All Saints - Year B

Apocalypse 7:2-4.9-14; 1John 3:1-3; Matthew 5:1-12

As children we heard from our father the story of the Fall in the Garden of Eden. He told us that when Adam and Eve put the forbidden fruit to their lips and ate there was a sudden loud noise in heaven which shook the whole universe. It was the sound of the gates closing. From that moment heaven was locked and no one could enter it again.

Of course, it never entered our heads that there are no gates in heaven and that therefore there could not have been a noise. Kids' stories are, like kids themselves, more interested in the truth than in the facts.

The truth was that from that moment humans were no longer capable of friendship with God; that they could not undo the damage they had done; that a Saviour was now needed, and as the story went on to tell us, he would one day come down from heaven to do the saving.

In more adult terms we are back once again to the theme of communion, or oneness with God and our brothers and sisters in Christ. Our feast today celebrates all those who are one with Christ, particularly those who have reached heaven, and of those, particularly the canonised saints. It may be helpful to some to recall here that a ‘canonised’ saint is one who has been authoritatively declared by the Church to have lived in a heroic degree of communion with Christ during his or her life.

St Paul routinely refers to the ‘saints’ living in Jerusalem or in Lydda, and so on. He means all those who are in union with Christ in the Church. In the same way, he would have called all those of us here in this church who are in the state of grace the 'saints at Camperdown'. However, we are ‘saints-at-risk’ since our freedom has not yet confirmed us in the friendship of Christ and sin can cause us to lose it.

The first reading today comes from the book of Revelation. It presents us with two visions, one on earth and one in heaven. Heavy with the same kind of symbolism found in my father’s stories the word of God directs us to divine truth.

And yet, though we all know God does not sit on a throne in heaven because he is pure spirit and that the elect don’t stand around in white gowns holding palm branches, we do not insist on this awareness. My father never pointed out to us that heaven doesn’t really have gates. He understood all too well that symbols are ‘a way of talking’ and that biblical symbolism is the language offered us by the inspiring Spirit of God to enable us to speak of heavenly realities.

And so, the ‘seal’ of God, usually worn on a ring, is pressed to the foreheads of God’s servants. Do you think God really wears a ring? You do? On which finger? No, he doesn’t wear a ring but he can claim as his own and protect from harm all who live in his friendship.

The one hundred and forty-four thousand are the New Israel. They are the twelve tribes of the Old Israel squared and then multiplied by a thousand for good measure.

The white robes and the palm branches are symbolic of purity before God and of victory over evil.

The great persecution is not meant to refer to just one historical moment but rather the experience of every Christian in every age who seeks to overcome evil and enter into communion with God and his saints.

The Lamb is Christ - the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. It is the blood of the Lamb which alone can restore innocence before God and the saints in heaven are those who have washed their robes white again in the blood of the Lamb – perhaps the most powerful image of all.

In a homily for this feast in 2006 Pope Benedict referred to a homily of the great St Bernard who said: The Saints have no need of honour from us; neither does our devotion add the slightest thing to what is theirs.... But I tell you, when I think of them, I feel myself inflamed by a tremendous yearning.

Yes, that is certainly so. We might adapt the words of Preface IV for weekdays and say: Our prayer of thanksgiving adds nothing to their greatness but makes us desire to grow in your grace.

At heart this desire is for growth in communion and the road to this communion is traced out in the Gospel today. The beatitudes are really a description of Jesus. He is truly the gentle, the merciful, the pure One who was abused and persecuted because he hungered and thirsted for what is right. It goes without saying that those of us who seek him must walk the way of the beatitudes.

The Church is God’s household - in heaven, on earth and in purgatory. To celebrate one part of it is to celebrate the whole because we are all one in him, bearing his seal on our foreheads. Let this feast inflame each one of us with the tremendous yearning St Bernard spoke of and may it renew our desire to walk the Christian way.

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Jeremiah 31:7-9Hebrews 5:1-6Mark 10:46-52

[This reflection on the gospel of Mark is made in the light of the deep concern I share with many others for the renewal of our parishes. There are no simple solutions but I believe Bartimaeus gives us a paradigm for one area of the renewal of parish life.]

As Jesus left Jericho with his disciples and a large crowd ...

