JUST A THOUGHT FROM
JOHN GLYNN

FIFTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MARK
5th February 2012

People have often asked me to describe a typical day in the life of a priest, and invariably I would reply that, while I could recite the kind of activities that might occupy me, each day was different and usually unpredictable – for two reasons: because each person I meet is a unique surprise, and God is the biggest surprise of all.

So the description of a day in the ministry of Jesus which Mark sketches in today’s gospel is a composite picture rather than a daily schedule. After a challenging exorcism at the synagogue, Jesus arrives at Peter’s house and raises Peter’s wife’s mother from her sickbed. An evening meal is followed by more ministering to the sick late into the night. But before the dawn he slips away to a quiet place to pray, which leads to his decision to leave this successful mission territory for new pastures.

Jesus responds to each encounter as it happens. He adapts himself to each situation and makes himself available to serve. How flexible am I to others’ needs, or do they have to fit in with my plans? He makes time to relax with his friends over a meal. Am I too busy to celebrate friendship or feel guilty when I relax? He finds a time and a place for prayer so that he can have quality time with his Father. When and where do I pray? Do I make it a priority in my day, like Jesus? He is not influenced by popular acclaim. Am I always driven by other people’s expectations rather than my own convictions born of faith?

Jesus may not be predictable, but he is always trustworthy. So don’t try to control him, but surrender to his surprises.

God bless you and yours.

John

FOURTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MARK
29th January 2012

You would think that, once society has thrown off a common moral code based on Christian values, everything would be right and nothing would be wrong! But far from happily accepting each and everyone doing what they like, we have become a more judgemental and hyper-critical nation. Scandal is rife – newspapers engaging in phone-hacking, politicians claiming exorbitant expenses, financial corruption from investment bankers to professional sportsmen, even churchmen guilty of gross misconduct – there’s a few examples, without going beyond Britain.

People in public positions (which is most of us; we all relate to one another) are expected to be accountable. Certain standards of behaviour are anticipated. But accountable to whom? And who sets the standards? In the end, it’s the good old-fashioned gospel motto, “Practise what you preach” (cf Matthew 23:3). Are your words consistent with your conduct, and your conduct reflecting your belief? Do you water down the gospel message so that it fits comfortably with your compromised life? To whom then are you accountable? Yourself. You can’t blame anyone else for your personal philosophy.

Jesus made a deep impression on his hearers (Mark 1:22) because he taught with authority. He practised what he preached because he preached what he practised. His miracles were not admired for their wizardry or cleverness, but because through them he demonstrated the compassion and love of God which touched people’s depths, not simply tickled their fancy. The word “authority” comes from a Latin root implying growth and increase. Jesus, by being God’s presence among us in human form, makes it possible for us to grow into God, to become holy, to become who we really are by letting ourselves be transformed.

Yes, the world today is a melancholy mess. But instead of bemoaning it, surrender it (including yourself) to God. Then see how God transforms your problem into an opportunity for grace.

God bless you and yours.

John

THIRD SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MARK
22nd January 2012

It’s hard to convince unbelievers that religion is not a leisure pursuit or a cosy club of like-minded hobbyists. Sadly some religious people do restrict their faith to certain religious activities. But on the other hand, many non-religious people play golf or follow sport as if their whole life depended on it. Do we live our Christian faith in a way that demonstrates our total dependence on it? Does our belief in Christ touch every moment of our lives and colour everything we do or say?

With the Christmas season behind us and Lent a month away, the readings today provide good remote preparation for Lent. Jesus’ first recorded words in Mark’s gospel are: “The time has come.” The word Mark uses for “time” is kairos, which means a special moment, a graced opportunity. We don’t have to wait until Lent for it. “Every day, every hour, every moment have been blessed by the strength of his love,” the late Estelle White wrote. Cardinal Hume imagined the Lord standing at the foot of his bed each morning and inviting him, “Come, follow me.” Each moment of our life is a kairos moment, if we have eyes to see, a heart to believe it. That moment came for the disciples called from their fishing boats, as it came for Jonah sent reluctantly to Nineveh.

