Author: tduncan770

Fourth (Laetare) Sunday of Lent (Year A)

March 25, 2023

First reading                         1 Samuel 16:1,6-7,10-13

Responsorial Psalm            Psalm 22(23)

Second reading                    Ephesians 5:8-14

Gospel                                   John 9:1-41

In the first reading today, we are shown the election and anointing of David as the new King of Israel. The prophet Samuel sees Eliab, the eldest of Jesse’s sons, and thinks to himself, “surely the Lord’s anointed one stands there before him.” Even the prophet, whose business it is to see with far seeing eyes comes up here short-sighted. God admonishes him, “take no notice of his appearance or his height for I have rejected him; God does not see as man sees; man looks at appearances but the Lord looks at the heart.” It is the runt of the litter, the youngest and most unexpected child of Jesse that the Lord had chosen– “a boy of fresh complexion, with fine eyes and peasant bearing.” The boy David had beautiful eyes while the prophet had eyes that were blinded to interior reality.

In the Gospel today the theme of blindness continues. Jesus and his disciples come across a man who has never seen in his life, who was born with eyes that do not work. Jesus performs an act of creation, or rather re-creation, on this man. Just as in the beginning the Lord God took up the mud of the earth and breathed life into it to fashion Adam, the first man, the Lord Jesus once again takes up the mud of the earth. To do so, he spits on the ground. Imagine that! Jesus is not prim and proper. He’s from the bush– a Galilean! He just slags on the ground in public. Then, creating a mud “paste”, he anoints the man’s eyes with it, refashioning him into a new man who can see. But this is not the end of his healing, and neither is the man born blind the only blind man in today’s Gospel.

We hear a lengthy tussle with the Judean leaders who have a far more grave problem with their sight. For their eyes work just fine, and as faithful disciples of Moses they are clever and religious enough to perceive deeper realities. Yet they refuse to see. They do not want to see. This is a far worse condition than having eyes that cannot see. For the power to see is in their hands, but they reject the gift of God. Meanwhile, something profound is happening in this tussle. While the blind man has received his sight, his confrontation with those who refuse to see leads him to an even greater sight. He bears witness to Jesus, and in bearing witness the reality of who Jesus is becomes clearer: “Now here is an astonishing thing! He has opened my eyes and you don’t know where he comes from! We know that God doesn’t listen to sinners, but God does listen to men who are devout and do his will. Ever since the world began it is unheard of for anyone to open the eyes of a man who was born blind; if this man were not from God, he couldn’t do a thing.” Initially the blind man had said “I don’t know if he is a sinner; I only know that I was blind and now I can see.” But now, in the course of argument, it has become clear to him that Jesus is from God. And after “teaching” this to the religious leaders, the former blind man is driven away, where he then meets Jesus a second time.

Having now faith the size of a mustard seed as Jesus’ true identity has begun to be revealed to him, Jesus then reveals himself more fully: “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” – “Sir”, the man replied, “tell me who he is so that I may believe in him.” Jesus said, “you are looking at him; he is speaking to you.” Then, we are told, the man exclaimed, “Lord, I believe” – and he worshipped him! This is amazing. The formerly blind man now has faith in Jesus, proper faith, such that we throws himself down on the ground and worships him. At last, this man’s healing is complete, when not only have his eyes been refashioned from the soil of the earth, but he lies in the soil of the earth in the posture of worship. This is a stark and striking contrast to those Judean leaders who, in their pride, flat out refuse to accept Jesus.

Brothers and sisters, each of us is born blind. None of us are born with the grace of faith in Jesus. This is something he himself bestows on us when we are anointed with the Holy Spirit. Only the Lord can open our eyes. And indeed, each of us has had his or her eyes opened through our Baptism when we washed not in the pool of Siloam but in the font of regeneration. The question is, do we want Jesus? One of the horrifying aspects of the modern world is that so many people are exactly like the Judean leaders: intelligent enough to understand but absolutely refusing to engage with the Truth. So many people close their ears, even physically, to the Truth when it is being spoken. So many walk away as soon as you bear witness to Jesus. So many shout down those who speak the Gospel. This blindness is far worse than having no eyes. We should prefer to have our eyes plucked out than to give up our absolute faith in Jesus! This is a blindness of the heart the hardens it to such an extent that we are rendered incapable of salvation.

Dear friends, this talk of sight and blindness, faith and rejection, is far more relevant to us than we realise. For what is heaven? Heaven is not some green pasture in the sky that you get admitted into. Heaven is, according to the Bible and to two-thousand years of Church teaching, the vision of God. It is when we shall see God face to face, gazing into the eternal depths of the one who is, and in gazing, be transformed totally into that which we see. Brothers and sisters, the sight which the Gospel talks about is not optional if we want eternal life. For if we don’t begin to see by faith in this world, we shall never see, and shall never be capable of the vision of God in eternity. Lord, tell me who you are so that I may believe! Let us now, like the former blind man, get down and worship the same Lord, who comes to us this morning in the blessed Eucharist.

P.S., to my readers I apologise for the very belated release of this homily preached last weekend. Better late than never!

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Third Sunday of Lent (Year A)

March 12, 2023

First reading                       Exodus 17:3-7

Responsorial Psalm          Psalm 94(95):1-2,6-9

Second reading                   Romans 5:1-2,5-8

Gospel                                   John 4:5-42

Freedom is uncomfortable. We all desire it, we all value it, indeed many are willing to fight and even to die for it. And all of this seems to come fairly naturally, yet it seems to me that it doesn’t come naturally to know how to live with it. Freedom. We see this dilemma played out by the people of Israel in our first reading today, after God liberated them from their slavery in Egypt. Their newfound freedom saw them enter the desert where they underwent the consequences of their freedom– hunger, thirst, the need for order and structure in their community, and all the difficulties of having to be responsible for themselves no longer under the yoke of Egyptian rule. Their freedom was so uncomfortable in fact that they began to regret it and desire to be slaves once again: “Why did you bring us out of Egypt? Was it so that I should die of thirst, my children too, and my cattle?” They were even at the point of murdering the one who had led them into freedom: Moses appeals to the Lord, “How am I to deal with this people? A little more and they will stone me!” Indeed, not only is this the story of a nation suddenly liberated from oppression, but this is also the story of the souls of each one of us who have been regenerated by Baptism and given the glorious freedom of the children of God. For just as the Israelites, escaped from Egyptian rule, had to learn to rule over themselves, body and soul, or be ruled by the impulses of their bodies and souls, so each of us has to struggle against the tendency to be ruled by our freedom of choice and the desires that govern our choice.

