Christmas : Homily / Sermon

All is Calm, All is Bright

Christmas can be stressful, especially for families. It can also be painful, particularly for those who have suffered loss. It can be difficult for so many people, such as the sick, the lonely, the downtrodden.

I want to take you back, 200 years, to another stressful Christmas, And to a man who was the priest of the small village of Oberndforf  in the Austrian alps. His name was Josef Mohr.

As the priest faced that Christmas he was more than a little despondent. The organ in the church was out of action - at Christmas of all times. Some blamed rust, others said it was the work of mice, but whatever the cause, there would be no organ over Christmas.

And an added disappointment, on 23rd December 1818, just two days before Christmas, a travelling band of actors had arrived in the village ready to perform and sing their own nativity play for the villagers. 

With no organ, the performance had to be moved from the Church to a private house.
It was not how it should have been, and Josef was dismayed at the situation for his parish and its people, but the performance nevertheless lifted Josef’s spirit a little, and put him in a reflective mood. Instead of walking straight to his house that night, he decided to take a longer way home, climbing a hill which overlooked the village.

From that hilltop, Josef looked down on the peaceful snow-covered village. It was silent, calm and bright, the lights of the sky glistening in the snow which dusted the alpine scene.
The Christmas play had reminded him of a poem which he had written a couple of years earlier, about the night when angels announced the birth of the Christ child to shepherds on a hillside. The words would have made a good a carol for the next day, he thought, if only he had the music.
The next day, he seized upon an idea and decided to act. Josef went to visit to the church organist, Franz Gruber. He set Franz a challenge - before midnight mass, now just a few hours away, he had to come up with a melody which could be sung to the words of the poem, a melody which could be accompanied not by the organ, by instead by a guitar.
And sure enough, by the evening, Gruber had composed a simple but instantly memorable setting for the poem. The fact that the organ wasn’t working didn’t matter now: they had a carol, a melody, and a guitar to guide and accompany them.
The carol didn’t just rescue that year’s midnight mass - it became an extraordinary success. It quickly spread far and wide, and has become a constant feature in Christmas masses and Carol Services ever since. It even has its own museum in Salzburg.
The Carol - as you probably know - is Silent Night - and it is 200 years old tonight.
It is a small miracle: charming in its simplicity, remarkable in its creation, inspiring in its message which is conveyed both in its words and in its beautiful melody.

Christmas is full of such small miracles. Of smiles and laughter, of music and song, of joy and beauty, of compassion and generosity.
Yes it can be stressful. It has its poignant moments and its sadnesses..

But at its heart is about life and love, about faith and mercy, about peace and hope.
Love’s pure light …
The dawn of redeeming grace …

What trials, stresses or anxieties we may bear, may the grace of God help us to take comfort in these simple words:
All is Calm, all is bright.

— 

The images are a portrait of Fr Josef Mohr, and a photograph of the Silent Night Chapel in Oberndorf, Austria, which is on the site of St Nikolas Church, where Stille Nacht was first sung on Christmas Eve 1818.

Advent 4 (C) : Homily / Sermon

Why should I be honoured with a visit from the mother of my Lord? (Luke 1:43)

Visiting relatives and friends is an important part of the observance of Christmas, isn’t it?
Of course we can send cards - and we do, in great quantity and at extraordinary cost.
We can write and receive letters - including those dreadful show-offy circular letters that some people seem to go in for.
Though perhaps those older, more established ways of communication, in  recent times they have given way more and more to technology - to phone calls of course, but also emails, texts, and Facebook messages. Skype and FaceTime too, have made such contacts so much easier and better, especially when relatives live so far away.  
But despite all these possibilities, nothing quite replaces the visit, the face to face encounter. 
We may sometimes find it a chore to be visited or to visit, but often too it is a great joy. To see how much the children have grown. To catch up with news - sad and glad. To remark how much someone is ‘looking well’ (put weight on) or looks exactly the same (has aged) or must take care of themselves (looks ill). No remotely transmitted message, however necessary and however kindly meant can replace the personal contact. And sometimes - let’s not forget - what is a chore for one party may be a joy for the other.
Todays Gospel is about a Christmas visit (well sort of). And it is an encounter which St Luke narrates to us with this beautiful detail - that the presence of Christ within His mother touched both Elizabeth and her unborn child with joy. And it is the greeting of Mother which brings that presence of Son.
When we are visited or visit we make similar encounters. We bring Christ to others and we meet him in others. We are blessed through what may seem a simple duty. Christ will be born amongst us, if we make him present through our greetings, our compassion and our love.

31st Sunday in Ordinary Time (B) : Homily / Sermon

You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind and with all your strength … You must love your neighbour as yourself (Mark 12:29-30)

We often complain about laws and rules and their application. We know that there are those people who are very particular about the keeping of the letter of the law, sometimes even when it flies in the face of common sense.
Politicians often seem to be adding to the laws, rules and regulations which we must keep. When an issue troubles society people often call for new laws to deal with. Yet the same time, many complain about “red tape”, “regulations”, and “health and safety gone mad” which imposes burdens ion them.
There are those who accept the purpose of laws, yet believe they should be reduced to a bare minimum.
And there have been those who have idealistically rejected all laws.

But the fact of the matter is, whether it's a country or a community, a club or a school, we need rules, and we need laws.
Even in a family we need rules, and there are many examples of them. You see some on plaques and pictures which you can buy in the shops to put in your kitchens or hallways. They are meant to be humorous, but also contain a good deal of truth.

Here is one:

House Rules
If you open it, close it.
If you turn it on, turn it off.
If you break it, admit it.
If you borrow it, return it.
If you move it, put it back.
If you don't know how to work it, leave it alone.

But some are much more simple and try to cut away from unnecessary detail. Such as this …



RULES
1. Be kind
2. Always follow Rule 1.

But the problem with such charming statements are that they do not tell us what "kind" means. Is it kind, for example to put something back after we've borrowed it, or to stay cool calm and collected when we can't find something because someone forgot to put it back?

It's a similar issue which Jesus faces in today's Gospel. There were 613 laws in the Old Testament. Which is the most important? It's a trick question, perhaps - because if one is most important then perhaps others are not important at all.

Jesus gives the very familiar answer. There are two commandments. And all the Law, its 613 commands, and many more deriving from them, are all built on these two commands and their central theme: Love.

But “Love” is not the same as “Kind” - love of  God is with all our heart. Love of  neighbour is as ourself.

So Love is not just about being Nice - it is about being whole. It is about coming to Christ. It is about eternal happiness with him.

