St Mary's Catholic Church, Paisley

17/06/2026

In today’s reading from 2 Kings, we see a beautiful and tender moment: Elijah, the great prophet, is taken up to heaven, and Elisha is left standing there, watching his teacher, mentor, and spiritual father disappear from sight.
But Elijah does not leave Elisha empty-handed. His cloak falls to the ground.
That cloak is more than a piece of clothing. It is a sign of mission. It is a sign of trust. It is a sign that the work of God must continue.
Elisha picks up the cloak of Elijah, and in doing so, he accepts the calling that has been handed on to him. He does not simply admire Elijah from a distance. He does not simply mourn what has been lost. He takes up the cloak and steps forward.
And perhaps that is the invitation for us today.
Each of us, in different ways, has been handed a cloak. Maybe it came from a parent or grandparent who taught us how to pray. Maybe from a teacher who believed in us. Maybe from a priest, a friend, a spouse, or someone whose faith quietly shaped our own.
The question is: What will we do with the cloak we have been given?
Elisha could have left it on the ground. He could have said, “I’m not Elijah. I’m not strong enough. I’m not holy enough.” But instead, he trusted that the God who worked through Elijah could also work through him.
That is good news for us. God does not call perfect people. God calls willing people. People who are ready to pick up the cloak and continue the work of mercy, justice, compassion, and faith.
Today, we remember that the mission of God is always being handed on. From one generation to the next. From one heart to another. From Elijah to Elisha. And now, in some way, to us.
So let us ask for the grace to recognize the cloak God has placed before us — and the courage to pick it up.

16/06/2026

Over these last few days, many of us have seen on our televisions and across social media the joy, colour and spectacle that Scotland fans have brought to the World Cup. There has been music, laughter, friendship, and a kind of generous spirit that others have noticed and celebrated.
And perhaps that prompts a deeper reflection. Scotland, as a country, has given a great deal to the world: in engineering, economics, medicine, technology, literature and invention. We are, at our best, innovators, dreamers, explorers — people willing to cross seas, imagine new possibilities, and build things that last.
But Scotland has also given the world saints.
We think of the faith of Columba, carrying the Gospel across the waters. The tenacity of Ninian, planting the seeds of Christianity in difficult soil. The kindness and charity of Margaret, whose holiness was shown in service to the poor. And the courage of John Ogilvie, who remained faithful even when it cost him everything.
These saints remind us that the greatest gift any nation can offer the world is not only what it builds, discovers or invents, but the witness of lives rooted in Christ.
In today’s Gospel, the disciples are tired. They have been fishing all night and have caught nothing. Then the risen Jesus appears on the shore. He tells them to cast the net again, and suddenly it is full. And when they come ashore, Jesus has prepared breakfast for them.
It is such a simple, tender scene. The risen Lord does not give them a lecture. He does not begin with a grand speech. He gives them food. He welcomes them. He nourishes them.
That breakfast is a sign of everything God gives us: mercy after failure, hope after disappointment, abundance after emptiness, and love when we least expect it.
And the invitation today is this: having received so much from God, what will we give?
Like our saints, can we give faith in a world that often forgets God? Can we give kindness where there is bitterness? Can we give courage where there is fear? Can we give welcome, joy and generosity — not only when the world is watching, but in the quiet places of daily life?
Scotland has given much to the world. But each of us, in Christ, still has something to give.
And perhaps holiness begins there: not in doing something spectacular, but in hearing the voice of Jesus, casting the net once more, and sharing generously what we have received.

15/06/2026

15/06/2026

Congratulations to Monsignor Burke from Bishop John: I am sure you will join me in offering our congratulations, prayers and best wishes to Father Joe Burke on being honoured with the title and office of Chaplain to His Holiness. We are delighted that the Holy Father has chosen to recognise Monsignor Burke in this way, and in recognition of his many years of faithful service as a parish priest and as an officer of the diocesan Curia, first as Diocesan Treasurer and now as Vicar General. It is an honour well merited on account of Mgr. Joe’s faith and lifetime of commitment to the Church and the people of the diocese.

13/06/2026

This week's bulletin:

09/06/2026

A Homily for the Feast of St. Columba:

Today we celebrate St Columba: monk, missionary, poet, exile, peacemaker, and friend of Christ. Like so many saints, Columba’s holiness did not begin with perfection. It began with a heart that was restless, passionate, even wounded—and then slowly surrendered to God.
Columba left Ireland and crossed the sea to Iona. That journey was not simply geographical; it was spiritual. He left behind one life so that God could give him another. And from that small island, on the edge of things, the Gospel travelled outward with extraordinary power.
Pope Benedict, preaching in Glasgow in 2010, reminded the Church that faith is never merely a private possession. The Gospel is meant to shape a people, a culture, a way of living together. That is exactly what we see in Columba. His love for Christ became learning, prayer, hospitality, reconciliation, and mission. His monastery became a light—not because it was powerful in worldly terms, but because it was rooted in God.
That is a good reminder for us. We may feel, at times, that the Church stands on the edge of things. But the edges are often where God begins. Iona was an edge. Galilee was an edge. The Cross was an edge. And from those places, grace flowed.
So today, St Columba invites us to ask: Where is God sending me? What shore am I being asked to leave? What light am I being asked to carry?
We do not need to be famous missionaries. We begin where Columba began: with prayer, repentance, courage, and love. And if we allow Christ to convert our hearts, then our lives too can become small islands of light for others.
St Columba, pray for us.