Jesus was going away from Jericho. He was leaving.

Today, in the experience of our diminishing Catholic communities throughout Australia it somehow seems that Jesus is leaving us. I know this is not really true but it is somewhat the same sensation. When we leave Jesus it somehow seems he has left us.

Bartimaeus (that is, the son of Timaeus), a blind beggar, was sitting at the side of the road.

This is a picture of a sad individual. He is blind, he is a beggar, and he is sitting at the side of the road. This is a rather desperate situation. Like many others, our parish finds itself in somewhat similar circumstances.

From Jesus’ point of view which, would you say, is the worst of these three afflictions?

• Being blind?
• Being a beggar?
• Sitting at the side of the road?

From the perspective of the kingdom the last of his three afflictions is the worst.

Why? Because the road is the road to the kingdom and Bartimaeus is sitting beside it rather than travelling it.

When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout and to say, `Son of David, Jesus, have pity on me'.

Jesus reveals his presence to blind Bartimaeus through his sense of hearing. Jesus always reveals his presence somehow to those who seek him. Bartimaeus begins to shout. Do you notice that?

Bartimaeus knows that he is a blind beggar who cannot travel the road. He knows he is being left behind and so he does what he can. He does what he can. He makes a beginning. He cries out.

As a parish we too need to do what we can and to make a beginning. We must do what Bartimaeus does, we must begin to call on Jesus to help us.

And many of them scolded him and told him to keep quiet, but he only shouted all the louder, 'Son of David, have pity on me'.

You can almost hear them: 'Pull your head in, mate! Give it a rest.'

If I asked all of you in this Church right now to raise your right hand a number would do it. Some would scold me and say, 'No, this is silly, I’m not going to raise my right hand'. Some others would say, 'Not the right hand, the left.' And some would say, 'Not the hand, the foot'. Aren't we a funny lot? It's an amazing thing how few people will allow themselves to be led.

Although it's plain as the nose on our face that our parishes need a new beginning, a new plan of action, whatever plan is finally suggested some will scold. 'That’s a silly idea! Keep quiet!'.

And which people will they be? The very same people who scolded Bartimaeus - the ones following Jesus.

Jesus stopped and said, `Call him here.'

Jesus stopped. Jesus always hears our call.

But why did he not go over to the man himself? Why did he send others to bring the man to him? This is a big question. There is an important principle involved here.

• When we get sick why does God not heal us himself? Why does he send us to a doctor?
• Why did God not just part the waters of the Red Sea? Why did he ask Moses to raise his staff over it first?
• Why does God not just forgive our sins? Why does he send us to the priest?

So they called the blind man. `Courage,' they said `get up; he is calling you.'

Now they are evangelising! Now they are participating in the mission of Jesus. Now they are truly co-operating with him. They are going out to the needy person, encouraging him, and telling him that Jesus is calling him. Wonderful! That’s how we should all be.

So throwing off his cloak, he jumped up and went to Jesus.

When we begin to go to Jesus we always have to leave something behind. That is why Mark includes this detail. The cloak stands for that thing we wrap ourselves in to keep us warm. He wants us to ask ourselves: What is my cloak?

• Tradition? Oh, we’ve never done it like that before. This is something new! And so often we reject the thing that could save us.
• Fear? I’m not going to do that. What will people say? Where is it going to lead?
• Comfort? I’m ok. What’s he going on about? I’m fine, just as I am.
• Pride? Look, I had a plan. I suggested we held a bush dance and everything would be all right but they wouldn't listen so now I am taking my bat and ball and I’m going home.

We have to throw our cloak aside and jump up and go to Jesus because he is calling.

Then Jesus spoke, `What do you want me to do for you?'

Last week Jesus asked this question of his disciples James and John. They asked for honour but they didn’t get it. This week the answer to the question is 'Lord, give me vision! Give me sight, Lord, so that I can follow you.'

'Rabbuni,' the blind man said to him `Master, let me see again.' Jesus said to him, `Go; your faith has saved you'.

What saved him?

His faith!

What faith?

The blind beggar believed that if he called out to Jesus and asked for something that would help him follow Jesus along the road to the kingdom he would get it. And Jesus did not let him down.

