18th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Ecclesiastes 1:2;2:21-23; Colossioans 3:1-5.9-11; Luke 12:13-21

A headline from Zenit, a news service from Rome, caught my eye early last month: Cardinal Says Healthy Economy Not Top Priority.

The item went on to tell us that: Vatican Secretary of State Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone has warned against elevating the economy as an absolute good, adding that an economic model that supports human development is needed … He warned that making the economy an absolute will end up "subverting the order between ends and means", making it into something "omnipotent", as a result "the earthly end is confused with the transcendent".

Now, I realise you’ve probably gone to some lengths to be here today, organised your day around getting to Mass, dodged a bit of traffic, and most likely you have quite a few other things on your mind. The last thing you need is for some smart-alec priest go quoting obscure statements from obscure cardinals in Rome.

Well, let me simplify.

Firstly this word good. Usually it’s an adjective describing something else like a good day, a good outcome, a good decision or, if you’re a fisherman, a good catch. But it can also be a noun – a good. Health is a good. Beauty is a good. Intelligence is a good. Wealth is a good. Most people have lots of these goods.

Naturally enough not all goods are of equal importance. A singing talent is a good but not as important as health. I would rather lose my singing voice than lose my health.

So there is a hierarchy of goods, they are ranked by their importance. Immediately the next question presents itself: Is there an absolute good; a good worth having above every other good?

For a believer the answer here is rather more simple than for an atheist. For a believer the ultimate good is eternal life or, if you prefer, heaven. The atheist will have to examine what for him is the ultimate good and, in fact, for many it would probably be a healthy, rich, pleasure-filled life here on this earth.

Cardinal Bertone’s first point is that the economy is not an absolute good. It is undoubtedly a good, and an enormous good, but not an absolute good.

It’s not that he measures a good economy against the absolute good of happiness in heaven because against that good nothing can measure up, everything is inferior. No, he measures a good economy against human development. He quotes Pope Benedict who says that the economy must ‘foster the common good of the human family.’

The economy must be a servant, not a master. A vibrant, powerful, stable, growing economy is only good to the extent that it truly serves the development of the human family and, I would add, although I think it is implied in the Pope’s words, towards the ultimate good.

What good is a strong, stable economy if it leads people away from developing as human persons? What if it only caused people to become a collection of ego-centred hedonists? In many so-called underdeveloped countries the happy family life and the community-mindedness of its citizens stand in stark contrast to their poverty. They are poor but essentially happy.

Over the last few years, ever since we first started hearing about the value of the Australian dollar and the state of the money markets on the evening news services there has been an almost obsessive preoccupation with how the economy is faring. We don’t seem to be as much concerned with how our society is going though - with all sorts of problems of marital breakdown, delinquency, unemployment, many types of crimes, pornography, abortion, and so on.

A good economy is, as the Cardinal says, a means not an end. If we confuse the two and make the economy an end instead of a means, then we risk confusing the earthly with the transcendent. When this happens people begin living as though there were no God and no eternal destiny for humankind. Then this world becomes the absolute end instead of heaven, and this time, as distinct from tomorrow or the next day, becomes another absolute at the expense of the future of humanity.

Nothing has importance anymore except that people have money, and I don’t mean you, I mean me.

This is the kind of man the Gospel is speaking of. His riches are his riches, and he possesses them without any reference to anyone except himself. Listen again to the parable with particular care to man’s response to his new wealth: There was once a rich man who, having had a good harvest from his land, thought to himself, "What am I to do? I have not enough room to store my crops." Then he said, "This is what I will do: I will pull down my barns and build bigger ones, and store all my grain and my goods in them, and I will say to my soul: My soul, you have plenty of good things laid by for many years to come; take things easy, eat, drink, have a good time".

In this man’s world there are no poor people; there is just himself. He thought to himself, he spoke to himself, he acted for himself. This is what happens when ‘the economy’ is made into an absolute good.

And what would he do with his wealth? - take things easy, eat, drink, have a good time - just like my sister's cat.

The Cardinal warns us not to make an absolute out of the earthly at the expense of the heavenly. Jesus does the same: Fool! This very night the demand will be made for your soul; and this hoard of yours, whose will it be then?

When the earthly meets the heavenly we want to be ready. Only eternal life is absolute and this is the tragedy which happens when a man stores up treasure for himself in place of making himself rich in the sight of God.

There is a line from Matthew 6:33 which is screaming out to be quoted by way of conclusion and I hope we all take it to heart: Set your hearts on his kingdom first, and on his righteousness, and all these other things will be given you as well.

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Genesis 18:20-32; Colossians 2:12-14; Luke 11:1-13

One day someone should compile a collection of photos of people at prayer; not the fake ones we see in some religious books but real ones of real people really praying.

Something happens to a person when they are at prayer – their whole demeanour changes – something magical, which can’t be counterfeited. The mere sight of someone at prayer touches the deepest part of us and we can’t help but be drawn.

