2nd Sunday of Advent - Year C

Baruch 5:1-9; Philippians 1:3-6.8-11; Luke 3:1-6

Advent plays havoc with our tenses - future, present, past - we wait for what has already come and celebrate what has not yet arrived. It’s all a bit confusing!

The trouble is that God has no tenses; he dwells in an eternal now. We poor humans, on the other hand, are formed in time and space. We live somewhere between an ancient past whose origins are shrouded in mystery and a future sealed in prophecy and promise. Our now is that tiny instant where what was and what will be rub together and, perplexingly, even this fleeting moment, like the oxygen we gulp down so greedily, slips away from us before we can grasp it.

Undoubtedly, God has all the advantage but he also has an extraordinary plan whose centre lies in Jesus, the Eternal Word, who long ago became flesh and entered into time. Imagine that! The eternal entered time! And why? So that we might, through him, enter into the eternal.

This plan of God is also our hope, incorporated into our spiritual DNA from the very beginning; a hope so ‘enormous’ that it cannot be realised in time. It just won’t fit into that little space between past and future in which we exist. Even our mere longing for the realisation of God’s promise can cause us to swoon as it overinflates our tiny hearts and causes the saints among us to cry out ‘No more, no more, or I’ll die.’

Advent is the season in which we fill time with longing for the coming of the Eternal One. Popular culture would have us believe Advent is a season of preparation for the coming of the Divine Infant to Bethlehem. Not so. He has already come.

No, though we celebrate, and celebrate again what has already been given us we direct our present desire to the future coming of the Lord in glory – Maranatha!

If all eyes turn to Bethlehem where the Virgin gave birth to the Redeemer 2000 years ago it's for the same reason we contemplate the other mysteries of his life, because they reveal the one Lord, the merciful Redeemer and just Judge, who is yet to come.

Our contemplation of the birth, life, suffering, death and resurrection of the Lord is, consequently, a necessary contemplation which nourishes our understanding and therefore our longing. These ‘mysteries of the Rosary’ are the footsteps of the Saviour in history, leading us to that spectacular moment of completion when the very same Saviour will appear before us in the fullness and splendour of his power over all, including time.

He is coming as he promised; what must we do? I think you already know.

Prepare a way for the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley will be filled in, every mountain and hill be laid low, winding ways will be straightened and rough roads made smooth. And all mankind shall see the salvation of God.

1st Sunday of Advent - Year C

Jeremiah 33:14-16; 1Thessalonians 3:12 - 4.2;
Luke 21:25-28.34-36

Too many people live either in the past or in the future. Very few of us live in the present.

Those who live in the past or in the future live in a world which doesn't exist, and because it doesn't exist it has no ground for them to put their feet on. They are doomed forever to float, unable to land.

What is more, Christian faith can be exercised only in the present moment. The present moment is real time. We should all have our watches set to it. In real time the sun shines golden, the rain falls fresh and every breath is a blessing. Even when real time turns sour - when the Babylonians attack, when persecution comes, or even, as in the Gospel, the end of the world begins, we can still stand confidently, our heads held high, because our faith in the word of God is undiminished and promises safety - but only in real time.

The readings from Scripture today invites us to remember some moments from the past and some moments from the future but only so that we might become more firmly grounded in the present moment. Ironically, only those firmly grounded in the comforting reality of the present moment are ready for the future, and do not fear it.

The First Reading takes us back to an anguished, dark moment for the Jews when Nebuchadnezzar was besieging Jerusalem. Their world was falling apart and their lives were on the line. The enemy was sweeping in from the north and in those days it was better not to be taken prisoner.

In the midst of the chaos Jeremiah speaks a prophecy - an inspired word about the future:

I will make a virtuous Branch grow for David ... Judah shall be saved and Israel shall dwell in confidence.

A branch from the stump of David will shoot forth and save his people so that they may dwell in confidence! We know this Branch is Jesus.

It is by remembering the loving plan of God in the midst of the troubles and catastrophes of our life in the world that we are given strength to live the painful present moments of our journey.

Jesus, too, in the Gospel today, prophesies that we will be saved (liberated) so that we may stand (dwell) in confidence before him - and this prophecy, too, is made in the context of a fearful catastrophe - the world's final destruction.

I can't help pointing out that Jesus twice exhorts us to stand - erect and in confidence - and I can't help repeating that only those who live in the present moment can stand because they have their feet on the ground and can therefore exercise their faith in God.

There will always be disasters in our lives. There have been disasters in human history and in the personal lives of individuals ever since the creation of Adam. These will continue to the end of time. Our only real security in all our troubles is in the word of God.

Even in the midst of the most cataclysmic signs of the end of time which lie in the future it is the word of God which proposes itself as our rock of safety but only if we listen to it now, in this present moment.

The cosmic nature of the signs which will shake the powers of heaven, which will cause nations to be in agony and bewildered by the mounting tide of chaos, (the clamour of the ocean and its waves); which will cause men actually to die of fear as they await what menaces the world - is set against the unbelievably simple word of God which will ensure confidence and survival - PRAY!

Can you believe it? God's advice for overcoming fear and death in the midst of disaster - pray!

But beware - pray now not then. Pray in the present so that in the future you will stand in confidence before the Son of Man.

Those who do not pray will not have the strength to stand, they will either die of fear or find themselves trapped in their sins, unworthy of the presence of God.