And immediately his sight returned and he followed him along the road.

What is the lesson for us in all this? I believe that we, as a community, are like Bartimaeus. We don’t know where the road is anymore. We are slowly growing smaller and weaker. We can't see the way ahead, we are blind. The future is dark for us.

Bartimaeus knew he was blind and he called out to Jesus. This is the beginning of all renewal. Jesus answered Bartimaeus; Jesus will answer us.

Can you see why I am always asking you to spend one hour a week before the Blessed Sacrament? - calling out: Jesus, our parish is stuck! We don't know the way anymore! We need your help! Lord, that we might see!

We could call this hour the parish's Bartimaeus Hour.

By the way, have you done yours this week?

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Isaiah 53:10-11; Hebrews 4:14-16; Mark 10:35-45

The Lord has been pleased to crush his servant with suffering.

What strange words these are at first sight! Just to harass an employee, let alone to ‘crush a servant with suffering’, is a chargeable offence in our country. On the lips of the prophet Isaiah, however, these words are not what they seem; they are instead words of wisdom, love and mercy and they seek to radically correct our all too human way of thinking.

• Firstly, they cause us to question ourselves about whether we really believe that God is good.

For many of us it seems the jury is still out on this question. Every bad experience, every hurt or suffering, every unhappy news report of a volcano or tsunami or earthquake makes it plain that we have not yet confidently and totally reached the conviction that God is good. ‘How could God do this? How could God allow this? Why does God not put an end to this?’

Many years ago, as a seminary student, I reached a point where I came to believe I could not go on to ordination. I had given up a teaching career and a house and I was very angry with God. I complained to him one night in a way that now causes me to blush with shame. I blamed God for causing me this humiliation and I told him so in no uncertain terms. When God’s response finally came I was utterly stupefied at his goodness and mercy towards me. Immediately I experienced the most intense remorse and vowed I would never again blame God for anything!

I had learned that God is good; that God is good when the sun is shining and when dark clouds blanket our lives. He is good when all is going well and he is good when disaster strikes. As Job affirmed: Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him. (13:15)

When a man truly believes that God is good, and when this belief in God’s goodness, like a solid foundation stone, is firmly in place in his life there is a great peace and a great strength which comes to him. No more anxieties or doubts and no more criticisms. Our God is good!

• Secondly, these words cause us to question ourselves as to who is servant and who is Lord.

We may notionally acknowledge that God is Lord and that we are the servants but in actuality we often seem to live and pray as though it’s really the other way round. That’s one of the reasons we get so angry and frustrated when he doesn’t seem to be answering our prayers the way we want him to, or when our plans are thwarted.

The wise man says: If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.

The good God is not my servant; I am his servant. I am here to do his will and wait on his plans for me. Let’s get this straight in our minds and hearts once and for all.

In many of us, also, there is a de facto understanding that God is the one who must do our will and bend to our agenda and belief system.

‘God must save everyone and must not allow anyone to go to hell.’ Oh, really? You don’t say? 'God condones homosexual acts because God is inclusive.’ Actually, he doesn’t - and he isn’t. ‘A good God would never allow anyone to suffer like that.’ Ok, so what do those words mean: The Lord has been pleased to crush his servant with suffering?

A servant listens to his Master and obeys his word; he doesn’t put words in his Master’s mouth.

• Thirdly, these words cause us to reassess our notions about suffering.

No person in his right mind would claim that suffering is good in itself; certainly it is evil, and we Christians claim that it entered our lives because we misused our gift of freedom; we wanted to set our own limits, to be our own god. Suffering now accompanies almost every move we make; we are born in suffering and we die in suffering.

And yet there is a positive dimension to it all. Suffering can bring good. It dogs our footsteps but it can become an instrument of healing and growth; it can bring us to come to resemble the Lord himself, who learnt to obey through suffering. (Heb 5:8)

His sufferings brought him to perfect obedience, redemptive obedience, and our sufferings can lead us to come to bear a likeness to him.

As the vintner is pleased to crush the grapes (with suffering) so that he can transform them into wine, we too can be transformed if we accept, in the Lord, the sufferings involved in our own purification. We, too, shall become wine, pure and fragrant, and after that we live in the Christian hope that our good God will say over us the words, ‘This is my Body, this is my Blood’ and our transformation will be complete.