Jesus’ next words are:”The kingdom of God is close at hand.” How close? If Jesus is the kingdom of God in person, then he is closer to us than we are to ourselves: the kingdom of God is within you (Luke 17:21). The time is now, the place is here. So here and now, what must we do? “Repent, and believe in the gospel.” Every second of my life is an opportunity to grow, and wherever I am is the place to believe the Good News.

God bless you and yours.

John

SECOND SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MARK
15th January 2012

The endearing story of the call of Samuel never fails to appeal. It is both simple and profound. The boy hears the old priest Eli calling him, and his response is to run to Eli and say “I’m here!” Such a response bears witness to his readiness to obey. The word “obedience” is derived from the Latin obaudire which means “to listen intently”. Eli recognises Samuel’s readiness and guides him to the next step which might sound something like this: next time you hear God call you, don’t assume you know what he wants and rush off to do it immediately. Wait. Say: “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening intently.”

It is in the silence of prayer, the pause to reflect, that we are likely to hear God’s word more clearly. The voice of God, as it did for Samuel, may sound remarkably like Eli’s voice; often God speaks to us through those we count wise and holy. But especially that voice will speak to us in the Bible, either in our own prayerful meditation on it or in the accents of the liturgical minister declaring: “The word of the Lord.”

But if we continue to listen intently, to open ourselves habitually to the Lord, then we begin to find him in more and unexpected places. Not only the wise and the holy but the fool and the sinner, the dewfall and the snowfall, birdsong and the cry of the poor – all creation speaks his name. When we pray, God has nowhere to hide. Like a parent playing hide-and-seek with her children, she cannot bear to remain hidden for long for fear of distressing them. Famously, Blaise Pascal puts these words into God’s mouth: “You would not be looking for me if you did not possess me. So don’t be anxious.”

Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.

John

THE EPIPHANY OF THE LORD
8th January 2012

I still possess a book my grandfather gave me when I was about ten years old. He had received it as a school prize when he was young; it was a hefty tome called “The Story of the Heavens”. It’s my earliest recollection of a fascination for astronomy, learning about the vast array of galaxies, stars and planets beyond our tiny Earth.

Looking up into the dark January skies when clear of cloud, the canopy of stars is bewilderingly beautiful. With little light pollution where we live, more and more of heaven’s lamps and the patterns they weave reveal themselves. I wish I knew more of their names, of their movements and their origins; why some are bright and steadfast, others fickle and faint. Astronomers can give us some answers; the discoveries they have made in the century since my grandfather’s book was published are even more astonishing and expansive than ever the Victorians knew. Two thousand years ago the Magi made the stars their business, and they could pick out the ones that mattered. Their expertise and patient watching led them to Christ from distant lands before anyone was aware the Messiah had come. But even they could not have guessed that this child was more significant than the stars, the galaxies, the entire universe.

We are the stars that lead to Christ if we are his Body. To help others around us discern the way is not just a matter of pointing them in the right direction: we must be prepared to walk the way with them, to be Jesus to them. If our faith is only about star-gazing at distant divinity and not being stars that manifest his humanity in ours, we have missed the most amazing truth of the universe: God is with us. We are his epiphany.

God bless you and yours.

John

SOLEMNITY OF MARY MOTHER OF GOD
1st January 2012

One of my Christmas presents was a DVD of “The Nativity”, a sensitively made production of the Christmas story in its Jewish setting, which was shown in four parts on BBC TV just before Christmas 2010. What struck me afresh this time, as the story progressed from the betrothal of Mary and Joseph to the birth of Jesus in the stable, was the isolation of the key characters. The close-knit community and family spirit of Judaism served to emphasise it. Once Mary found herself with child through the Holy Spirit, she was shunned and barely escaped stoning as a presumed adulteress. Not even Joseph would believe her; and when he had to go to Bethlehem for the census, Mary’s parents pleaded with him to take their daughter with him to a safer place; and only very reluctantly he agreed. Throughout that long difficult journey they hardly spoke to one another. At last, as Mary was about to give birth, he reached out and clasped her hand.