Let us go to the Responsorial Psalm for some good advice as we begin the period of Advent. You will notice once again that the focus is on where our feet are:

Lord, make me know your ways.
Lord, teach me your paths.
Make me walk in your truth, and teach me:
for you are God my saviour.

The Lord is good and upright.
He shows the path to those who stray,
he guides the humble in the right path;
he teaches his way to the poor.

I pray that for each one of us today our Advent journey will begin with a fresh resolve to walk in the paths of the Lord. I pray for scrupulous faithfulness to the Sunday Eucharist among the Catholic people of God; I pray for a humble willingness to confess grave sin in the sacrament of Confession; I pray for a readiness to set aside 'prime time' for prayer every day.

The choice God offers is for now - for today - for this present moment - for each of us.

Christ the King - Year B

Daniel 7:13-14; Apocalypse 1:5-8; John 18:33-37

Two men confronting each other: Jesus and Pilate.

Two men:

• a ruler and a slave
• a master and a servant
• a king and a subject

But which is which? Who is the ruler and who is the slave? Who is truly King? Each one of us has to decide for ourselves. Where do we stand? On whose side are we?

Let's look at Pilate:

He seems to be powerful enough.

• Surely you know, he says to Jesus, that I have power to release you and power to crucify you?
• He occupies the chair of the governor; he wields the authority of Caesar himself.
• He has servants and slaves to carry out his wishes and fighting men at his disposal.
• Undoubtedly he would have been rather wealthy.

He certainly seems to be a powerful individual and, in the ways of the world, a real success story; one of the mighty ones with a great future ahead. In modern terms he would have been a senior politician; his face would regularly be in the newspapers; he would have a fine limousine, minders, authority, and a certain amount of fearful respect from the 'ordinary' people. And the fact that he probably got there by stepping over the heads of his opposition would make the world respect him even more. Someone to be looked up to.

But is that really so?

What we have described so far are all the external things; things that tell us nothing about the man himself. What sort of a man do we see in this confrontation with Jesus?

What does Pilate reveal about himself?

We see a man ruled by doubt.

• He is constantly running back and forth, goes inside and comes out again; from Jesus to the crowd outside and from the crowd back to Jesus.
• He, the strong man, asks the crowd: What must I do? What do you want me to do with this man Jesus? Whom shall I release for you - this man or Barabbas?

We see a man ruled by contradiction.

• He finds no guilt - so he has Jesus scourged.
• He washes his hands in innocence - and orders his crucifixion.
• He feels pity for Jesus: Here is the man, look at him! and has him killed.
• He realises that they are out to get Jesus through jealousy - and hands him over.

We see a man ruled by confusion.

• He is the man who is supposed to uphold the law, to pronounce judgment and dispense justice and he asks, like a blind man: Truth, what is that?

We see a man ruled by fear.

• He is afraid that Rome will dismiss him from his job.
• He is afraid of losing his grip on his power and prestige.
• He is afraid of a riot and he is afraid of losing face before the people.

Outwardly big in the eyes of the world this man is inwardly very small. Pilate is really only a little man.

Jesus stands before Pilate the giant with feet of clay, whose world is about to crumble and who, actually, is soon to be dethroned.

Face to face with him, his arms bound, his eyes swollen from the blows he has received, spittle covering his face, stands Jesus, shivering with the cold.

• In Jesus, evil is not king because Jesus IS Love.
• He is not ruled by violence because he IS Peace.
• In him there is no room for lies and cheating, no questions like 'What is truth?' because he IS the Truth.
• Jesus is not a giant with feet of clay but rather the cornerstone of the whole building.
• In him there is no frantic movement to save himself but rather a deep confidence and trust in his Father.
• He does not even turn his face from those who spit at him and tug at his beard; you have to be powerful to be able to do that.
• No need, like Pilate, to use threats - his is the calm of knowing he stands in the authority and power of God.
• No need, like Pilate, to protest his innocence because his Father will show his innocence when the time comes.
• No whimpering because he faces a savage death, because his life has been one long preparation for this moment.

The moment of fear has passed in the Garden the night before and Jesus now stands before Pilate in the full strength and power of his Father's will and his own integrity - and Pilate is profoundly disturbed.

Well, who is the real king? Who do men say that I am .... who do you say that I am?

Is it Pilate or is it Jesus?

Outwardly Pilate is the giant with power and prestige but he is broken inside. Inside he is no giant. Inside he is small and weak and frightened.

The world is really like that. Our society is really like that. Our Church community is really like that. Each one of us individually is really like that - small and weak and frightened. We sometimes put on displays of great power but we remain small and weak and frightened.

But Jesus is not so. He is the true Ruler - King - Lord. He alone is able to withstand the strength of the great and make them nothing. He needs no army and no servants. His greatest weapon is the relationship he has with God his Father and so he has no need for displays of any kind. Jesus manifests to us the calm and peace and gentleness that comes from being firmly rooted in the truth - like a tree planted near flowing waters - not caring whether it be drought or flood.

So where do you stand? There is no middle ground! We align ourselves either with Pilate or with Jesus. So where do you stand, and - tell me - what difference does this make in your life?

33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Daniel 12:1-3; Hebrews 10:11-14, 18; Mark 13:24-32

Among the many memories of my youth I clearly remember the moment when it first dawned on me that when I died the world would go on happily without me. The thought came as an unpleasant shock which no one else seemed particularly interested in sharing with me.

'When I die the world will go on - without me!' I was shaken to my foundations. It didn't seem right - it didn't seem fair - and the thought of a world without me in it didn't seem possible. The idea of dying was bad enough, a humiliation, but that my family and friends would go on contentedly without me was unthinkable.

