The Road to Sainthood

All Saints — called, blessed and gathered by God

Becoming Present to God

Not long ago, I watched someone arrive at church in a great hurry—checking their phone, searching for their glasses and wondering where they had left the car keys. Then they sat down, took a breath and became still. Nothing dramatic happened. But the rushing stopped, and there was room to listen.

Perhaps that small moment tells us something about sainthood. We may imagine it begins with something extraordinary. Yet the stories of holy men and women suggest that it usually begins somewhere very ordinary: with a heart willing to become quiet before God. We come to prayer carrying our plans and worries. But when we become still, even for a moment, we make room for the Holy Spirit. The more present we become to God, the more truly present we can become to one another—and through that loving attention, another person may glimpse God’s welcome.

Blessed in the Ordinary

That is the invitation of the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:1–12). Jesus calls blessed those who know how much they need God: the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, and those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. This does not mean life is easy. It means God meets us in our poverty, sorrow and longing. As we receive that grace, our hearts change. We learn to be merciful, pure in heart and ready to make peace. Little by little, God changes us from the inside out.

Children of God

Saint John tells us to “see what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God”—“and that is what we are” (1 John 3:1–3). Our journey into holiness begins not with what we achieve, but with what God gives. We are his children; we belong to him. And when Christ is revealed, John says, “we will be like him, for we will see him as he is”. Christian hope is not only about the future. It is about allowing Christ to shape us now, little by little, into his likeness.

A Multitude No One Could Count

The Book of Revelation shows us where this journey is leading. Saint John first hears the symbolic number of one hundred and forty-four thousand, expressing the completeness of God’s people. Then he sees “a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages”, standing before the Lamb (Revelation 7:4, 9–12). This is not an exclusive gathering. It is the fulfilment of God’s promise and of our baptism: people from every nation and language gathered and brought close to God.

A People of Praise and Mercy

And we are called to join their song: “Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honour and power and might be to our God for ever and ever” (Revelation 7:12). Our praise is expressed not only in church or in words. It becomes visible whenever we show mercy, make peace, comfort someone who is grieving or stand beside someone who is struggling. That, too, is worship.

We can live this way because the Lamb has first loved and saved us. Revelation speaks of those whose robes have been washed in the blood of the Lamb (Revelation 7:14). The psalm speaks of those who long to see God’s face, who have clean hands and a pure heart (Psalm 24:3–6). We do not make ourselves holy by sheer effort. Holiness is God’s gracious work in us: forgiving our sins, cleansing our hands and renewing our hearts.

Fellow Pilgrims on the Road

So perhaps the desire to become a saint is our response to God’s promise to recreate and renew us. When we become silent, still and present, God meets us with a love that steadies us. He reminds us that we are his beloved children and that we do not walk alone. We are fellow pilgrims, learning together to receive his blessing and share it. May the saints encourage us. May their prayers accompany us. And may Christ bring to completion the good work he has begun in each one of us.

Fr. John Armstrong

“The intellectual quest is exquisite, like pearls and coral. But it is not the same as the spiritual quest. The spiritual quest is on another level altogether. Spiritual wine has a subtler taste. The intellect and the senses investigate cause and effect. The spiritual seeker surrenders to wonder.” (Rumi Wisdom; trans. Timothy Freke)

A family was sitting around the dinner table when one person said, “You never listen to me.” The other replied, “Of course I do. I heard every word you said.” But the first person said, “Yes, you heard the words, but you didn’t hear what I was trying to tell you.” We have probably all had a moment like that. We can hear someone’s voice without really listening to their heart. While they are still speaking, we may already be planning our reply, defending ourselves, or holding on to the one sentence that proves our point.

That is very close to what is happening in today’s Gospel. The Pharisees come to Jesus with polite words and a reasonable-sounding question about taxes. But they are not really looking for wisdom. They are listening for something they can use against him. So, before we even hear Jesus’ answer, the Gospel asks us a question: when we come to the Lord, are our hearts open? Are we ready to be taught and changed, or do we simply want Jesus to agree with what we have already decided?

Listening like that is not easy. All of us hear things through our own fears, assumptions and past experiences. With so many voices competing for our attention, how do we recognise the voice that is true, honest and life-giving?

God Calls Us by Name

Isaiah gives us a place to begin. He speaks about gates being opened, and we might think of them as the doors of the heart. God calls each of us by name. Beneath all the noise, it is God’s voice that gives life, meaning and direction. If we stop listening for that voice, it is very easy to lose our way.