For having been freed from the outward constraint of Egyptian slavery, upon entering the desert the Israelites had to contend with their inner constraints, their desires, their minds, their wayward passions and deep-seated attitudes. There’s nothing like the desert to bring out the real self, to show us how free we truly are. Try sitting alone in silence in order to pray for a prolonged period and observe what pops up. You see, the world presents to us a very shallow idea of what it means to be free: The limitless and unrestricted option for individual choice. Of course, we ought to be able to make our own choices. But is this really freedom in its truest sense? If we are presented with the choice between something we know to be good and something we know to be fundamentally sinful, and we choose the thing that is sinful (perhaps because it promises some advantage), have we acted in freedom? You might say, yes, I freely chose the bad. And that is true, no one else made the choice for you or compelled you to choose it – you exercised “freedom” in a basic sense. But what is it that so constrained me to choose what I know to be wrong and therefore to be destructive to my soul? In this case, though I had the free choice for whichever, there is a certain slavery in choosing what is bad, a slavery which lies in the perceived advantage that choosing the bad promised me. What about the case of the person who chooses the Good at great personal cost – the one who chooses to do what they know to be morally good according to God’s law, despite the fact that it will have an adverse effect on them for having chosen it? Surely this person, in choosing the Good at great personal cost, acts with a far greater interior freedom than the one who chooses what is sinful to great advantage. They are not constrained by the threat of the personal cost. The question arises, then, are we really free if we choose to do what kills the soul? Are we really free if we habitually live in a state of alienation from God? Are we really free if we live only according to what is pleasurable, to what makes us feel good? The Israelites were so dominated by their bodily hunger and thirst that they wanted to go back into slavery, where at least they had ample food and water. This suggests they were still living according to the flesh and didn’t yet have the interior freedom to trust totally in the God whose wonders they had already seen with their own eyes. Outwardly, they were free– they could make choices. But inwardly, they were still slaves. They had not yet been transformed.

Brothers and sisters, if you’ve made a serious attempt to live the Lenten season, you’ll recognise what I’m saying. When we begin to mortify our senses and our will by depriving ourselves of certain things and pleasures, by fasting, almsgiving, or by taking on extra devotions and spiritual practices, we learn how interiorly free we really are. How quickly does it last before you pack it in? How often do we choose not to fast or abstain from meat because it seems too hard or superfluous? You see, the desert, and indeed Lent, reveals to us our attachments, whether they be things, behaviours, foods, attitudes or certain sins – attachments which can ultimately enslave us in deeper ways that prevent the inner transfiguration of our nature. But the Gospel today holds the key for us.

The Samaritan woman comes to draw water from the well but ultimately ends up asking Jesus for “Living Water”. After her unexpected encounter with Jesus, we see her run back to the town to tell others about him. But to cut to the chase, perhaps the most telling detail of all is that she left her water jar behind, abandoned. Her whole purpose in coming to the well was to draw water. She left without water, and what is more she left without the means of ever drawing water again. This gives us a clue, indicating that she indeed received her Living Water from Jesus, and that after tasting his presence, the well was established within her. No longer does she need a bucket because no longer does she live according to the flesh, from now on she lives according to the Spirit, worshipping in Spirit and Truth. Brothers and sisters, this is the goal of our Lenten season. To drink from the fountain of Living Water that is the Holy Spirit himself, who will well up within us and establish in us the very source of his divine life. To receive this Living Water, we must learn to deny ourselves, putting away our slavery to sin and to the flesh which bids us have to constantly return to draw more water. And denying ourselves, we may then have the interior freedom to come to Jesus Christ with all our heart, mind and strength, whose freedom will release us from ever having to draw water again. In learning to deny ourselves and choose Christ, we leave our water jar behind and drink from the interior well of grace which alone can quench the thirst of the human soul. During this season of grace, may we seek him while he is still to be found.
Second Sunday of Lent (Year A)

March 4, 2023

First reading                       Genesis 12:1-4

Responsorial Psalm          Psalm 32(33):4-5,18-20,22

Second reading                   2 Timothy 1:8-10

Gospel                                   Matthew 17:1-9

When Jesus was baptised, upon coming up out of the water, the Holy Spirit descended upon him, and a voice resounded on the waters. Do you remember what that voice said? Upon the waters of Baptism, the Father proclaimed, “this is my Son, the Beloved; he enjoys my favour.” Last weekend, while Jesus was fasting in the desert, we heard the devil cast doubt on these words: “If you are the Son of God”, he said, “tell these stones to turn into loaves” or “if you are the Son of God, throw yourself down…” With this phrase “if you are the Son of God”, Satan was either attempting to cast doubt on Jesus’ divine sonship revealed at the Baptism or, tempting him to abuse the power of that sonship. Well, today we hear God the Father reinforce those same words from the Baptism, crushing Satan’s twisting of those words. He proclaims before the transfigured Jesus, radiant with light, “this is my Son, the Beloved; he enjoys my favour – listen to him.” The repetition of this declaration ties together the scenes of the Baptism, the desert and the Transfiguration. After the Father’s first declaration at the Baptism, Jesus was led into the desert where he was tempted by Satan. We pondered this scene last weekend, but we would do well to recall some of its details today, for it will shed light on today’s Gospel of the Transfiguration.