It is fortunate that growing up resolves all those puzzling childhood dilemmas. Of course I will die one day, of course the world will go on after me, as it did before me, and then, one day the world, too, will grow old and die.

The gospel, written 2000 years before modern science, gives its account of this moment and sounds like it's on the right track: The sun will be darkened, the moon will lose its brightness, the stars will come falling from heaven and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

Scientists have it all worked out. They tell us in great detail how all this will happen as the sun goes into decline, expands, and then, collapsing in on itself, explodes in an unimaginable conflagration. Everything else will, of course, go haywire. Planetary orbits and so on ... distress, despair, disaster, destruction - the END!

Not so, asserts the gospel, confidently stepping beyond the limitations of science - not the end at all!

...then they will see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory; then too he will send the angels to gather his chosen from the four winds, from the ends of the world to the ends of heaven.

Not only is it not the end it seems, reassuringly, to be a new beginning.

Firstly, it is the moment of the revelation of Jesus in all his glory. This truth should be the subject matter of a lifetime's fruitful meditation. To see our Lord, to behold his face, to be able to discard our faith in favour of the clear vision of him who is our shepherd and redeemer - ecstasy!

Secondly, it is a moment of rescue, of salvation. Those of us who call ourselves disciples of the Son of Man, his chosen ones, who have a certain hope in his merciful love for us, will be gathered ... from the four winds.

No need to be surprised at this. Is this not what a true shepherd does? Is it not his task to gather the flock and to save it from destruction? Is this not what he always promised? And no need to be surprised also, as the Psalms say, that his enemies will be blown away like chaff in the wind.

Clearly today the readings look forward to this moment of the dissolution of the world and the second coming of the Master. Just count the number of times the word will is used - and each time it is used with the force of a promise. The word of God has spoken and it will not pass away.

Today's readings, because they are part of the wider apocalyptic writings of sacred scripture, use images which announce the approach of the end. The disciples had read these images in the Old Testament and now they hear them from the lips of Jesus himself and the natural question, which comes to our minds too, came to their lips - When, Lord, when will all this happen?

This is a natural human question. Our minds like to join the dots, to make logical connections which establish a timeline. Jesus, however, does not answer this question because, in his human nature, he does not know the answer.

But as for that day or hour, nobody knows it, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son; no one but the Father.

We might find it puzzling that Jesus would give us so many signs of the end and yet not be able to tell us when the end would come. On one level, of course, this has a positive dimension in that it allows that final moment to remain a present possibility for all of us. Knowing the moment of our own death could cause us endless anxiety or, perhaps, to leave our turning to God to our final moments.

My own meditation on the subject leads me to understand that the end of the world, in a sense, parallels the end of our own life. We too have signs of the end of our life - a heart attack here, a cancer scare there, a near miss on the roads, a bout of pneumonia, or simply a headache. These are all signs of our mortality and they grow more insistent the older we get.

So we know the signs, they are clear enough, but they don't answer the question when, and so it is with the end of the world.

All we can do is be prepared. We must stand ready as we live our lives in full view of that door which stands always open to receive us, the door to eternal life. It may be today, it may even be now, that we are called to pass through that door.

So ... when you see these things happening: know that he is near, at the very gates.

32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

1 Kings 17:10-16Hebrews 9:24-28Mark 12:38-44

Every week, in our Liturgy of the Word, we meet new people. We see them interacting with one another, we listen to them speak, we admire them, pity them, are attracted to them or repulsed by them.

Some are close to God, some are far from him, some repent, others fall away.

There are prophets and prostitutes, rich young men and lepers, priests, widows and fishermen, tax collectors, kings, eunuchs, children, the demon-possessed, soldiers and paralytics. The Liturgy of the Word is a like a huge stage and each time we celebrate Mass one or other of these characters makes an appearance.

This week we have a prophet, two widows, some scribes, and Jesus himself.

• The Scribes

Jesus doesn't like the Scribes at all and warns us about them. Beware of the scribes...

These men, Jesus tells us, like to walk about in long robes. That is rather funny. Can you see them in your mind's eye? They are not going anywhere, really, they are just, well, walking about - taking their long robes for a walk. Like the man who says his wife is out taking her new hairdo for a walk.

These long robes would be the dress of the scribe which were not easy to get. Like a lawyer's wig or an academic's funny hat and gown, or a doctor's stethoscope, they are a status symbol. We all have them - even if it's only the new car.

Which brings us to a serious point in our reflection. Jesus does not just hold the scribes up for ridicule, he wants us to recognise ourselves in the scribes and perhaps make some necessary changes in our attitudes and behaviour.

To be perfectly honest, I can recognise a bit of the scribe in myself from time to time. Can you? No, not in me, in you!

Still, we can't blame ourselves for smiling at these men as we see them soak up the obsequious (flattering, fawning) greetings in the market squares and scampering for the front seats in the synagogues and the places of honour at banquets. Poor fellows - and how easily pleased! If there weren't such a sinister side to them we could almost like them but Jesus warns us they swallow the property of widows. It's not like they do really good business deals and get rich through their astuteness. No, these men swallow (what a greedy sounding thing to do) - they swallow up what belongs to poor defenceless widows! - all the time making a show of prayerful piety. No wonder Jesus says: Beware of the scribes... and of the severe judgment they will receive.