Isaiah also reminds us that God is present from the rising of the sun to its setting. So, it is worth asking: whose voice fills my day? There are plenty of voices competing for our attention. Prayer helps us come back to the one voice that matters most. It recentres us and helps us live the whole day as an offering to God.

A Faith That Becomes Thanksgiving

Saint Paul takes this a step further. He reminds the Thessalonians that prayer and daily life belong together. If we are truly thankful for what God has given us, that gratitude will show itself in the way we treat people—in generosity, patience and love.

Faith is not something we keep tucked away for ourselves. The love we receive from God is meant to be shared. The Good News is not just a set of beautiful words. It is the Holy Spirit at work among us, shaping who we are and the way we serve.

Whose Image Do We Bear?

Now we can come back to the question the Pharisees put to Jesus. They want him either to oppose the authorities or to make it sound as though Caesar comes before God. It is a clever trap. And perhaps their question still feels familiar: how do we live our faith in a society that does not always understand or share it?

Jesus answers, “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God.” He is not asking us to choose between being responsible citizens and faithful disciples. The coin bears Caesar’s image, but we bear the image of God. We meet our responsibilities in the world, but our deepest loyalty, our conscience and our whole life belong to the Lord.

A Question for the Week

So here is a simple question to take into the week ahead: which voice is shaping my life? Is it the loudest voice, the most demanding voice, or the voice of God? Are we allowing the Lord to shape the way we speak, listen, choose and serve?

The Lord is not asking us to step away from the world. He asks us to live in it with faith, gratitude and love. May he open our hearts, help us recognise his voice, and teach us to bear his image more clearly in the way we live each day. Amen.

Fr. John Armstrong

“The intellectual quest is exquisite, like pearls and coral. But it is not the same as the spiritual quest. The spiritual quest is on another level altogether. Spiritual wine has a subtler taste. The intellect and the senses investigate cause and effect. The spiritual seeker surrenders to wonder.” (Rumi Wisdom; trans. Timothy Freke)

Most of us have driven past a vineyard at some time. Here in Australia, we are blessed with many of them, and with winemakers who really know the land. They look at the slope of the hill, the amount of sun, the soil and the kind of grape that will grow best there. It takes knowledge, certainly, but it also takes patience. You cannot hurry a vine. You plant it carefully, tend it faithfully and wait for it to bear fruit.

God’s Loving Care

That is the picture Isaiah gives us in the first reading. God prepares a vineyard for his people. He chooses good ground, clears away the stones and plants the finest vines. In other words, God does everything he can for the vineyard to flourish. He gives it every chance to produce good fruit.

But what happens? Instead of good grapes, the vineyard produces sour ones. We all know that reaction: one taste, a quick wince, and the glass goes back on the table. Something is not right. Isaiah is asking us to look at our own lives in the same honest way. God has given us so much—his love, his mercy, his word and one another. So, what kind of fruit are we producing?

A Gift, Not a Possession

Jesus takes the image a step further. A landowner entrusts his vineyard to tenants. He gives them a place to work, a crop to care for and a harvest to share. But little by little, they forget that the vineyard is a gift. They begin to behave as though it belongs entirely to them. They mistreat the owner’s servants and finally reject his son. When Jesus asks what should happen, the crowd gives a severe answer—and then realises that the story is about them. It is about us too. Everything we have is entrusted to us. Jesus wants us to receive those gifts gratefully, care for them faithfully and use them to bear good fruit.

What Are We Giving Our Attention To?

Saint Paul then gives us some very practical advice: “Do not worry.” Now, that does not mean our troubles are imaginary or that life is always easy. Paul is saying: bring it all to God. Bring the worry, the disappointment, the family concern, the uncertainty—bring everything to God in prayer. And then, he says, turn your attention towards what is true, good, just, pure, loving and worthy of praise. Because what fills our minds will gradually shape our hearts, and what shapes our hearts will shape the way we live.

Listening for the Right Voice

On Tuesday, we had the opportunity to meet Dom Christopher Jamison, a Benedictine monk. He spoke about the three Benedictine vows: stability, obedience and conversatio morum, which means the daily conversion of life. He also spoke about what is sometimes called the “attention economy”. So many voices are competing for our attention—the phone, the news, advertising, social media and all the noise around us. That raises an important question: whose voice are we listening to? What words are shaping us? The Christian life is not simply about occupying a place in the world. It is about becoming the people God calls us to be and bearing good fruit where he has planted us. That happens through prayer, through listening to God’s word and through honest conversations with the people around us.

