O KEY OF DAVID!

 

O KEY OF DAVID!

‘O key of David ...what you open no one else can close.’ So sings the church at evening prayer on 20 December. God comes to dwell among us and open up the store of energy locked away until ‘the time is fulfilled.’ The time is now fulfilled. This is the time. That is why we rejoice. No one knew, until modern times, the energy locked away in the oil under the ground. Nor did anyone guess we could produce electric power to generate light and heat.

These are images, parables, of the energy locked away in each of us – waiting to be released. The coming of the Word of God, Jesus of Nazareth, the key of David, releases energy on the world. We have only to think of Saul of Tarsus, locked up in his Jewish zeal for the law, frustrated it wasn’t leading anywhere. Then he is overcome by whatever it was that happened to him at Damascus. It was like releasing a pent-up spring. He taught, he preached, he travelled, he wrote and he suffered.

His influence and that of his companions spread everywhere, transforming late antiquity so that within a few centuries, the key was unlocking doors until the desert and the sea put a temporary halt to their reach. Over subsequent centuries, the key of David reached the furthest lands.

The process continues but now it is a call, no longer to go further, but to go deeper. Each person has gifts, even the poorest and most disabled. But often they are unknown, hidden. As we celebrate Christmas, we can search, as the wise man from the East did, for this key to our own hearts and to our hidden gifts. And the key to the hearts and gifts of others. What is stopping us unearthing these treasures, ‘hidden in a field’, we carry around with us every day?

These are gifts, not for our own enjoyment – although that too - but to be shared. One who knows their gifts and can share them, transforms the world.   As we kneel in our imagination before the crib, it is a great sorrow if we cannot unwrap our gifts. Something prevents us. Our fear of failure or ridicule? Or our circumstances which block our freedom to be who we are. Jesus, the Key, stands there waiting to help us. That’s why he came.  He is creating a new heaven and a new earth. But he can’t do it without us.   

22 December 2024          Advent 4C   Mic 5:1-4    Heb 10:5-10       Lk 1:39-45

SING A NEW SONG

 SING A NEW SONG

As Advent gathers momentum the theme of joy dominates. All this Sunday’s

readings announce it. Zephaniah: ‘Shout for joy ... have no fear. Paul: ‘I want

you to be happy’ and Luke, ‘a feeling of expectancy had grown among the

people.’

Just this past week the people of Syria breathed freedom again after more than

seventy years of oppression. Hopefully they can build on it. And there was

another moment of hope to raise our spirits last week. The first stone was laid

for the building of the Cathedral of Notre Dame (Our Lady) in Paris in 1163,

that is 861 years ago. The huge cathedral that rose on that island in the River

Seine which runs through Paris, became the symbolic heart of the nation.

And today, when many French people are paying little attention to the liturgical

practice of their faith, Notre Dame remains a sign of pride and cultural identity

such that when it almost burned down five years ago, it was like a death in the

family. People wept in unbelief.

The President of the Republic promised it would be rebuilt in five years and so

it was. It was revealed to us in renewed splendour last week such as it must

have been eight hundred years ago, before the candle wax and smoke of

centuries cased it in grime.

Watching the re-opening, one could not but wonder! First at the joy of rebirth,

this time enhanced by modern lighting from floor to distant ceiling. Then by the

organ peeling out in an abandonment of triumph. But then also, by the coming

together, for once, of people of varied views. For the active Christians of France

it was a thrill they will never forget. For the retired Christians it was a moment

awe, they will surely ponder. And even for the politicians, who perhaps looked

for a little leverage from the occasion, it must have made their rivalries seem

trivial.

But in the Christian tradition, cathedrals only have the role of a memorial.

Ultimately, they are not where God dwells. However beautiful, they cannot

compare with the human person, the true residence of our God. ‘He came to

dwell among us’, says St John, and it is the hearts and lives of his people that

the Lord has made his home. This is why, the Church shouts, ‘Gaudete!’

‘Rejoice!’ ‘Your servitude is at an end.’ The long imprisoned in Syria have

stepped out into the sunlight, blinded by it for a moment, yet hopefully ready to

begin a new life. In all sorts of ways, this is also our joy.

15 December 2024 Advent 3C Zeph 3:14-18 Phil 4:4-7 Lk 3:10-18

 

A DOSE OF HOPE

 

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.

 

W. B. Yeats wrote these words a hundred years ago and it seems each generation feels the same about the times in which they live! The poem continues:

 

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned; 

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

 

That fits our time, we say; only today I heard these sentiments applied to our country and the speaker added they could be said of the whole world. There are good reasons why someone might lose all hope as they see wars and famines, droughts and floods, migrations and abuse. Each generation thinks their parents’ generation has made a mess of things and they will do better.

 

Advent is the season of hope. The varied images of Isaiah flood into out consciousness. ‘Every mountain shall be levelled, every valley filled and all humankind will see the salvation of God.’ Are these all false promises, fake news? Our faith tells us the opposite. God is at work. We may not see the results but we are on the way – despite appearances - to build a better world. Take just one event in the twentieth century: the Declaration of Human Rights in 1948. Much work has been done – and continues – to realise this ideal.

 

A friend sent me the first of the BBC Reith lectures this week. The speaker, Dr Gwen Adshead, spends her life in studying violence. She is able to help victims and perpetrators of violence to understand and she is helping us all to move beyond blanket punishment, like imprisonment, to building new relationships and harmony in the community. When we talk about ‘seeing the salvation of God’ we are not talking about God sending an angel from heaven to restore a broken bond between people, we are talking about people like Adshead – and they are many like her working quietly day in and day out – who painstakingly pick up the broken pieces and make something new.  

 

Remember, the cry of Advent is above all, ‘Rejoice in the Lord always’. We are on the way and, like seamen navigating the oceans, we do not see ‘the distant scene; one step enough for me’ (J. H. Newman, 1801-90). ‘I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for welfare, not for evil (Jer 29:11). So can we see this time as one where we all receive a ‘dose of hope.’                                                                                                                       8 Dec 2024.        Advent 2C               Bar 5:1-9                Phil 1:4…11            Lk 3:1-6

 

‘THE COLOUR PURPLE’

 

‘THE COLOUR PURPLE’

Most colours are easy to make but purple…? It took centuries to discover. That is why Lydia (Acts 16:14) was somebody of note. She was in the trade. It was so rare it was reserved for emperors. Why did the Church choose it for Advent? I don’t know; but it might be something to do with the approach of royalty. The Messiah revealed himself in Bethlehem – so we use purple in Advent. And he revealed himself even more in his death and resurrection – so we use it in Lent.  