Pope Francis said:
God is the God of the law, but is also the God of surprises
God is always new; he never denies himself, he never says that what he had said is wrong, but he always surprises us
The law teaches the way to Christ, and if the law does not lead to Jesus Christ, and if it doesn’t get us closer to Jesus Christ, it is dead.
(13 October 2014)

The purpose of the Law, then, is to lead us to Christ. It to make us whole - it is the action of the whole heart - it about extending God’s love from ourselves to others.

Following God’s Law is not intended to make us anxious or unhappy, worried about offending him, cautious of mistakenly breaking some requirement or another. His Law encourages us in our lives and guides us in the decisions we must take. The Law challenges us to love one another so that not only is my life happy but the lives of our neighbours may be happy too.

He gives us comfort when we are sad. Hope when trouble confronts us. He gives us joy and blessings in our lives. He makes sense out of confusion and hope out of despair. Serving him leads us to this deep and true happiness, the happiness of living in the Truth, the happiness of doing what we know to be right.

So God’s Law is not a collection of petty or arbitrary rules, keeping his law is neither like the nit picking of the jobsworth, nor the fear of the oppressed servant. This is the path of righteousness, of justice, of love. When it is not - it has lost its power to command.

And when it is what is intended to be, it is about sharing with others the joy we know from his presence. His Law is Love, because God is Love.

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B) : Homily / Sermon

“Courage … he is calling you.”. (Mark 10:49)

The crowd underestimated poor old blind Bartimaeus.

As Jesus came by, his shouts and appeals were treated with embarrassment by the crowd. They told him to shut up.

He wasn't only blind, he was also a beggar, because how else could a blind man survive. He was to be pitied, for sure, but not respected. To be given the odd coin, or a scrap to eat, perhaps, but not to be listened to, not to be accorded an opinion. Not to be allowed to get in the way.
Don’t shout out blind man, they say. Don’t make a scene, poor beggar.

Our attitudes to disability of various kinds have changed greatly, of course, over the years. But many of the older attitudes lie just a little below the surface.

Deafness, for example, is still associated, in the minds of many, with a lack of intelligence, even though we know this is not true. And the word "dumb" is still used to mean both "unable to speak" and "stupid", as if one were the same as the other. And when someone is confined to a wheelchair, people often talk directly to the person pushing the chair, rather than the one sitting in it - as if being unable to walk also affected your ability to understand and answer simple questions.

 

And in a more blatant way, you can see this kind of attitude in today's Gospel. But then, as now, it is very foolish to underestimate or patronise someone simply because they have a disability of one kind of another. This too, is a kind of blindness - a failure to see beyond the disability to person within.

And so it is with this crowd.
And then, something changes. Jesus calls the Blind Man. And the people catch on, and call to him too - they realise that the call of Jesus is not just for them, but for everyone.

And blind Bartimaeus is now bold, because although he cannot see Jesus with his eyes, with his heart he had already made an act of faith.

Your faith has saved you, Jesus says.

While those around may be inquisitive to see what this man, Jesus, looks like, the blind man, apparently unable to see him, nevertheless reveals great insight.
Despite his blindness, he has vision, and the call of Jesus, and his healing power, gives new vision to the crowd too,
so that all of them, together, in faith, freed from their blindness, walk as one with Christ along the road.

---

Image: Jesus healing blind Bartimaeus, by Johann Heinrich Stöver, 1861
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Healing_the_blind_near_Jericho

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B) : Homily / Sermon

“Anyone who wants to become great among you must be your servant, and anyone who wants to be first among you must be slave to all.” (Mark 10:43)

If you ever wondered whether the words of Scripture ever had any relevance for today’s world, that question is certainly answered by today’s’ Gospel. Speaking of the empires, nations and provinces of the ancient world, Jesus points out: “their so-called rulers lord it over them, and their great men make their authority felt”. Nothing much has changed, and while we may have world organisations which cross borders and promote human rights, it is nevertheless obvious that powerful rulers secure their status, assert their authority, and crush their critics.

Yet Jesus promotes a very different kind of leadership. To be first, you must be last, he says, to be great you must be a servant, to rule you must serve. It is Humility, not autocracy which he preaches.

We might think it is all very well, even very praiseworthy, but idealistic, and therefore unrealistic. And when we look the so-called great and good today - the Putins, Trumps and Salmans and so many more- we see little evidence of humility, and even if they are not always self-serving, they certainly see their role as promoting their own people, their own class or race, their own country.

So is the kind of picture of leadership which Jesus paints actually realistic, or even possible?

Well, yes, I think it is. Though it is not easy. Nor is it comfortable.

Let us take one extra-ordinary example, and that is Saint Oscar Romero, who was canonised, declared a saint, in just the past week.

Oscar was a member of the ruling class in his home country of El Salvador in Latin America. He had a wealthy and well educated background. He had many friends who were part of the rich, land-owning, governing classes. He was a quiet, bookish, educated man, a priest who rose through the hierarchy of the Church and was known for his holiness and piety. When El Salvador needed a new archbishop, he was considered a very safe pair of hands, someone who would not upset the apple-cart, not get caught up in the political turmoil in the country, but lead the Church quietly and discretely, steeped in prayer and cautious in action.
But something changed. Oscar became aware of the extreme poverty of so many Salvadorians. He saw how they were mistreated and exploited by those who owned the land and controlled the government. He discovered that priests who tried to help the poorest, provide them with education, help them to assert their rights to vote and to be treated according to the law, became the victims of murder squads.
He tried to approach those he knew to treat the people fairly and with compassion and justice, and came up against a brick wall. So, this quiet, unassuming, scholarly man, the leading figure in El Salvador outside the government, decided that if the people could not speak, then he must.
He used the national catholic radio to give addresses denouncing the death squads, pleading for justice, exposing the lies of the supporters of the government. And as time went on, he realised that his commitment to the truth would have its price.

Oscar Romero was an extraordinary leader, who so easily could have lived a comfortable life, marrying the children of the ruling elite, baptising their babies, and celebrating the funerals of the wealthy and powerful. He could have spent his time sending his clergy here and there to tell the poor to keep to their place and be grateful for what little they had.

He easily could have “lorded it over them” and “made his authority felt”.

Instead he supported the poorest, baptised their children, and officiated at the funerals of the murdered, and defended the priests who were tortured for standing alongside the poor.

And he knew that this kind of leadership brought its own consequences.

Just a fortnight before his death, he said these words in an interview:

Martyrdom is a grace from God which I do not believe I deserve. But if God accepts the sacrifice of my life, then may my blood be the seed of liberty, and a sign that hope will soon become a reality. May my death, if it is accepted by God, be for the liberation of my people, and as a witness of hope in what is to come. Can you tell them, if they succeed in killing me, that I pardon and bless those who do it. But I wish that they could realise that they are wasting their time. A bishop may die, but the Church of God, which is the people, will never die.