I sat once in a church behind an elderly American monk. He came in and knelt, his hands folded on the pew in front of him, he bowed his head slightly, closed his eyes and didn’t stir a muscle for the next twenty minutes. Around him there seemed to be an atmospheric change. It was as though we were kneeling in a church in Indiana and he was kneeling before the throne of God. I, for one, could not take my eyes off him.

What would it have been like to see Jesus at prayer? It was not unusual for him to pray alone in the presence of his disciples. Today we are told: Once Jesus was in a certain place, praying, and when he had finished, one of his disciples said, ‘Lord, teach us to pray …'

It doesn’t take much imagination to see the disciples sitting all around on the grass, on a rock, on a fallen tree – just watching the Lord at prayer. It must have been a profoundly moving experience.

For us, prayer is a graced moment when we stop what we’re doing, we put aside the things that preoccupy us and, from deep within ourselves, we reach out for God. It is a moment of communion with God in which our faith embraces him, and we surrender ourselves to him.

What prayer was for Jesus we cannot really know. His relationship with the Father was profoundly different from ours. That’s why Jesus never at any time spoke of ‘our’ Father. He always spoke of his Father or your Father. That is also why he said, in answer to the disciple’s request: Say this when you pray … . Jesus could say ‘my Father’ in a way that we never could.

At any rate the disciples were so deeply moved that when he finished they asked him: Teach us to pray. They wanted not only to pray, they wanted to learn to pray well. The first lesson here for you and me is clear – the first requirement for real prayer is to want to pray – desire.

The second lesson is equally apparent – our prayer must be within the prayer of Jesus, within the unfolding plan of God.

We constantly have to ask ourselves, ‘What does my prayer have to do with the concerns of God and the coming of his kingdom?’ To put it more simply: What does my prayer have to do with God?

You may find this notion a little surprising, even puzzling, but it is possible for us to pray in such a way that our prayer has little or nothing to do with God. Without realising it we can become so self-absorbed that our horizons shrink and we become entirely focussed on our own anxieties and concerns. Then God becomes merely a supermarket or a welfare agency, the handy repository of those things we think we need.

Our prayer, even when we do make legitimate petitions, should express our worship and love of God and a desire that, above all, his kingdom should come because, sadly, it is possible for our prayer to overlook the prerogatives of God and actually lead us away from his kingdom. That is why Jesus says – Say this when you pray: Father, may your name be held holy, your kingdom come.

This is the proper starting point for all prayer because this was always the starting point for Jesus. This is the spiritual light which must cast its radiance on all our petitions.

This revealing radiance will tell us if our prayer has to do with the kingdom of God, our journey to holiness, our becoming like Jesus, or if it is just a collection of impertinent requests for impossible exemptions from the human condition? This kind of prayer is not ‘within the prayer of Jesus’. Rather it is a rebuke to God which suggests that God has somehow made a mistake and we have to ask him to fix it.

So now we can see the importance of the 'Our Father'. The kingdom of God is coming; it is close at hand. Our most urgent task, more important than our house, our work, our health, is to seek the kingdom in our lives and to be ready for its final arrival.

Let’s pray to the Father for our daily bread. He knows what we need before we ask him. Let’s forgive the sins of those we need to forgive and ask God’s pardon for our own. Let’s ask God’s grace to overcome the many temptations which seek to turn us aside from the right road. Let's ask God to deliver us from every evil.

Constant readiness requires constant prayer but always the kind of prayer that harmonises with the prayer Jesus taught us to pray.

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Genesis 18:1-10; Colossians 1:24-28; Luke 10:38-42

What a delightful story from the book of Genesis today; so simple and yet so profound! Abraham is sitting at the entrance of his tent; it’s hot, the hottest part of the day. In Australia he would be sitting in a chair on a shady verandah.

He looks up and sees three men standing nearby.

So far nothing too remarkable – a man sitting by his tent on a hot day looks up and sees three men. In Australia we would expect him to give a casual greeting to the visitors, ‘G’day’, but check out Abraham's reaction: As soon as he saw them he ran from the entrance of the tent to meet them and bowed to the ground.

As soon as he saw them he got up from his comfortable seat in the shade in the hottest part of the day when no one feels much like moving and ran from the entrance to the tent to meet them and bowed to the ground.

With great warmth and irresistible delicacy Abraham welcomes his visitors and begs them to stay. He minimises the trouble they will cause him and offers a little water and a little bread but then goes off to prepare loaves, meat, milk and cream – he has the bread freshly baked and chooses a calf which is fine and tender.

Abraham’s excitement as well as his eagerness to serve his guests is clearly evident. He hastened to find Sarah and told her to hurry and make loaves. Then running to the cattle he chose a calf and the servant hurried to prepare it.

Food in hand he now goes to the three men and spreads all before them. While they eat Abraham remains standing, a sign of respect as well as of readiness to spring into action should they need something more.

