22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (C): Homily / Sermon

For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the man who humbles himself will be exalted.

(Luke 14:11)

If you've been away this summer, you may have done some summer reading. And if you didn’t go prepared, the airports, the motorway service areas,  and the railway stations (as I prefer to call them) give us plenty of suggestions for us to choose from. 

Many of course include the murder mysteries or the thrillers, the romances or the biographies of celebrities. But there are others: the self-help books, full of advice, hints and tips and strategies for a full, fulfilling, and successful life. Sometimes they have a business orientation, but just as often they are about life itself "10 ways to be happy and successful". They make it all sound simple and achievable. 

People sometimes presume that scripture works in the same way. They look to the teaching of Jesus - and other parts of Scripture - for wise advice on how to live a good, happy, and of course successful life. 

And indeed there is some of that to be found. 

The Ten Commandments provide a very sound basis for social life. 

If you want to avoid embarrassment at a social event - and indeed even draw positive attention to yourself, then sitting lower down the table might be very effective. 

And there are other examples too - "Turn the other cheek", Jesus says - While hitting back may seem the natural thing to do, every teacher knows that it will not solve problems or even heal hurts. "An eye for an eye makes everyone blind," as Ghandi once said. Refusing to retaliate may be a very powerful act of defiance, especially in the face of a much more powerful foe. 

However, even having said this, life is often too complicated to allow this to be effective every time. Jesus might encourage us to be peaceful, and not to make our giving self-serving, and to assist those in greater need that ourselves, but no one, not even the most holy, suggests that we should only invite the neediest to our family celebrations, or allow exploitation and injustice to continue. 

The trouble is, the advice which Jesus gives us sometimes appears unrealistic and impractical. When violence is used against us, we are told - it seems - to grin and bear it, when exploited we should "carry the pack for an extra mile", and when we organise a party - as he tells us in today's Gospel - we should invite only those who cannot repay the favour. 

These directions seem to fly in face of common sense, and might even be thought to contradict other things that Jesus said. How can we truly “turn the other cheek” and yet still “hunger and thirst for righteousness sake"? 

The problem for us in reading these stories is that we are looking for the self-help guide, the handbook for daily life. And for the modern reader and listener this teaching should be sound advice but more often it seems like dangerous foolery. And we see it like this because we are not looking far enough ahead - we are looking for instant results and outcomes. 

St Luke makes it clear at the beginning of this passage that this is a "parable" - not a story, so much, but a comparison. Jesus is not writing a self-help book, but explaining the nature of God's Kingdom. He is not giving us a homespun vision, a list of hints and tips for living a good life, but inspiring us, and presenting us with a hope. 

The Kingdom of God - he is telling us - is a place where all have their dignity, the poor and the disabled, alongside all others. It is a place where no one should seek a special place because of their wealth or status. It is a place where virtue, good living, not social position matter most. It is a place of peace, not violence, reconciliation, not conflict. 

The problems with the self-help book is that it is self-indulgent. It hoodwinks us into thinking that we can indeed help ourselves and if we just have the right ideas and the right tools, nothing is beyond us. 

The vision of the Kingdom of God is different. We realise that we are imperfect, in need of forgiveness, and can achieve nothing without the help of God's grace. 

This is both a future reality and present vision. It challenges and inspires us - it liberates us, but it doesn't limit us. It is something which can only be fully be realised at the end of time, but which should drive our thoughts and actions now. 

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time (C) : Homily / Sermon

Men from east and west, from north and south, will come to take their places at the feast in the kingdom of God. (Luke 13:29)

When we read in the Gospels of people from east and west, north and south - all over the world - coming in to the kingdom, and when we hear of the apostles being sent out to the whole world, we are reading this through the eyes of hundreds of years of Christian history - a history in which our faith spread from Palestine to Asia, Asia to Europe, Europe to Africa and the New World. We know a history of martyrs who died in Japan, Uganda and Peru. We know of Churches built almost from nothing in Fiji, Scandinavia and even in Cannock. It is a remarkable story - a remarkable set of stories. Christianity is now followed by about a quarter of the world, is known in almost every country, and Catholicism is by far its largest representative. 

But the words in today’s Gospel were spoken and written down long before all that. They were spoken when Jesus’ followers were quite a small group, popular amongst the people, but with an uneasy relationship with the authorities. And they were written down when Christians were already persecuted, considered either a novelty or even a perversion by the society of the time, living in small communities separated by long distances, held together by strong leaders and the many letters which travelled the roads of the Roman Empire.

And yet there was this extraordinary hope: this vision of   Jesus, of a kingdom peopled by those from all over the world; the vision of the Apostles, sent out with few resources to call those people to join them; the vision of the Church, which has never ceased, boldly and in the face of continuing opposition and persecution to proclaim the truth and call people to its communion.  