And here of course is the very point.
On 24th March 1980, while he was saying mass in a hospital chapel a sniper shot him dead. He fell heavily at the foot the huge cross that hung above the altar. His life ended, his mission ended.

Was he defeated? Well no. The struggle for peace and justice continues, El Salvador is still a poor Latin American country not unlike so many places in the world, and justice and equality under the law certainly does not come easily - but Romero is not forgotten, the his struggle, in the name of Christ, against injustice, still continues.

A bishop may die, but the Church of God, which is the people, will never die.

For Son of Man himself did not come to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many (Mark 10:345)

23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (B) : Homily / Sermon

Jesus said: Ephphatha’, that is, ‘Be opened.’ And the man’s ears were opened, and the ligament of his tongue was loosened and he spoke clearly. (Mark 7:34)

In the rite of baptism, there is a ceremony, rarely used in England and Wales, when the priest touches the ear and mouth of the baby and says ‘Ephphatha’, Be Opened. It is a prayer that the newly baptised may hear the Gospel and speak it.

The story in which we find these words comes after disputes between Jesus and the Jewish leaders, when it becomes clear that they are deaf to the truth of the Gospel.
This story is a miracle, and it is more than a miracle. In effect, this miracle is a prophetic act, an acted parable. It is symbolic, and more than symbolic.

Hearing and speech are mechanisms of the human body, which may often flourish, but can sometimes be impaired. Hearing can decline, and fail. Speech may be difficult or even absent. And we know that there is technology, there are medical procedures and training, which can bring great improvement and even cure. Hearing aids, surgery, speech therapy each in different ways can overcome many of the weaknesses of the human body.
And this, in part, is what Jesus does by this miracle. He fixes the broken or faulty machinery of the human body. But he does much more.

The body is much more than a machine. Speech and hearing are much more than mechanical functions. We can make a lot of noise, yet signify nothing. We can hear what is said to us, yet take no heed. Hearing and speaking are gifts, like all gifts, which can be used or abused.

In fact, it is not the power of hearing or speech which we need in order to thrive, but the ability, the possibility, to communicate. Those whose faculties cannot be repaired still find ways, through signing and other methods, to communicate. We can, if necessary, get by without speech and hearing (just as we can survive in a place where we do not speak or understand the language0 - but to flourish we must communicate.

And it is THIS which is what Jesus is about. He is not some kind of divine mechanic, wandering through first century Palestine undertaking repairs. Every miracle has a meaning. Every action is a teaching. Every healing brings instruction. They all point to some truth. To the Truth.

And when, today, Jesus calls the ears to be opened he is speaking not only of their functional operation, but even more of their meaning and purpose. It is about being open to others. It about humility, tolerance and respect. It is about listening to his word. It is about speaking what is right. This is not about mechanical medicine, but the pursuit of truth, and mercy, and love.

Let us pray that our ears may be opened, that we may listen to Christ with eagerness to learn, and that we may speak the Truth with confidence and courage.

20th Sunday in Ordinary Time : Homily / Sermon

‘I am the living bread which has come down from heaven.
Anyone who eats this bread will live for ever’ (John 6:58)

Holy days of obligation are now few and far between - with the exception of Sunday that is. As I'm sure you know, in recently years there have been only four which may fall on weekdays, and these are St Peter and St Paul (June 29th), the Assumption (August 15th), All Saints' Day (November 1st), and of course Christmas Day. The rules were recently changed a little, so that the Epiphany and the Ascension can now fall on weekdays again. However, when four of these six days fall on a Saturday or a Monday then they are transferred to the Sunday, so this means that only about half of the time do they fall in the week.

Holy Days can be an especial challenge when we are on holiday - all but two of the says are in the summer, and of course if we are not in England and Wales we might find what is a holy day at home is not where we are, or even more confusing we could be completely unaware that a day of obligation is taking place in our holiday location while we are sat by the pool.

Now, no doubt many Catholics today sit light to this particular precept of the Church, especially when it affects weekday obligations, and also, sad to say, the Sunday obligation too. It is not just the obligation of course, other important holy days and holy seasons such as holy week, Easter and Christmas are becoming times not for worship with the parish community, but occasions for family holidays, perhaps by force of circumstance but often also by choice.

To many of us, no doubt, the requirement to love our neighbour as ourself, to treat others with respect, to be honest and generous - these seem far more important values to guide our conduct at home and on holiday than whether or not we manage to get to Church.

Yet just because one value is more important than another doesn't make the lesser of no importance at all. And many Catholics, not just younger ones, still see it important when going on holiday to find out where the Church is and what time mass is offered.

It is worth reflecting why we have the Obligation, and what it is for.
First, why have an obligation at all?

The Church, through the Bishops, teaches us what we need to do in order to practice the faith. It is as if we ask "What do we need to do to be a practicing Catholic, a faithful member of the Church and a follower of Christ". It is like the Young Man who came to Jesus and said "What must I do to have eternal life?" In addition to the commandments, the Church gives us six simple rules - or precepts - the Mass Obligation is one of these.

In setting before us the obligation the Church is saying to us "This is what you need to do, the basic minimum, to practice the Faith". In other words - if you want to be a Catholic, if you want to be counted a follower of Christ, then this is one of the basic requirements of membership.

Secondly, let’s be clear, the obligation is not to go to Church. Neither is it an obligation to receive communion. It is an obligation to hear mass, to be present at the celebration of Mass, on Sundays and other given days, if it is possible for us to do so. (The obligation is to do what is possible, reasonably possibly: never what is not possible).

Thirdly, and here is the nub, the obligation answers that fundamental question - what must I do to have eternal life? Anyone who eats this bread will live for ever, Jesus says.
if you do not eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood,
you will not have life in you, he tells us. ... He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood lives in me and I live in him ... whoever eats me will draw life from me, he explains.

We can say prayers, and read the Scriptures at home, on a bus or a plane, of course, and sometimes we may have to. We can receive communion in our homes or in hospital, and at some times in our lives that may be necessary. But none of these are substitutes for the Mass, which the Church calls "the source and summit of the Christian life". At Mass we come together with other Christians, normally gather in a Church or Chapel, and celebrate this most holy sacrament, the bread of life, the blood of salvation, the food for the journey of life.

If we wish to live as the Body of Christ, then we must share in that Body, drink that Blood, live that life, and live for ever.