• The Prophet

Elijah the prophet is person of vastly different character. He is a wonderful man. When God speaks Elijah obeys. God tells him to go into the wilderness where the ravens will bring him food and where he can drink from the stream. Elijah goes at once and when the brook dries up God sends him to Sidon where a widow will look after him. That's the widow he meets in today's First Reading.

Elijah is a marvellous character. He journeys the roads of his prophetic mission with all the confidence and trust and power of a man who walks only the paths of God's holy will. It is this intense obedience to God which gives him the moral authority to speak in God's name: Do not be afraid ... bring it to me.

• The Widows

This widow (and the one in the Gospel) is dirt poor. She has only a handful of meal (flour) and a little oil left and after that, nothing.

Note the utter simplicity of the scene. There are no 'long robes', no 'places of honour', no obsequious greetings, and no gold coins tumbling into the treasury - there is only a widow gathering sticks.

The prophet politely asks for a little water and a scrap of bread.

Please bring a little water in a vessel for me to drink ... Please bring me a scrap of bread in your hand ...

Without realising it he is asking her for all she has.

Like the scribes in the gospel, Elijah is about to swallow the property of this widow but with a huge difference. He knows that God will reward the poor woman for her kindness and work a miracle in her favour. In fact, although our short reading does not mention it, she and her son continue to live for a whole year on the flour in the jar and the oil in the jug.

The widow in the Gospel, in total obscurity and anonymity, gives all she has voluntarily - two small coins.

• Jesus

Jesus was watching. Jesus is always watching and we do well to remember it.

Jesus is so thrilled that he calls his disciples (that's us) onto the stage and teaches them the immensely important truth: ...this poor widow has put more in than all who have contributed to the treasury.

What an amazing thing this is! Once again, in the paradox of Christian discipleship, we discover what we really already know - God does not need money; he needs, he wants - us. And the lesson comes not from those entrusted with teaching it, it comes from a poor widow!

She did not give God money, she gave him herself, her present and her future.

Her song of praise was not the jingling of coins but a heartfelt, wordless hymn of trust. Alone in a dangerous world she divests herself of the last thing which stands between her and total dependence on the providence of God - a penny.

Jesus speaks of a severe judgment for the scribes and we could be forgiven for suspecting that among the celestial judges, humble and beautiful, will stand two widows.

All Saints - Year B

Apocalypse 7:2-4.9-14; 1John 3:1-3; Matthew 5:1-12

As children we heard from our father the story of the Fall in the Garden of Eden. He told us that when Adam and Eve put the forbidden fruit to their lips and ate there was a sudden loud noise in heaven which shook the whole universe. It was the sound of the gates closing. From that moment heaven was locked and no one could enter it again.

Of course, it never entered our heads that there are no gates in heaven and that therefore there could not have been a noise. Kids' stories are, like kids themselves, more interested in the truth than in the facts.

The truth was that from that moment humans were no longer capable of friendship with God; that they could not undo the damage they had done; that a Saviour was now needed, and as the story went on to tell us, he would one day come down from heaven to do the saving.

In more adult terms we are back once again to the theme of communion, or oneness with God and our brothers and sisters in Christ. Our feast today celebrates all those who are one with Christ, particularly those who have reached heaven, and of those, particularly the canonised saints. It may be helpful to some to recall here that a ‘canonised’ saint is one who has been authoritatively declared by the Church to have lived in a heroic degree of communion with Christ during his or her life.

St Paul routinely refers to the ‘saints’ living in Jerusalem or in Lydda, and so on. He means all those who are in union with Christ in the Church. In the same way, he would have called all those of us here in this church who are in the state of grace the 'saints at Camperdown'. However, we are ‘saints-at-risk’ since our freedom has not yet confirmed us in the friendship of Christ and sin can cause us to lose it.

The first reading today comes from the book of Revelation. It presents us with two visions, one on earth and one in heaven. Heavy with the same kind of symbolism found in my father’s stories the word of God directs us to divine truth.

And yet, though we all know God does not sit on a throne in heaven because he is pure spirit and that the elect don’t stand around in white gowns holding palm branches, we do not insist on this awareness. My father never pointed out to us that heaven doesn’t really have gates. He understood all too well that symbols are ‘a way of talking’ and that biblical symbolism is the language offered us by the inspiring Spirit of God to enable us to speak of heavenly realities.

And so, the ‘seal’ of God, usually worn on a ring, is pressed to the foreheads of God’s servants. Do you think God really wears a ring? You do? On which finger? No, he doesn’t wear a ring but he can claim as his own and protect from harm all who live in his friendship.

The one hundred and forty-four thousand are the New Israel. They are the twelve tribes of the Old Israel squared and then multiplied by a thousand for good measure.

The white robes and the palm branches are symbolic of purity before God and of victory over evil.

The great persecution is not meant to refer to just one historical moment but rather the experience of every Christian in every age who seeks to overcome evil and enter into communion with God and his saints.

The Lamb is Christ - the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. It is the blood of the Lamb which alone can restore innocence before God and the saints in heaven are those who have washed their robes white again in the blood of the Lamb – perhaps the most powerful image of all.

In a homily for this feast in 2006 Pope Benedict referred to a homily of the great St Bernard who said: The Saints have no need of honour from us; neither does our devotion add the slightest thing to what is theirs.... But I tell you, when I think of them, I feel myself inflamed by a tremendous yearning.

Yes, that is certainly so. We might adapt the words of Preface IV for weekdays and say: Our prayer of thanksgiving adds nothing to their greatness but makes us desire to grow in your grace.