Whatever the reason purple is a combination of red and blue. Red stands for violence. Blue for peace. Our life is actually a combination of the two. We long for peace but Jesus said, ‘I do not come to bring peace but the sword’. Peace can only be achieved through violence – not to others – but to ourselves. ‘Unless you overcome yourself, you cannot be my disciple’.

What is different between this Advent and last Advent? Is it all vanity, as the writer, Qoheleth says; ‘What was will be again … there is nothing new under the sun.’ That was a bleak moment in the Old Testament. The underlying message of both the Old and New Testament is that we are involved in a process towards a goal. Paul appeals to the Thessalonians, to make more and more progress in reaching it.

The goal of all our efforts is to bring justice and peace to people everywhere. (Alice Walker wrote a novel, The Colour Purple, about the sufferings of African-Americans in the early 1900s in Georgia, USA).  The struggle for justice is the plan of God from the time of Abraham and it has to be achieved by human sweat because God has given us freedom and it can be hard to work to use our human freedom to achieve his divine aim. Thy kingdom come! But God cannot take short-cuts; that would be to disrespect our freedom. But we, humans, put up huge resistance and that is why the Church gives us these periods – Advent and Lent – to change, to overcome ourselves and let God in, so as to reach the goal.  ‘Watch yourselves or your hearts will be coarsened … and the day will spring on you like a trap,’ warns our gospel.

There is a homely image in Shona about strength oozing back into a tired person like milk intro a cow’s udder. Perhaps that is what Advent is – a time when we are renewed by the promise and joy of Christmas which comes to us once more. We are renewed after the tiredness of the passing year and, like footballers, enjoy the interval before the second half.

1 December 2024  Advent 1 C  Jer 33:14-16   1 Th 3:12-4:2    Lk 21:25…36

THE MESSIAH, THE KING

 

THE MESSIAH, THE KING

Imagine the shock of Saul at Damascus when he realised ‘this Jesus’, whose followers he was persecuting, really was the Messiah, the hoped for one of Israel. He had been full of zeal, determined to crush this breakaway group which was distorting the tradition of Israel. And now he has discovered these very people are the true inheritors of the longed-for promise given to Abraham.

So this was the plan of God after all. The Messiah would not be a heroic figure like David who crushed the enemies of Israel and built an empire in which the Jews could live undisturbed in peace. He would be a carpenter’s son from a remote village in Gailee who would be rejected by the very people he came to serve, condemned to death and die like a criminal in excruciating pain.

This is not what he, Saul the zealous Jew, expected. It was not what even Jesus’ closest followers expected. When Peter first learnt about the prospect, he burst out, ‘far be it from you that this should happen.’ Yet, as we know, this is precisely what did happen and John’s gospel, which we read today, tells us Pilate too was confused. And perhaps we too, who claim to know the whole story, can be confused.

A crucified Messiah! The feast of Christ the King was introduced quite recently – only a hundred years ago. (That is ‘recent’ in the story of the church!) It was a time, in Europe, when three emperors and a number of kings were overthrown. In their place came several -isms; Communism, Fascism, Nazism. It was a dark period with ripple effects across the world.

In the midst of it, the Church suddenly announced the celebration of Christ the King. Rulers may fall and -isms arise but the reign of the Messiah would continue until history was fulfilled. The reflection we stay with is what happened next when Jesus announced to Pilate that, yes, he was a King and that he had come to announce his reign. Pilate condemned him to death.

Jesus’ suffering and death are central to his kingship. He calls us to share in his life, his glory. This means that we must also share in his suffering. We flee from suffering. Naturally. No one wants to suffer and Jesus prayed that ‘this cup pass from me’. But, when it cannot be avoided, it is not a useless waste; it is the way we share in the work and the reign of the King. 

24 November 2024     Christ the King           Dan 7:13-14    Rev 1:5-8     John 18:33-37

‘THE SUN WILL BE DARKENED …

 

‘THE SUN WILL BE DARKENED …

… and the moon will lose its brightness.’ These are hard-to-handle words of Jesus in Mark chapter 13. What did he mean? Well, any of us can come with their suggestion. I don’t think the words are to be taken literally. It seems to me he was indicated great drama at the end of time. The ‘boundary’ between heaven and earth, as we understand them, will disappear. What we take as ‘normal’ will disappear. The kingdom of God will finally and completely ‘overtake’ us. The Son of Man will appear in his power and glory and ‘gather’ his people.

As we approach the end of another year, we are given readings that encourage us to be steadfast and persevere, even if they are strange. After a long jail sentence, we will finally be free. We are moving towards a fulfilment not only of what we desire but – far more – what we cannot even dream about now. These are lofty thoughts, drawn from the Book of Revelation and other texts especially the Prophecy of Daniel about the ‘Son of Man’ (7:13).  But, to come down to earth for a moment, we can at least understand the word ‘gather’.

Quite a lot of ‘scattering’ goes on in the scriptures and in our life. The Jews were exiled and scattered among the nations and, at the Passion, all Jesus’ disciples were scattered (Mk 14:27). Families scatter as children move away from home to look for opportunities. The sick and aged move from their familiar surroundings and often end up in a lonely corner where few visit them. We can be ‘far from home’ in so many ways. Even personally, we can be ‘scatter brained’, failing to concentrate and we end up aimless and frustrated.

Jesus gathers his people ‘from every tribe and tongue and people and nation’ (Rev 5:9) into the kingdom of his Father. He does it now when he finds a ‘lost sheep’ far from home and yearning for belonging. He does it through us when we reach out to the poor and lonely, the sick, the orphans and the disabled. And there are the migrants, the displace and the abused. He will gather them.

The apocalyptic (revelation) readings we hear as the year closes, alert us in startling language, that ‘the time is near’. The twigs on the fig tree grow supple and the leaves come out. It is a sign that he is near, ‘right at the gates.’ 

It is helpful and healthy to live in expectation, ready to be surprised, awake and alert, like a bird pecking in the grass but with one eye out for the cat or the hawk. ‘Stand ready’ is the constant message of this time of the year.

17 November 2024    Sunday 33B    Dan 12:1-3    Heb 10:11-18    Mk 13:24-32     

THE KING OF SPAIN

 

THE KING OF SPAIN

One image that stays with me all this week is not the American election but the sight of the King of Spain, Philip VI, walking through the crowds in Valencia in Spain where there were devastating floods, composed but unprotected - because the crowds had broken through the security cordon – and being pelted with insults, including ‘murderer’, and mud. People were furious that the government had not warned them of the impending storm that destroyed their homes and killed their relatives and fellow citizens.