In one of the three temptations, Jesus was taken up “a very high mountain”, from which the devil “showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory.” He promised to give this glory to Jesus if Jesus would fall at his feet and worship him. In today’s Gospel, Jesus leads Peter, James and John up a “high mountain”, just as the devil did to Jesus. But in this case, they see not “the kingdoms of the world and their glory”, they catch a glimpse rather of the kingdom of heaven, seeing the glory of a transfigured Christ, radiant with light from his very person. They then see Moses and Elijah, telling us that Jesus is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets. They then hear the Father’s voice, the same declaration as at Jesus’ baptism. And, we are told, “they fell on their faces, overcome with fear.” This was not the kind of fear we experience upon encountering a snake or a shark, since they didn’t run away, but “they fell on their faces”. That is, they touched their foreheads to the ground in the gesture of worship. The fear they experienced is the reverential fear of God, one of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit that allows us to worship God in spirit and truth. While Jesus refused to fall down and worship Satan for the glory of all the kingdoms of this world, Jesus’ disciples rightly fall down and worship him as they comprehend that Jesus is the Beloved, the Son in whom the glory of the kingdom of heaven lies open.

But what is it that the Transfiguration properly reveals? For a fuller picture, we must consider last week’s readings again. Jesus appeared in the desert where he fasted for forty days and was plagued by the same threefold temptation that caused humanity’s fall in the beginning. The desert, we remember, is the opposite to the Garden. It represents the loss of the Garden of Eden and the lasting effects of sin. Empty, lifeless, harsh and inhabitable, Jesus entered it and dwelt there with the ancient serpent, whom he resisted. In that place of death, temptation, aloneness and deprivation of the senses, Jesus clings to the Father alone. In doing so, this mortification gives birth to a new humanity, forged in the desert, in whom the effects of sin are reversed. This is revealed and exemplified in today’s gospel scene of the Transfiguration. His form is changed such that his face shines like the sun and his clothes become as light. The Father calls him “the Beloved”, that is, the one in whom all the love, which is the very essence of God the Father, resides. In other words, here he shows us a humanity that is perfectly united and permeated with the divinity. While this is who Jesus is by nature, the point for us is this is who we are being invited to become by grace! By traversing the desert and enduring all the effects of sin in absolute fidelity to God the Father, even unto death on the cross, Jesus shows us the path to our own divinisation, to union with God, which is our ultimate end and fulfillment. My friends, this is what salvation is! Salvation is not just a tick against our name and admittance to heaven like they admit you through the gate at a music festival! That has nothing to do with heaven! Salvation is the utter transformation of our nature after the pattern of the crucified and risen Jesus, unto complete and perfect union with God. It is to become, by grace, what Jesus is, namely “the Beloved” laid bare on the mountain of the Transfiguration!

Dear friends, the Lenten journey through the desert that we are currently on, which is a microcosm of the entire Christian life, ends in what we catch a glimpse of today. Our final destination is the glorified Christ who, having suffered, is perfectly transformed and united with the Father. This is our ultimate end and perfection. This is what it is we are trying to become. Dear brothers and sisters, let us hold the transfigured Christ before our eyes every day of our life, then, and pray the Holy Spirit to change us, and to make us, by his grace, more and more into the image and likeness of his Beloved Son, crucified and risen.
First Sunday of Lent (Year A)

February 25, 2023

First reading                       Genesis 2:7-9,3:1-7

Responsorial Psalm          Psalm 50(51):3-6,12-14,17

Second reading                   Romans 5:12-19

Gospel                                   Matthew 4:1-11

Today the Word of the Lord takes us to two very different but intimately related places. First, we find ourselves in the Garden at the creation of the first man and his subsequent fall from grace (along with his wife Eve). Second, we are taken to the desert with the new man, Jesus Christ, and his subsequent triumph over evil. These scenes are tied together in that they both present the human being tempted by Satan, who acts as liar and tempter. Even the temptations of Jesus mirror those of our first parents: First, Satan tells lies to sow mistrust of God: “Did God really say you were not to eat from any of the trees of the garden?… No! You will not die! God knows in fact that on the day you eat it your eyes will be opened and you will be like gods, knowing good and evil.” In the case of Jesus, the Devil says, “if you are the son of God”, calling into question the Father’s words in the preceding verses at Jesus’ baptism, “this is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Then there follows a threefold temptation: “The woman saw that the tree was good to eat (the desire of the flesh) and pleasing to the eye (the desire to possess) and that is was desirable for the knowledge that it could give (pride– the desire to take the place of God). So she took some of its fruit and ate it.” In the desert we hear, “if you are the Son of God, tell these stones to turn into loaves (the desire of the flesh) … If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down (pride– everyone will see that you are God and will worship you) … I will give you all these [kingdoms of the world and their splendour] if you fall at my feet and worship me (the desire to possess) … Then Jesus replied, ‘be off Satan!’”

But aside from the similarities we see in these two scenes, the key, I believe, is in their difference. The story of the first man’s creation and fall takes place in the Garden, the Greek word for which is paradeisos– paradise. The story of the new man’s triumph, on the other hand, takes place in the desert, the complete opposite to the Garden. Just as the first man was created in the garden, here we have the new man, a new humanity, being created and forged in the desert. The first human beings were made to be together in paradise, a place teeming with life and abundance. Our Lord, however, appears alone in the dry and dead wasteland, the haunt of demons. There are several aspects to this. First, the desert is the consequence of the fall. When our first parents abandoned God, death and corruption came into the world just as St Paul teaches in our second reading: “sin entered the world through one man, and through sin death, and thus death has spread through the whole human race because everyone has sinned.” The desert is the death of the garden and the image of sin’s consequences. Second, Jesus enters the desert– our desert. Jesus, though he is without sin, enters the consequences of our sin and sojourns in the lonely, lifeless desert for us. Third, in his own person he reverses sin. He resists the lies and temptations of Satan, the very same that resulted in the fall and created the death of the Garden in the first place.