At heart this desire is for growth in communion and the road to this communion is traced out in the Gospel today. The beatitudes are really a description of Jesus. He is truly the gentle, the merciful, the pure One who was abused and persecuted because he hungered and thirsted for what is right. It goes without saying that those of us who seek him must walk the way of the beatitudes.

The Church is God’s household - in heaven, on earth and in purgatory. To celebrate one part of it is to celebrate the whole because we are all one in him, bearing his seal on our foreheads. Let this feast inflame each one of us with the tremendous yearning St Bernard spoke of and may it renew our desire to walk the Christian way.

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Jeremiah 31:7-9Hebrews 5:1-6Mark 10:46-52

[This reflection on the gospel of Mark is made in the light of the deep concern I share with many others for the renewal of our parishes. There are no simple solutions but I believe Bartimaeus gives us a paradigm for one area of the renewal of parish life.]

As Jesus left Jericho with his disciples and a large crowd ...

Jesus was going away from Jericho. He was leaving.

Today, in the experience of our diminishing Catholic communities throughout Australia it somehow seems that Jesus is leaving us. I know this is not really true but it is somewhat the same sensation. When we leave Jesus it somehow seems he has left us.

Bartimaeus (that is, the son of Timaeus), a blind beggar, was sitting at the side of the road.

This is a picture of a sad individual. He is blind, he is a beggar, and he is sitting at the side of the road. This is a rather desperate situation. Like many others, our parish finds itself in somewhat similar circumstances.

From Jesus’ point of view which, would you say, is the worst of these three afflictions?

• Being blind?
• Being a beggar?
• Sitting at the side of the road?

From the perspective of the kingdom the last of his three afflictions is the worst.

Why? Because the road is the road to the kingdom and Bartimaeus is sitting beside it rather than travelling it.

When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout and to say, `Son of David, Jesus, have pity on me'.

Jesus reveals his presence to blind Bartimaeus through his sense of hearing. Jesus always reveals his presence somehow to those who seek him. Bartimaeus begins to shout. Do you notice that?

Bartimaeus knows that he is a blind beggar who cannot travel the road. He knows he is being left behind and so he does what he can. He does what he can. He makes a beginning. He cries out.

As a parish we too need to do what we can and to make a beginning. We must do what Bartimaeus does, we must begin to call on Jesus to help us.

And many of them scolded him and told him to keep quiet, but he only shouted all the louder, 'Son of David, have pity on me'.

You can almost hear them: 'Pull your head in, mate! Give it a rest.'

If I asked all of you in this Church right now to raise your right hand a number would do it. Some would scold me and say, 'No, this is silly, I’m not going to raise my right hand'. Some others would say, 'Not the right hand, the left.' And some would say, 'Not the hand, the foot'. Aren't we a funny lot? It's an amazing thing how few people will allow themselves to be led.

Although it's plain as the nose on our face that our parishes need a new beginning, a new plan of action, whatever plan is finally suggested some will scold. 'That’s a silly idea! Keep quiet!'.

And which people will they be? The very same people who scolded Bartimaeus - the ones following Jesus.

Jesus stopped and said, `Call him here.'

Jesus stopped. Jesus always hears our call.

But why did he not go over to the man himself? Why did he send others to bring the man to him? This is a big question. There is an important principle involved here.

• When we get sick why does God not heal us himself? Why does he send us to a doctor?
• Why did God not just part the waters of the Red Sea? Why did he ask Moses to raise his staff over it first?
• Why does God not just forgive our sins? Why does he send us to the priest?

So they called the blind man. `Courage,' they said `get up; he is calling you.'

Now they are evangelising! Now they are participating in the mission of Jesus. Now they are truly co-operating with him. They are going out to the needy person, encouraging him, and telling him that Jesus is calling him. Wonderful! That’s how we should all be.

So throwing off his cloak, he jumped up and went to Jesus.

When we begin to go to Jesus we always have to leave something behind. That is why Mark includes this detail. The cloak stands for that thing we wrap ourselves in to keep us warm. He wants us to ask ourselves: What is my cloak?

• Tradition? Oh, we’ve never done it like that before. This is something new! And so often we reject the thing that could save us.
• Fear? I’m not going to do that. What will people say? Where is it going to lead?
• Comfort? I’m ok. What’s he going on about? I’m fine, just as I am.
• Pride? Look, I had a plan. I suggested we held a bush dance and everything would be all right but they wouldn't listen so now I am taking my bat and ball and I’m going home.

We have to throw our cloak aside and jump up and go to Jesus because he is calling.

Then Jesus spoke, `What do you want me to do for you?'

Last week Jesus asked this question of his disciples James and John. They asked for honour but they didn’t get it. This week the answer to the question is 'Lord, give me vision! Give me sight, Lord, so that I can follow you.'

'Rabbuni,' the blind man said to him `Master, let me see again.' Jesus said to him, `Go; your faith has saved you'.

What saved him?

His faith!

What faith?

The blind beggar believed that if he called out to Jesus and asked for something that would help him follow Jesus along the road to the kingdom he would get it. And Jesus did not let him down.

And immediately his sight returned and he followed him along the road.

What is the lesson for us in all this? I believe that we, as a community, are like Bartimaeus. We don’t know where the road is anymore. We are slowly growing smaller and weaker. We can't see the way ahead, we are blind. The future is dark for us.

Bartimaeus knew he was blind and he called out to Jesus. This is the beginning of all renewal. Jesus answered Bartimaeus; Jesus will answer us.