It was not the king’s fault but his calmness, composure and understanding of their anger, was very moving. He was unconcerned about his own safety and focussed only on hearing their anguish. It was a remarkable demonstration of compassion. I know nothing of the man himself but this one glimpse was, I think, revealing. I could not help thinking of Jesus walking through the crowds on Palm Sunday as he entered Jerusalem hearing the cries of Hosannah which were a prelude to later cries of ‘Crucify him.’

As we hear, this Sunday, of the poor widow who ‘gave all she had’ in the temple treasury, we sense the attentiveness of Jesus to people. He notices everything. And he rejoices in the wild ‘impractical’ gesture of the woman who gives away all she had. He does not rejoice in her material poverty but in the poverty of her heart. She risks everything in order to do what she believes she is called to do and the heart of Jesus goes out to her.

What must strike us today when we walk, in our imagination, through the shattered streets of Gaza, the pulverized cities of Ukraine or the deserted villages of Sudan, is the seeming total absence of compassion our world so often shows to those whose lives are being destroyed. What possible political gain can outweigh the misery the people suffer? They must be hard people without pity who treat their fellow human beings in such a way.   

As Christians, and people of good will, we are called to be compassionate and attentive to the suffering of people around us and to pray that our world will turn away from indifference, hatred and violence and embrace the attractive and joyful message of the gospel. It is a message where pain is a prelude to revelation, healing and joy, just as the passion of Jesus was a prelude to his resurrection.

10 November 2024       Sunday 32B     1 Kings 17:10-16          Heb 9:24-28        Mk 12:38-44 

A GRINDING STONE AND A WINE PRESS

 

A GRINDING STONE AND A WINE PRESS

In the beginning of the Christian story there were the ‘Jesus followers’, who, when they spread to Antioch in Syria became known as Christians. In the letters they wrote they referred to one another as ‘saints’, that is, holy people, and they found their shared following of Jesus drew them together into communities which became known as ‘churches’.

In the Celtic church in the 700s, the custom grew of celebrating all the saints, all, that is who are with God now after their death. It was a way of encouraging the people who were about to enter the long dark cold northern winter that after darkness comes the light of spring and summer in the new year when the sun would return. This was what our Christian journey is like. Dark periods are always followed by light.

In 1511, German painter Albrecht Dürer gave us a picture of all the saints gathered in heaven and what immediately strikes the viewer is that they are all gathered round the Cross on which Jesus hangs. The centre and focus of glory of the saints is the crucified Lord. St Paul tells us this was a scandal to the Jews and sheer nonsense to the pagans ‘but to those who have been called, a Christ who is the power and the wisdom of God.’

The first Jesus followers, all Jews, found themselves caught between persecution by their fellow Jews for their belief in this crucified Messiah and persecution, later, by the Romans for refusing to worship their gods, particularly when the practice developed of calling the emperor ‘God’. But they quickly realised that by suffering for their faith in Jesus and even dying of this faith, they were following him on his way to the cross.

This all-the-way-to-the-cross faith is the badge, the uniform, which the saints rejoice to wear. The woman grinding at the mill and the man treading the wine-press, were acting out symbolically what the Christian life is all about. When we use the word ‘grind’ or ‘press’ it is usually in the sense of something hard that has to be crushed into shape. That is what a saint is.

And the Eucharist is the heart of it. For it is there that we receive the crushed grain that has become the body of Christ and the pressed grapes that have become his blood. So the following of Jesus can be tough; but if we find it so we are touching the heart of the matter. You do not have to be a Christian to know that facing opposition can be the making of a person. Any suffering can purify a person when accepted patiently. Our Christian faith gives us the power to do this.    3 November 2024                   All Saints                Rev 7:2…11            1 Jn 3:1-3                Mt 5:1-12               

      

   

HIS EYES WERE OPENED

 

HIS EYES WERE OPENED

Mark writes in a fresh engaging style that draws us into the scene. Take the Bartimaeus story. It’s Jericho: so the place where the Jews first entered the promised land. He is a blind beggar: so he is utterly poor. But he has one thing: curiosity. ‘Who is this one passing by?’ It is Jesus of Nazareth! He starts to shout! ‘Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me.’ And many told him to keep quiet. But he shouted even louder.

It is drama as Mark tells it. Jesus responds, ‘Call him here’ and the fickle crowd change their tune and say, ‘Courage! He is calling you.’ Delighted, he throws off his cloak (a precious possession) and goes to Jesus who cures him, ‘Go, your faith has saved you.’ And he follows him along the way.

So much for the story. What does it mean? Jeremiah gives us a clue in the first reading. ‘Shout with joy for Jacob! Hail the chief of nations!’ For some weeks now, we have been reading, implicitly, about the passion – ‘He have his life as a ransom for many’. Today, again implicitly, we are reading of the resurrection. It is not Jesus who spells out its meaning. It is the apostles in the Acts.

‘Everyone was amazed and perplexed … what does it all mean?’ (2:12ff) ‘Then Peter stood up, ‘Make no mistake and listen carefully. ... The whole House of Israel can be certain that God has made him both Lord and Messiah, this Jesus whom you crucified. … the promise is for you, for your children and for all who are far away, everyone who the Lord our God calls to him.’

Paul will later rejoice, just like Bartimaeus, ‘because of the supreme advantage of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, I count everything else as loss’ (Phil 3:8). Paul was the most insistent announcer of the news that the hope of Israel was fulfilled in a crucified Messiah. He had been zealous in persecuting Jesus’ first followers but, like Bartimaeus at Jericho, his eyes were opened at Damascus and he entered a long period of ‘formation’ – fourteen years he tells us – before he began his ministry.

And we? Where do we fit into the story? Well, it is all for us too. We have our own blindness in our day. We have only to think of what goes on in our world. And Jesus is there too with us. He can pass us by and leave us in our blindness. Unless! Unless we are curious and searching and cry out to him. He will open our eyes too.

27 October 2024   Sunday 30 B          Jer 31:7-9   Heb 5:1-6   Mk 10:46-52

HE OFFERED HIS LIFE FOR OTHERS

 

HE OFFERED HIS LIFE FOR OTHERS

Our short text from Isaiah today is repeated - and fulfilled – in the last words of the gospel: He offered his life for others.  Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the Russian writer, puts it this way:

At some thoughts one stand perplexed – especially at the sight of men’s sins – and wonders whether one should use force or humble love. Always decide to use humble love. If you resolve on that, once and for all, you may subdue the whole world. Loving humility is marvellously strong, the strongest of all things, and there is nothing else like it.

