23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Wisdom 9:13-18; Philemon 9- 10.12-17; Luke 14:25-33

Much of my time on my brother-in-law's sheep property was spent feeding grain to the sheep. There was a drought on.

We bumped along in the ute with the feeder hooked up behind, letting her idle in first gear up and down the track feeding out the barley - and hundreds of sheep milling round, pushing and shoving their way to the grain.

Of course I had to make sure not to go too slowly or the sheep would swamp me and it would be difficult to get moving again.

It’s a powerful image and it comes to mind naturally so often in the Gospels when Jesus comes to town. People come from everywhere milling round him, pushing and shoving to get close, all wanting to be fed, or cured, or exorcised by his word. And Jesus had the experience of getting swamped every now and then and he had to take precautions - like preaching from a boat.

In today’s Gospel we read: Great crowds accompanied Jesus on his way ..

This image is slightly different. Now we have Jesus walking from one town to another and people accompanying him. He would have been going at a leisurely pace because there would have been women and children and sick people arriving all the time.

They would have been talking together about all sorts of things and by the looks of what he told them they were probably speaking about what it meant to be a disciple of Jesus.

… and he turned and spoke to them. So they all stop in their tracks. Perhaps they sit down on the ground.

Jesus speaks ... and he has three things to say about being a disciple. This is the first one: If any man comes to me without hating his father, mother, wife, children, brothers, sisters, yes and his own life too, he cannot be my disciple.

Do you know what he meant by saying this? Do you think this might be a bit exaggerated? Harsh? How do you respond to this?

To put it simply, Jesus is using what’s called hyperbole to make the point that if we don’t put our following of the Lord above every other thing in our lives, we cannot be his disciples. In other words, we must put our relationship with Jesus, our Lord and Master, our Saviour, before every other human relationship, even the most intimate, and even before our very own lives. We cannot prioritise Jesus. We cannot relativise him.

Putting Jesus first has practical applications for us and very real consequences in our lives. There is a whole cluster of contemporary issues at stake here from contraception, to abortion, to euthanasia, sex outside of marriage, and so on, and even our attendance at Sunday Mass.

The second thing Jesus says is: Anyone who does not carry his cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.

This is getting difficult, isn’t it? We have already put him first in our lives ahead of all our most loved relationships, and now he is asking us to suffer - as he did - to carry our cross.

When you come to think about it, this second command is really only a repetition of the first. If we do put Jesus first in our lives then the cross we are asked to carry will suddenly appear on our shoulders. We won’t have to go looking for a cross. Just being a true disciple of Jesus will throw up daily challenges which will cause us to suffer - just like him.

And it is only because this suffering is for the sake of the kingdom that it is attractive and bearable and that it produces this marvellous peace and joy deep within us.

Next Jesus tells us two stories to prepare us for his last statement about discipleship and if we think about it we will discover that this last one merely repeats the first two. The first story is this: And indeed, which of you here, intending to build a tower, would not first sit down and work out the cost to see if he had enough to complete it? Otherwise, if he laid the foundation and then found himself unable to finish the work, the onlookers would all start making fun of him and saying, 'Here is a man who started to build and was unable to finish.'

The second story is like the first: Or again, what king marching to war against another king would not first sit down and consider whether with ten thousand men he could stand up to the other who advanced against him with twenty thousand? If not, then while the other king was still a long way off, he would send envoys to sue for peace.

The point of connection in these two stories is to work out whether there is enough to complete the task - enough money to build the tower and enough men to win the war.

And now comes Jesus third challenge: So in the same way, none of you can be my disciple unless he gives up all his possessions.

At first sight this is puzzling. The two stories speak of having enough to do the job while the instruction of Jesus is that to make sure you have nothing.

Again it's hyperbole (except for those called to take it literally and live a life of evangelical perfection).

Jesus is again telling us to allow nothing, absolutely nothing, to stand in the way of our Christian discipleship. The Kingdom must come first!

Let me finish by telling you a little story of my own. I swear to you it's a true story. It happened when I was staying at the home of one of my many sisters and one of her daughters came home from school. She was about 15 at the time and she was not in a good mood.