Dear brothers and sisters, our readings today are truly profound. In the person of Jesus, sin and death are defeated! In the person of Jesus, sin and death are reversed! In the person of Jesus, paradise is restored to us! In the person of Jesus a new humanity is created! And this season of Lent, the season of the desert, leads to the triumph of Easter if we so participate. I will say, it leads to nothing but a never-ending desert for those who choose not to be intentional about their faith or cling to the person of Jesus. In him alone is paradise restored. So, if the new life of the resurrection is to be ours, we must follow Jesus in the desert. In him we must resist the lies that the Devil tells us. And these lies are multiplied in our day. Today we live in an upside-down world where what is evil is celebrated and called good, while what is good and holy is reviled and called bad. In Jesus we must learn to walk alone in the desert. Modern people are so afraid of loneliness, silence and stillness. We busy ourselves so as to not have to face ourselves. We fill every moment with stimulation and input from televisions, computers, mobile phones, radios and entertainment because we are afraid to face the silence. We do anything to avoid a sense of being alone. But dear friends, no one else can make the journey for us. While Adam and Eve were together in their fall, Jesus was alone in his triumph. We too, though God gives us many helpers and companions to walk with us, are fundamentally alone and alone can make the decision to follow Jesus or not. In our aloneness with Jesus, we must also learn to resist the threefold temptation that still plagues us today: the desires of the flesh, the desire to possess and the pride of life that seeks to usurp the place of God in our lives. It is from these three things that every manner of wickedness proceeds, and by following Jesus’ example of fidelity and self-restraint that we become truly free. Free from slavery to our desires and addictions, free from idolatry and pride, and free for what is good and truly wholesome. Free to worship God in spirit and truth in whom is the fullness of life and love.

It’s no accident, dear brothers and sisters, that the Church calls us to prayer, fasting and almsgiving during the Lenten season. These are the weapons of choice that countless generations of Christians have used to enter the arena with Jesus and conquer our threefold fallenness. Fasting is a manner of resisting the desire of the flesh, an exercise in self-restraint. Make sure you integrate some manner of fasting into your week! Almsgiving is the opposite to that temptation to possess. It is to let go and to give rather than take. We must give alms! And prayer, this is the most important of all. Prayer, not just saying prayers, but the worship of almighty God and the loving adoration of him in recognition of his Lordship over us, the total submission of ourselves to love himself. This is the opposite to the pride which would rather usurp the place of God in our lives.

One final word. As I’ve mentioned, all this can only be done in Jesus Christ. We are not stoic philosophers. On our own power and merit, all the things I’ve mentioned will be fruitless and the desert will remain. But with the grace of Jesus, new life can begin to grow. In practice, that means every single one of us needs to go to confession during this Lenten season. You don’t have to come to me, I won’t be offended. But we need to receive the Sacrament of Penance. That means I myself will have to drive to another town to find a priest, as I often do. For without the sanctifying grace that Jesus gives us in confession, there’s no way that the power of the resurrection can be applied to our souls. My friends, this season of Lent is before us, and it has wonders in store for those who are willing to take it seriously. What will you choose?
Sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year A)

February 12, 2023

The Torment of St Anthony, Michelangelo c.1487-1488

First reading                       Ecclesiasticus 15:16-21

Responsorial Psalm          Psalm 118(119):1-2,4-5,17-18,33-34

Second reading                   1 Corinthians 2:6-10

Gospel                                   Matthew 5:17-37

The Gospel today continues Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount with the intention of completing or perfecting the Law of Moses. We hear first that sin is not just the committing of certain bodily acts such as killing or adultery, but begins in the heart, where anger, lust and any number of corrupt thoughts first take root in us and elicit either our assent or our rejection. The prime battle ground for the Christian, then, lies in the heart and mind. For it is there that the seeds of sin first spring up and take root, and it’s there that we first become enslaved and lose our internal freedom to choose the Good, the True and the Beautiful.

Herein lies the meaning of our Lord’s words, “if your virtue goes no deeper than that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never get into the kingdom of heaven.” The scribes and Pharisees simply kept the law to the letter, which is called self-righteousness. For this is a righteousness that can be attained by one’s own careful adherence to the rules. But this doesn’t necessarily equal virtue or holiness, which is an interior reality that must be fought for. To arrive at virtue and holiness involves getting at the root of the problem of sin in our lives, waging war within, so that we may possess ourselves and thereby allow Jesus to take up residence within us. We cannot give to him what we do not have, and if our hearts are full of unforgiveness, malice, lust, envy, pride and any number of other vices, then we do not fully possess ourselves and therefore cannot fully give ourselves. To wage this Christian warfare, dear brothers and sisters requires a number of indispensable things. First and foremost, it is primarily God’s work, which means it requires a whole lot of sanctifying grace. This is why I’m fond of reminding you that the Sacrament of Confession is absolutely essential! Confession is the ordinary means by which God wills to give us his sanctifying grace once we’ve lost it. Without this sanctifying grace, holiness and salvation itself are simply impossible. Secondly, this grace must be cooperated with. It’s not magic. It requires real effort on our part to practice the virtues (above all, charity) and to commit ourselves to daily prayer. Setting aside time daily to be with the Lord in prayer allows us to drink directly from the grace of his presence. Just as athletes need a strict training programme in order to progress, we too need to adhere to Christian discipline.

And just like athletes, dear brothers and sisters, our Christian lives require a certain amount of violence. To clarify, I do not mean hurting anyone, but to have enough grunt, vehemence and vigour to choose what is right, even on the level of one’s thoughts and intentions. We all know, sometimes if feels good to harbour bad thoughts, and even to float those thoughts before others in the manner of gossip. To fantasise about this person, for example, or about how we might get back at so and so, or what we are going to say to that person when we see them next, or listing off the faults and failings of another… It can take great force to cut off such pleasurable thoughts and to turn our mind to Jesus, such that it can feel like we do violence to ourselves, in a sense. But such is the Lord’s call today, when he says with great hyperbole, “if your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; for it will do you less harm to lose one part of you than to have your whole body thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away for it will do you less harm to lose one part of you than to have your whole body go to hell.” Now we know our Lord is speaking metaphorically here because neither your eye nor your hand can cause you to sin. They may become the means of sinning, but sin, we have already heard, is caused from within. Therefore, this violent self-mutilation our Lord speaks of here is an interior mortification. It is to keep watch over ourselves and cut off our wicked thoughts and intentions as they arise.