But it is a hard lesson learn. ‘Loving humility’ sounds so weak, so spineless. Can you imagine Netanyahu approaching his neighbours with loving humility? We glorify the heroes in war ‘who lay down their lives for their friends.’ Their sacrifice is certainly not useless and in the long run God can bring a new world out of the horror of war. The declaration of human rights and decolonisation followed soon after the end of the Second World War.

Yet the gospel calls us to eschew violence. ‘Put your sword away’ (Mt: 26:52). Jesus pointed to a higher way, one that is hard for us to believe in. It is so contrary to what we experience. ‘Offer no resistance to the wicked … set no bounds to your love, just as your heavenly Father sets none for you’ (Mt 5:39ff).

The disciples, at the time, found this too much. They were still caught in the values of ‘the world’. ‘We want to sit on your right and your left in your kingdom.’ The only ones on his right and his left were the bandits crucified with Jesus on Calvary. James and John declared their desire to follow Jesus but at the crucial moment in Gethsemane, they fell asleep.

Every page of the gospels speaks of the loving humility of Jesus. He is always the servant ever attentive to the demands people make on him, always ‘losing his life’ so that others could find ‘life to the full.’ In the end he is ‘handed over’ (betrayed) and is battered, this way and that, until he finally dies on the cross.

It seems like an impossible ideal for us to follow. But we all know countless people who, in small ways and sometimes big, reach for this ideal. It always takes courage, that noble human quality which overcomes our selfishness. Reaching for this ideal of ‘living for others’ is the gateway to the fulfilment of our deep desires.

20 October 2024   Sunday 29 B         Is 53:10-11  Heb 4:14-16    Mk 10:35-45           

 

SELL EVERYTHING

 

SELL EVERYTHING

‘Go and sell everything you own and give the money to the poor … then come and follow me.’ Some people took this literally, like Anthony of Egypt in the third century and Francis of Assisi in the thirteenth, but these words of Jesus are addressed to everyone – though not literally. A clue is given in our first reading from the Book of Wisdom, ‘compared to wisdom, all gold is a pinch of sand.’

The words of Jesus above refer to wisdom, that unexplored word which has been central to every culture. When we study Shona, we are soon introduced to the collection of proverbs which reflect the wisdom literature of the Scriptures. The wisdom Jesus speaks of is a fulfilment of that wisdom – indeed of all wisdom.

Jesus did not simply speak about it. His whole life was an expression of it. ‘He emptied himself and became as we are and was even more humble, accepting death, death on a cross’ (Phil 2:7). He ‘sold’ everything.

It is painfully difficult for us to ‘empty’ ourselves. Yet it is the core of our growing into the fullness of life. If we reflect on our daily life, we know that we cling desperately to our own ways. How we see ourselves in view of others, how we come across to them, what we say, how we iron out the challenges without facing them! Basically, we run away from who we are and hide behind a variety of stances we adopt. A lot of the time we are on show. We put on an act.

We will never come to the truth until we ‘empty’ ourselves of all these false poses. Jesus is knocking on our door and we don’t allow him in because there is too much clutter in our ‘house’ and there is no room for him.

It is easy to say these things. It is more difficult to face them and act. Yet, these words in today’s gospel are words of wisdom; a gentle invitation to face our poverty and pretence and ‘sell’ all our avoidance of the cross. It is an invitation to freedom. We are to come out of the prison we have made for ourselves; a prison which may give us a sense of security but which, in truth, prevents us enjoying the freedom that comes with letting go of our pretended self and emerging into our true self. It is risky, adventurous and life-giving to the full.   

13 Oct 2024          Sunday 28 B         Wis 7:1-11  Heb 4:12-13    Mk 10:17-30

MARRIAGE

 

MARRIAGE

Marriage is the subject of our readings this Sunday and one, who has not married, might be hesitant to speak of it. Still, there are many ‘experts’ in football who only watch from the stands.

The Church celebrates marriage. It is a risky affair with no sure outcome and for this reason mirrors God’s relationship with us. Jesus used scriptural images of the bond between bride and bridegroom but they do not always describe a happy relationship. Still, John chose to begin his account of Jesus’ ministry by describing a wedding feast and commentators have been quick to draw parallels between this event and the marriage banquet in Isaiah, an image of heaven.

Marriage in the Church has always been surrounded by this enlivening imagery and the ideal of marriage is of a perfect society. And the union in marriage – they become one flesh – results in new life coming into the world. All this is very beautiful. But then we have to enter into the world of actual marriages as we know them. There are people close to us, perhaps in our own families, whose marriages have ‘failed’. Let us come back to that word in a moment. Here we just need to note the intense suffering that can result when two people lose the desire, for a variety of reasons, to continue to struggle to hold their marriage together ‘for better or for worse.’

Traditionally our Church has stuck to ‘the rules’ in the literal belief that ‘what God has brought together, no one should divide.’ Many of us will know people in ‘impossible’ situations where a divorced person enters a new and happy relationship but because of their fidelity to the Church, they cease going to the sacraments for years.

Gradually we are discovering that exceptions to the rules do not undermine the ideal. ‘The Sabbath is made for man and not man for the Sabbath.’ Jesus wants his people to strive for the best but he also wants them to be compassionate, not rigid. Western thinking, and the Church is still dominated by western thinking, says something is either right or wrong. As we move forward, particularly as we follow the synodal way, we are discovering how to take each case as it comes. One rule does not fit all. We are moving into a more discerning, compassionate Church. It may be hard going in the short term but in time we will have a much more inclusive welcoming Church.

‘Failure’ in marriage is not necessarily failure in life. For two people to end their marriage may be an act of great courage ushering in a new beginning. And also, to stay in a marriage, when each day is a torture, while admirable in one way, could also be seen as a want of courage.

   

HIS MAJESTY’S LOYAL OPPOSITION

 

HIS MAJESTY’S LOYAL OPPOSITION

Sometime in the 1820s this phrase was first used to describe the party out of power in Britain. It implied members would cooperate with the government even though they did not agree with them. The opposition party accepted the basic structures of civil society though they had their own ideas about how it should be governed.

I was thinking of this basic framework while re-reading John W. O’Malley’s marvellous book, What happened at Vatican II. O’Malley describes the deep-felt opposition of some of the cardinals, especially Alfredo Ottaviani, to the direction the council was taking in the first session in 1962. At one point the cardinal seems to have lost his temper as he raised his voice, ‘I have no choice but to say no more because, as Scripture teaches, when nobody is listening words are a waste of time.’