Can you see why I am always asking you to spend one hour a week before the Blessed Sacrament? - calling out: Jesus, our parish is stuck! We don't know the way anymore! We need your help! Lord, that we might see!

We could call this hour the parish's Bartimaeus Hour.

By the way, have you done yours this week?

Prayer of the Grape

Lord Jesus, have mercy on me, crush me.
Take no notice of my complaints;
do not listen when I cry 'enough'.

I want to become wine, pure and fragrant,
but on my own I cannot.
The seeds of sin lie deep within me, Lord,
fear covers me like a thick skin.

Take pity, Lord.
do not withdraw your hand
so that I am doomed to be forever
... unfinished.

Crush me, Lord, with suffering,
until the dross has gone.
and even though a single drop
I can take my place
in the chalice and hear you say
'My Body, my Blood.'

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Isaiah 53:10-11; Hebrews 4:14-16; Mark 10:35-45

The Lord has been pleased to crush his servant with suffering.

What strange words these are at first sight! Just to harass an employee, let alone to ‘crush a servant with suffering’, is a chargeable offence in our country. On the lips of the prophet Isaiah, however, these words are not what they seem; they are instead words of wisdom, love and mercy and they seek to radically correct our all too human way of thinking.

• Firstly, they cause us to question ourselves about whether we really believe that God is good.

For many of us it seems the jury is still out on this question. Every bad experience, every hurt or suffering, every unhappy news report of a volcano or tsunami or earthquake makes it plain that we have not yet confidently and totally reached the conviction that God is good. ‘How could God do this? How could God allow this? Why does God not put an end to this?’

Many years ago, as a seminary student, I reached a point where I came to believe I could not go on to ordination. I had given up a teaching career and a house and I was very angry with God. I complained to him one night in a way that now causes me to blush with shame. I blamed God for causing me this humiliation and I told him so in no uncertain terms. When God’s response finally came I was utterly stupefied at his goodness and mercy towards me. Immediately I experienced the most intense remorse and vowed I would never again blame God for anything!

I had learned that God is good; that God is good when the sun is shining and when dark clouds blanket our lives. He is good when all is going well and he is good when disaster strikes. As Job affirmed: Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him. (13:15)

When a man truly believes that God is good, and when this belief in God’s goodness, like a solid foundation stone, is firmly in place in his life there is a great peace and a great strength which comes to him. No more anxieties or doubts and no more criticisms. Our God is good!

• Secondly, these words cause us to question ourselves as to who is servant and who is Lord.

We may notionally acknowledge that God is Lord and that we are the servants but in actuality we often seem to live and pray as though it’s really the other way round. That’s one of the reasons we get so angry and frustrated when he doesn’t seem to be answering our prayers the way we want him to, or when our plans are thwarted.

The wise man says: If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.

The good God is not my servant; I am his servant. I am here to do his will and wait on his plans for me. Let’s get this straight in our minds and hearts once and for all.

In many of us, also, there is a de facto understanding that God is the one who must do our will and bend to our agenda and belief system.

‘God must save everyone and must not allow anyone to go to hell.’ Oh, really? You don’t say?

‘God condones homosexual acts because God is inclusive.’ Actually, he doesn’t - and he isn’t.

‘A good God would never allow anyone to suffer like that.’ Ok, so what do those words mean: The Lord has been pleased to crush his servant with suffering?

A servant listens to his Master and obeys his word; he doesn’t put words in his Master’s mouth.

• Thirdly, these words cause us to reassess our notions about suffering.

No person in his right mind would claim that suffering is good in itself; certainly it is evil, and we Christians claim that it entered our lives because we misused our gift of freedom; we wanted to set our own limits, to be our own god. Suffering now accompanies almost every move we make; we are born in suffering and we die in suffering.

And yet there is a positive dimension to it all. Suffering can bring good. It dogs our footsteps but it can become an instrument of healing and growth; it can bring us to come to resemble the Lord himself, who learnt to obey through suffering. (Heb 5:8)

His sufferings brought him to perfect obedience, redemptive obedience, and our sufferings can lead us to come to bear a likeness to him.

As the vintner is pleased to crush the grapes (with suffering) so that he can transform them into wine, we too can be transformed if we accept, in the Lord, the sufferings involved in our own purification. We, too, shall become wine, pure and fragrant, and after that we live in the Christian hope that our good God will say over us the words, ‘This is my Body, this is my Blood’ and our transformation will be complete.

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Wisdom 7:7-11Hebrews 4:12-13Mark 10:17-30

Jesus is setting out on a journey. He invites a man to unload his baggage and join him. The man is sad because he has a lot of baggage which he loves very much. Jesus moves on without him.

Baggage or treasure?

I remember the story of a bag lady who carried her treasure in a shoe box. She protected it day and night. She was very fond of it and everyone wondered what the box contained. One day a tramp killed her for the box. Inside were some pieces of coloured string, a few dried flowers and some bottle tops. They were her treasure.

A young man came one night weeping - his wife had left him - he was devastated. I knew the couple well. He had one of those jobs which paid more and more money the harder you worked at it. He slaved day and night to pay off the enormous and really quite magnificent house he had built for his wife and two children but all she wanted was for him to spend time with his family. 'I don't care about the house, Father, I just want him home.' That young man lost his treasure in the divorce settlement.

A grandmother spoke of her grandchildren as her 'treasures'. She gave them all her time. She doted on them like a miser dotes on his gold. They 'owned' her and she was delighted to be owned. Some years later, however, she couldn't understand why they never visited her. She had been deserted by her treasures. She was very hurt and terribly lonely.

