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