I mention this moment of tension and, when we reflect on it, we catch a glimpse of the creative dynamic at work when people have different opinions. No one tried to silence Ottaviani or those who opposed him. The bishops listened to each other inside and outside the council chamber. Gradually, over four years, a marvellous set of documents emerged which we are still trying to digest sixty years later.

In the early church there were also heated debates and reports of angry bishops pulling the beards of those they disagreed with! And, even earlier, in the Acts of the Apostles we find disagreements. The point surely is that differences of view do not have to break the unity, the communion, of people with one another. When we listen to one another with respect we discover something new and life-giving. There are leaders who cannot tolerate opposition. Opponents are labelled rebels who want ‘regime change’. When we don’t listen, we may miss out on something that could really help us move forward.

Moses, in today’s first reading, had sharp words for Joshua on this subject and Jesus, in the gospel, tells John, who wants to silence someone who is not ‘one of us’, to let him alone; ‘you must not stop him … Anyone is not against us if for us.’

Tension means ‘holding’; not too tight, not too loose. You hold a bird in your hand. If you hold it too tight, you may crush it. Too loose and it will escape. The guitar string is tightened – not too much, not too little. And so it is in the Church as we shall surely see in the Synod. Would that we could also see it in civil society, in families and indeed in all our differences.                                                                             29 Sept 2024           Sunday 26 B           Num 11:25-29         Jam 5:1-6                Mk 9:38-48

 

CHIPPING AWAY TO REVEAL YOUR BEAUTY

 

CHIPPING AWAY TO REVEAL YOUR BEAUTY

This is the second week running that we read Mark’s warning that the ‘Son of Man will suffer grievously.’ Why this insistence on this theme? This is the centre of his gospel and this is its central message. It is a message we don’t want to hear.

In Chishawasha, near to Harare, there used to be a group of stone carvers. They have had to move. I used to watch them work and I always remember their answer to my question, ‘How do you decide what to carve?’ ‘The stone itself’, one of them answered, ‘has within itself what it wants to be.’ I am blankly looking at a rock. Each rock looks much the same. But the artist sees each one differently. This one has within it the figure of an owl. That one the figure of a woman.  The sculptor sees in each rock its own unique future.

The sculptors chip away over days and even weeks, leaving a carpet of stone chips scattered around the base of the sculpture. It is an untidy scene as I wait for some hint of what the end product will look like. Paul says we are God’s field where the Lord works patiently to form us in the image he has in mind for us. He could equally have said we are God’s workshop where we are chipped away into shape. There is no escaping the chisel – whatever shape it comes to us. It could be a broken relationship, sickness, failure in exams, an accident.

Michael Paul Gallagher has a marvellous little book he calls Faith Maps. It is an account of ten well-known, and not so well-known, writers’ descriptions of our journey to faith. He starts with Newman and ends with Benedict XVI. One is Lonergan and Michael Paul uses his image of ‘the sculptor releasing a beauty hidden in stone’. But he also quotes Karl Barth who speaks of ‘the two sides of faith; the aspect of joy and the aspect of the cross.’ He quotes the joy of the mother who waits six weeks for her new born baby to look at her with a smile of recognition. But he also has us think of the beauty of the cross.

I have just read of a war correspondent, Lindsey Hilsum, who witnesses awful scenes and has to report them. She says she always carries a book of poetry with her. It helps her make sense of the dreadful things she sees. Poets reveal to us that suffering, pain and chipping away, can lead to something beautiful. Of the executions following the Easter Rising in Ireland in 1916, the poet Yeats wrote ‘a terrible beauty is born.’ Giving of oneself that may lead to suffering and even death is terrible. But it can also be noble and ‘beautiful’ in the sense that it touches something very deep in our nature. We can understand that the martyrs are fulfilled in their giving of themselves.

22 Sept 2024         Sunday 25 B    Wis 2:12-20   Jm 3:16-4:3    Mk 930-37

 

 

FLY OR DIE

 

FLY OR DIE

It is a well-known image: a caterpillar must die so that a butterfly can fly. A less well-known one is about the sea-bird, the gannet. I saw them once swirling round the rocky islands in the Atlantic off the west coast of Ireland. At a certain point, the mother stuffs her chick with food till it can take no more. Then she flies off. The chick relaxes and enjoys itself for a while. But soon enough it starts feeling hungry again. It has never done more than exercise its wings till then. But now it must leave its cosy home. It must either fly – or die.

Its like a law built into our existence. We all have to fly. Otherwise we will die a slow death of boredom, frustration or living off the work of others like that other bird that lays its eggs in another’s nest because it can’t be bothered to rear its own young. A law maybe but – better - it is the truth about life. Think of an artist – or a musician. To succeed they have to get it right. And that may take sweat and tears. Think of children. In the ‘nest’ of a good happy home, they are secure and enjoying themselves. Then they have to leave home and then the struggle begins.

Each week, we work our way through Mark’s gospel. We know the stories. We have met them many times. But then suddenly there is commotion. Jesus tells his closest friends he will be taken from them; he will be betrayed, ‘handed over’, arrested, condemned and put to death. They are aghast. They protest and he turns on them and rebukes their leader in the strongest terms; ‘Get behind me, Satan! You are trying to block the only way to truth and life!’ Jesus has set his face ‘like flint’ (Is. 50) towards Jerusalem. It is the only way for him – and for us.

We look at our high-density suburbs where people spend all their efforts that they and their families may survive for another day. We look at our rural areas where people dig deep into river beds to find a little water for themselves and their livestock. We look further at Sudan where an endless war continues, or Ukraine, or Gaza. It is all so pitiful. And it is all because those of us who have power to change things sit on our hands and do nothing. We are not prepared to fly. We prefer the slow death of ‘comfort’ and ‘security’.

So the only truth about life is the cross. This is the central message of the new world that Jesus came to create when he prayed with us, ‘Father, your kingdom come!’ And he tells us it does not end there; ‘After three days he will rise again.’ The rising of Jesus, and our rising if we are with him, is the truth, the fulfilment of life. The dancing butterfly and the soaring gannet are hints of this.

15 September 2024     Sunday 24 B               Is 50:5-9          Jam 2:14-18            Mk 8:27-35     

BE AHEAD OF YOUR CURSOR

 

BE AHEAD OF YOUR CURSOR

The cursor is that little arrow that tells you where you are when you are typing. It is like a sign post, a familiar land mark, giving a sense of security! We like security. We like to know where we are; how things work; where we will find what we need for our health, our children, our old age. It is all understandable, natural and to be expected.

