Tuesday, August 01, 2017

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time : Homily / Sermon

“The Kingdom of Heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone has found.” (Matthew 13:44)

 

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It is at this time of year that we can read of the transfers of footballers from one team to another. If you follow a particular team, it can be interesting, even exciting. If you are an impartial onlooker - or even if you are not - the figures involved, the fees paid to club and to player, not to mention the wage packets which the players will receive, are quite astounding. Can any individual really be worth so much? And the figures quoted will inevitably bring the inevitable comparisons - can a footballer really be £75 million, while the nurses who work in our hospitals cost about £25,000 a year. So, one footballer is worth 3,125 nurses. Is this really a just situation?

 

Actually it is a rather unreal comparison. It is not the man who is valued so highly. The money in these situations is about business judgments, not really about the individual, and certainly not whether he is a nice person or not.

 

However, it does raise an important question. How much do we really value people? And why is there such a discrepancy between the money which people attract and how important we might think them to be?

 

It was Oscar Wilde, who in 1892 gave us a useful definition - A cynic, he said, is someone who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing. 

 

And we live in a very cynical society. (At least in the way of that definition). We live in a society in which almost everything and everyone has a price. Money measures value, worth. It defines importance, status, happiness. 

Yet in all cases money, good, possessions are things which are hear today and gone tomorrow. They may give great comfort, but they do not last. 

 

Today’s readings tell a different story. 

In today's Old Testament reading, the new king, Solomon, asks not for long life, nor for riches, nor for victory in battle. He does not ask for worldly success, fame, adulation or celebrity. No, he asks for discernment, wisdom, the ability to distinguish between what is right and what is wrong. Solomon asks for the grace to be able to judge the values, not the prices.

 

And that too is the meaning of these two little parables in the Gospel: the finder of the treasure and the finder of the pearls recognise them for what they are. Like the expert on the Antiques Road Show, they can tell the difference between an old vase and a valuable antique. 

 

Our treasure, our pearls are those sought by Solomon, wisdom, discernment, an ability to know the difference between good and evil, to seek goodness, justice and peace, to exercise mercy and compassion, to recognise the needy around us, to use the things that do not last by living the virtues which are eternal. 

 

True value is not to be found in scarcity, or celebrity, or victory, but in knowing the difference between right and wrong, between true or false; true value is found in love and loyalty, in compassion and mercy - these are things which last for ever, the treasures which are here for more than just the a day.

 

True treasures outlive passing pleasures.They neither fail nor rot away. They are a glimpse of heaven on earth - and the bricks which tile the road to the Kingdom.

Sunday, June 25, 2017

12th Sunday of the Year (A) : Homily / Sermon

Do not be afraid (Matthew 10:26)

 

Fear is in the air at the moment. There is the fear, the dreadful fear that was experienced in that terrible fire at Grenfell Tower in London. There is the subsequent fear that this disaster could be repeated and the fear that must be felt by those being evacuated from their homes. There has also been the fear that has followed terrorist attacks in Manchester and London. And also, of course, the fear that hangs in the air over the state of the economy and how the currently uncertain political situation will develop. 

 

And in this atmosphere, we hear the words of Jesus: Do not be afraid. They occur twice in today’s Gospel. Similar words occur many times and in many situations throughout the Old and New Testaments. Words of comfort. Words of reassurance. 

 

Yet do they really mean anything? And are they really words of encouragement and hope or just empty expressions in the face of disaster? Certainly people of no faith would say so. How can we realistically, honestly, say to those facing calamities as we have seen recently, they should not fear, that they should trust in God. These words might seem almost cruel. Why should the afflicted not fear? 

 

But these expressions, though understandable, are quite wrong. 

 

Fear leads to despair. It blights our lives. It can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. If we live in fear of the worst that can happen, we become frozen in in-action, shut inside our homes, never venturing out, never living our lives, stripped of our joy. 

 

And fear leads not only to despair, but also anger, and suspicion, and to hatred. In fear, people turn against those who are different, those who disagree, those who might have some connection, however small, to the cause of our fear. In fear we see only the negative, the wickedness in people. We are blinded by blood-tinted spectacles. 

 

Jesus’ words challenge us to move away from fear. Not to foolhardiness - which would be to pretend that the dangers and perils don’t exist - but rather to Courage, that virtue which knows that there are perils, and confronts them, but will not be ruled by them. 

 

Jesus is leading us not to close our minds to difficulties, but to change our hearts in hope; not to see only the wickedness and weaknesses of people, but to appreciate their immense goodness and generosity and compassion. We have seen so many examples of this: the police and firefighters who helped victims of the fire; the donations of goods, time and money, to help those who have become homeless; the imam who protected the man who would have killed his fellow muslims; the doctors nurses and health care workers who have assisted the injured and the bereaved and the distressed. 

 

Do not afraid does not mean empty blind hope, that pretends all is well when it is not, but facing the dangers, defying the disaster, confronting the wickedness, with hope - hope in God, and hope in the goodness of his people. It means living the Love of God, because, as St John says perfect love casts out fear. (1 John 4:18)

Saturday, June 03, 2017

Pentecost : Homily / Sermon

Jesus said to them, ‘Peace be with you.
‘As the Father sent me, so am I sending you.’ (John 20:21)

Religion is the cause of conflict in the world. People will often tell you this. 

And we shouldn’t think that when we hear about the terrible things that happened in Manchester recently, and similar, even worse, atrocities in Egypt and Kabul since then, that this is just something to do with Islam. People who are not religious often see Religion itself, to be the principal source of dissension and conflict in the world, not just now, but also in history. 

After all wasn’t Northern Ireland about Protestants and Catholics? And Bosnia was Orthodox Christians and Muslims? And were not some of the worst atrocities in history committed by (so-called) Christians against the Jews? 
(I have to say “so-called” Christians about the Nazis - because it is so painful for me to think that what they did, is somehow associated with what I believe. But they thought they were Christians. And their mission was to rid the world of Jews.)

Of course, to say that all these terrible things are down to religion is much too simple. People use religion as their badge of identity in a conflict. It doesn’t make them a good catholic or protestant or jew or whatever if they use that banner in their fight. Al-Qaeda don’t represent Muslims any more than the Provisional IRA represented catholics or the Nazis represented Lutheran protestants. 

And today there is something more that we can say. On that first Christian Pentecost people of all races, all backgrounds and all languages were gathered in the city. Huge crowds with different cultures and customs. It may have felt threatening and uncomfortable for the local people. It was a recipe for misunderstanding and conflict. An opportunity for crime and division. 

Yet the Gift of the Holy Spirit did not divide, but unite. He did not make everyone the same, but he celebrated their differences. He did not make people pretend there were no variations  between them, but he helped them praise God for the colour and variety and diversity of the crowd. 


He did not set one against another, but he brought them together in truth.