Now, besides the spiritual means necessary to fight the Christian fight, such as the Sacraments and our disciplines and devotions, the Lord indicates that in some cases there is an exterior circumstance that needs to be confronted. Sometimes this can be hardest of all. “If you are bringing your offering to the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your offering there before the altar, go and be reconciled with your brother first, and then come back and present your offering…” These are hard words. We must confront and rectify our objective situations if our offering is to be acceptable in God’s sight. Sometimes, of course, others may refuse to forgive, and we can’t always change that. However, we must do everything within our power to put right what is wrong and to confront the “elephants” in our lives if we are to have sufficient interior peace to face the inner battle.

Dear brothers and sisters, there’s so much more that can be said and explored in today’s readings, but I leave you with these considerations. Especially as we begin the season of Lent, which is particularly geared towards this Christian warfare, we would do well to think carefully about what we need to work on over the coming weeks and to make firm resolutions for confronting them.
Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)

February 4, 2023

First reading                       Isaiah 58:7-10

Responsorial Psalm          Psalm 111(112):4-9

Second reading                   1 Corinthians 2:1-5

Gospel                                   Matthew 5:13-16

Today we hear the continuation of Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount”, the beginning of which we heard last week in the Beatitudes. But these two texts are part of the same speech and must be read together if they are to be properly grasped. This business of being “salt of the earth” and “light of the world”, for example, makes more sense when read with the Beatitudes. For when he says, “you are the salt of the earth” and “you are the light of the world”, who is he talking about? Who is “you”? Well, if you read from the beginning of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, we’re told that he’s speaking specifically to his disciples. Then, as you read on, Jesus announces that the poor in spirit, the meek, those who mourn, etcetera, are “happy” or “blessed”, for they shall be awarded a divine reward. An attentive reader will notice that he speaks in the third person: “theirs is the kingdom of heaven”, “they shall inherit the earth”, “they shall be comforted”. But then, right at the end, Jesus’ language shifts. In his final beatitude he says, “happy are you when people abuse you and persecute you and speak all kinds of calumny against you on my account. Rejoice and be glad for your reward will be great in heaven.” It is then that today’s Gospel reading commences: “You are the salt of the earth… You are the light of the world…”

I believe this is a crucial point. The plural “you” of today’s Gospel, are not just any listeners, but are specifically those described by the Beatitudes. This is indicated by the final beatitude, which joins the plural “you” to the rest of the Beatitudes before it. With that context, dear brothers and sisters, today’s Gospel reading takes on a slightly different slant. Our capacity to be “salt to the earth” and “light to the world” now hinges upon the extent to which we become poor in spirit, meek, mourners, hungry for righteousness, merciful, pure in heart, peacemakers and persecuted in the cause of right. So rather than being a simple affirmation, the Gospel today is a calling: To be poor in spirit, that is, to adopt the spiritual posture of a humble beggar in constant need of our Lord to survive. To be meek, that is, to bring your strength under control, training yourself to submit every inclination and impulse to right reason and to the Gospel of Jesus. To be mourners, that is, to accept with humility the sorrows that inevitably come our way and to entrust ourselves fully into the hands of Jesus in that sorrow, with gratitude for the chance to suffer with and for him. To hunger and thirst for righteousness, that is, to always yearn for the Truth as Jesus has revealed it and to have the integrity to uphold it even at personal cost. To be merciful, that is, to forgive quickly and never to hold a grudge, knowing that we ourselves are worse sinners than those who have offended us. To be pure in heart, that is, to love God with one’s whole heart and to remove everything that gets between us and love of Jesus. To be a peacemaker, that is, not only to seek reconciliation with those whom we fall out with, but to actively seek to establish reconciliation and communion between those around us and never to say a bad word about another. To be persecuted, that is, to be willing to suffer and be unpopular for upholding the faith, either at the hands of others or within ourselves.

If we learn to do these things and live by these Beatitudes, dear brothers and sisters, not only will the eternal reward attributed to each of these be ours, but we will truly become salt for the earth and light for the world. For each of these qualities not only stands out in a world that values the total opposite, but each of these qualities points beyond itself. And that’s precisely the point of salt and light. One does not eat salt on its own! Salt by itself tastes horrible. But when salt is applied to food, it enhances and brings out the taste of the food. It also works to preserve the food it is applied to. But on its own it is useless. Light too points beyond itself. We don’t turn on a light and stare at the lightbulb, nor do we look at the sun. Light exists to make clear and visible what would otherwise be hidden in darkness. In the same way, when a person’s life is characterised by the Beatitudes, it stands out, but it points far beyond itself. Such people draw attention not to oneself, but point towards the incredible love and presence of almighty God and of the sacrifice Jesus has made for us. For that reason, the Lord says in the Gospel today that “your light must shine in the sight of men, so that, seeing your good works, they may give the praise to your Father in heaven.” There we have it dear friends, our purpose as disciples of Jesus is to point beyond ourselves so that others may learn to give praise to our Father in heaven. Do we do this? To do so we must learn to stand out, not by parading good works before us, but by making the intensely humble and other-worldly Beatitudes our rule and pattern of life. Let these Beatitudes be written on our hearts, dear brothers and sisters!
Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)

January 29, 2023

First reading                       Zephaniah 2:3,3:12-13

Responsorial Psalm          Psalm 145(146):6-10

Second reading                   1 Corinthians 1:26-31

Gospel                                   Matthew 5:1-12a

Happiness. That elusive thing that everybody seeks throughout their lives in one form or another. Countless books, courses, motivational speakers and online blogs claim to hold the keys to happiness, or at least in part. YouTube is full of “influencers” and experts promoting particular lifestyles, fitness trends, diets, niche hobbies, financial tips, psychological strategies, spiritual advice and much more– in order to improve one’s sense of wellbeing and happiness. To be sure, some of it is useful. For leading a healthy and balanced lifestyle, being physically fit, enjoying wholesome hobbies, financial security, psychological health, spirituality and having life-giving relationships all contribute to a certain level of natural well-being and happiness. And yet, we know these are never enough. We always find ourselves wanting more. More money, better health and fitness, deeper intimacy, more success, a higher position in life, more happiness. And if we aren’t actively striving for more, there always seems to be room for more, just as there’s always room for dessert, no matter how full we are.

