18th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C) : Homily / Sermon

‘So it is when a man stores up treasure for himself in place of making himself rich in the sight of God.’ (Luke 12:21)

 

There are plenty of adverts on the telly about becoming rich. If its not the lottery, its some other cash prize or draw that can make us unimaginably rich. 

 

And for ordinary people - all of us - the thought of becoming suddenly wealthy is very attractive. Like the rich man in the second half of the parable: Most people would give up work- for life if its really enough money - go and live in a villa in Spain, or the Caribbean, or somewhere else that is hot and where the pace of live slow. Most would want the win to remove the pressure and stress from their lives, take away the need for toil and give them years of comfort and leisure. 

 

But the odd thing is that people who are really rich - really really rich - don’t see things in this way. Like the man at the beginning of the Gospel, the really rich don’t give up work and rest back on their wealth, but want to acquire more, more than they can ever use of spend. The really rich - who let’s face it, one way or another have worked to get where they are - they are not satisfied with their wealth. It can never, ever, be enough. 

 

And here we hit on the message of Jesus. Remember the rich young man who came to see him? He asked “What must I do to get eternal life?” In riches and wealth and material things there is some pleasure and enjoyment, but it is never adequate. 

 

Whatever our musings and dreamings, the question each one of us must ask ourselves is simple yet demanding: What do I really want? 

 

What is my treasure? 

 

Is it luxury and leisure? Is it fine things, material goods? Is it ever increasing wealth and possession? 

 

Or is it friends and family? Honesty and loyalty? Companionship and commitment? Truth and self-respect? Love and Devotion? 

 

This life - or the next?

Homily for Christmas Carol Services

It's all about shepherds and angels. 

Of course it isn't at all - it's all about the birth of Jesus, the King of King and Lord of Lords, the Christ, the Messiah, the Son of God. 

But if you want to understand this, if you want to get past the lofty phrases, the flamboyant language, the song and praise, if you want to grasp what it going on - then you have to realise that it really is about shepherds and angels. 

The shepherds - men and boys, working the night shift, watching in their fields, protecting their flocks from wolf and predator, risking their lives - they are the first to hear this good news. They are not kings or politicians. They are not wealthy or famous. They are not scholars or well educated. They are ordinary blokes. Sitting round the fire, singing songs, telling jokes, doing a hard and dangerous job, struggling to makes ends meet. They are the men on the rigs, the miners at the coal face, dockers and drivers, soldiers on night patrol in Helmand, police on dangerous streets. They are straightforward, rough and ready, not easily fooled or taken in. Salt of the earth. 

And their involvement in this wondrous tale underlines for us the poverty and simplicity of this birth. A refugee couple seeking asylum in the cattle shed. Homeless and without medical care. A child born in danger and soon to be at risk from a wicked King. 

And the angels? If the shepherds are the salt of earth, they are the glory of the heavens. They transform a simple squalid scene into a celebration of the Saviour's birth. They reveal the truth of his majesty, the greatness of his power, the extent of his impact upon human history and human lives. They bring heaven to earth, so that this ordinary birth is now proclaimed, extoled and praised all over the world. We sing today, because the angels sang on that cold and inhospitable night. 

So, in this meeting of the shepherds and the angels, the earthly and divine are joined and united. God comes down to earth - so that we might be raised up to heaven. 

Homily / Sermon for the 21st Sunday in Ordinary Time

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)

 

Hindsight is a great thing. 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 Hanley. 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 these words 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 that extraordinary vision: the 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 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 persecution, but indifference and ridicule. We are not painted as a dangerous novelty, but 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, and a vision, in the Kingdom of God, the truth of the Gospel, the certainty of their hope, the reality of the future growth and prosperity of the Church. 

 

And they were right!