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Wisdom 7:7-11; Hebrews 4:12-13; Mark 10:17-30

Jesus is setting out on a journey. He invites a man to unload his baggage and join him. The man is sad because he has a lot of baggage which he loves very much. Jesus moves on without him.

Baggage or treasure?

I remember the story of a bag lady who carried her treasure in a shoe box. She protected it day and night. She was very fond of it and everyone wondered what the box contained. One day a tramp killed her for the box. Inside were some pieces of coloured string, a few dried flowers and some bottle tops. They were her treasure.

A young man came one night weeping - his wife had left him - he was devastated. I knew the couple well. He had one of those jobs which paid more and more money the harder you worked at it. He slaved day and night to pay off the enormous and really quite magnificent house he had built for his wife and two children but all she wanted was for him to spend time with his family. 'I don't care about the house, Father, I just want him home.' That young man lost his treasure in the divorce settlement.

A grandmother spoke of her grandchildren as her 'treasures'. She gave them all her time. She doted on them like a miser dotes on his gold. They 'owned' her and she was delighted to be owned. Some years later, however, she couldn't understand why they never visited her. She had been deserted by her treasures. She was very hurt and terribly lonely.

We all have our treasures - what's yours? It's a serious question. What is your treasure? What do you give your time, your energy, your love to mostly?

Many years ago I knew an Italian man who had retired. I visited him occasionally. The first thing he always did was take me into his vegetable garden. It was rather large and very lovingly tended. It was his treasure. I used to ask him to come to Mass but he wouldn't. His wife told me 'He spends all day Sunday in his vegetable garden'. When he fell from a ladder and had a brain haemorrhage he kept his bedroom curtain drawn so he wouldn't have to look at the pitiful mess his beloved garden had become.

So what is your treasure?

For the man in the gospel today it was his wealth and it seems he was very wealthy. And yet, he wanted more. Jesus loved him for that.

This man wanted eternal life (don't we all?) and he wanted to know from Jesus what he had to do to get it. Jesus answers him: You know the commandments - and then very obligingly lists a good number of them. They become for the man a kind of list of achievements! Master, I have kept all these from my earliest days. Jesus recognises this man is serious about his salvation and responds: There is one thing you lack.

Now surely, this is an earth-shattering challenge to the man (and to us). It is the heart of the gospel this week. There is one thing you lack! Your list is short by one!

Let me ask you, what is it, precisely, that this man lacked? My answer would be that he did not yet have a proper relationship to his treasure and therefore could not yet have a full relationship to God. Anyone who prefers father or mother to me is not worthy of me. Anyone who prefers son or daughter to me is not worthy of me... (Mt 10:37). And we might add 'Anyone who prefers any treasure to me, whether it be money, house, grandchildren or vegetable garden, is not worthy of me.'

It is commonly known that most Catholics prefer to watch an hour's television rather than pray for ten minutes; to read huge novels rather than a tiny book about the faith; to fly between cities to watch football matches rather than travel 15kms to church; to spend $50 in a pub or restaurant rather than put $10 on a collection plate. And we are not talking about bad people here. These are good people (a bit like us) - but there is one thing they lack. They haven't (yet) developed a proper relationship between God and their treasure. Like the man in the Gospel they want eternal life but not 'that' much.

And so the man is left behind while Jesus continues his journey. How sad! The man goes away to his vegetable garden, to his big house, to his grandchildren, to his shoe box full of treasures - not worthy of the One to whom he prefers his treasure.

And for us the lesson is clear. Our relationship with God must be our greatest, our prime relationship, the one which gives meaning to all our other relationships. If it is not so for us we doom ourselves to go hungrily seeking for substitutes which invariably disappoint - a succession of dashed hopes and new infatuations, leaving us empty and cynical. When we come to think of it, our relationship with God is the one thing we take with us into the next life - all else will be left behind. Shouldn't we cultivate it while we can?

The invitation and challenge is clear. Jesus is asking each one of us to give priority to God in our lives and to get rid of all that we love more than him, everything which prevents us from saying yes to his wonderful invitation: and then: come follow me.