It’s a believable interpretation of the gospel account, particularly appropriate in today’s culture of isolation and individualism. The estrangement and break-up of family is most keenly felt at Christmas time. If the coming of the Word made flesh is in circumstances of pain, misunderstanding, loneliness and fear, then we can be sure the Son of God is present and familiar with those situations today. But above all it is love that overcomes all this and transforms our darkness into light. Mary’s determination to see through her mission to bring the Messiah to birth against all odds, including her own misgivings, can only be made possible by grace, not stoicism. At the beginning of a new year are we prepared to persevere and see through the mission each one is given as a disciple of Jesus, despite the opposition of others or our own doubts and fears?

Happy New Year!

John

CHRISTMAS DAY
25th December 2011

Above our heads the light fades in the frosty air, and the lanterns are being put in place, lining the path from the lych gate to the porch. It seems like the whole village has crammed into the modest parish church for the annual carol service. The lessons are read by an assortment of readers for whom the language of the classic Authorised Version of the Bible (four hundred years old this year) is unfamiliar and somewhat daunting. But the story they tell is timeless – or, better, immediate and real. The carols, sung without polish but from the heart, are our response – we want to be part of this, even though we are not quite sure how. For many here tonight, it is village tradition, articulated in a language of comfort, wonder, stillness, starkness, peace and warm joy.

Warm joy, too, is in the meeting of old and new neighbours after the service over coffee and mince pies. Something has touched us, and we linger in the bonhomie and togetherness. What has brought us together? Who or what has created this bond we can unashamedly call love?

The appeal of the Christmas story is its simplicity and openness. Jesus’ birth is everyone’s birth, Mary is every mother, the stable the place we all find ourselves in when we too feel rejected or diminished, the angel the one beside us in the coffee queue who kindly offers a mince pie. Good news is readily recognised in such disguises. Why do we make religion so complicated when God chose to come among us in breathtaking beguiling simplicity?

Above our heads the light has vanished to a point in the frosty darkness. By the light of that star we travel gratefully onward, aware that we are now the star-bearers of God’s love into the lives of others, not only today but always.

Peace and joy to you and all you love.

John

FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT
18th December 2011

Luke’s account of the Annunciation, like his narrative of the Nativity, is so familiar that we can miss the impact of its message. Yet both events still have the power to move us, so that like children we are never tired of hearing of them again and again.

It is the last sentence of today’s gospel reading which always hits me: “And the angel left her.” Once Gabriel has received Mary’s fiat, he goes. In Matthew’s account of the Annunciation, where Joseph is the one who encounters an angel, the angel keeps appearing to him in a dream at various points until he leaves Egypt to return to Galilee with Jesus and Mary. But Mary has only one divine visitation. After that, there are no more angels for her until she enters Paradise. Her Yes to God’s will is so complete that God knows she doesn’t need any external miraculous props, so to speak, to remain totally faithful.

Gabriel’s greeting deeply disturbs her; it has never occurred to her that she is in any way special or marked out for great things. Once the angel begins to spell out God’s intentions for her, Mary’s only interjection is to ask a purely practical question (this girl is no romantic dreamer) – how can I be virgin and mother? Her Yes is not purely passive; she wants to co-operate with God. The angel responds to her practicality by giving a concrete example to engage with – her barren cousin Elizabeth is with child. Once Gabriel has departed, Mary doesn’t sit around in bewilderment or shock at this amazing turn in her life, but sets off immediately to see Elizabeth.