'Mum' she said 'you'll never guess what happened during Religious Education today. We had an auction and we were all given $1000 dollars to spend. The teacher was auctioning things like popularity, good looks, sporting ability, fame, wealth, and so on. Down the bottom of the list was heaven.'

'I wanted heaven and so when my turn to bid came I said '$500 for heaven'.

'Well, mum, you know Michelle, the girl who doesn't like me, she doesn't even believe in God, well, she knew I was after heaven and so when her turn came she said, '$1000 for heaven.'

'And she got heaven, Mum, and I didn't!'

My sister and I couldn't help laughing, which didn't help matters, and finally she said, 'Well, what does that show you?'

My niece replied, 'I should have given everything and not tried to bargain.'

22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Ecclesiasticus 3:17-20.28-29; Hebrews 12:18-19.22-24; Luke 14:1.7-14

Jesus went for a meal to the house of one of the leading Pharisees and he noticed something. He noticed the way they were picking the places of honour. He noticed their lack of humility!

Humility, and its opposite, pride have to do with an inner attitude to ourselves, others, and God.

Where does this attitude come from? How does it grow within us? What can we do to develop a ‘right’ attitude to ourselves, to others, and to God?

Servais Pinkaers OP, a wonderful moral theologian, says that early on in our history, at the time of our Original Sin, it was as though we suddenly caught a glimpse of ourselves - and a terrible thing happened.

'I love you' became 'I love you to love me.'

Consciousness did a U-turn and became ‘self-consciousness’. Love did a U-turn and became ‘self-love’.

It was the birth of the Ego - in the negative sense of the word - in the destructive sense.

There are two things about the Ego we should notice:

• it has a voracious appetite
• it is a master of disguise

The Ego has a voracious appetite. Everything is fodder for the Ego. It claims everything. It claims our gifts, our achievements, even our holiness. 'Yep, I am much holier than you! - and I did it my way!'

The Ego is also a master of disguise. It is so cunning and so subtle but only at the beginning.

Since Ego wants its own way, and not the way of the other, it has to pretend a lot. It has to pretend it only wants what is for the best. It certainly can’t afford to let others think that it is only feathering its own nest.

It does this because the Ego wants, ultimately, that the whole world, even God, should serve it. The Ego cannot serve, it demands to be served.

Jesus himself said: I have come as one who serves and this is because he only ever did the will of his Father and not his own will.

The first, and most subtle step in the Ego’s insatiable desire to become the ruler of the world is that it has to conquer the individual - me - and you.

My Ego is hard at work trying to conquer me, and your Ego is hard at work trying to conquer you.

It begins by making servants of our hearts and minds and faculties.

• Our ears .. so that we hear only what it wants us to hear.
• Our eyes .. so that we see only what it wants us to see.
• Our minds .. so we think only what it wants us to think.
• Our hearts .. so that the only one we love is ourselves.

And then we will see only the realities that promise to further our desires. Oh, dear, what a calamity!

Jesus was totally humble - he was humility itself. He could see right through every disguise of the Ego, even the most subtle ones. Jesus never needed evidence about anyone - he knew what a man had in him and he noticed how he acted - either according to humility or pride.

• Those who chose the places of honour.
• The widow who put her mite in the temple coffers.
• The tax collector, Matthew, who he called to be an Apostle.
• The woman who anointed his feet at the Pharisees’ house.

Jesus was humble, a true servant. He did only the works his Father gave him to do and he spoke only the words his Father wanted him to speak.

The Church is like that. She speaks only the words she hears Jesus speak.

And we, priests and people, should be like that - speaking only the words we hear the Church speak.

So humble people are lucky people. Jesus says they will be exalted in the kingdom of heaven. But already here on earth they are lucky.

They don’t have to be jealous. They can let others have their gifts. They don’t have to hold grudges. Humble people can forgive easily because they know who they are; they know their sins. And humble people can stop hating themselves and start loving others.