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B) : Homily / Sermon

What is that between so many? (John 6:9)

And there are those, good and believing people, who are uncomfortable about the miracles in the Gospels and try and explain them away. Perhaps there is some natural explanation, they say. Perhaps the walking on the water was a trick of the light. Perhaps the stilling of the storm was co-incidence. Perhaps the feeding of the 5000 was not supernatural at all, but an extraordinary act of sharing by the crowd, so that all were fed.

But perhaps those who try and explain these things away are missing the point. They try to make the miracles stories into some moral insight about humanity. They are explained as human actions, human misunderstandings, human gullibility. And in reducing the stories they make them unremarkable, hardly worth telling. Their difficulties lead them to make the account - and Jesus - too ordinary, too banal.

We can see this when we consider today’s Gospel in the light of others. For there is another occasion when Jesus is asked to perform a miracle with bread. Only on that occasion he refused. It was when he was tempted by the devil in the desert. Now why perform the miracle now, and not then?

We might suppose that the obvious reason is that Jesus refuses to turn a stone to bread to create a spectacle - but he willingly makes a little bread into much bread to feed the crowd.

But there is perhaps a much more important reason why he feeds the 5,000, but does not give in to the temptation in the wilderness. That is because the Devil tempts Jesus to Destroy - Destroy the Stone to conjure up the bread - while the miracle which Jesus willingly performs does not destroy nature, but multiplies it.

And this is always true. And this is what miracles are.

Jesus takes what we give him and makes more, much more. A little love is multiplied into great love. A little sorrow for our sins becomes an overflowing forgiveness. Our small talents and abilities become great with his help. Our simple prayers are joined to his all embracing will. Drops of olive oil convey his healing power. A little water is made the gateway to eternal life. Our gifts of bread and wine become his Body and Blood.

Christ takes our little offerings and makes them great. God does not destroy nature, but expands it and enhances it and glorifies it. As St Thomas Aquinas says “Grace perfects nature”.

The stone is not destroyed but the loaves and fish are much multiplied.

It is just like the words of the Christmas carol: “What can I give him, poor that I am, if I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb. If I were a wise man, I would do my part. What can I give him? Give my heart.”

A small offering: a great reward.

16th Sunday of the Year (B) : Homily / Sermon

16th Sunday of the Year (B)

You must come away to some lonely place all by yourselves and rest for a while. (Mark 6:31)

In today’s Gospel, Jesus and the Apostles go on holiday!
Just like the school children and the teachers and so many others, they set off for a bit of a break.

Last week, in the Gospel we heard about the urgent, almost frantic mission which Jesus gave to his apostles, to go out two by two, to preach to all who would listen, to move rapidly from place to place shaking the dust off their feet as they went. And now, the mission successfully completed, it is time to go off to a quiet place for a bit of relaxation. ‘You must come away to some lonely place all by yourselves and rest for a while,’ Jesus says (Mark 6:31). Their mission had been a bit too successful, and they were pressed by the crowds, and just had to get away.

Except, of course, it all goes wrong. The crowd guess where they are going, and get there before them. And the work continues …

Of course, it probably wasn’t the first, certainly not the last holiday, the last break, to be disrupted, interrupted, or broken into.

And nowadays, with the mobile phone, it is almost impossible to get away completely. It is very rare to be more than a text an email or a phone call away. Getting away from it all can be a particular challenge for the priest, but not just the priest: many have responsibilities whicvh might mean they are at risk of having a break cancelled or being called back in an emergency. Others, in the caring professions find it hard to completely switch off while they are away, and yet others may spend their holidays finding resources or ideas for their working lives - the busman’s holiday, as they call it. And those who are responsible for others - parents and carers - may even find themselves working harder during the holidays, or being beset with worry for those left back at home, so that the end of holiday might even provide a bit of relief. Like Jesus and the Apostles, the idea of the time of rest might seem to be something of an illusion.

But this doesn’t mean that this story from the Gospels is telling us that the holidays, the break from routine is wrong in some way, or just a vain and pointless wish.

Resting, holidays, recreation are not wrong. We know that Jesus would frequently retreat from the activity of the day for reflection and prayer - just as he tried to here, and especially as he did even on the night before his arrest.

This Gospel is not telling us that we should work hard at all times and never rest. No: its message is one of compassion, and mercy, and generosity, and love: love of our neighbour, even love of those who do not love us. It is about humanity, and about Christianity in which all are our brothers and sisters. Despite the words in today’s readings about the Shepherds, this Gospel is not even really about priesthood, Christian ministry or leadership. It is about what it means to be Church. To be a person who cares. It is about compassion for one another, about valuing and nurturing every member of Christ’s flock, and those who are not yet part of his flock.

And Resting … is not an exercise in escaping from caring - but rather the drawing of strength in order to do the works of mercy.

That’s why we call it a holiday, a “holy day”.

It is a time for pleasure and enjoyment, and more. It is a time when we draw strength from God - so that we can take a breather, recharge our batteries, clear away the clutter, set aside the busy-ness, and look at things afresh - our responsibilities, our priorities and our faith.
So - however you spend the next few weeks, home or away, passive or active, have a good holiday. And recharge your batteries: to be strengthened in your service of God and in his works of mercy.
.

Fifteen Sunday in Oridinary Time (A) : Homily / Sermon

So they set off to preach repentance; and they cast out many devils, and anointed many sick people with oil and cured them. (Mark 6:12-13)

Jesus sent the Twelve out to preach the Good News, the Good News of the Gospel. And that Good News is a call to repentance.

This not what we think of usually as Good News. Good news is the surprise lottery win, the announcement of a birth or a marriage, being given the all clear, the result of the match, the winning of the prize, the success in examinations or a job interview. And in all these, notice, for all our efforts beforehand, Good News is something that happens to us, it is gift, it is grace.

Yet here, in this Gospel the message is one of repentance, contrition, sorrow for sins. It is something we have to do, and something which is painful - to admit our own fault, to confess our sins, to acknowledge our failures, our impatience, our dishonesty, our unkindnesses and cruelties. It might be necessary - but how can this be a message to preach? How can this be Gospel? How can this be Good News?

Well it can - it is - of course it is - because what the Twelve are sent out to preach with such urgency is not the wickedness of the world, but greatest of God’s mercy. They move from house to house and place to place rapidly, wasting no time with those who do not want to here because they are there not to condemn but to give the offer of a Great Gift, the Gift of Forgiveness which is freely given by God to everyone who embraces it, and this gift heals minds and hearts, casts out anxiety and soothes infirmity.

It is a Gift that is easily refused, yet easy to accept.

