Sunday 18 May 2025.
Fifth Sunday of Easter.
Our Lady Immaculate
I felt hungover in church this morning. Very ropey. Like the effects of six pints and a kebab the night before, along with a bad night’s sleep. Shutting my eyes was a blessing.
Maybe not hungover. Excessive drinking hadn’t put me in this state, just excessive Eurovision.
It’s not that my wife takes it too seriously, but I overdid it on the Estonian herring salad, the Armenian bulgar wheat mix, the Spanish tortilla, the Maltese bigilla dip, and the Greek orange cake (two pieces). I also didn’t need that many Polish Paluszki. Or the strobe lighting.
It was past midnight when the scores were tallied (Eurovision could learn a thing or two from Conclave). The young Austrian lad won it with a song I struggled to remember even after referring to my homemade Eurovision score sheet. We skipped the encore and crawled to bed.
Safeguarding Sunday meant a pastoral letter from the Archbishop was read aloud in place of the regular homily.
It was important of course, and emphasised the responsibility all of us have, rather than just a handful of people in charge. The unfortunate reality is this hasn’t always been the case.
But there’s something about these extra-curricular matters that take us away from the divine and back into the secular world. Necessary but unfortunate. A missed opportunity to be elevated out of the secular, away from the Gospel, which I couldn’t now remember.
And I needed some of the divine after the secular European Fest Day that is Eurovision.
It was only on Monday that I caught onto the homily.
“As I have loved you, so you should love one another.”
Suddenly I got it. A day late, but I got it.
Back home I switched on the Mass for the Initiation of the Petrine Ministry of the Bishop of Rome Leo XIV. Thousands of people gathered in St Peter’s Square for our new Pope’s inauguration (I phrase that still doesn’t come naturally to me), partitioned in blocks of colour.
I watched as long lines of priests were dispatched, even along the Via della Conciliazione, to give communion to the tens of thousands who had gathered, even too far away to see or hear the ceremony. What a remarkable thing.