Yet, if we are not wary, it leaves out one aspect which we know is life-giving: surprise. Surprise covers the unexpected, the unplanned, the mysterious. Arthur Rubinstein was one of the greatest musicians of his age. He lived music from the age of two! His talent was extraordinary. In his early years he relied on his genius and felt little need to practice. Later he realised that even he was missing something by not doing the hard work of study and practice.

So he studied and discovered new horizons he had not known. But he said it was not good to practice too much. ‘In every concert I leave a lot to the moment. I must have the unexpected, the unforeseen. I want to risk, to dare. I want to be surprised by what comes out. I want to enjoy it more than the audience. That way the music can bloom anew.’

In Mark, chapter six, Jesus cures a deaf man. Everyone is astonished. But, as we know, it never stops there with the man being able to hear. There is another layer of meaning; hearing in the gospel means ‘being open’ – Mark gives us the Aramaic, Ephphatha – not just to words but to meanings beyond the words. This opening is to what is beyond our control, beyond our cursor. It is the world of surprise, of wonder, of mystery.

Lets remember! We live in a scientific, rational, age. Everything must be understood, controlled, studied until we solve the problem. Again, this is good and shows we are using all our efforts to make sense of our world. In my first days of learning Shona, I tried to engage an old man in conversation. I started, as one does, with the weather and expressed a hope for good rains. I always remember his response, kana Mwari achida. If God wills. I don’t blame the meteorologists for not bringing God into their forecasts. It’s not their job. And anyway, even the most spiritually minded of our scientists would be wary of saying anything about God’s influence on the weather.

But the invitation stands. With all our science, we are called to recognise the mystery of human life. It goes will beyond our science and signposts. The cursor’s job is limited. It doesn’t tell us the full story of where we are; it simply prepares us for wonder, for surprise – if we are open.                                                               8 Sept 2024         Sunday 23 B         Is 35:4-7                Jam 2:1-5      Mk 7:31-37

CREATION SUNDAY

 

CREATION SUNDAY

I had a dream last night in which I was travelling in a truck. The driver was a bit distracted and did not notice, until it was too late, that the bridge ahead had been washed away. I shouted at him to stop but it was too late. His front wheels went over the edge and we were stuck with only our rear wheels to get us out of the mess. Then I woke up!

The dream was a metaphor, a parable, for me of our environmental crisis which people are more and more aware of today. Francis is the first pope to devote an entire encyclical or letter to the whole world, on the subject. He writes;

When we speak of ‘environment’, what we really mean is a relationship existing between nature and the society which lives in it. Nature cannot be regarded as something separate from ourselves or as a mere setting in which we live. We are part of nature, included in it and thus in constant interaction with it, (Laudato Si’ # 139).

People are responding and the Jesuits, for example, have made it a priority:

to collaborate in the care of our common home.

A simply stated aspiration; one that means we want to work with others to respond to the huge threat to our survival posed by climate change. There is overwhelming evidence today that human decisions - which lead to emissions of carbon, deforestation, pollution of seas and rivers and other forms of destruction of the environment – are threatening our existence on the planet. As one in his eighties, I can say this doesn’t concern me. It will happen after my time. But that would be horribly irresponsible. It concerns all of us and our grandchildren will not thank us if we do not act now.

One of the oldest texts in our patrimony will be read this Sunday in our churches:

Now, Israel, take notice of the laws and customs that I (Moses) teach you today, and observe them that you may have life and may enter and take possession of the land that the Lord, the God of your fathers is giving you, (Deuteronomy 4:1).

It does not take much imagination to transpose these words into modern terms. ‘Laws and customs’, ‘possession of the land’ and ‘that you may have life’, all can easily be applied to our situation. We are called by Moses, by Francis and by our own better selves to pay attention to the relationship between the environment and our survival and growth as people. A new type of ‘fasting’ is called for where we abstain from exploiting and destroying ‘our common home.’ We still have time - and our rear wheels - to get us out of the mess.           1 September 2024                Sunday 22B                          World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation.                                             Deut 4:1…8                          James 1:17…27                   Mk 7:1…23

UNLESS THE FATHER DRAWS THEM

 

UNLESS THE FATHER DRAWS THEM

The sixth chapter of John is a pivot calling for a decision.  Up till then Jesus gives “signs”- the marriage at Cana, the woman at the well, the multiplying of the bread - which call for a response.  That response will depend on people’s underlying attitudes in ordinary life.  Are they loving and forgiving in their relationships with one another?  Are they considerate with the poor, the weak and all who suffer?  Their daily dispositions prepare them for how they will react when something big is asked of them.

John Henry Newman lived through almost the entire nineteenth century and his influence had a huge impact in the twentieth.  His contemporaries wanted a comfortable Christianity that allowed a place for religion in their lives.  But it was a “tamed” religion, drained of the painful struggle that faith demanded.  He called it a “notional” faith where people accepted the core teaching on Christianity but did not delve into its often painful demands.  He contrasted this with an “imaginative” or “real” faith where people used their mind and heart to open themselves to the mystery even though they did not understand everything.

At the end of chapter six, we are told “many left him” because he was stretching their minds and hearts beyond the accepted norms of the Jewish faith at the time and they could not take it.  It seemed safer not to venture beyond what they knew.  Peter by contrast, led the few disciples who remained into an act of real faith.  He did not understand but he had the imagination, the breath of vision, to know that if Jesus was saying something it must have a meaning even if he didn’t get it at the time.

If we look into our own hearts, do we find that we often live on the “notional” level?  Maybe we too often “take things for granted “? Or do we wonder at our world? There is one thing I give myself high marks for: flying! It is so easy to take a plane and fly off somewhere but every time I fly, I find myself pausing as the plane leaves the solid earth and takes off into the sky.  How can we take that for granted? How our ancestors would have wondered!  But we don’t.  We take it as a normal part of life. That’s what planes do! But it is amazing!

In our life in the Spirit, our life as baptised people, do we take many things for granted?  Even the Eucharist? Do we not often slip into the “notional”?  Yet we are called to wonder, to use our imagination to ponder the mystery, to make it “real”.  Jesus told the Jews, “No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father.” These words need pondering.  But if you have read this far, it surely means you have been drawn to do so!

 

25 August   Sunday 21B           Jos 24:1…...18    Ep 5:21-32    John 6:60-69

 

ASSUMED

 

ASSUMED

For centuries we have examined old truths in new ways. The facts about Mary, the mother of Jesus, are there in the gospels and the consensus of the Christian community has drawn them out over two thousand years. Catholics are often perceived as holding exaggerated beliefs about Mary but they would respond they have added nothing that is not implicit in the tradition.