Because all we need to do to receive this great gift of God, the Gift of Forgiveness, the Gift of Healing, the Gift of Peace - is to accept that we need to be forgiven, we need to be healed, we need to welcome into our troubled hearts this promise of Peace.

If we do not know our needs - if we are incapable of self-criticism, if we entirely lack humility - then there is no yearning for forgiveness, no Gift to receive, and the message, the “News” cannot be good, because far from giving us healing and comfort, it disturbs our self assurance, and disrupts our self-satisfaction.

Football’s not coming home … yet

Football’s not coming home … yet

St Ignatius and the World Cup
Homily at Cardinal Griffin Catholic College Friday 13th July 2018

I was disappointed on Wednesday evening. I woke up on Thursday feeling even worse. The extraordinary dream of England winning the world cup had passed, and Croatia had bundled us out in the semi final. Despite all the anticipation, all the excitement, football isn’t coming home after all.
I’m old enough to remember our win in 1966, and also old enough to remember too many disappointments like this, many years of hurt. When you have spent much of your life supporting the England men’s football team, it has often been like this.

But yet, at the same time, despite the pain, let’s not forget this team’s achievements. The youngest squad in the competition, with few players of world class fame, were not expected to escape the group stage, still less succeed in a penalty shoot out. Expectations were low. Very low.
Yet they did exceed them. They even got to that semi-final. And in that game, for 45 minutes, they were the best team in the world, within a whisker of the prize. Players you had hardly heard of excelled - such as Pickford, Trippier, Maguire. And Kane got the golden boot.
They may not have won the trophy, but this young team, many of them little older than many of the students at this college, performed wonderfully.

Now of course, you know all this, and you’ve heard it from the pundits, read it online, heard it on the radio and the TV, and discussed it with friends. What on earth has this got to do with this mass? and St Ignatius?

(Oh No, perhaps you are thinking to yourselves, this is the bit when he brings in Jesus. Well yes … and no. )

Ask yourself how this young England team achieved so much that was beyond what was expected of them.

Two things.

Firstly, they played as a team.
I saw a poster before the world cup began, advertising tv coverage. It had pictures of the stars on it: Ronaldo, Messi, Suarez, Salah, Neymar. All of these brilliant players - but none of them got very far in the competition. What won through was not just exceptional skill, but Team Work. Unselfishness. It is unselfishness, not celebrity which succeeds - players playing not for themselves, but for others. Most of England’s goals were scored from set pieces, dead ball situations, including corners and free-kicks. In the whole tournament about a third of all goals were from set pieces, and England created 22 goal-scoring chances from set pieces - twice as many as any other team. And how do you do that? Through hard work on the training ground, hours of practice, rehearsing play after play, move after move, working together, working for one another.
And this team was also diverse. More than half the England team were from families which had come into Britain as migrants, enriching and diversing our national resources.
And the team is not just the men in the team, not just the squad, not just the manager, not even the waist coat, but others too: physiotherapists, doctors, fitness coaches, sports psychologists, fans and families, women and men, working together - team work, unselfishness, cooperation.
You’ve heard of this before, because here in this College, inspired the teaching of Ignatius … we have phrase for it: we call it being Men and Women for others.

And secondly, by being a team, they exceeded what anyone could possibly have anticipated. They progressed through the knock-out stages, playing untiringly, with commitment and loyalty. More than anyone thought or could have imagined or perhaps even dreamed. They did more than expected. They gave something extra. The Team became bigger and better and more than the players.
Bigger. More. Extra. Exceeding expectations.
You’ve heard of this before too, because in this College, inspired the teaching of Saint Ignatius … we have word for it: we call it Magis.

I am sure you have heard these words many times, Magis, and Being Men and Women for Others and perhaps you’ve wondered what they mean or what they have to do with you.

Yet what Ignatius was saying, what his ideas are telling us is this: this is the way really to be fulfilled as a human being, truly to be happy. Human potential is not found in our own success or glory, but in the good of others, not just in doing what we have to do (like ticking a checklist), but in giving more, in being more.

It is true in football, and other sports too - we have seen this very clearly in these past few weeks. But it is also true in your studies, in the choices you may in life, whatever work you may do now or in the future, in the way you care for your friends and your families. We become men and women for others by exceeding even our own expectations.

And you don’t have to be religious at all to see that this is true,
but if you do have a faith, it will make perfect sense
as the work of the love of God for all his people.

13th Sunday of Year (B) : Homily / Sermon

The little girl got up at once and began to walk about, for she was twelve years old. (Mark 5:42)

There is more than one account in the Gospels of Jesus apparently raising someone from the dead.

The most famous tale of course, and much the longest, is the story of the raising of Lazarus, the brother of Mary and of Martha in St John’s Gospel. We also hear of the raising of the adult son of the widow of a place called Nain, in a short account in St Luke’s Gospel. And today, in St Mark’s Gospel (and also Matthew and Luke) there is the story of the raising of the 12 year old daughter of Jairus.

To modern mind, these might appear fanciful stories - wonder-working on extra-ordinary scale. And as people may say to us “things like this just don’t happen”. And others may note as well, that there could be an ordinary medical explanation for these persons returning to life - after all, even in the present day, there are cases of people thought to be dead, yet who were in fact in some kind of coma.

But these interpretations, so ready to dismiss the Gospel, take little heed of what we are actually told.

First of all, the is no drama, no fireworks, no thunderbolt or voices from heaven. especially in this particular story. The onlookers, the family, are told to keep quiet, not to publicise what has happened

Secondly, the focus of the story is not so much on the person who had died and who returns to life, but upon the families, the bereaved. In Luke’s Gospel it is the distraught widow that Jesus appeals to. In John, we hear words of the sisters Martha and Mary, but not of Lazarus himself. And here today, we known the name of the girls father, Jairus, and his position in society, but no name or words from the girl herself.

And thirdly, the stories are not really miracle stories, but stories of faith, and comfort in distress, and trust in God. Before Jesus ever raises Lazarus, he weeps for him. While the Widow mourns her son, Jesus comforts and reassures here. And when messengers tell Jairus not to waste Jesus’ time with his sorrows, Jesus states plainly, in as many words: “You are not wasting my time. Let me come to your home.”

So this story, these stories, are not only about what happened then, but what they mean to us now. They present the message of comfort in our darkest hours, reassurance of the presence of Christ even when we may feel he is so far away, and knowledge of his compassion when we seems lost and alone.

Prayer of St Teresa of Avila

Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing:
But God never changes.
Patience gains all things
With God you lack nothing;
All you need is God.

