Mission and Identity
- Blessing of the altar and opening of the Waterford Learning Centre
- Parish 'in' Council VI
- Stations of the Cross
Blessing of the altar and opening of the Waterford Learning Centre
‘Seek out Christ in all you do’ - Most Rev Anthony Randazzo DD JCL, Bishop of Broken Bay. As our new altar was blessed and our new building blessed and opened, the community rejoiced at the gift of Bishop Anthony celebrating this milestone with us.
As we gathered for Mass, the following was read as core symbols were brought forth to give context to our celebration:
'We gather to have our altar blessed. An altar is where heaven and earth meet.
Where the Holy Spirit descends and angels gather.
Where the food of eternal life is blessed, broken and shared.
It is the shining beacon and reminder that a funeral is not a good bye, but a see you soon, for those ‘who eat of His body and blood shall have eternal life’.
We call forth our Statue of St Pius X:
The beautiful altar before us, holds a relic of Pope St Pius X. Known as the Pope of the Eucharist, Pope St Pius X championed the eucharist as the source and summit of Catholic Life during times of great change. The piece of his bone that is recessed into the altar reminds us of our call to live a life of sacrificial love.
We call forth the light of the prophets:
Throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, altars were built by the prophets as spiritual vehicles for sacrifice, thanksgiving, divine encounters and were a perpetual reminder of God’s presence. Our spiritual ancestors, Abraham, Noah, Isaac, Jacob and Moses built altars to offer sacrifice to God.
We call forth the hands and feet of Christ:
Jesus’ body became both altar and bodily sacrifice as a divine offering to wash away the stain of sin and pay the cosmic debt for every time our decisions and actions have hurt others, creation and ourselves.
Lastly, we call forth the light of Our Lady, Mother of Jesus:
As the first apostle, a holy vessel, she was the first chalice to carry the blood of Christ.
Thank you to all who assisted us in celebrating this milestone.
Parish ‘in’ Council VI
‘Renewing our church building for future generations’. Congratulations to Fr David Ranson on the 6th iteration of this synodal journey. As the focus of discernment now turned to the physical building of the church, it was inspiring to hear from students at St Pius X and Mercy share their insights into the renewal of this shrine of hope.
Our Lady of Dolours Chatswood is a glorious place of worship, now in its second century. Today offered the opportunity for little ones through to wisdom figures in the community to collaborate and contribute to the renewal of this important house of prayer.
Grateful as always for the opportunity to listen, journey, collaborate and pray together.
Stations of the Cross
Today we commemorated the Stations of the Cross as the global Catholic community engage in this solemn tradition that recounts the core moments of Jesus’ Passion.
Students acted out the stations as ‘shadow stations’. This powerful silhouette model conveyed the key moment of each station.
Below are three testimonies shared by Mr Callow, Mr Balboa and Mr Di Sano that respond to some of the stations:
Unconditional love - Zeroth Station - Mr Callow
This scene isn’t about Jesus. It’s about His disciples and what Jesus has given them. They don’t truly know what Jesus has actually set in motion …all for them. They are unaware of the cost to Jesus giving His body and blood.
You may have heard people talk about giving their 'blood, sweat and tears', for something. My life has been so fortunate I don’t, or didn’t fully understand these sacrifices that some people need to make. The work they have to do, the tears they need to shed.
When I left the UK back in 1992, I travelled to New Zealand to start a new life. Not because I had to but because I wanted to. I still remember the look on my Mum’s face as the coach pulled away heading to the airport. But it was OK. She said 'You are always part of my life, but you need to make your own life.' I was given the blessing to go. I remember hearing her and Dad say, 'I can see why he likes it here,' when they visited. Everything was cool. And years passed. And now I have children. One in France, one in Canberra and now I know, they need to go, but boy does it hurt. Almost 6 years ago to the day today, on my last visit to see her she was talking about my uncle and how all his children and grandchildren were always around him and although she was not talking in judgement, I saw the raw cost she had paid.
As I left for the airport to come home, I saw my mum's face for the last time waving me off. And I recognised the look on her face. The same one from 33 years ago. The total and utter complete and unconditional love that comes with personal sacrifice.