For all the hurrying and running there is never a sense of ‘breathlessness’ in this account. Abraham remains peaceful and in control, whether he is doing the serving or standing by as his guests dine. It is clear that Abraham considers all that he does as a welcoming of the three visitors, as an expression of his hospitality.

Perhaps this would be a good moment to move to the Gospel. Now it is Martha and Mary who receive a visit from the Lord, this time in the person of Jesus. Martha welcomes him and gets busy with the serving; Mary sits down by his feet and just listens to him speaking. It’s not long before Martha comes to the Lord, distracted and annoyed.

Perhaps you will share with me my long held conviction that one of the things disastrously wrong with us is our activism; it’s everywhere in the world and everywhere in the Church. Martha was obviously an activist and she shares the fate of all activists, she became distracted and angry.

How many catechumens, thinking that being a Catholic is a series of things to do rather than a person to become, follow down the same path and soon stop attending Mass? At any rate, Martha approaches, or perhaps more exactly, reproaches Jesus.

First there is a recrimination aimed at the Lord: Do you not care …? Then an attack against her sister who was leaving her to do the serving all by myself. Next there is an order, thinly disguised as a request, that the Lord should set Mary straight.

Somehow the Apostles in the sinking boat come to mind. They, too, accuse Jesus: Do you not care …? The waves were threatening to sink the litle boat and they were afraid, and they wanted Jesus to be just as afraid as they were. ‘What’s wrong with you Jesus? We are going down and you don’t seem to care. What’s wrong with you?’

It’s all too often the case with people who are angry or afraid or hurt – they want the rest of us to justify their feelings by sharing them. Martha wanted the Lord to get upset and couldn’t understand why he wasn't. She wanted the Lord to correct Mary but instead she receives a correction herself.

The apostles in the boat were afraid; Martha just liked to worry and fret. Mary had learned that only one thing is necessary – the Lord – and it would not be taken from her.

15th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Deuteronomy 30:10-14; Colossians 1:15-20; Luke 10:25-37

For those of us who like to watch the foreign language news broadcasts it is amazing to see the bravery of individuals of both sexes, all ages and cultures, all religions and walks of life. Yesterday I was watching some Chinese workers rescuing a workmate from a flooded drain at serious danger to their own lives. Then a teenager in France carries a whole family from a burning house, and an old woman comes to the rescue of another woman being mugged by youths in the Philippines. There was a young man on Australian news recently cited for an act of bravery who, when they called him a hero, simply said, ‘I did what I had to; anyone would have done the same.’

Trouble is, not everyone would have done the same. Although bravery and self-sacrifice are everywhere, so are their opposites, the people who just walk on by and turn their eyes away from their neighbour in need.

Moses stresses that the law of love is not outside ourselves but in our heart. This is really a profound insight.

Both the priest and the Levite in today's Gospel passed by on the other side of the road leaving the poor man for dead, like the robbers who attacked him. What was their reason for doing so? Was it their attachment to the laws of ritual purity, which boils down to a fear of getting our hands dirty? Was it busyness? Was it just reluctance to become involved in someone else’s life? Whatever it was it was a consideration external to the needs of the half dead man, a consideration which strangled love for neighbour.

The lawyer, anxious to justify himself to Jesus, typically asks for a definition of the word neighbour. He has again placed love outside the consideration of the heart. It’s almost like he was saying ‘Tell me who I don’t have to love.’

Only love can tell us who our neighbour is. Jesus’ parable neatly pushes aside the academic question ‘Who is my neighbour?’ in favour of a new concept, that of proving ourselves a neighbour to someone. It is this kind of personal, interior, heart-love for others which alone can stir in us the compassion of the Good Samaritan for his stricken fellow human being.

The Samaritan needed no definitions – he knew – instinctively: Everyone is my neighbour! He knew the truth of what St Paul says: In him were created all things.

We are all children of the one God, all made by him, and all held in unity by him. The love which Jesus has for us, the love which caused him to make us, the Church, into his own body, is the same love he shares with the Father. This is the love to which we are all called. We must love all as he loves all.

If, therefore, there is nothing and no one outside God’s love, how can we even dare suggest there is someone outside our love, someone who is not our neighbour?

The walls of this church building hold us in a kind of unity or togetherness tonight but they are external to us. We should be held together by something much more, much stronger - the love within our hearts. As St Peter says: You have been obedient to the truth and purified your souls until you can love like brothers, in sincerity; let your love for each other be real and from the heart. (1Peter 1:22)

Obedience to the truth leads to love for God which purifies our souls until we can love each other. This then makes our love real and from the heart. It is when, and only when, our love is real, in the way St Peter speaks of, that the external signs of love we make towards one another have any value.

So, what are some practical basics for us here today to manifest in a clear way the love we have for one another?

• Give each other simple signs of acceptance, a smile, a nod, a wave.
• Sit together.
• Stay behind after Mass for a chat.
• Offer someone a ride to or from the church.
• Welcome the newcomer or the visitor.