In 1950, Pope Pius XII proclaimed that Mary, after her death, was ‘assumed’ into heaven body and soul. Many Christians who were not Catholics could see no sense in this definition but the pope had his reasons. First, there was a long tradition in the oriental as well as the western church of celebrating this feast as the principal one for Mary. Second, the mention of the body, as well as the soul, was an affirmation of the dignity of the human body so desecrated during the horrors of World War II. The ‘resurrection of the body’ appears as a belief in the oldest creeds.

And thirdly, mention of the body is a deliberate affirmation of human creativity. Yes, God made us ‘in his own image and likeness’ but he depended on human wombs to bring us forth.  And it is not just human life that we have a hand in fashioning; there is also all that we mean by culture. The celebration of the Assumption of Mary is a celebration of the way different groups of people have developed their own customs and beliefs, their own languages and music – all that goes to make up the genius of a people.

South African Jesuit Xolile Keteyi, who died aged 41 in 1994, was passionate about the link between the way the gospel was preached and the culture of the people of his country:

The Good News becomes part of the culture when it is expressed, and its fundamental truths are embodied, in local categories and concepts, symbols, ritual and language. But much more it become part of the culture when it is linked to the intrinsic dimension of culture that sustains human dignity and development.  

I put the word ‘embodied’ in italics as it echoes the purpose of this celebration of the Assumption of Mary. It is a celebration of the body, that astonishing reality that incarnates our life, our growth, our relationships – and our suffering and death. God assumed our humanity when the Word became flesh. He also assumed the culture, rituals and language of the Jewish people. It was through them that he announced his message of the kingdom. The Church has to assume the culture of people in depth if she is to reach their hearts – and not simply be a superficial identity wheeled out when needed.

15 August 2024    The Assumption of Mary      Rev 11:19; 12:1…10       1 Cor 15:20-26       Lk 1:39-56

WE’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE

 WE’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE

Among Ignatius of Loyola’s first companions were Francis Xavier whom

everyone knows and Peter Favre whom nobody does. While Xavier travelled

the world, Favre travelled Europe – on foot. A gentle sensitive person, what he

was remembered for was not his preaching, or writing or teaching, but, in the

words of one of the other first companions, his ‘gracious conversation which

powerfully drew to the love of God all those with whom he dealt.’

Could we say there are three levels of conversation? First there is the

spontaneous politeness of chatting to the person next you in a queue at a store. It

matters little what you talk about – the weather, the prices, the football score -

the point is to relate to someone and lighten the burden of waiting.

Then there is the more pointed conversation in the family or with friends where

often it is just socialising or maybe there are issues to be resolved. We might

enter into these with our own agenda intent on making a point to another and

winning them to a certain course of action. Or we may be just socialising.

Thirdly, there is a level of conversation where we explore some difficult issue

together with no preconceived outcome, no ‘hidden agenda’ beyond a desire to

engage with respect and kindness. This requires attention to the other in a way

that may stretch me to my limits. I listen in silence, without interrupting. I try to

grasp what the other is saying even if it goes beyond anything I can relate to.

In the sixth chapter of the gospel of John, Jesus reveals a mystery. No one

understands. And they are not prepared to even try. ‘The Jews were complaining

because Jesus said, ‘I am the bread that came down from heaven.’ ‘We know

him’, they said, ‘he is Jesus, the son of Joseph. How can he say these things?’

They are stuck. They jump to conclusions and so the message escapes them.

But the message is, in the words of Romano Guardini, ‘The Holy Eucharist is

the final link in the sacred chain of life-giving nourishment reaching from the

remoteness of God into the here and now of human existence.’ Together with all

the ways God comes close to us in Bethlehem, Galilee, Calvary and the garden,

this is the way he reaches us individually to nourish us and lead us to freedom.

The chapter ends with the people going away and leaving Jesus. ‘We can’t take

this anymore.’ Jesus turns to his close companions, ‘Will you go too?’ Then

Peter rises above the impasse and says, ‘We don’t understand either but we

know you have the words of life. We’re not going anywhere. We’re staying.’

That is the height of conversation. We don’t understand but we’re not walking

away. 11 August 2024 Sunday 19B 1Kg 19:4-8 Ep 4:30-5:2 Jn 6:41-51

REACHIING BEYOND MY GRASP

 

REACHIING BEYOND MY GRASP

I am by the sea. Each day I look out over the ocean seemingly stretching forever into the distance. I know that India and Australia are out there somewhere but all I can see is endless sea. Right in front of me the waves break against the shore and the water is thrown back. ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stopped' (Job 38:11).

In the ancient world, the sea was seen as hostile, unpredictable, the home of monsters and part of the ‘good news’ in the book of Revelations (21:1) is ‘there was no more sea’. Many who love the sea, John Bradburne for instance, don’t find that ‘good news’, but the writer is referring to the ancient symbolism. Evil is conquered.

For me, as I stand by the sea, I see this vast expanse of ocean which, we now know, covers 64% of the planet. It stretches my vision and leads me to think of the almost immeasurable past which predates human evolution which itself took 200 000 years. What a speck each one of us is; no more than a grain of sand on the sea shore!

And yet each of us is known and loved. We are planted on this earth, itself a speck in the universe, and given the power to grow. Plants and animals grow but they lack the one quality we have; the power to choose. History tells us the woeful story of our bad choices. But it also tells us how many men and women have stretched out to reach beyond their grasp. There is an ache, a restlessness, in each of us. We know at the end of the day, ‘we are merely servants; we do what we can.’  But we feel it is far from enough.

God knows this and he reaches out to nourish us. Jesus tells the Jews, ‘I am the bread of life’. They have no idea what he means. But we do. The Lord comes, not to make choices for us, but to nourish us to make the right choices – all the time and in everything. This demands great attention, like the attention of an athlete in the Paris Olympics focused on a perfect performance. That is the wonderful thing about our life: we can be creators, all the time, co-creators with God who calls us to share in his unfinished work. Henri Nouwen spent his last years in a l’Arche community for people with mental disabilities. He was invited to give a lecture to a distinguished audience in New York and told the community he would be away for some days. Bill, one of the inmates said, ‘I will come with you.’ Taken aback, Henri book another ticket for him. Bill sat beside him on the podium and when the lecture was about to begin, he stood up and said, ‘we are doing this together.’ He then sat down. Everyone cheered. They understood.