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Isaiah 66:18-21; Hebrews 12:5-7,11-13; Luke 13:22-30

Jesus was a great traveller, always on the move. What drove him was the Gospel, the Good News of the Kingdom. Somehow it was a burden to him that there were people who had not yet heard it and so he kept moving: Through towns and villages he went …

Of course, you realise, Jesus is still travelling today, still on the move, still bringing the Good News to the towns and villages of the world. He has handed this great task over to the Church, his body, and the energy for this mission comes from the same source, the need to bring the Word to all who have not yet heard it or responded to it.

And so today Jesus comes to our town. You have just heard his word proclaimed in the readings from the prophet Isaiah, from Hebrews, and from the Gospel of Luke.

Jesus comes to us as he came to the towns and villages of Palestine - teaching. He is going to teach us something tonight.

Have you ever realised that Jesus’ travelling is part of his teaching? His travelling was not aimless; it had a direction. When we connect the dots we see he is, as the Gospel says: making his way to Jerusalem … his own narrow door, the place of his suffering. Jesus does not just teach the truth; he lives it. In fact, Jesus is the truth.

Someone said to him, `Sir, will there be only a few saved?'

The ‘Jews’, those Jews opposed to Jesus, used to imagine that there would be only a few saved and that they would be the few. They thought themselves pleasing to God for the same reason they found themselves pleasing; because they scrupulously kept all the little details of their man-made laws.

Jesus doesn’t argue the case. As we have observed time and again during the election campaign our politicians refuse to answer questions because often they seek to hide the truth; Jesus frames his answer to precisely illuminate it.

He teaches his listeners, and us, that the real question we should be asking is not ‘Will many be saved?’ but ‘Will I be saved’? This is why he changes the future tense to a present imperative: Try your best to enter by the narrow door…

• try – now - the door is open now.
• your – don’t worry about others.
• best – (Greek: agonizesthi = struggle) – with every fibre of our being.

Before us, uncompromisingly, stands the narrow door. The Greek word also includes the sense of straight and would therefore preclude anything crooked from entering the Kingdom.

We love wide doors with plenty of room to ‘wiggle’. The modern phenomenon amongst all too many Catholics to recast the Faith, to do away with the ‘narrow’ bits like contraception and abortion, gay relationships and Sunday obligations, is a clear expression of this tendency to accommodate the truth to suit the comfortably 'wide' ethics of the world.

But Jesus makes it plain that we can’t saunter in casually at our own convenience and on our own terms: I tell you, many will try to enter and not succeed.

The narrow door to the Kingdom is an illustration of the narrow demands of discipleship. This door stands open now and the merciful love of God invites us now to strive with all our might to enter by it because: Once the master of the house has got up and locked the door, you may find yourself knocking on the door …

The gentle phrase ‘you may find yourself’ is intriguing and evocative. We have all had the experience of pushing on the bank door only to find it locked. We push and pull but the door doesn’t budge; it’s closed and locked; trading hours have finished. And if we manage to attract the notice of the bank teller and ask to be let in he will point to the clock and shake his head.

The key point here is that this ‘surprise’ we feel (gosh, is it 4 pm already, I thought it was only 3 pm?) before the locked door, will not alter the fact that it is locked.

‘I thought‘ will not count against the Lord’s clear warning: I tell you...

To our surprise we may find ourselves arguing the case as we did so often in our lives, making excuses for our sins, giving ourselves privileges, seeking exemptions.

Notice again the past tense? "We once ate and drank in your company; you taught in our streets" We have all heard the equivalent story in our own day. “Our lamps were once lit. I used to pray, I used to go to Mass. I used to be an altar boy. I used to be good.”

God will not be wheedled into admitting into his Kingdom those who ignored, or changed, his teaching in favour of some past superficial acquaintance. Rather than the presumptuous overconfidence so prevalent among us today I would speak in favour of a healthy fear. 'I’ve always been a Catholic, I’ve always been to Mass, I’ve always been a priest. Is it possible that I have still never let him convert and change me – that it has all left me just as selfish, gossiping, judgmental, dishonest, money-hungry, self-seeking and impure as always?'

Then there will be weeping and grinding of teeth, when you see Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the Kingdom of God, and yourselves turned outside.

