May 20 – Memorial for St. Bernadine of Siena, Priest
St. Bernadine (1381-1444) was a Friar Minor, a priest, an itinerant preacher, and a theological writer. His preaching skills were so great and the conversions so numerous, that he has become associated with all areas of speaking, advertising, public relations, etc.
Bernadine’s charismatic preaching filled the piazze of Italian cities. Thousands of listeners flocked to hear him and to participate in dramatic rituals, which included collective weeping, bonfires of vanities, and exorcisms. He was a renowned peacemaker, in the Franciscan tradition, who tried to calm feuding clans and factions in the turbulent political world of the Renaissance. His preaching visits would often culminate in mass reconciliations, as listeners were persuaded to exchange the bacio di pace, or kiss of peace.
Bernadine was sensitive to the demands of secular life, and tried to negotiate between Christian ethics and a conflicting code of honour that stressed retaining face in a public world. He argued that the catalyst of civil discord in the urban setting was malicious gossip, which led to insults, and, too often, vendetta by aggressive males. His surprising allies in his peacekeeping mission were the women who comprised the majority of his audience.
- Patron Saint Index
Acts 20:28-38
Jn 17:11-19
“There is more happiness in giving than in receiving.”
I visited St Peter’s Basilica recently. One of the things I kept thinking about was not simply its beauty, but the sense that everything there had been given by someone. The marble, the sculptures, the paintings, the soaring dome above the altar — none of it appeared suddenly. It exists because, across centuries, people offered their skill, labour, wealth, faith, and lives for something beyond themselves.
It is easy to look at St Peter’s Basilica and think first about grandeur or wealth. But walking through it slowly, I began to realise that the basilica is really a visible history of human giving. Artists spent years painting ceilings they would never see completed. Sculptors shaped marble that would outlast them. Workers lifted stone after stone for a church that future generations would inherit. Even the faithful who entered quietly to pray became part of that offering.
One monument, in particular, drew my attention. Near the south transept stands the funerary monument of Pope Alexander VII, designed by Bernini. The Pope kneels in prayer above four figures representing Charity, Prudence, Justice, and Truth. Beneath them emerges a skeletal figure of death, holding up an hourglass.
What struck me about the monument was that it does not glorify what the Pope possessed. It points instead to the virtues that should endure when time runs out. The skeleton at the lower part of the monument makes that impossible to ignore.
In today’s first reading, St Paul gathers the elders of Ephesus knowing it may be the last time he sees them. He reminds them how he lived among them, how he laboured, endured suffering, cared for the weak, and gave of himself constantly for the Gospel. And then he leaves them with these words from Christ: “There is more happiness in giving than in receiving.”
What is remarkable is that Paul speaks those words near the end of his ministry. At the moment when many people would think about what they have achieved or gained, Paul speaks instead about what he has given away. His joy is not found in possession, recognition, or security, but in self-gift.
I realise how different this is from the way I often think about happiness. So often, happiness feels connected to receiving more: more certainty, more comfort, more control over life. But St Paul presents another kind of happiness entirely — the happiness that comes from pouring oneself out for others.
And perhaps that is what St Peter’s Basilica reveals as well. Beneath the splendour is sacrifice. Beneath the beauty is offering. What survives across centuries is not merely wealth preserved, but love made visible through acts of giving.
The funerary monument of Alexander VII sharpens this even further. Charity, Prudence, Justice, and Truth stand above the figure of death because these are the things that remain meaningful when earthly life passes away. The hourglass beneath them becomes a question directed towards every person who walks past: when time runs out, what will remain of our lives? Not what we accumulated. Not what we controlled. But what we gave.
And that giving is often much quieter than the grandeur of basilicas or monuments. It is the giving of time to another person. Patience when we are tired. Forgiveness when wounded. Presence when someone is suffering. Faithfulness when no one notices.
And perhaps that is the deeper meaning of St Paul’s words. Giving is not simply an act of generosity. It is the way a human life begins to participate in something that outlasts death itself. The hourglass empties for every person. But charity endures. Love given away remains. And in Christ, nothing offered in love is ever truly lost.
(Today’s OXYGEN by Stacey Fernandez)
Prayer: Lord, teach us to give as You gave — freely, faithfully, and with love. May what we offer in this life lead others closer to You.
Thanksgiving: Lord, we thank You for all those whose lives were poured out in faith before us. May we too live not to keep, but to give.
OXYGEN 
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