary. Praying to God, together with Mary. Longing for the Holy Spirit to come, but being upheld by the presence of the Mother of God. It is such a perfect image of the Church: all joined in continuous prayer together with Mary the Mother of Jesus. That is still what it means to be a Christian.

May Our Blessed Mother continue to uphold us, encourage us, and prepare us, as we wait for the Holy Spirit — given at Pentecost, poured into our hearts and souls at baptism and confirmation — to mould us and shape us into the children of God, and send us out to preach the Good News to all nations.

Forty is a very significant number. In the Old Testament we read how the rains poured for forty days before the flood came and Noah boarded the ark to await a world renewed by the waters sent from Heaven. Moses fasted for forty days in order to prepare himself to meet God upon Mount Sinai and then spent another forty days atop the mountain to receive the Law from the Almighty. For forty years the people of Israel wandered in the desert before reaching the land promised to them. Elijah walked forty days and forty nights to reach Mount Horeb where he was to know God in the gentle whisper. In the life of Christ there were forty days between his nativity and his presentation in the temple, then the fasting for forty days and forty nights after his baptism, when he was led out into the desert to fast, to pray, and to do battle with Satan in order to prepare for the beginning of his public ministry. This we mirror in our own observance of the forty days of Lent. After his Resurrection from the dead, Our Lord was amongst his followers and friends and seen by all people for forty days before he ascended to Heaven, there to sit at the right hand of the Father.

Forty days, forty years, they all represent the passage of one thing to another — of God perfecting, preparing, changing us anew to make us fit for the next step he has in mind for us in our life with him. We come now, this Thursday, to the culmination of the forty days of Easter with the celebration of the Ascension. The scene of Christ being taken up to Heaven whilst the men of Galilee look on is one that has given rise to beautiful art, music, and those rather fun images and sculptures we sometimes find in churches of a pair of feet seemingly going through the roof. But those feet still bear the wounds of the cross — a reminder that it is the now glorified humanity of Christ that ascends — there to prepare for us the place he has promised us if indeed we are faithful to his commandments.

Life begins at forty we are told, or tell ourselves. The reality is more often, as one of the Fathers says, that just being alive begins to hurt at forty. In the Ascension however the life of the Church really does begin anew at this point, forty days after the Resurrection. The apostles, strengthend, comforted, and renewed by their encounter with the Risen Lord, see him go to prepare that place, and receive from him the Great Commission to preach the Good News and to baptise so that all people might know the Way to the place where on the Ascension he is going.

One might think there is something rather sad about the Ascension — but a parting of friends it is not. With the coming of the Holy Spirit sent by the Father and the Son the presence of God fills the Church and with it the earth. This is expressed in beautiful simplicity by the Penny Catechism:

Where is Jesus Christ?
As God, Jesus Christ is everywhere. As God made man, he is in heaven, and in the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar.

And this is why St Jean Vianney, the holy Curé of Ars, reminded his people that they were much more fortunate than those who lived in the time of Christ: they had to travels hours, days, weeks, to be in the presence of Jesus Christ but all we need to is to go to Church and there to find him in the tabernacle of the altar.

This Ascension we have that opportunity God so often gives us: the opportunity to begin again. To look, for just a moment, up at the Heaven he has won for us and the place that is there waiting for us. Then encouraged by this to go and preach the Good News in our own place, to win others to Christ by our efforts to love and to co-operate with all that Heaven sends us. The Ascension points us to Heaven and thus to the End — of Christ’s earthly ministry and where we hope to be when our life ends, but it is a beginning too. Our Cardinal, St John Henry Newman, wrote “Fear not that life shall come to an end, but rather fear that it shall never have a beginning”. Forty days after the Resurrection we begin again. We embark upon the ancient but ever new task that Christ places before us. May this Ascension be the proof for us that life really can begin at forty.