Brothers and sisters, the insatiability of the human heart has always suggested to me that we are made for more. This is where natural happiness come to its limit and creatures can do no more for us. Into this gap the Lord speaks today on the mountain: ‘Happy are the poor in spirit; happy the gentle (meek); happy those who mourn; happy those who hunger and thirst for what is right; happy the merciful; happy the pure in heart; happy the peacemakers; happy those who are persecuted in the cause of right.’ At first glance, these “beatitudes” can seem odd and even counterintuitive:

The poor in spirit? Our culture doesn’t usually associate poverty with happiness. The term “poor” here specifically denotes a beggar (πτωχός), or one who is crouched over in the position of one who begs. Normally, we look on such people with sadness. Yet the Lord says those who are “poor in spirit”, who have the spiritual attitude of one crouched over begging, possesses the kingdom of heaven.

The gentle? While gentleness or meekness is often considered an endearing trait, in a competitive society driven by the pursuit of success, gentleness is often considered a kind of weakness. You can’t be too soft if you want to win. The Greek term here, however, (πραΰς) actually refers to something strong that has been subdued or brought under control, such as in the case of a good horse. Trained horses, for example, are gentle, despite the fact they can easily kill a human being. In the same way a person who exhibits such raw power that is perfectly controlled and subdued to right reason and virtue, is truly impressive. Such people, Jesus says, will inherit the earth. That is, the “new earth” that will be brought about when this world passes away.

Those who mourn? It suffices to say that mourning and sadness are avoided at all costs. Big money is spent on psychology and drugs to do just that. And yet the Lord assures us that those who weep and mourn shall be comforted. And not in a trivial manner. The verb used here for “comfort” (παρακαλέω), is where the name “Paraclete” comes from, which is the title for the Holy Spirit. The “comfort” promised to those who mourn is not just a pat on the back from Jesus, but the very life and love of God himself, whom we call the Holy Spirit.

Those who hunger and thirst for what is right? If you have to hunger and thirst for what is right, this implies that things are not right – that such a one lives among injustice and unrighteousness. How can one be happy while living among unrighteousness? Yet the Lord assures us that such a hunger will result in fulfillment and that such a person shall finally have the experience of being satiated.

The merciful? Though mercy is valued by a lot of people, when someone wrongs us in serious ways, it’s often the path of vengeance and unforgiveness that seem to promise us some satisfaction and temporary relief from the damage inflicted by the wrong. Often we follow this inclination. And yet it’s those who go against their natural inclination and show mercy that shall receive mercy from God.

The pure of heart? Those whose hearts are clean are often ridiculed and labelled naïve or simple by our culture. Society encourages us to know and even participate in the wicked ways of the world. And yet only those with pure hearts will see God. Now that is an alarming thing when you consider that heaven is the vision of God. If we want the unending happiness of going to heaven, purity of heart ought to be our greatest ambition.

The peacemakers? To be a peacemaker implies that there is a lack of peace. How can a peacemaker be happy, living in the horrible tension of the absence of peace? These shall be called “sons” of God. What this means is that peacemakers shall be heirs to God’s estate. The Lord is very intentional in saying that a peacemaker, regardless of whether they are a man or a woman, shall be called “sons.” For in ancient Judaism only sons received an inheritance, daughters did not. So regardless of one’s station in life, whether man, woman, slave, free, Jew or Greek, those who make peace shall inherit what is God’s.

Those who are persecuted? This is perhaps the worst of all and seemingly the greatest threat to our happiness. And yet, those persecuted on account of their righteousness possess already the kingdom of heaven, according to Jesus.

Dear brothers and sisters, all these beatitudes seem, in some way, to be contrary to the natural happiness we seek, or at least to what the world teaches us will bring happiness. But Jesus here is not talking about natural happiness. When he says “happy”, he’s not referring to the short-lived happiness afforded by our circumstances and lifestyle. He is speaking here of the highest form of happiness, which we call beatitude. Beatitude is derived from the beatific vision, that is, the vision of God, total union with God. How do the beatitudes allow us to experience that union with God? Well, because the Lord promises so, but particularly because each of them requires some participation in the cross of Christ. Each beatitude, as seen in its seeming counterintuitiveness, involves some level of sacrifice and some level of looking beyond an immediate gratification towards a more complete one with the Lord. And we know that without the cross, we cannot know the resurrection, we cannot know union with Christ who is himself the eternal life we seek. Dear friends, if we want to experience happiness in its ultimate sense, beyond the short-lived natural happiness we strive for, we need to seek union with Jesus at all costs. The beatitudes we’ve heard today are his own official teaching on the path to that union. Are we willing to live them, even if it involves temporary suffering and sacrifice?
Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)

January 21, 2023

First reading                       Isaiah 8:23-9:3

Responsorial Psalm          Psalm 26(27):1,4,13-14

Second reading                   1 Corinthians 1:10-13,17

Gospel                                   Matthew 4:12-23

How long did it take me to read the Gospel today? Less than two minutes, I think. But how long did the events in today’s Gospel take to unfold? After John’s arrest, Jesus relocated from Nazareth to Capernaum. Most of us know that moving house takes more than a click of the fingers, and though I’m sure Jesus didn’t have a lot of possessions to move, his was a journey on foot. Capernaum is about a 30 kilometre walk from Nazareth, so if he went direct without rushing, that’s a couple of days walking, perhaps. Give him some time to settle into his lodgings and meet some people in the local community before he begins preaching and there’s at least another few days or possibly weeks or even months. And yet I just read it in less than two minutes. The point I’m getting at here, brothers and sisters, is that the events recounted in the Gospels contain a lot more than we often realise. We only hear the most basic bare bones of the story, but what about the white spaces around the black words on the page? What did Jesus see during these days or weeks or months? Whom did he meet? What glances were exchanged? What did Jesus hear and smell? What conversations were had? How did Jesus feel? All these things, which may not occur to us when we hear the Gospel, are part of the Gospel, because the Gospels aren’t just stories, they are memories, and memories are so multi-dimensional.