We live in society where we are encouraged to forget that vision. We encounter not so much persecution, but indifference and ridicule. We are not painted as a dangerous novelty, as still and yet again in so many parts of the world, but more like a spent force from past ages. 

And we worry about declining numbers, a shortage of priests, the dropping off of practice of those who go by the name Catholic. 

Yet they had it much more difficult. Fewer numbers. Greater hardship. Tough times. 

Yet they had a hope, a dream, a vision, for the Kingdom of God, the truth of the Gospel, the certainty of their hope, the realisation of the growth and prosperity of the Church. 

And they were right!

20th Sunday in Ordinary Time (C) : Homily / Sermon

I have come to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were blazing already! (Luke 12:49)

St Catherine of Siena said “Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.”

Fire is a tremendously powerful thing. And it represents many things to us.

Firstly, it is is comforting.

When we gather in front of the fire, we feel its warmth and a sense of security. If we gather around a camp fire there is a strong sense of community. One of the less positive aspects of central heating is that we no longer need the fire in our homes for warmth - yet we still enjoy the logs and the coal fire, especially on a windy, rainy or snowy day. The fire and the hearth speak of home, and comfort and love.

And this is true also of course of our faith. It is a comfort in times of sorrow and distress. It is a refuge for the weak, and not so weak. It is our home, our assurance of God's love, our hope for life beyond this life.

Yet, secondly, fire is destructive, and because of this, it is also purifying.

Fire can cause terrible damage yet this very power to destroy is also purifying. Fire burns away the dross. It destroys the rubbish, and leaves behind what is really valuable. 

The assayer’s fire purifies precious metals. The potters fire bakes the pots and fixes the glaze. The gardener’s fire burns away waste, destroys harmful bacteria.

And similarly, the fire of the faith casts away the darkness of sin. It reveals the truth, dissipates falsehood and dispels injustice. 

This can be a very painful process. “Do you suppose I come to bring peace on earth?” 

Jesus asks. 

This fire can be divisive and hurtful. Faith, truth, honesty, compassion sometimes divide friends, families, and communities. 

Faith will bring comfort - but it’s coming may not be comfortable. Christ brings fire to the earth, and in a purifying fire, something and someone will surely get burnt.

Yet, finally, fire is also transforming.

The coal which was hewn from the ground round here went to fire the furnaces, the foundries, and the factories of the Black Country, the West Midlands, and beyond. Trains crossed the nation and and ships crossed continents, powered by its fire. And still today, though not so much from coal, fire powers our cars, generates our electricity and cooks our food - especially the Sunday roast we look forward too. It is a great power which does not only destroy, but it also changes, transforms, renews. And when we are strongly motivated, angry or in love, we say that we have fire within.

And so, the fire of faith must burn in our hearts. It enthuses us, encourages us, enlivens us, transforms us. It is no coincidence that when the Spirit was given to the apostles at Pentecost he is described as 'tongues of flame', or when Jesus met the disciples on the road to Emmaus they described their feeling as a burning within. Neither it is coincidence that the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Our Lady are so often pictured as hearts surrounded by flames.

The fire of faith moves us, enlivens us, and consumes us. It brings us comfort. It challenges, disturbs and purifies us. And it changes and transforms us. St Catherine of Siena intended all these senses when she  said “Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.” - And she was only echoing what Jesus says to us in today’s Gospel: “I have come to bring fire to the earth and how I wish it were blazing already”.

The Assumption of Our Lady

“The Almighty has done great things for me. Holy is his name” (Luke 1:49)

Here is a sort of quiz question: name ten people of acknowledged greatness: a great composer, a great artist, a great poet, a great novelist, a great engineer, a great scientist, a great inventor, a great campaigner for social justice, a great political leader, a great philosopher, a great musician. 

Do this quickly, the first name that comes into your head, and your list might sound something like mine: 

Beethoven, Michelangelo, Wordsworth, Dickens, Brunel, Rutherford, Edison, Wilberforce, Churchill, and Aristotle.

Well there’s no right or wrong answer, and there may be as many different lists as there are people here but if I were a gambling man I’d be prepared to bet that most lists would like be much like mine: and this list of the great and the good, as many of you may have noticed is made up entirely of white men of European birth or descent. 

I wonder how many of you had more than one or two women in your list? And yet it is entirely possible: 

a great composer: Hildegard von Bingen 

a great artist: Elizabeth Siddal

a great poet: Sylvia Plath

a great novelist: Jane Austen

a great engineer: Emily Roebling

a great scientist: Marie Curie

a great inventor: Beulah Louise Henry

a great campaigner: Rosa Parks

a great political leader: Boudicca

a great philosopher: Hypatia of Alexandria

And of course there are lots of others who could have been included. 

We are being encouraged nowadays to rediscover those who were great and yet almost forgotten, not only women of course, but also those born or having a heritage outside Europe and those from other backgrounds. The debate sometimes centres round names in school textbooks, public statues, and faces on banknotes. 