We all have our treasures - what's yours? It's a serious question. What is your treasure? What do you give your time, your energy, your love to mostly?

Many years ago I knew an Italian man who had retired. I visited him occasionally. The first thing he always did was take me into his vegetable garden. It was rather large and very lovingly tended. It was his treasure. I used to ask him to come to Mass but he wouldn't. His wife told me 'He spends all day Sunday in his vegetable garden'. When he fell from a ladder and had a brain haemorrhage he kept his bedroom curtain drawn so he wouldn't have to look at the pitiful mess his beloved garden had become.

So what is your treasure?

For the man in the gospel today it was his wealth and it seems he was very wealthy. And yet, he wanted more. Jesus loved him for that.

This man wanted eternal life (don't we all?) and he wanted to know from Jesus what he had to do to get it. Jesus answers him: You know the commandments - and then very obligingly lists a good number of them. They become for the man a kind of list of achievements! Master, I have kept all these from my earliest days. Jesus recognises this man is serious about his salvation and responds: There is one thing you lack.

Now surely, this is an earth-shattering challenge to the man (and to us). It is the heart of the gospel this week. There is one thing you lack! Your list is short by one!

Let me ask you, what is it, precisely, that this man lacked? My answer would be that he did not yet have a proper relationship to his treasure and therefore could not yet have a full relationship to God. Anyone who prefers father or mother to me is not worthy of me. Anyone who prefers son or daughter to me is not worthy of me... (Mt 10:37). And we might add 'Anyone who prefers any treasure to me, whether it be money, house, grandchildren or vegetable garden, is not worthy of me.'

It is commonly known that most Catholics prefer to watch an hour's television rather than pray for ten minutes; to read huge novels rather than a tiny book about the faith; to fly between cities to watch football matches rather than travel 15kms to church; to spend $50 in a pub or restaurant rather than put $10 on a collection plate. And we are not talking about bad people here. These are good people (a bit like us) - but there is one thing they lack. They haven't (yet) developed a proper relationship between God and their treasure. Like the man in the Gospel they want eternal life but not 'that' much.

And so the man is left behind while Jesus continues his journey. How sad! The man goes away to his vegetable garden, to his big house, to his grandchildren, to his shoe box full of treasures - not worthy of the One to whom he prefers his treasure.

And for us the lesson is clear. Our relationship with God must be our greatest, our prime relationship, the one which gives meaning to all our other relationships. If it is not so for us we doom ourselves to go hungrily seeking for substitutes which invariably disappoint - a succession of dashed hopes and new infatuations, leaving us empty and cynical. When we come to think of it, our relationship with God is the one thing we take with us into the next life - all else will be left behind. Shouldn't we cultivate it while we can?

The invitation and challenge is clear. Jesus is asking each one of us to give priority to God in our lives and to get rid of all that we love more than him, everything which prevents us from saying yes to his wonderful invitation: and then: come follow me.

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Genesis 2:18-24; Hebrews 2:9-11; Mark 10:2-16

A happy marriage is heaven; and an unhappy marriage .. well ...

Marriage is a sacrament, a work of God. It gives a man and a woman an opportunity to live out in their own lives the forgiving, understanding, committed, fruitful love the Father has for them and, as we all know, it’s not easy.

The word sacrament comes from the Latin word sacramentum or oath. In every sacrament God makes an oath, namely, that in every sacrament he will meet us in the community, touch us, and change us. Let us apply this to a sacrament, for example, our most important or central sacrament, the Eucharist.

Jesus commanded his Apostles to do what he did at the Last Supper namely, to take the bread and say `This is my Body' then to take the wine and say `This is my Blood'. He promises us on oath (sacramentum) – I will meet you there!

Every Eucharist is therefore a meeting with the Lord. He promises us that he will meet us there in the form of bread and wine. He becomes truly present at the consecration and offers himself to us in Holy Communion. This explains why Catholics go to Mass - to meet Jesus in the sacrament.

A protestant pastor friend of mine in another parish used to say to me he couldn’t understand why Catholics seem to be able to get to Mass Sunday after Sunday. He would say, ‘Catholic Mass is so boring! There is often no singing, the words are always the same, the people don't smile at each other much, and often the priest is boring to listen to, and there are two collections, and the church is cold, and they all go home straight afterward', and so on and so on....

But what he didn't understand was that Catholics don't go to Mass to be entertained by a priest, or swept off their feet by wonderful singing or a wonderful homily, or even to have fellowship with all their friends. Catholics go to Mass primarily to meet Jesus (God) in the sacramental action of the Eucharist. If the priest delivers a wonderful sermon or the singing is particularly good that is only icing on the cake for them.

What is more, it doesn't matter all that much to Catholics whether the priest is likeable or not. The priest is an essential part of the Mass and we couldn't have Mass without him, but whether he is nice or not, even whether he is a good priest or not (perhaps he has a problem with drink, etc), is not our primary concern. We are there to meet Jesus who has promised - I will meet you there!

By the way, this promise of Jesus to be there for us helps us to understand what a serious thing it is for a Catholic deliberately to miss that meeting with the Lord in the community on a Sunday when he calls us together. He is there waiting for us and we are guilty of a serious offence if we ignore his invitation.