Yes, indeed, if you have been creating ‘wriggle room’ for yourself by adapting the Church’s teachings to your own preferences I would counsel fear. Be afraid, very afraid. Have done with that complacency. Get rid of that false confidence and listen again to the Lord’s words: Try your best to enter by the narrow door…

The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin - Year C

Apocalypse 11:19,12:1-6,10; 1 Corinthians 15:20-26; Luke 1:39-56

Whenever I find myself in a doctor’s waiting room or at a bus stop I search my iPhone for something interesting to read. EWTN’s document library rarely disappoints and so yesterday I found myself reading how in 2008 Cardinal Vithayathil was one of five cardinals petitioning Rome to declare the fifth Marian Dogma. They were requesting the Pope to proclaim Mary as "the Spiritual Mother of All Humanity, the co-redemptrix with Jesus the redeemer, mediatrix of all graces with Jesus the one mediator, and advocate with Jesus Christ on behalf of the human race."

By the merest co-incidence I happened upon another report a few articles further down the list which said: At the most recent Mariological Congress held at Czestochowa, 18-24 August 1996, a commission was established in response to a request, by the Holy See, which had asked to know the opinion of the scholars present at the Congress on the possibility and the opportuneness of defining a new dogma of faith regarding Mary as Co-redemptrix, Mediatrix and Advocate. In recent years, the Holy Father and various dicasteries of the Holy See have received petitions requesting such a definition.

The response of the commission, deliberately brief, was unanimous and precise: it is not opportune to abandon the path marked out by the Second Vatican Council and proceed to the definition of a new dogma.

Despite this negative response from the commission in 1996 I noted with some pleasure that the five cardinals were making a renewed request in 2008 because I myself, forty years ago, recall writing to Rome making the same appeal.

Well, that’s how the Church works in the formulation of Dogma. It listens to the experts, to the laity, to the clergy, to Scripture and Tradition and, of course, to the Holy Spirit, and then makes up its mind; and it can take centuries.

In his Catechesis on the Blessed Virgin Pope John Paul II said: Down the centuries, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, the Church has sought to understand more clearly the revealed truth about the Mother of God.

It took many years for the early Christians to see that Mary was not only the Mother of Jesus but that she was, in truth, also the Mother of God. So the four great Marian Dogmas are Mary’s:

1. Divine Motherhood
2. Perpetual Virginity
3. Immaculate Conception
4. Assumption

Today we celebrate the feast of Mary’s Assumption into heaven. From the very beginning the Church had believed this truth but it was defined by Pope Pius XII only as recently as 1950. The definition states: The Immaculate Virgin, preserved free from all stain of original sin, was taken up body and soul into heavenly glory, when her earthly life was over.

When her earthly life was over …? So did Mary actually die? This carefully chosen little phrase doesn’t really tell us. Some theologians believe that since Revelation presents death as a punishment for Original Sin, from which Mary was preserved through her Immaculate Conception, it would be improper for her to experience death. Pope John Paul II however says: Having been closely associated with Christ's redemptive work, it was fitting for Mary to share the experience of death before partaking of the Resurrection…

… since Christ died, it would be difficult to maintain the contrary for his Mother.

... The Mother is not superior to the Son who underwent death, giving it a new meaning and changing it into a means of salvation.

In any event the Church teaches without ambiguity that the Immaculate Virgin, by a special privilege, was taken up body and soul into heavenly glory at the end of her earthly life.

Our bodies will rise at the end of the world; for Mary the glorification of her body was anticipated by a special privilege. But we need to note that the Church carefully avoids using the word ‘resurrection’ with respect to Mary. This term would have confused her rising with the Resurrection of Christ. Mary was ‘assumed’ by the power of God and her Assumption remains an act of God and not her own.

The dogma of Mary’s Assumption has no direct basis in Scripture but is implicit in Scripture which is careful to emphasise her perfect union with the destiny of her Son, from his conception in her womb to the foot of the Cross. Says Pope John Paul II: Perfectly united with the life and saving work of Jesus, Mary shares his heavenly destiny in body and soul.

In today’s great feast we see the plan of God for all his children. We, too, are destined to rise in the body at the end of time. In this truth we see not only God’s love for us but the dignity of the human body. As John Paul II says: the mystery of the Assumption proclaims the supernatural destiny and dignity of every human body, called by the Lord to become an instrument of holiness and to share in his glory.

