Second Sunday in Ordinary Time (C) : Homily / Sermon

This was the first of the signs given by Jesus: it was given at Cana in Galilee. He let his glory be seen, and his disciples believed in him. (John 2:11)

 

Throughout this year of mercy, we will be hearing mainly from St Luke’s Gospel, but today, on the first “Green” Sunday, it is the Gospel of John which speaks to us. We shouldn’t be surprised - it is the first miracle of Jesus, and in many ways the beginning of his ministry. “He let his glory be seen” : it is not just the beginning of his ministry of teaching, but also the beginning of his revealing as the Word made flesh. 

And like most of John’s Gospel this is a story which is deeply symbolic and laden with meaning. 

 

Yet it is also a very human story, and a very human situation. It is a miracle, yes, but one which is almost secret, known to few, without drama or spectacle. 

 

Jesus is present, with friends and family, at a community celebration. Yet it is one in which something goes badly wrong - as we know things sometimes do. The conversation between the son and mother reveals a little tension, perhaps. She asks him to do something, and expects him to … Yet he protests. It is not unlike the story Jesus tell much later of the two sons: one promises to do what he is asked, yet neglects to, and the other refuses to do what he is told, yet thinks better of it, and later he does. And Jesus, like the second son in the story, complains, yet nevertheless does as his Mother bids. It seems, perhaps, that the Mother knows the Son better than he does himself. At heart, putting the quiet miracle aside for a moment, this is a tale familiar to any family. The young man Jesus appears to say “Oh Mum! … Why do I have to do everything?” There are no slamming doors … but we get the idea. 

 

Yet there is a difference. Because a miracle, however quiet, however secret, however hidden, is performed. And to those who know this, his glory is revealed, and future generations will come to know this tale as one of the most familiar in Scripture. 

 

And the tale lends itself to much spiritual interpretation. 

It is the revelation of the divinity of the man Jesus, of the incarnation of the Word made flesh.

It provides an introduction to the sacraments - baptism, in which water becomes the gateway to salvation, replacing the ceremonies of the Jewish law; the mass, in which the wine becomes the precious blood of Christ; and of course marriage, in which man and woman become one flesh. It is an image of transformation, in which the ordinary becomes extraordinary - which can have so many echoes with our daily lives.

In laying before us a wedding feast, it symbolises also the Marriage Feast of the Lamb, the glory of Heaven.

And it is also a course an indication of the role of Our Lady, bringing  our prayers before the feet of her son, she who knows him so well, loves him so much and places such faith in his mercy. 

 

Yet for all this, perhaps the most striking feature of the story is not the fact that it reveals a typical depiction of a human, a family situation, nor that it is a miracle, nor that it lends itself to so many symbolic interpretations, but that it is all of these. Christ, the Son of God, the Word made flesh, shares the joys of a human family, parties with the people… As we travel through this Year of Mercy and hear mostly the words of St Luke’s Gospel we will hear of him healing the sick, caring for the poor, teaching the needy, feeding the hungry, sharing our sorrows, embracing their suffering - and it all begins with this great moment of Joy, and of Hope. A celebration - in which heaven and earth are united and embrace. A moment of mercy. An outpouring of love. 

 

 

Lent 4 (C) : Homily / Sermon

While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was moved with pity. He ran to the boy, clasped him in his arms and kissed him tenderly. (Luke 15:20)

On Mothering Sunday it may seem odd to us that we have a Gospel reading which so clearly speaks of family life, yet which mentions only the men, the Father and his two sons.

The situation is very familiar in one way or another to many families. It speaks of faithfulness and impetuosity, of indulgence and jealousy, of affection for the wayward one, and the anger of the one who feels taken for granted. What family has not known some of these feelings and situations?

Yet as we look at the story - especially today - we might just wonder about the mother. How did she feel about the son who took his money and wasted it all? Did she long for his return, or sympathise with her older son in his bitterness? Or did she just dutifully toil in the kitchen, cooking the fatted calf?

We shouldn’t ask too many of these kind of questions, because if we do, we are in danger of missing the point. This all-too-human family is far more. For we are the sons, both wayward like the younger son and bitter like the elder, sinful and self-righteous. And the Father ... is of course the Father. God himself. With all the good qualities we might associate with mothers and fathers: Judging, Guiding, Loving, forgiving, yearning to welcome us back to him, watching that he might spy us from afar, beginning the long road back. And ready to celebrate our return.

Not only do we keep Mothering Sunday this weekend, but in the coming week, beginning on Tuesday, the Cardinals in Rome will be choosing our new Holy Father. There is much speculation, much opinionating, much expectation, and much hope.

More than all else, of course it must be a time of prayer.

And it is also a good moment to remind ourself what makes the Pope not just Holy, but also a Holy Father. Like the Father in the Gospel, He will look upon us while we are still a long way off, and guide us home. He will bring forgiveness, and celebration. He will be our teacher, and guide. He will show to us the Father's love, within the family of God's people.

He will remind us, that God is both Mother and Father, judging yet forgiving, encouraging, yet indulging, loving and waiting, ready for our sorrow and our repentance which is at the heart of this season of Lent. And Leading us, together, in the one Body of Christ, to the celebration of the Victory of Easter.

Trinity Sunday: Homily / Sermon

 

The Lord, a God of tenderness and compassion, slow to anger rich in kindness and faithfulness. (Exodus 34:6)

This weekend, as the world keeps Father’s Day, It seems odd, perhaps that the Church, which many has many feasts of Our Lord - most obviously his resurrection at Easter - and a feast of the Holy Spirit - Pentecost, which we celebrated last weekend, yet has no feast of God the Father.

And yet, to understand the Father, is to understand the Trinity, which we celebrate today.

There are people today who say it is unhelpful to refer to God as “Father”. For one thing, they argue, it is sexist, too focussed on the male gender.

And for another, it is said that many people have a negative understanding of Fatherhood - fathers are sometimes abusive, violent or just absent.

And again, sometimes people think of God being like a Victorian Father, a Dickensian Step-Father: Strict, fierce  and quick to punish. This idea is also described as the ‘God of the Old Testament’ - setting the laws and justly, but harshly punishing the offenders. It seems to be hard and mechanical view of God.

In these circumstances, how can fatherhood be a good image of God?

But the Father who presents himself to us today is none of these things. He is - in the words of the Old Testament itself: The Lord, a God of tenderness and compassion, slow to anger rich in kindness and faithfulness.

He is also - in the words of today’s Gospel

The one who -  ‘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 3:16)

And as the second reading also makes clear:

Be united; live in peace, and the God of love and peace will be with you. (1 Co 13:12)

Notice the word and the idea which is common to all three, not law, not judgment, not anger, not punishment, not even justice - but Love.

We can be misled in our ideas of Fatherhood, if we think it is just a matter of ancestry, descent, and family ties. True fatherhood is not about the bloodline, it about a bond of love.

It is not that our image of fatherhood is inadequate for understanding God - no, it is rather the opposite: that our experience of human Fatherhood will always be challenged by the perfect, glorious benevolent Fatherhood of God.

Jesus taught us to call God our Father, because God is love - love that wraps us round as his children - love that makes a family what it is truly meant to be - love that defines what a true Father is, and which challenges us to be his true children.