I see Simons - The Fifth Station - Mr Balboa
At this fifth Station - Simon of Cyrene helps Jesus carry His cross - we witness something quietly powerful. A moment of interruption. A man, just passing by, pulled into someone else’s pain. Simon didn’t know Jesus. He didn’t ask to help. But he was there - and when the moment came, he stepped in.
There’s something deeply human in that moment. Jesus - worn out, bloody, struggling - is given help. Real, physical help. Not from a friend. Not from a disciple. But from a stranger. And somehow, that small act - just lifting part of the weight - becomes an act of immense love.
When I look at my own life, I see my Simons. People who stepped in when I was carrying more than I could handle - maybe even before I realised I needed help. A mate who sat beside me when I didn’t have the words. A teacher who saw something in me and refused to give up. A family member who gave without ever needing thanks.
These weren’t grand, heroic moments. But they were everything. They lifted something heavy, if only for a moment, and reminded me I didn’t have to carry it all alone.
In the Edmund Rice tradition, we speak often about standing with the other. It’s what Edmund did when he walked the streets of Waterford and gave dignity to boys the world had forgotten. It’s what we try to do when we notice the one who’s left out, when we show up for someone struggling - not because it’s convenient, but because it’s right.
Simon didn’t just lift the cross - he looked into the face of Christ. That’s the mystery of compassion. When we help someone carry their burden, we don’t just give something - we receive. We encounter Christ in the person who’s hurting. And if we’re truly present - if we really see them - they might just encounter Christ in us too.
This Station isn’t just a memory. It’s an invitation. To be interrupted. To notice. To carry.
And maybe most importantly - to allow others to carry us, too. Because strength isn’t always found in pushing through. Sometimes, it’s in letting someone step in. In saying, 'I can’t do this on my own.' And in that moment, the body of Christ becomes real - in every hand held out, in every burden shared.
So today, I thank God for the Simons in my life. And I pray for the courage to be one, too.
The Face of Compassion - The Sixth Station - Mr Di Sano
If you have seen the Mel Gibson inspired movie The Passion of the Christ, this Station of the Cross depicts the gruesome and violent scene when Jesus is relentlessly beaten, whipped and crowned by his Roman captors. It shows Jesus’s sufferance at its most heightened point, immediately before the humiliation of His crucifixion. Yet it also gives light to a most tender and loving moment, which the Gospels don’t mention but one which has been accepted in Western Christianity since it came to light in the Middle Ages period.
It is the story of Veronica, the woman who steps out of the crowd and wipes the face of Jesus with a cloth during his journey to Calvary. A moment of compassion amidst the chaos of suffering. According to tradition, the cloth she used to wipe Jesus’s face miraculously retained His image and became known as the Veil of Veronica. It was said to be kept at the Vatican and has inspired many pilgrimages to visit it, as well as much art and devotion.
Historically, there is no evidence Veronica existed. She is not mentioned in Scripture, yet the Church venerated her as a saint, albeit long before the current protocols for Sainthood existed. She materialises just as Jesus is carrying the cross, representing all our sins. Veronica could not help carrying the cross - that was a task God the Father sent His only begotten Son to do, but in the face of His sufferance, the story of her tenderness symbolises the compassion, courage and presence Jesus calls us to live out. Just as Veronica is said to have ministered to Jesus in that moment of despair, so we are called to minister to those around us and therefore directly minister to Jesus. In the words of Matthew 25:40 - for what you do to the least, you also do to me.
In the true spirit of Scriptural coincidence her name is a combination of the Latin Vera - meaning truth and icon, meaning image. So who was Veronica? She is you of course and she is me. She is every person who lives out the Gospel in every act of goodness and every gesture of love towards our neighbour that Jesus’ taught, and she reminds us of our obligation as Christians to respond to suffering with true courage and love, even when the cost is so high.
This Easter, to whom will you reveal your Veil of Veronica?
We wish everyone a safe and holy Easter. May the light of the Resurrection pierce into the furthest reaches of your life and bring renewal and healing.
Mr Daniel Petrie - Assistant Principal, Mission and Identity