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. 

 

 

The Baptism of the Lord (C) : Homily / Sermon

Someone is coming who is more powerful than I am, and I am not fit to undo the strap of his sandals (Luke 3:16) 

 

Taking down the decorations is always something of an anti-climax, isn’t it? Although people will say they should come down on 12th Night - no one seems to know whether that means the 5th or 6th of January, and now that we keep the feast of the Epiphany on the first Sunday in the new year that doesn’t seem very relevant anyway. Most people seem to want to take their decorations down even before new year - and probably, let’s be practical, before they go back to work. 

 

And it’s a Job. A necessary and important Job. But a Job nonetheless. A task to be performed, but done just because it has to be done. It's like washing up after Christmas Dinner, or tidying and cleaning house or hall after a party. Collecting pulled crackers and streamers, paper and crumbs. Just a necessary chore. No Joy and anticipation here. 

After all - it’s over now. That’s the end of this joyful time. Now we return to work. We dont sing or here those comforting and cheery songs about chestnuts roasting by a open fire. We won't be  ‘laughing through the snow’ now - but rather (if it ever comes) trudging through it - it's dark, dreary, wet. January is a depressing month. We are now very much ‘In the bleak midwinter’. 

 

But there could not be a greater contrast in our moods with today’s Gospel and the celebration today. Perhaps it is too convenient for us to think that once the child is born and safe in his Mother’s arms that it is all over. Well every Mother, every parent knows that is not the case: Now - it has just begun!

 

Christmas to Epiphany is not an ending, but a beginning: “one is coming who is greater than I am” John the Baptist says. (Throughout this year of mercy we are reading through St Luke’s Gospel, and) Soon we will hear of Jesus’ miracles, of the call of his disciples, of the beginning of his preaching. We will hear of the excitement of the crowds, the controversy amongst the religious leaders, the anxieties of kings. We will hear of adulation and trepidation - of plaudits and of plots. We see what was present and worshipped in the crib unfold into a life lived for all of us - its teaching, its mystery, its sacrifice. 

 

And there is one of the decorations which could stay with us a little longer, because it is no decoration, but a holy icon. [The crib will stay for a few weeks.] In the old English tradition, the crib would stay in the Church 40 days after Christmas, right until Candelmass, 2nd February, and no bad thing - after all the Kings have only just arrived - [why should we pack them away so soon]. 

 

The crib, if you like, is the acorn of the faith, the mustard seed. From something tiny and almost secret a great tree will emerge. The virgin and spouse speak to us of the power of love and prayer. The shepherds call us to humility. The kings beckon us to glory. 

 

Yet Someone, something, very great, more powerful is about to emerge. We are not fit to undo the strap of his sandles. 

 

The story has just begun ...

Homily / Sermon: Holy Family

His mother stored up all these things in her heart. (Luke 2:51)

Take a brief look at any image, icon or statue you have of the Holy Family. From the Christmas Crib itself, to any icon or painting, modern or ancient, they all have much the same format.

Almost all of these images have a basic heart shape. The two adult figures larger, to either side of the central figure of Jesus.

They are a close knit group. The love which binds and unites them is evident. The protection and nurture which the family gives to the child is clearly portrayed. Three hearts which beat as one, bound to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

Now, Take note of the eyes of Mary and Joseph. The aspect of the eyes portrays the disposition of the Hearts. Sometimes they look towards us, sharing their love and worship with us. Often the eyes of Joseph are fixed on Our Lady, emphasing his acceptance of God’s will. But most often the eyes of both parents are fixed on their son, in wonder and in deep adoration of their child and God’s Son.

And lastly, look at the Christ-child - sometimes an infant (as in the crib), but most often a child - cradled in the centre of the scene, often with arms outstretched in welcome, in invitation or in blessing. He is the focal point, the centre and purpose of the family and object of our love too. This family does not look in upon itself, but outwards, to us. The family is giving to us its very heart, its offspring, its precious child.

So here, in this harmony of hearts, this image of love, is a most extraordinary sacrifice - a child for the salvation of the world.