Now, we may never know all the nuances and details of these Gospel memories, but if we are willing to take the time to contemplate, we can pry into the memory that is being communicated, and by God’s grace, be drawn into the world and the reality of that memory. In that world much can touch and change us, and many hidden things can be revealed. Let’s consider what we’ve heard today.

Jesus moves to a new town, Capernaum, which was a fishing village of about 1500 people. In population that’s a bit bigger than Mitchell and a bit smaller than Miles, but much smaller in area than both. In other words, it was a small and tightknit community. A careful glean of the Gospels also points out that there was a garrison of Roman soldiers stationed there (Lk 7:1-8), as well as a Roman tax office (Matt 9:9), and the home of a royal official (Jn 4:46-54). Five of his future twelve disciples also lived there– Peter, Andrew, James, John, and Matthew the tax collector. All these details give us a fair picture of some of the sights and encounters Jesus most certainly had, particularly as he began to attend the synagogue each week according to his custom. In such a community, Jesus was known to everybody very quickly. He would have been subject of conversation and speculation, and probably gossip as small towns often harbour. He himself surely saw, heard and encountered a variety of social and religious situations, given that there was a tax office and a Roman presence there. It is also unthinkable that he did not encounter his future disciples in the synagogue and in the marketplace of such a small town. And into all this, Jesus the newcomer, begins to preach: “repent for the kingdom of heaven is close at hand.” Imagine! People, including his future disciples, would have very quickly developed an opinion of Jesus. All this, brothers and sisters, we can contemplate by a close reading of the Gospel. Suddenly the world of that memory, which took less than two minutes to read, begins to be unlocked. And now, let’s contemplate the heart of that memory:

Jesus is on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, where he sees Peter and Andrew working their trade as fisherman. They’ve met this newcomer. They’ve heard him start telling people to repent. They’ve seen him in the synagogue. Jesus approaches on the shore and calls out to them, “follow me and I will make you fishers of men.” What happens next is remarkable: “they left their nets at once and followed him.” Without hesitation it seems, they immediately leave their nets, their livelihood, and go after Jesus. This is remarkable, but what happens in that split second in which they hear Jesus’ call is what is truly remarkable. What went on in that fleeting moment of connection when their gazes intertwined and they comprehended Jesus’ words? I mean, this must have been a powerful and overwhelming moment. Consider, what would it take to make you walk away from everything you know, your livelihood and even your family (as was the case for James and John), to follow after this mysterious newcomer? He didn’t promise money or fame or comfort. They were signing a blank cheque. Something lifechanging happened in that exchange. What fullness of life, what love, what destiny they must have perceived in this man! What would it take for you to follow him, dear brothers and sisters? I invite you to contemplate this exchange, which as the Church’s memory is our memory. Place yourselves in the shoes of the disciples. What do you see in the Lord’s call and gaze? What does it elicit in you? What is your response?
Second Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)

January 15, 2023

First reading                       Isaiah 49:3,5-6

Responsorial Psalm          Psalm 39(40):2,4,7-10

Second reading                   1 Corinthians 1:1-3

Gospel                                   John 1:29-34

“A man is coming after me who ranks before me because he existed before me. I did not know him myself, and yet it was to reveal him to Israel that I came baptising with water…” St John then goes on to say once again, “I did not know him myself, but he who sent me to baptise with water had said to me, ‘the man on whom you see the Spirit come down and rest is the one who is going to baptise with the Holy Spirit.’” Isn’t it strange that St John says, “I did not know him myself”? He says this twice, which tells us that his words are important. What does he mean “I did not know him myself”? After all, John was Jesus’ cousin. He even leapt in his mother’s womb at the presence of his unborn cousin!

Well, to clarify, the Greek language, which is the language of the New Testament, has more than one way to say I “know” something. The term that St John happens to use is derived from the verb “to see”, which suggests that the knowledge he is talking about here is not one merely of being acquainted with Jesus but is to do with perception and beholding. Another way of translating St John’s repeated saying would be, “I myself did not perceive him.” This offers us some clarity. St John knew Jesus as a man and as his cousin, but he did not perceive who he really was. So how did he come to “know” Jesus’ true identity? Well St John himself tells us: “I saw the Spirit coming down on him from heaven like a dove and resting on him.” It was by the Holy Spirit that the Lord was made known to St John who perceived him not. And what, by the Holy Spirit, did St John come to perceive about the identity of his cousin? Again, St John told us in the Gospel today. What does he say? “Look, there is the lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world…” Now, brothers and sisters, these are most familiar words to us who hear them at every Mass, but do we understand them? These are most strange words. Firstly, he says “look” or “behold”. This word often means more than to look with one’s eyes. In fact the word is related to that perception that St John twice denies having had until the Spirit revealed Jesus’ true identity to him. So here he’s inviting his hearers to “behold” or “perceive” or “discern” the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. That invitation is extended to us, here and now, who are hearing his words.

But, in order for us to perceive the lamb of God, we need to know what the lamb of God refers to. What an odd saying! Notice St John says, “the lamb”, not “a lamb”. This tells us that he is referring to a concrete and known reality, something John’s disciples understood. “The lamb” in Judaism could only refer to the Passover lamb, a central aspect of the way they lived their faith. Each year the lamb was ritually slaughtered as a sacrifice and then eaten by all Jewish people as a living memorial and participation in the first Passover, the night on which God freed the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. At the first Passover, it was the blood of the lamb painted on their doorposts and the eating of the lamb’s flesh that saved the Israelites from the destroyer on the night God led them out of Egypt (Ex 12:1-13). Every year since, the Passover lamb was sacrificed as a living memorial of that definitive and saving night. St John says here, “behold/perceive the lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world.” It’s no coincidence then that the Gospel of John later on specifies that Jesus was crucified on the day of preparation for the Passover, that is, the day the Passover lambs were ritually slaughtered, and their blood offered on the altar (Jn 19:14). In fact, Jesus died at the very same hour.