A Question for the Week Ahead

So here is a question we might carry with us this week: What am I giving my attention to, and what kind of fruit is it producing in me? Each of us has a little patch of the vineyard to care for—our home, our family, our parish, our friendships and the ordinary responsibilities of each day. Let us ask the Lord for the grace to listen to his voice, to care well for what he has entrusted to us and to bear fruit that others can recognise as goodness, peace and love.

Fr. John Armstrong

“The intellectual quest is exquisite, like pearls and coral. But it is not the same as the spiritual quest. The spiritual quest is on another level altogether. Spiritual wine has a subtler taste. The intellect and the senses investigate cause and effect. The spiritual seeker surrenders to wonder.” (Rumi Wisdom; trans. Timothy Freke)

The Same Work, but Different Reasons

Most of us know that the same job can mean very different things to different people. Imagine three street cleaners having a cup of tea at the end of the day. Someone asks them, ‘Why do you do this work?’

The first says, ‘It pays the bills and gives me enough to enjoy life. I am saving for a surfing trip to Bali.’ The second says, ‘I do it for my family. I want food on the table and a good education for my children.’ The third says, ‘I want our town to be a good place to live. I like meeting the people along the way, hearing their stories, and helping our streets feel cared for.’

All three are doing the same work. All three are doing something worthwhile. But each one sees the work through a different window.

God’s Generosity Is Greater Than Our Measure

That is close to what Jesus places before us in today’s Gospel. Workers are called into the vineyard at different hours. Some arrive early and carry the burden of the day. Others come much later. At the end, the landowner gives each one the same wage. We can understand why those who started early grumble. We might have felt the same. ‘Surely, after all these hours, we deserve more.’

But Jesus is not giving us a lesson in payroll. He is showing us the heart of God. The vineyard belongs to God, the invitation comes from God, and the reward is God’s gift. No one earns a larger share of God’s love by having arrived first.

The Parish Is God’s Vineyard

That speaks directly to us as a parish, especially as we celebrate fifty years of parish life. Some people here remember their early days. You helped establish the community, organize the first gatherings, teach children faith, care for the grounds, prepare the liturgy, visit the sick, raise funds, and make sure there was always a cup of tea and someone to welcome a newcomer. Much of that faithful work was quiet and unseen, but it laid good foundations.

Others have joined the parish more recently. Some have moved into the area. Some have returned to Mass after many years. Some may still be wondering whether this is truly home. I have arrived rather late in the parish story, perhaps at the eleventh hour. Yet the Gospel says that every one of us is called into the same vineyard and welcomed by the same generous God.

Holding the Gate Open for Others

So, our jubilee is not only a time to look back with gratitude. It is also time to ask what kind of parish we are becoming. Are we a community where the long-standing parishioner and the person at Mass for the first time can stand beside one another? Are we ready to make room for the family that arrives late, the person who does not know when to sit or stand, the child who makes a little noise, the grieving person, the lonely person, or the person who is simply trying to find their way back to God?

Sometimes in parish life we can begin to think, ‘I have been here longer. I have done more. I know how things are done.’ Experience is a gift, and faithful service deserves our gratitude. But experience becomes even more beautiful when it helps another person find a place. The best way to honour those who built our parish is not to close the gate behind them. It is to hold the gate open for the next person whom God is inviting in.

Making Christ Visible in Our Parish

Saint Paul gives us another simple measure. He says, ‘For me to live is Christ,’ and he asks that our everyday lives be worthy of the Gospel. In parish terms, that means Christ should be visible not only at the altar, but also at the church door, in the car park, in our meetings, at morning tea, in the parish office, in our care for the sick, and in the way we speak about one another when we disagree.

The Ordinary Work of the Kingdom

The work of the vineyard is often very ordinary. It is learning someone’s name. It is noticing who is standing alone. It is making a phone call. It is bringing a meal. It is forgiving an old hurt. It is inviting a young family to become involved. It is thanking the person who quietly does the same task week after week. These small acts may not look dramatic, but they make the Kingdom of God visible among us.