Let us take another sacrament, for example, Reconciliation. Again the same promise is made by the Lord - I will meet you there. If we have committed some serious sin the Lord asks us to name this sin to the priest and resolve to overcome it. When we do this he promises - I will meet you there! It may be a priest who is sinful himself, or a priest who lacks understanding, or an impatient priest who does not even listen properly, or a priest we don't like. We don’t go to meet the priest - we go to meet Jesus - and to receive his forgiveness through the priest. If the priest is patient and gentle and understanding this is a great thing but it is not necessary. It is Jesus whom we meet there and who gives us his forgiveness.

So, every sacrament is a meeting with the Lord.

If we examine the scriptures and study the various meetings that people had with Jesus we can begin to understand the next point we can make about sacraments. Jesus met tax-gatherers, cripples, blind people, prostitutes, deaf, dumb and insane people, demoniacs and even dead people. In each case he touched them. Not necessarily with his hands, although he did do this too, as with the leper who said, ‘Lord, if you want to you can cure me.’ Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him.

Sometimes Jesus touched people with a word or a look or even his mere presence. And it is interesting to note that people too, wanted to touch Jesus, as did the sick woman who came up through the crowd wanting to touch just the hem of his cloak.

So we can say that in every sacrament Jesus touches us - his forgiving touch in Reconciliation; his sanctifying touch in Baptism; his healing touch in Anointing; his strengthening and uniting touch in the Eucharist, and so on. Of course Jesus heals and strengthens us in Reconciliation as well as forgiving us our sins but usually each of the sacraments celebrates one or other dimension of the touch of the Lord without excluding the others.

It is a really interesting exercise to go through the scriptures noting how in every meeting Jesus touched and then changed the person who met him.

• The leper whom Jesus touched and then changed. ... "and he was cured."
• Peter, who had just betrayed the Lord three times and who caught Jesus' eye as He was being led out to Pilate. This look from the Lord touched Peter deeply and he went out and wept bitterly. He was changed from sinner to penitent.
• Zacchaeus met the Lord and was touched by his kindness in wanting to stay in his house. Zacchaeus was changed from a dishonest man into an honest man.

In every sacrament we, too, meet the Lord, are touched by him, and are changed by him.

It is perhaps in Marriage that we see most easily this ‘changing’ that God does when he touches us. John and Betty come before his altar in the Church. They say the words of consent and God promises - I will meet you there. God is present and touches the couple and the two become one.

We see the change that God works in them through this meeting and we know that it is something God has done for them. That's why the priest says 'What God has joined man must not divide.'

There are three sacraments which change us for eternity - Baptism, Confirmation and Holy Orders. There is one sacrament that lasts for life - ‘till death do us part’. The other sacraments can be renewed many times during our life.

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Numbers 11:25-29; James 5:1-6; Mark 9:38-43, 45, 47-48

Words can be little devils. They sneak around the place insinuating themselves into sentences they have no right to be in, giving meanings they have no right to give. Naughty words! They spread their deceiving odour like the nectar of a flesh-eating plant and gradually the words properly appointed to guard clarity and truth slide into oblivion.

In the Church these little monsters have infiltrated with remarkably destructive vigor. The otherwise harmless little word 'our' for example, as in our faith, our parish, our Church has, bit by bit, nudged the definite article into the trash can. 'Our' faith is now far more important than 'the' Faith; and instead of us belonging to this or that parish, or to the Church, they now belong to us - our parish, our Church!

Another far more dangerous one is the 'all-things-bright-and-beautiful' word community. Like a Crown of Thorns starfish on the Great Barrier Reef it has spread its tentacles over the word communion leaving behind a meaningless collection of dead letters.

What makes it all so insidious is that to the unaware it all seems so good and true. One now discredited parish programme had as its mantra and aim: From Crowd to Community. Yes, of course, community is good, and so much better than a crowd, so let's get to work, let's build community! And we invest hours of time and loads of money on meetings and structures and 'leadership training' and all the time we should be working, not on building community, but on understanding and achieving communion.

Communion in the Church does not flow from community, it's the other way round - first communion, then community. Anything else is doomed to failure; a body without a soul.

Confusing words makes other errors possible, errors which would not have been possible had we used the right words. For example, the tiny word sin still stands with extraordinary tenacity against the giant words psychological dysfunction. And speaking of sin is only really meaningful when we speak of communion. Sin, by definition, destroys communion, first with God and then with our brothers and sisters in Christ. Community, on the other hand, does not challenge sin except in its most destructive manifestations. In fact, community is quite comfortable with sin; just witness the accolades accorded deceased public sinners by the Australian community.

Then again, community is inclusive; communion is exclusive.

I am compelled to admit that I am more than weary of hearing the silly call to 'build welcoming and inclusive communities' made by so many diocesan pastoral plans. I always thought this was the task of the Bowling Club, the School Board and the local Shire Council. But, of course, once we have fallen for the lie that we should be building up community in the Church then it goes without saying that we should be building inclusive communities.

Finally, since a community relies on the qualities and achievements of its members to make it strong, it tends, when it celebrates, to celebrate itself. I have attended Masses at which the priest could have been most accurately described as leading the community in its celebration of itself. Even the homily at some of these Masses could be said to be an 'anointing' or affirmation of the community rather than a call to attentiveness to and worship of God. How sad!

Christian community follows almost effortlessly from real communion but can never substitute for it. Where it does we get lots of bush dances, picnics and bingo nights, but very little relief for the soul or the profound loneliness we all struggle with.

Eternal life, peace, true joy come from communion with Christ in his Church on earth, with the suffering souls in Purgatory, and with his angels and saints in heaven.