With this debate going on, sometimes in a controversial and very heated way, as Catholics we might feel a little less uncomfortable than others, perhaps even a little smug. Great figures in our history and amongst our saints are capable, intelligent, often impressive women: Hildegard of Bingen, Hilda of Whitby, Catherine of Siena, St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (St Edith Stein). And of course, at the very centre of our faith, and our life of prayer and liturgy is Our Blessed Lady herself,  The Immaculate Conception, the Mother of God. And it is her who we celebrate today, her assumption into heaven, her sharing already in the Resurrection. 

But perhaps when we consider Our Lady among the great and good there there is something of problem. Certainly she is famous. Certainly she is a notable figure in the Christian story. But can we really say that Mary is amongst the Great, alongside those with so many extraordinary abilities, accomplishments and achievements? 

It was as a young jewish girl that she became pregnant with Jesus of Nazareth. No doubt she knew her faith, but she was probably unschooled, probably never learnt to read or write.  She invented nothing, built nothing, nor created any works of art; she composed nothing, led nothing, campaigned for nothing. There is no record of her expressing views or ideas or opinions. Her words which are recorded for us in scripture are very few. All she did, really, was become and be a Mother. Like so many others. She was, surely, very Ordinary. 

And yet, herein lies her greatness. The greatness to which God called her. The greatness which he works in her. 

You see, in a way, there is almost nothing you can say about Mary that you cannot say about ourselves. 

Like her, we are created by God, chosen by God from the first moments of our existence. Like her, he has given us a work to do. God brings us, like her, from this sinful world into his plan of salvation. Through baptism and the Eucharist, Christ dwells in us, much as he dwelt in her. Like her, we pray for others. Like her, we are called to share in the resurrection life. 

She is humanity, protected and perfected. 

She did not need to do great works, she just had to be, So that we can say with her: Let it be done to me according to your word … he has looked upon his lowly servant … the Almighty has done great things for me. 

The Great and the Good works, the achievements of humanity, these are the works of God himself, in us. These are the wonders of his grace. 

It was just as St Catherine of Siena said “Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.”

Mary was who she was meant to be, and she sets the world on fire! 

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time (C) : Homily / Sermon

"If the householder had known at what hour the burglar would come, he would not have let anyone break through the wall of his house."  (Luke 12:38)

Photo by Victor Garcia on Unsplash

If you’ve even been burgled, you might have some idea of what he means. Though it is usually a case of closing the stable door when the horse has bolted, once someone has entered your house and stolen from you, you become very aware that it could happen again, that the visitors may return, and though they probably won’t, you fear them and try to be ready for them. 

Jesus certainly has a way with words, and in his teaching he uses examples, makes comparisons with life which are sometimes strange and sometimes shocking. 

He compares the faithful Christian to a fraudulent steward; 

he compares God listening to our prayers, to the bad tempered neighbour reluctant to stir from sleep, 

He says the rich, privileged and respected members of society will find it as hard to enter heaven as a camel could pass through the eye of a needle,

and here he says that the coming of the Son of Man, the return of Jesus at the end of time, will be like the visit of an unexpected burglar. 

Why does Jesus use this image? 

It is unfortunate, I think, that Christians who have tried to take passages like this seriously, have often concentrated on the wrong thing. They have focussed on the day and the time when Jesus will return: the end is nigh, they have proclaimed at street corners, from sandwich boards and sometimes on our doorsteps, because of course there is little point talking about the day and the time of Jesus’ return unless it is very soon. 

But the point of all these passages is not the date and the time for the second coming of Christ but of our readiness to meet him. 

It is not about watching clocks, but healing hearts. 

Here is the question he asks: are we prepared for him? Are we ready to greet him? The trouble is, much as we want to meet Christ we are never quite ready for him. It was St Augustine who said "Lord, give me chastity, but not yet!" We want to delay the moment, put off the day. The great Roman Emperor Constantine, the one who took Christianity from an illegal practice to the official religion, was baptised only on his deathbed. Others too, wait till moments of safety or the quietness of a kind of retirement to take the Big Step. 

We are good at putting things off: while we are on holiday we can be absolutely certain we will be dieting in January, going dry in February, and giving up smoking in Lent, but today … today … we will carry on as usual. 

And the same is true of our spiritual lives: so many of us, perhaps most of us, make compromises and excuses, and  tell ourselves we’ll sort it out later. 

Yes, the fear of the burglar passes, and as we settle back into our routine. We cut corners again and take chances, forget to bolt the doors, and lock the windows. 

But for Christ we must always be vigilant - not because he might catch us out, but because it is right to be ready now. Honesty cannot wait for our death beds. Compassion does not only come with contrition. Saying sorry is easy, but living a caring, devoted and prayerful life requires something more. 

Our good intentions, our virtues, Are not tomorrow’s todo list, for some later life, after life, but for now, because God is with us not only tomorrow, but very much today.