As I look out at the vast sea and sense my littleness, I can sing Alleluia because my little loaves and fishes can go a long way.

4 August 2024  Sunday 18B                 Ex 16:2…15                 Ep 4:17…24                 Mk 9: 2-10

SHEEP, BUT NO SHEPHERD

 

SHEEP, BUT NO SHEPHERD

On 5 August 1962, Nelson Mandela was arrested on a bend of the Durban/Pietermaritzberg road near Howick in the Eastern Cape, South Africa. He was held in prison for 27 years. The actual spot of his arrest is now a national monument and an imaginative interpretative centre has been constructed there, tracing the story of his life and his ‘Long Road to Freedom’ which was synonymous with that of South Africa itself. A highly original sculpture has been erected next the road consisting of fifty iron poles, each designed so that together they portray Mandela’s head. But you have to view them directly in front so as to see his face. Moving one side or the other distorts the image. 

I was part of a group last week that visited the centre and several things struck me. Perhaps most of all was the description of his first years on Robben Island in the 1960s. The texts on view highlighted the loneliness of those years. They were the first in what was a life sentence. Cape Town can be cold and the food was spare. He and his companions had to work in a stone quarry. They were cut off from the world. He had to struggle not only with the physical conditions but the awful psychological trauma of emptiness. How did he get to this point? Was it all worthwhile? Would he just be forgotten by the world and die and be buried on the island.

These reflections led me to marvel at the cost of leadership. Mandela and his companions supported one another at a time when one might think it was all hopeless and their cause was crushed. There must have been low moments when only a rock-like belief in the justice of their goal kept them from despair. What is deeply impressive is their faithfulness to something they knew was not just their own but was shared by the whole nation. But it was in the distance.

I find such ‘facts on the ground’, such political realities, indicative of something underlying them mirrored in the scriptures. Jesus, echoing Ezekiel, found the people ‘lost, like sheep without a shepherd’. They needed a leader; someone who could put their desires into words, someone who was prepared to suffer so that their hopes would be realised. We know good leaders and not so good ones. And we know the difference. A good leader is someone who has a vision and is prepared to suffer – for 27 years if need be – so that that vision blossoms.

21 July 2024         Sunday 16B          Jer 23:1-6    Eph 2;13-18      Mk 6:30-34

SYCAMORE TREES

 

SYCAMORE TREES

Amos was a cultivator of sycamore trees which produced a fruit like figs, but not the figs we know, and being leafy, provided much shade. He was happy in his work as a gardener and a shepherd.

Then, one day, he was called away by God to be a prophet. ‘I was a shepherd and looked after sycamores. It was the Lord who took me from herding the flock and said “go, prophesy to my people Israel.”’ Being a prophet was a tough calling. Jeremiah groaned under the burden. Prophets often get a poor reception and are sometimes harassed and persecuted.

But something in Amos made him obey. He knew he had to do this thing. He would never find peace if he refused. I know someone in Zimbabwe who struggled with such a call. They resisted and resisted. But in the end gave way and now their work has really blossomed for the benefit of many.

This person and Amos were called to do great things. But we know our days are full of little opportunities to ‘do the right thing’. A multitude of little victories can one day grow into something big. Yet we often take the easy way and avoid the call. And we know this avoidance makes us a lesser person. In some way it diminishes us. We are less alive.

The Lord ‘cultivates us’ as Amos did his fig trees. He wants us to grow. He gives us this wonderful gift we call ‘life’. As the poet says,

          Bliss was it that dawn to be alive,

But to be young was very heaven.  (Wordsworth)

 

Life is beautiful, we often say, but yet we do not grasp it with both hands. We spend our time saying ‘yes’ and ‘no’. What made the saints into saints was their saying, ‘yes’, all the time - even when the going got tough. And what makes the going tough is things like Jesus saying in today’s gospel, ‘take no spare tunic.’ Don’t surround yourself with comforts that make you self-reliant. We are encouraged to be self-reliant in one sense. But, in another, we can make our self sufficiency so secure we forget that life is all about ‘launching out into the deep’ and being ready for surprises.

 

14 July 2024         Sunday 15 B         Am 7:12-15   Ep 1:3-14  Mk 6:7-13

 

EFFECTIVE MIRRORS

 

EFFECTIVE MIRRORS

St Clare of Assisi, who lived in the 1200s, used to say, ‘the Lord has called us to this greatness (radical poverty) that those who are to be effective mirrors and examples for others should see themselves mirrored in us.’ Yesterday we buried two great mirrors.

Bernadette Nachowe (spelling?) was a Sister of Jesus of Nazareth (SJN) who spent her 80+ years searching for God in very ordinary things; the garden, the workshop, the training of younger sisters and her prayer in a contemplative community (mainly at Mariachiedza) near Chegutu. Lorenz von Walter was a Jesuit priest from Germany whose father had to leave Russia, where he was a teacher, after World War One when hostilities developed between the two countries. Lorenz came to Zimbabwe and was a wonderful teacher who drew students by his quiet and gentle approach at three schools but mainly at St Albert’s in Mount Darwin, where he was during the Liberation War. Both these ‘mirrors’ gave quiet and solid support to the two responsible for their respective works. Bernadette to Mother Lydia of the SJN sisters and Lorenz, later in life, to Bishop Dieter Scholz of Chinhoyi.

At a funeral, we look at the life of the one who has died and we mourn them. We also celebrate their lives – especially if they have been mirrors. Last week, the one preaching at our church, spoke of Peter rising to the moment and acknowledging Jesus as ‘the Christ, the Son of the living God.’ It was a pinnacle of human response to the divine presence ‘in the region of Ceasarea Philippi’, that is, in a certain definite place on this earth at a certain time. But it is Jesus’ response that strikes us: ‘You are a rock and, on this rock, I will build my community.’

How did that strike Peter? He had reached out to Jesus and the Lord reflected back to him his true greatness. This did not prevent him messing up and denying the Lord when the crisis came in the Passion. But his true worth was revealed to him by his steadily gazing into the mirror that was Jesus. It was this that gave him huge confidence in the awesome mission he undertook.

In the Psalms, we read, ‘Look towards him and be radiant’ (33:5). Look in that mirror and you will come away changed. And let me end with St Paul:

And all of us, with our unveiled faces like mirrors reflecting the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the image that we reflect in brighter and brighter glory; this is the working of the Lord who is the Spirit.         (2 Cor 3:18) 

7 July 2024     Sunday 14 B               Ez 2:2-5          2 Cor 12:7-10              Mk 6:1-6