 

 

Birthday of St John the Baptist : Homily / Sermon

‘What will this child turn out to be?’ they wondered. And indeed the hand of the Lord was with him. (Luke 1:56)

In the novel Fatherland, the author Robert Harris tells a tale set in an imaginary 1960s Europe in which the Nazis rule victorious. In the background of the novel are arrangements being made for the celebration of Hitler’s 60th birthday: a national festival and celebration of all that is great (an ugly) of Nazi dominance, ruthlessness and cruelty. It is a celebration of the Leader, and the cult of his personality.

By contrast, in the Church’s calendar, when we remember and celebrate so many different persons, heroes of the faith, examples of human greatness, there are only three persons whose birthdays feature at all: those of Our Lord, Our Lady and St John the Baptist.

In fact, in the whole of scripture there is mention of only one birthday celebration, deep in the Old Testament that of Pharaoh, and the first Christians were generally against the celebration of birthdays, as they were seen to be too closely associated with the pagan world. They disliked them because they were celebrations, indulgences, of the self - usually just prerogatives of the rich and powerful, occasions to lavish gifts, honour and praise upon those who required it of others.
For them, and in many Christian cultures now, it is the feast day of the patron saint, the Name day, which is important, not the Birth Day. In the modern world our date of birth is an important piece of data that gives us our identity, but until relatively recently people may not even have known their exact date of birth. Saints' days are usually on the day of their death, their entry into heaven, so today's feast is almost unique.

So why does the Birthday of St John the Baptist have such an important place?

Well first, perhaps, because it is an important account in St Luke's Gospel. We have the story of Elizabeth and Zechariah, and the account in today's Gospel of his naming, and the loosing of Zechariah's tongue.

But more important than the Gospel account, is its significance. He is the one, after Our Lady, who first bears witness to Christ. While still in the womb, he leaps in worship of Our Lord. And later, at the banks of the Jordan, he recognises him, and says "Behold the Lamb of God, Behold him who takes away the sins of the world". He prepares a way for Christ, gathering followers who will become His apostles.

And at his birth, he breaks convention, giving voice to an old and holy man, his father, who had been dumbstruck, by the news of his conception, and taking a name, John, new to his family, so that he may announce a new age.

His birthday is not a celebration of John himself, as our Birthdays might be, as the birthday of Pharaoh was, and certainly as the the fictional birthday in Fatherland is, no, it is a celebration of what he has come to do. He points not to himself, to his own importance, to his own honour, but to the one who is to follow him.

There is nothing wrong with our own birthday celebrations, of course, but in all of them, we should celebrate not ourselves, our glory, our supposed greatness, but instead be thankful to the one who had made us, who had given us life, and to who we too should bear witness.

10th Sunday of the Year (B) : Homily / Sermon

“Anyone who does the will of God, that person is my brother and sister and mother.’” (Mark 3:35)

When the new translation of the of mass appeared, some six years ago now, we were perhaps a little surprised by some of the words which appeared. “Consubstantial” for example. “Conciliation” is another. And yet another which we hear from time to time is “Coheirs”. We hear it said that we are “Coheirs with Christ”. 

It is an unfamiliar phrase, and an odd word. When we see it on the page, it may even seem difficult to pronounce. Coheirs is a word which may exist in the dictionary, but which I have to say I have never heard in conversation or even read anywhere else. 

However, it is a word which indicates to us something very important about our faith. 

An heir, of course, is someone who inherits, and more than just this,  is someone who inherits by right of who they are. Usually the Heir is the only one who inherits. It could be a title, or some status or rank, or property. We know the word best when we speak of the heir to the throne, or the heir to a title. And of course there can be only one king, only one Lord Grantham. Sometimes a kingdom may be split up between others - this happens in Shakespeare's King Lear. It happened also to the sons of King Herod the Great. (Notable because they are unusual). But the successors in each case don't share the one Kingdom, no, they are the sole heirs of the parts they do inherit. And when we speak of “heirs and successors” we generally mean not beneficiaries, but those of future generations. 

So “coheirs” are rare things, because heirs generally don't inherit together. So rare, that I can’t think of any actual example, even in history. That's why the word is so unfamiliar. 

Yet we hear that we are coheirs with Christ. What does it mean? And why would the translators wanted to have used such an unusual word? 

It is really about who Christ is, and what he does, and who we become. 

The idea comes from St Paul, “… we are co-heirs with Christ … we share in his sufferings so that we might share in his glory.” (Romans 8:20)

When God became man in Christ, what we call the Incarnation, he didn’t just appear amongst us, like a ghost or a spirit an angel or a hologram. As St John says, he dwelt amongst us. He shared our lives, Our tears, Our sufferings. 

He did not just speak a message to us, but he provided an example and model in his own life. 

He did not just tell us to care for the poor, but he became poor for our sake. 

He did not just sit at our bedsides to console us, but he took up his own bed on the ward. 

His is a way not of sympathy, but of empathy. 

He became one of us. 

The fathers of the early Church, the teachers of the Christian communities of the first centuries, put it this way: God became man, so that we might become God. 

So we are sons in the Son, and kings in the King. 

St Paul says “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). He says that in baptism we die with Christ so that we might also rise with him (Romans 6:4, Colossians 2:12)

When we receive his body and his blood, we become part of his life, his body 

We are coheirs with Christ. 

We are his brothers and his sisters and his mother. 

In faith, in hope, in love, we are one with him. 

Easter 6 (B) : Homily / Sermon

Love one another, as I have loved you. (John 15:12)

Love is a word widely used, and widely abused. It refers to a rush of emotion. A stirring of urges. A blinding of reason and a driving passion. Love is powerful, and it is dangerous. It can drive people to madness, or murder. It inspires jealousy. It too often leads to heartache and tears.

Well, so you would think from watching popular dramas, or reading literature. So you would think from reading inside the newspaper where the more interesting human stories are told.

But of course, this is not the love which Jesus speaks of.
Why not? Well it is not because Christian love is unrealistic or idealised. Quite the opposite: it is the idealised, one-sided kind of love which leads to pain and anguish.

The love of God is real, realistic, because it is not one-sided, or deluded, but because it is mutual, it is shared - love one another as I have loved you.
It is not the obsession or infatuation of one person for another, but a sharing of lives, of commitment. It is not about what we might get from it, but about giving and receiving. It is not about choosing, but about being chosen. This is the love that bears fruit - because this is the love that will last.

And in this month of May, we celebrate the one who loved Christ into the world, and in the world.
The one who loved him before the world ever knew him.
The one who fed him and nursed him and hugged him and gave him up, to embrace him again in his death and resurrection.
We celebrate she who in loving him, loves us too, and cares for us, and prays for us as our Mother.