What more is there to say? Let us study Mary and learn from her how to value our own body and to guard it as a temple of God, as we await our resurrection.

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Wisdom 18:6-9; Hebrews 11:1-2, 8-19; Luke 12:32-48

My parents were immigrants from Holland and arrived in Australia in 1953 with five children and barely a penny to their name. My father worked various jobs, anything he was offered, and my mother kept house. Two more children came and then a third was adopted. We never missed Mass and we never missed the family Rosary after dinner.

When they were ready to build their own house my parents instructed the architect to provide for a small niche in the wall above the fireplace in which they would put their carved wooden statue of the Sacred Heart. They obviously wanted God ‘built-in’ to their home. Above their bed hung a beautiful crucifix.

Ours was a Catholic home; our parents lived a Catholic marriage and they did their best to make their family a Catholic family. Consequently our family life was a life lived in the presence of God.

Now let me tease this out a little just in case you miss my point. The catholicity of our family started from within the marriage of my parents - we children went to Mass because my parents went to Mass; we prayed as a family because my parents themselves prayed. The modern idea of sending the children off to Mass with grandma or aunty Mabel was entirely foreign and, I may say, repugnant to them. Nor was the idea that their Catholic duty as parents was finished because they sent their children to the Catholic school.

From time to time we children had the privilege of hearing our parents saying their night prayers - three Hail Marys for world peace, one Hail Mary for vocations, another for the Pope’s intentions, three for purity, one for the souls in Purgatory, one for mum’s mother, one Hail Mary for Anneke, one for Conny, one for John (that’s me), and so on through to Caroline, the youngest.

My parents lived their daily life in the presence of God and so brought their eight children to live their lives in the presence of God. And we still do; all eight of us are practising Catholics.

Believe me, that I am able to use my own parents as an example of real Catholic faith is a privilege not lost on me and one which I would never take for granted. My parents had the Faith.

Again, let me develop this a little more. My parents understood that the Faith was not about them and their hopes and wishes, nor was it about their ideas or opinions. My parents understood clearly, and they gave their children to clearly understand, that the Faith was about God’s truth, and his hopes and dreams for them. My parents did not have their faith, like so many who call themselves Catholic today, they had the Faith, and that is a vastly different thing - the faith of the Catholic Church - the faith which obliged them to a joyful obedience.

I well remember in my late teens asking my father, a former seminarian, if Pope Paul VI would allow for the use of the Pill. Without hesitation he said no! He told me ‘the Pope won’t change it because he can’t change it.’ Even at that stage my father knew that the prohibition against contraception was so deeply imbedded in authentic Catholic teaching that no Pope could change it. What a man!

I’m glad my parents were spared the worst of the clerical abuse scandal, it would have given them much suffering. They loved the Catholic Church and they loved being Catholic. And yet I can hear them saying, ‘It doesn’t matter! No matter how bad it gets, no matter how many bishops, or priests, or even Popes commit sin, the Catholic Church is still the Church Jesus founded and he will be with her till the end of time.’

Somehow my parents were graced with the wisdom to see the difference between the inviolable purity of the Church and the sinfulness of the frail human beings within her.

In the little time remaining let me say that living in the presence of God necessarily means living in the presence of others. Each one of our readings today urges us to that quality of faith which enables us to stand ready to meet the Lord but this readiness embraces also the way we relate to the needs of others.

Last week the Gospel presented us with a man who was wholly centred on himself. For him there was no God to thank for his huge, rich harvest and no other with whom to share it.

My parents, though they worked incredibly hard to make progress in life, always lived in the presence of others; their readiness to make room in their family for an adopted eighth child is beautiful testimony to this. One could multiply examples of this charming awareness of others but as a priest I am also now struck, post factum, by their faithfulness to giving to the Church each week.

It may seem to the casual reader that I have bypassed the readings this week or, at least, made only tenuous connections, so I’d better make a few more.

My parents knew ‘what kind of oaths they had put their trust in.’

‘It was by faith …’ that they lived every moment of their lives.

They deeply understood that ‘…when a man has had a great deal given him on trust, even more will be expected of him.’

I pray that we can all follow their example.