The prophet Isaiah reminds us to seek the Lord while he is still near and to return to the God who is rich in forgiving. Perhaps today the Lord is near to us in the person sitting a few seats away. Perhaps the invitation to return is meant for someone who has felt on the edge of parish life. Perhaps God is asking each of us to put aside comparison and rediscover gratitude.

A Parish with the Generous Heart of God

As we celebrate the years behind us and look towards the years ahead, let us remember this: the parish is not ours to possess. It is God’s vineyard, and we are blessed to work in it together. Some began early. Some came later. Others are still on the road. But the Lord continues to go out, hour after hour, calling people in.

May we become a parish with the same generous heart as God, grateful for those who have laboured faithfully, ready to welcome those who arrive at the eleventh hour, and willing to use our hearts, our heads and our hands so that every person may discover a home here and encounter the love of Christ.

Fr. John Armstrong

“The intellectual quest is exquisite, like pearls and coral. But it is not the same as the spiritual quest. The spiritual quest is on another level altogether. Spiritual wine has a subtler taste. The intellect and the senses investigate cause and effect. The spiritual seeker surrenders to wonder.” (Rumi Wisdom; trans. Timothy Freke)

What are the foundations on which we build our faith? Today’s readings gently bring us back to the heart of the Christian life: our care for one another. In Ezekiel, God is not inviting us to stand over others in judgement, but to love them enough to be concerned for their life, their choices, and their journey with God. Faith is never just private. It draws us into responsibility, tenderness, and courage.

When we hear this reading, we can hear the Lord asking us to become companions for one another in faith, hope, and love. This is the kind of community God is forming among us: not a community quick to criticise, but one ready to heal; not a community that gives up on people, but one that keeps believing that grace can still do beautiful things in every human heart.

Of course, we can only become a reconciling community when we remember our own need for mercy. Each of us stands before God as someone loved, forgiven, and still being healed. That is why the sacrament of reconciliation is not simply about naming our faults. It is about opening our lives to the mercy of God and then becoming people through whom that same mercy can reach others.

Listening with Open Hearts

The psalm gives us a simple but searching prayer: “If today you hear God’s voice, harden not your hearts.” We know how easily the heart can become hardened — through disappointment, weariness, resentment, or fear. Sometimes we grumble. Sometimes we lose hope. Sometimes we let the faults of others become louder than the voice of God.

But the Lord never stops calling us to good pasture. He calls us to a place of nourishment, rest, honesty, and renewal. When we listen to his voice, our hearts become softer. We begin to see others with more patience. We begin to see ourselves with more humility. And little by little, grace teaches us how to love again.

The Debt of Mutual Love

St Paul gives us a beautiful way of thinking about Christian life. He says that the only debt we should carry is the debt of mutual love. Love is not a burden that weighs us down; it is the holy obligation that keeps us human, keeps us connected, and keeps us close to the heart of Christ.

This love seeks the good of the other. It does not ask, “What can I get?” but “How can I help this person come closer to life, goodness, and peace?” In a parish, in a family, in any community, this kind of love builds trust. It creates space for respect, compassion, and forgiveness. And it begins with allowing God to love us first, so that his love may flow through us to those around us.

Christ Present in Difficult Conversations

In the Gospel, Jesus gives us a promise full of comfort: “Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” He does not promise to be present only when everything is easy or when everyone agrees. He promises to be with us even in the difficult conversations, the awkward moments, and the painful work of reconciliation.

That is a deeply pastoral word for us. Sometimes love means having the courage to speak, not to shame or condemn, but to help someone find their way back. True correction, in the Christian sense, is never about winning an argument. It is about saving a relationship, restoring dignity, and opening a path toward conversion and healing.

St Paul reminds us that love does no harm to a neighbour. So perhaps the question for us today is this: how do we love one another when someone is struggling, drifting, or losing direction? We do it by walking with them, by listening with them, and by trusting that Christ is already present wherever two or three gather in his name.

Today, let us ask the Lord for hearts that are not hardened but open: open to his voice, open to his mercy, and open to one another. May we become a community where people are not written off but gently called back to life; a community where love speaks the truth with tenderness; a community where Christ is recognised in our midst, guiding us home to the Father.

Fr. John Armstrong

“The intellectual quest is exquisite, like pearls and coral. But it is not the same as the spiritual quest. The spiritual quest is on another level altogether. Spiritual wine has a subtler taste. The intellect and the senses investigate cause and effect. The spiritual seeker surrenders to wonder.” (Rumi Wisdom; trans. Timothy Freke)