When we sing our praises of Mary, we sing the praises of the Love who chose her, the Love who saved her, the Love who filled her with love to go out and bear fruit, the fruit of her womb, fruit that lasts for ever.

Lent 5 (B) The Prophecy of Jeremiah | Homily / Sermon

Deep within them I will plant my Law, writing it on their hearts. (Jeremiah 31:33)

Previously in the Old Testament:

In each of the Old Testament readings this Lent we have heard descriptions of God’s dealings with his people. It has been a story of human failings and of God forgiveness. In Noah there is evil doing, followed by the flood followed by the promise of an everlasting love and protection. In Abraham a cruel sacrifice is averted and there is the promise of a shower of blessings. Then we hear of God binding himself to his people by Laws written in stone, and last week we heard how the people who had been defeated and taken into exile would be restored again to their promised land. This pattern, of disobedience, disaster and then deliverance is summed up in a word which we hear repeatedly in today’s words from Jeremiah - covenant.

A covenant is a contract, a pact, a commitment, a promise, a Testament. It is God’s commitment to his people to deliver them, again and again, despite their sins and their disasters. The Covenant is, in effect, the description of God’s love. In personal terms it is promise, it is failure, it is forgiveness … and reconciliation.

And now, at the moment of latest of these disaster, as the people of God have been defeated and are taken into exile, the holy man Jeremiah makes an extraordinary prophecy.

His prophecy is not of yet another covenant, but of an entirely new covenant.
He tells us that God is not proposing yet another fresh start, but instead he is taking the responsibility and the initiative upon himself.

This new covenant, this new Testament is like the old Testament yet also entirely different. I will be their God and they shall be my people, he says. They will all know me, he says. I will forgive their iniquity and never call their sin to mind because Deep within them I will plant my Law, writing it on their hearts.
In the new testament of which Jeremiah speaks, God does not just rescue, but he frees the human heart, by entering into it himself. He embraces the essence of humanity, he makes Sacred the human heart.

Jeremiah’s words are the prophecy of the new law which does not destroy burt which fulfills the old Law. It is a law not to be learnt by heart, but written on the heart and lived from the heart.
These words are a prophecy of Pentecost, the outpouring of the Gifts of the Spirit, the gifts of wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge and piety. This prophecy announces the new age of God’s grace, the shower of blessings of his great spiritual gifts, the transformation of the sacraments, the birth of the Church.

And this is all because this prophecy can only be truly fulfilled in Christ, the Word made flesh, the perfection of human nature, the heart entirely given over to love. The Sacred Heart is the perfection of the human heart, by the fullness of Divine Grace. Our human nature is like the grain of which Jesus speaks in today’s Gospel - a single grain, so small, so meagre, yet a grain which has been created by God, and so which already holds the rich harvest within it.

And this harvest can and will emerge, but only through a kind of death, a sacrifice, a self-giving … which will seem so final, and yet which will prove to be just the beginning.

Lent 4 (B) Exile and Restoration | Homily / Sermon

Thus speaks Cyrus king of Persia, “the Lord, the God of heaven, has given me all the kingdoms of the earth; he has ordered me to build him a Temple in Jerusalem, in Judah. Whoever there is among you of all his people, may his God be with him! (2 Chronicles 36:23)

Previously in the Old Testament:
We began with Noah, emerging from the disaster of the flood to God’s promise of compassion and salvation symbolised by the Rainbow. Next, we heard of the calamitous plan of Abraham to sacrifice his Son, Isaac, and God’s action in averting the sacrifice and promising a shower of blessings on Abraham, Isaac and their descendants. Last week, the God of the Hebrews, who has rescued his people from persecution and slavery, now binds them closer to himself by a the Commandments, a charter of love and service.
And today, we hear how the people of Israel, having been defeated, conquered and taken into exile, are now rescued once again by the gracious act of God.

Yes, through these passages of the Old Testament there is a recurring pattern, a pattern which speaks to us of sin, and of suffering, and even threatens annihilation, and yet, and yet God does it again. He saves. He rescues. And he restores.

You don’t have to be an expert in theology, or trained in Biblical studies to see that all these passages in the Jewish scriptures, what we call the Old Testament, are pointing ahead to what is summarised in today’s gospel -

God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son,
so that everyone who believes in him may not be lost
but may have eternal life. (John 3:14)

In these words are the shadows of the rainbow, the reflection of the boy given over for sacrifice, the trace of the law which binds through belief and service, and the echo of the rebuilding of the temple, the promised land, the new heaven and the new earth. We know he will do it again - we seem to be told - because he has done it before.

And perhaps one point we can take from this, in our unbelieving and cold hearted world, is this:

So often people today who have no faith, or who struggle with faith, confront us with the hard question: “If there is a God, then why is there suffering”?

But what Scripture says to us is something very different: “There is suffering in the world, but in spite of it, however great it may be, there is hope, because there is God”. That’s what the Old Testament is saying to us each week. That is what the Gospel says to us to today. That is what we read in the Cross - and it what we will see made real in the resurrection.

Lent 3 (B) The Giving of the Law | Homily / Sermon

“God spoke all these words. He said, ‘I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. ‘You shall have no gods except me’.” (Exodus 20:1-2)

Previously in the Old Testament:
A fortnight ago we were with Noah, emerging from the Ark with God’s promise of compassion and salvation. Then, last week, we heard of the failed sacrifice of Isaac, son of Abraham, and heard of the promised sacrifice of the Son of God who appeared in all his glory. And now, this week, the God of the Hebrews, who has rescued his people from slavery, now binds them closer to himself by a charter, a pact, a covenant of love and service.

The Ten Commandments …

Here’s a good quiz for the family. Give each person a piece of paper, and ask them to write down the Ten Commandments. See who can get all ten. Try it out.

I bet some of them put down, even those who think they know their faith, put ‘Love your neighbour’ which of course isn’t one of then. And I also bet that few of them put down about coveting - and might not even know what the word means (It means jealously/envy wanting to have what others have, sort of keeping up with the Jones’. In many ways our society is built on covetousness).

Now we can deplore the fact that few know the ten commandments off by heart, and still less understand them, and yes, of course, there is a point to be made, but the reciting of words is not quite the same as living them. It’s not that the words aren’t important, of course they are, but far more important than to know the words by heart is to put them into practice.

Notice that, in giving these laws - laws which most of us, for most of the time, recognise as the basic principles of life in family and in society - God begins not by telling us what we must do - but tells us what He has done. The Law begins with the actions, the love and compassion and salvation of the Law-giver. Laws are not letters on page, words to learn by heart, but principals to put into practice.