Dear friends, something profound was revealed to St John by the Holy Spirit, and which he has revealed to us. Jesus is the lamb, sacrificed for us on the altar of the cross to take away our sins. It is his blood alone, and the eating of his flesh, that can save us from the destroyer, just as God saved his people at the very first Passover. This speaks of the wonderful mystery and the necessity of what we have here at Mass. For the Mass is not just a Catholic get-together around a table. At Mass the sacrifice of the lamb of God is made present for us in our own day. We, when we fulfil his command to eat his flesh and drink his blood, partake of that Passover lamb who alone can take away the sin of the world, and therefore the fruit of sin, which is death.

Dear brothers and sisters, the Mass itself, in St John the Baptist’s words, invites us to “behold the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. In the Mass everything points toward him. Our Gospel today explicitly invites us in St John’s words to truly perceive and discern him present to us. This is not only an act of the bodily eyes, but of the eyes of faith – to see more deeply. But like St John, we cannot do this except by the Holy Spirit who alone can reveal Jesus. Pray, therefore, that we might have the grace to truly discern, with faith, the one who is present to us in the Sacred Liturgy today. For if we do so perceive him, we shall also perceive our salvation.
The Epiphany of the Lord

January 7, 2023

First reading                       Isaiah 60:1-6

Responsorial Psalm          Psalm 71(72):1-2,7-8,10-13

Second reading                   Ephesians 3:2-3,5-6

Gospel                                   Matthew 2:1-12

The Christmas story, with all its strange and enchanting details, is one shrouded in mystery. It has it all – angels, dreams, stars, shepherds, wise men, the virgin birth, the manger, a violent king, the slaughter of the holy innocents, etc. Perhaps the most enigmatic of all, however, are the three wise men from the east who appear and then disappear, never to be seen again. Who were these “wise men”? Well, first of all, the Gospel doesn’t say anything about there being three of them. We’re told that there were three types of gifts – gold, frankincense and myrrh – but not the number of wise men. And while many translations call them “wise men”, the original Greek text calls them Magi, which is more than just a wise person. A magos was someone, usually from Persia, who practiced sorcery or was privy to esoteric knowledge and arts such as astrology and alchemy. They were considered “wise” in the sense that they had access to this secret “wisdom”. In English, we derive the word “magic” and “magician” from the word magos. The point here is, these were pagans, who through a combination of their secret knowledge and biblical prophecy, came to find and adore God-with-us.

This is very important. Pagan sorcerers came to worship the one true God! Why is this important? Dear friends it’s important because the story of the Magi is the beginning of our salvation. Their story is our story. What do I mean? Our second reading today spells it out. St Paul in his letter to the Ephesians wrote, “it was by a revelation that I was given knowledge of the mystery. This mystery that has now been revealed through the Spirit to his holy apostles and prophets was unknown to any men in past generations; it means that pagans now share in the same inheritance, that they are parts of the same body…” Did you hear that? The mystery that has been revealed by God to his apostles and prophets by the power of the Holy Spirit is that pagans can now share in the same inheritance as the chosen people and are made part of the same body! This is precisely what is unfolding in the Gospel today and is the key to understanding these Magi. Magi were people who sought to understand mysteries, and St Paul says here that a mystery has been revealed, namely, that the pagans have been made part of the body of Christ and are therefore able to access salvation. Dear friends, in the story of the Magi we see that mystery unfolding. This is why today is called the feast of the Epiphany. Epiphany means “to manifest” or literally to “bring into the light”. There is a double bringing into the light happening in our Gospel. First and foremost, God is revealed to us in the flesh. The identity of our Lord as God-with-us is brought into the light, so to speak, in the sense that he has manifested himself to us in an irreversible way. Second, by the self-revelation of our God in Jesus, we are brought into the light of his presence. By his taking on of human flesh, those who have faith in him and are baptised into his body are made one with him. We ourselves are brought into his light and are manifest as children of God. This beginning of our double epiphany is what we see taking place in the Magi.

But, brothers and sisters, there’s more. I mentioned that we are brought into his light and revealed as children of God through faith and baptism. But what does the living out of that faith and baptism look like? Well, once again, we see this in the Magi. In making the long journey to worship the child of Bethlehem, the Magi leave behind their false gods. We too must leave behind all of our idols and false gods. And the Gospel says that when they went into the house “they saw the child with his mother Mary, and falling to their knees they did him homage.” This translation doesn’t quite do justice to the Greek text which literally says they “fell down and worshipped him”. The term “worship” here denotes getting down on one’s knees and touching the forehead to the ground. This is a dramatic scene. These strangers from the east suddenly turn up and get down on the ground in front of Mary and the baby Jesus and begin to worship!

What is more, “opening their treasures, they offered him gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh.” Imagine the sight of it! How Mary must have marvelled at what was happening. Then there is perhaps the most telling detail of all. The Magi “returned to their own country by a different way.” In these precious details the Magi offer us a pattern for walking in the light that God has brought us into. If we know the power and the depth of God’s love for us, it should bring us to our knees, so to speak. Our proper posture as Christians is to abandon our false gods and little idols and worship God, to genuinely adore and humble ourselves, knowing our smallness before the divine presence. We should not be slow to kneel before God. Like the Magi, we are invited to then open our treasure chests and offer him gifts, that is, to open the treasure chest of our heart to him, giving our very lives over to him each and every day. Finally, dear brothers and sisters, all of this demands that we go home by “another way”. In other words, our lives must change! We can never be the same again after an encounter with the living God-with-us.

Today we find ourselves already past the threshold of a new year. How, then, are you going to respond to the incarnation of God’s love for us in the coming year? Are we willing to follow the example and invitation of the Magi by walking in the light that is revealed today? Or will we go back the same way, via king Herod, to what is comfortable and stagnant?