Fourth Sunday of Lent (C) : Homily / Sermon

Fourth Sunday of Lent (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. Loving, forgiving, merciful: yearning to welcome us back to him, when we are ready.

And the great painter Rembrandt had a deep insight when he painted the tender scene of the welcome of the prodigal, for the Father’s hands which embrace the returning son are one large muscular and rough, the other lighter, nimbler and smooth, a male hand and then a female hand, in a loving and welcome embrace.

God is both Mother and Father, filled with mercy, indulgent, loving, watching and waiting, for our sorrow, for our repentance. Longing to welcome us to the celebration of our forgiveness.

15th Sunday of the Year : 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.

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.

And all we need to do to receive this great gift of God - is to acknowledge that we need it.

Divine Mercy / Easter 2 - homily/ sermon

We live in a society which seems hardly to understand forgiveness, still less contrition. We have a very strong sense of blame - and guilt, but little sense of contrition and sorrow.

We see this in personal relationships, in public life, and in legal relationships. When we feel wrong is done to us, we seek someone to blame, but when we may be responsible for a wrong ... we seek someone else to blame.

And I think this approach affects, or is perhaps a symptom of the way in which people approach life.

Sorry was always a hard word to say - and nowadays it is a word we often hear demanded, but seldom see granted.

At the root it is recipe for human arrogance and pride. We see contrition as a sign of weakness - and denial as an indication of strength.

Today's Gospel, by contrast, suggests something very different. It is not about pointing the finger of blame, but about accepting the need for God’s grace. It is not about self-justification, but about confession.

It is about human frailty and weakness being healed by the risen Christ.

In the story of Thomas, it is about our lack of faith and our difficulty in believing and trusting in God.

And earlier in the Gospel, in these words about forgiveness, it is about the mercy and love offered to us by the Risen Christ through his Church.

And for our society, the problem is not that God’s mercy is not enough, but that people do not feel any need for it.

After all, if is always someone else who is to blame that person deserves not forgiveness, but punishment, vengeance.

The Risen Christ offers us not punishment, but forgiveness; not compensation, but Reconciliation; not blame, but His Mercy

And there is only one thing we need to do to receive this wonderful Gift. It is simple and in its simplicity it is wonderful. It opens the gates to Grace.

To receive this wonderful gift of the Divine Mercy, all we must do is know our need of it, and from our hearts ask for it. 
And that is precisely what modern society cannot do.

Homily for the 24th Sunday of the Year

 

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)

 

This 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. Loving, forgiving, yearning to welcome us back to him, when we are ready. 

 

And the great painter Rembrandt had a deep insight when he painted the tender scene of the welcome of the prodigal, for the Father’s hands which embrace the returning son are one large muscular and rough, the other lighter, nimbler and smooth, a male hand and then a female hand, in a loving and welcome embrace. 

 

God is both Mother and Father, indulgent, loving and patient, ready and waiting, for our sorrow and our repentance. Longing to welcome us to the celebration of His Love.