It is one thing to know it is wrong to tell a lie - it is quite another to be outraged by the temptation to benefit from a convenient untruth.

It is one thing to know it is wrong to steal - but it is another to turn our backs on the odd scam or bargain from a questionable source.

It is one thing to know that we should keep each Sunday by going to mass - yet another to rejoice in the celebration of our faith.

And sometimes when people hear today’s Gospel - of Jesus clearly angry, furiously overturning the money changers’ tables and madly, frenetically, driving them out of the temple - people ask if this could be right? Could Jesus be angry, violent, destructive?

But Jesus’ apparent anger is not a loss of temper, but a focussing of it, a zeal for truth, a thirst for honesty, a hunger for justice, and a yearning for a faith that comes from the heart - not lip-service, not words only, not aspirations, but works, and actions, and deeds.

Lent 2 (B) Sacrifice of Isaac | Homily / Sermon

“I will shower blessings on you, I will make your descendants as many as the stars of heaven and the grains of sand on the seashore” (Genesis 22:17)

Last week it was Noah’s Ark, and this week the story of the sacrifice of Isaac. Or not so much the sacrifice, but the attempted sacrifice. The Old Testament can certainly challenge our understanding!

On the face of it, this is a horrific story. God tells Abraham to sacrifice his son, and Abraham, out of blind faith, almost carries out the order. Only at the last minute does he hold his hand. Is this the sort of thing God does? Well, we would find it hard to say yes.

But then we must look at two stories together.

The Gospel reading tells us of another mountain. And another Son. And this time the Father is God himself. On the first mountain faith is clear, but the will of God is not. On the second mountain the voice of God speaks clearly and his Glory is revealed.

In the first reading Abraham is blessed not because of the action he did not carry out, but because of his utter devotion to God. In the ancient world, even more than today, family was everything. The clan, kith and kin, the succession, this was at the heart of the fabric of society. Abraham realised that faith in God is greater even than this.

And in the Gospel we hear that the sacrifice is not the sacrifice of an unwilling son, but the gift of God himself, in the Son. Just as in the Old Testament, God replaces the brutality of human sacrifice with the sacrifice of a Ram, so in Christ it is the Lamb of God the takes our sins upon himself.

Sacrifice is, at the end of it all, not about violence, but about love. It is not about taking a life, but about giving life. It is not about blind faith, but about the hope of resurrection, the resurrection of the One clearly seen in all his glory.

Lent 1 (B) Noah's Ark : Homily / Sermon

God spoke to Noah and his sons, ‘See, I establish my Covenant with you. (Genesis 9:8-15)

In the first five Sundays of Lent in Year B we are presented with an introduction to the Old Testament. We begin with the story of the covenant of God with Noah, and a reminder of the sign of the covenant - the rainbow. How can we understand this story, and what on earth has it got to do with Lent, with Jesus’ temptation in the desert?

Some people will look at this story and try to find the historical evidence to support it, and some of that is intriguing: in many cultures there are stories of great floods, and some archeologists have even tried to find evidence of the Ark, and the mountain on which it landed.

At the other extreme, there are those who reject the story out of hand. It is just a tale from primitive people, they say, to explain the rainbow, and a way to explain the presence of some beauty in the midst of much danger. Such people would also point out that the destruction of men, women and children alike, cities and civilisations, is very unworthy of a God of love.

For the Church though, neither of these paths are satisfactory. The search for historical detail will tell us little of use, and the complete rejection of the story fails to take it seriously at all. Even if one view or the other is true, neither tells us what the story actually means.

No, from ancient times, Christian writers have pointed out that it is the symbolism of the story which gives its underlying message, and when we consider it in this way, it’s really meaning opens us before us, like the blooming of a flower.

And so It is a wonderful story with which to begin Lent, and throws great light on the story of Jesus’ temptation in the desert.

It sets before us the Covenant between God and the entire people of the earth. The pledge, promise, commitment of love which God makes to the humanity - despite our faithlessness and our failings, despite our suffering and our sin.

Here - just as Jesus prepares to embarks upon his ministry - his teaching, his healing, his suffering and his sacrifice - we have an account of the Ark and the aftermath. It is a tale full of sin and salvation, of destruction and compassion, of faith and hope.

It meets us on the swell of water, which washes away so much, and a small boat which saves God’s wonderful creation.
We hear echoes of the salvation of a nation through the waters of the Red Sea; it points forward to the stilling of the storm by Jesus, and his walking on the water. In the salvation of Noah and his family from destruction, there are hints already of the death and resurrection of Him who waits in the wilderness. This account, in the earliest pages of the Old Testament, prefigures already the Christian journey of baptism through water, and of the promise of eternal life.

And the 40 days on the boat, are reflected to us in the 40 days of Christ in the wilderness, and we share with them in our 40 days of Lent.

They are all a time of journeying from sin, a time of patient hope, a time of promise, a time of trial, and a time which shines brightly over us, in the rainbow, in the promise of redemption.

3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time : Homily / Sermon

‘Follow me and I will make you into fishers of men.’ (Mark 1:17)

Today's Gospel presents us with a simple story - the call of the disciples Peter and Andrew, and James and John. Two sets of brothers. Four manual labourers, four workmen. Four people who were no doubt skilled at their work, but probably otherwise uneducated. And as we know from elsewhere, they were direct, straightforward, and sometimes hotheaded men.

And Jesus invites them: not to fame or riches. He promises not worldly status or even an easy life. He does even invite them to join a cosy community isolated from the troubles of them world.
He calls them to leave the work they know, and embark upon something they can hardly begin to understand. The only hint or inkling they can have is that in calling these two pairs of brothers, he is saying, “come and do what I do, come and call others to follow - be fishers of men, callers of humanity, gatherers of peoples”.

And so - at the very start, at the first assembling of his followers, Jesus is preparing for a time when they must take the lead. He is assembling those who must follow him in order to gather others. He is already anticipating a time when they must do this without his immediate presence - at least not present in the way he was on that day by the lake.

At the moment of the call of the very first of the apostles, he is preparing them already for his death and resurrection.

He is assembling a community, a Church, to continue his work of preaching, teaching, comforting and calling. A Church that is set to grow because its purpose is to drag others into its nets, to call others into its fellowship, to proclaim and message of hope and welcome humanity into God's love.

The Church we he forms from these few first followers becomes his body, now alive in the world.
And so he is calling us to continue his work of healing, or praying, of teaching, of loving.

It could not be expressed more beautifully than it is in words attributed to St Teresa of Avila.

Christ has no body now on earth but yours,
no hands but yours, no feet but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks with Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, by which he gives his blessing.

Prayer of St Teresa of Avila (1515–1582)