First Sunday of Lent : Homily / Sermon

‘Having exhausted all these ways of tempting him, the devil left him, to return at the appointed time.’ (Luke 4:13)

These are menacing words, don’t you think? Defeated now, the devil slinks away, but not for long. He’s off to bide his time, wait for a while, lurk in the shadows, never too far away, just looking for his opportunity.
But we live in an age where people struggle with the idea of the devil. A man in a red suit with a long curly tail? Really!

And sure enough, even religious people, especially religious people, do not believe the devil exists. We surround ourselves with such a comfortable notion of faith, a God of love, the Good Shepherd, the forgiving Father. Wickedness and evil seem so far from what our faith and our idea of God is all about, that is it just so difficult to understand how he could allow there even to be a Devil.

And this is dangerous stuff. Fighting an enemy who you don’t believe exists, is wrestling with shadows.
It was the writer CS Lewis, I think, who said that the devil’s greatest achievement was convincing people that he doesn’t exist. We must not fall into that trap.

It’s not that we need to believe that he’s red and has horns and the tail, that he lives under the earth in fire and brimstone. But if we stop believing that evil can be a power, and even have a mind and a will, if we don’t recognise that the life of faith is a struggle and that obstacles often fall in our way, if we don’t accept that when bad things happen it may not be God’s will but might in fact be ill will, if we don’t accept these - then there is no battle to be fought, no struggle to be won. We are like those without hope.
He skulks in the shadows, waits in the darkness - and we may not even realise he is there.
Lent is our time in the wilderness - our time when we confront temptation and remember that there is a power of evil. Our time for recognising Satan, and all his works, and all his empty promises. And defeating him.

8th Sunday in Ordinary Time : Homily / Sermon

A man’s words flow out of what fills his heart. (Luke 6:45)

We tend to think that the Christian life is all about keeping the rules, and after all we do have plenty of them: the rules of fasting and abstinence, the prayers chosen for the liturgy, the colours of the vestments, the directions for the celebration of mass, not to mention the 10 commandments, the six precepts of the Church, 1,752 Canons of the Code of Canon Law and the 2,865 paragraphs of the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

Rules, rules, rules.
And During Lent, no doubt, many of us will take a look at our lives and ask ourselves which rules we have broken … and consult more lists of rules:
Have I missed mass on Sundays and holy days of obligation?
Have I eaten meat on Fridays?
Have I neglected to say my prayers?
Have I used bad language?
… And so on and so forth.

Rules have their place. They are guides to what describes a good life, and looking at ourselves in the light of the rules can never be a bad place to start.

But that is all it is - it is only a start.

But in today’s Gospel, Jesus presents us with a greater challenge.
A good man draws what is good from the store of goodness in his heart.
A man’s words flow out of what fills his heart.
It is a sound tree which bears good fruit.

Jesus is not using the language of Rules, which we might keep or break, but instead the language of Growth, which we develop into, step by step, day by day.

This is not the Thou shalt and thou shalt not, the black and white, the heaven and hell, the sin and failure, but of progression, of pruning and flourishing, of evolving and maturing, advancing and prospering.

And Jesus teaches us that to grow, we need a teacher.
The blind can’t lead the blind, Jesus says. The teacher leads the way, corrects and encourages.

And he teaches us that we need vision: not only to know the rules, to know what is right and wrong, but also to see the plank in our own eyes, to know our own failings, and to progress in spite of them.

And he tells us that to bear sound fruit, we need not only to follow the precepts, but also live the faith in our hearts - not simply to obey, coldly and methodically, but to love, with warmth and generosity.

Growing has its pains. There are setbacks and failures, sins and selfishness. But in growth there is also forgiveness, and mercy, and hope.

It is conversion of the heart which is necessary, Jesus says. The sound fruit which the disciple bears, comes from the sound tree:
From a heart which, like the heart of the true Teacher, makes sacrifices, gives its whole self, and holds nothing back.

6th Sunday in Oridinary: Homily / Sermon

How happy are you who are poor: yours is the kingdom of God.
Happy you who are hungry now: you shall be satisfied.
Happy you who weep now: you shall laugh. (Luke 16:20-21)

People may sometimes challenge us with the tough question: If God is a loving God why does he allow people to suffer?

It is a tough question, because for all our reasoning, faith begins with the movement of the heart, and when we witness suffering, our heart is troubled.

And in that insight is the answer to this question.

First, we say Yes! Exactly. Suffering troubles us, upsets us, disturbs us. Why? Because we feel for those who suffer, we care about those in difficulty, we are moved by the pain of others, even if they live on the other side of the world. This is true for all human beings, but especially for people of faith.
That is how God has made us. He has made us to care. To be loving and compassionate. To feel the pain of others.

So, secondly, ask yourselves this question:
Which are the first organisations of the scene of natural disasters? Many if not most of them are inspired by religious people - Oxfam, Cafod, Christian Aid and many more.
Which non-governmental organisation runs more hospitals and schools than any other in the world? (The Catholic Church)
Why do you think female nurses are still called “sisters:? Why is a chief nurse called “Matron”?
Which are amongst the first organisations to collect funds for those in need?
And which groups are still - even in our very non-religious society - still the largest group of volunteers which help those in need.
Think of the food banks, soup kitchens, adoption services, groups for the elderly - they include many people from many different backgrounds, yet more often than not.

Yes, it may trouble us to explain why there is pain and suffering and evil in the world. But we might just as well ask why there is compassion and empathy and self-sacrifice? Why are people prepared to give their lives in caring for others? Why are people altruistic, to point of risking their own lives, if God has not made us this way?

And thirdly, this brings us to ask what it means to say we have a loving God.
God gives us, in himself, in the Word made Flesh, the example of perfect humanity. God is love, because he cares for us to point of sharing our suffering.
What is the most obvious, most recognised, most visible symbol of the Christian faith? It is the Cross. The crucifix. Actually, much more than a symbol - it is a portrayal of an event of suffering, a moment of sorrow and suffering.

To say “God is love” is only a problem
if we think he is loving in spite of suffering:
but that is not the the case
God is Love because of suffering.

God is not the cause for suffering,
but the remedy for it
And the proof of that is in his love.

And finally, we need to recognise that Life is a struggle.
In our world and society, especially for us with material comforts, pleasure and leisure, long lives and excellent health care, we see suffering, ill-health, evil as an aberration some unusual, a sort of failure of how things are supposed to be.
But this is wrong: Life (as we soon realise when we think about it) is a battle: for good, against suffering, against sorrow, against evil. Love’s victory does not come easy, but it is hard. Love, Truth, Goodness IS how things are supposed to be - but there is also a negative power which frustrates at ever step.

And it is faith, God, his love, which provides the hope and the remedy.

And we see this again and again.

It may be hard to answer these most difficult questions in words and ideas, but if you believe there is no answer, no remedy, then there his no hope.

We know this. We see this with our own eyes.
I remember 9/11 - nearly 20 years ago now - when we opened the Church in the evening, and people just came in to light a candle, sit in silence, and perhaps even to pray.
And then years later, when the Tsunami hit Indonesia, and people came from all over the city to give donations for our church to pass on to the aid agencies working to repair and heal after such devastation.

When people are sick, or bereaved, or anxious they frequently find some comfort in music and candles and readings and prayers, even if religious faith is something unfamiliar or unusual to them.

Happy you who weep now: Jesus says you shall laugh.
Not laugh because there is no pain. Not laugh because there are no questions.

But Laugh because there is a hope, and a comfort, and a purpose to life. And that is what Love means. And that is what God means.