God’s will comes to us disguised in the ordinary events of life, and sometimes in dramatic changes that don’t at first glance look the slightest bit holy. Expect surprises from God, but prepare to be surprised by his presence in the uneventful humdrum routine of daily living.

Come, Lord Jesus!

John

THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT
11th December 2011

Lord God, thank you for the wonder of the Incarnation, for the gift of yourself in human form – what the poet George Herbert called “heaven in ordinary”. You chose to come among us in a way which directly touched our human experience in all its aspects, although we tend to restrict you to the aspects we consider more consistent with your divinity. And you continue to reveal yourself to us in each generation as you speak to our human condition in Jesus. Open the eyes of our heart to the surprises of the Spirit in our world today.

“For all things give thanks to God,” your apostle Paul writes, “because this is what God expects you to do in Christ Jesus.” You expect it, Lord, because we should be overwhelmed with gratitude. If only we had an inkling of your astounding love and provision for us, beginning with our very existence! But we are too busy pushing you back into a distant and harmless heaven, in order that we may claim the credit for our own existence, weaving the stuff of your creation into our personal plans. Self-advancement has no room for gratitude, except as a threat to its own pride.

A spirit of gratitude is a spirit of freedom and joy. As the Advent liturgy today bids us be joyful, you set us free from the chains of human approval and allow ourselves to be embraced by your divine designs. To discover how wide is that embrace, we have only to surrender everything into your hands. But surrender looks like loss and diminishment, not openness to growth and freedom which you are. And you have shown us how to let go by modelling surrender to us in giving us your Son. How wonderful a love!

Come, Lord Jesus.

John

SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT
4th December 2011

A voice cries in the wilderness: “Prepare a way for the Lord!” If we are speaking here of a real desert, we would wonder who would be around in such a deserted inhospitable place to hear the voice. And yet, such was the reputation of John the Baptiser that it seems the people flocked to the wilderness to seek him out, just as in later centuries they were drawn there by the presence of the desert fathers and mothers.

The real wilderness today is not in the Sinai or the Sahara. It is in our impoverished so-called civilisation, in the heart of our cities, in the growing rift between rich and poor, in the loss of hope in the oppressed and unemployed, in the marginalisation of the sick, elderly and socially deprived. You don’t have to go far to find it – maybe no further than your own heart.

In that wilderness we hear a voice crying: “Isn’t there something better? Is this all that life has to offer? Who will rescue us from darkness and bring us into light? And can we trust the light to be faithful and true, or will we be deceived by its false promises of instant but transitory happiness?” Last Wednesday’s strike by service industry workers in Britain was such a cry.

What an opportunity for the Church to proclaim the Good News of Christ’s coming. If we are seen to be people of hope and faith, who speak of a God of tenderness and compassion, justice and peace, a God who comes among us truly sharing our predicament, then we can begin to demonstrate the power of the Spirit. Our God is not one who visits us from on high and then withdraws safely to heaven. Jesus shares the pain of weak and oppressed humanity till the end of time. The desert is the place where we come to feel the hungers of the human heart and to rejoice we share them too, waiting in hope.

Come, Lord Jesus!

John

FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT
27th November 2011

Happy new (ecclesiastical) year! As the northern hemisphere’s days darken and grow shorter, and the weather turns decidedly chilly, a new beginning, new hope dawns on the horizon. This hope does not come of human optimism or a naturally cheerful disposition – heaven knows, there’s not a great deal reported in world news which lifts the spirit. Nor does it come from outside, as if from an alien planet. This new light rises from within the very darkness of the world. The God who creates us is not about to abolish our darkness and replace it with his own glorious light. No, something far more amazing is happening: God is entering the darkness in human flesh and transforming it into light. As the mystics such as Meister Eckhart and St John of the Cross experienced and taught, only when we enter the darkness of faith and trust in God’s hidden presence disguised as absence, do we find the Light from Light.

Each year as we begin the Advent journey to Christmas, I think of that scene from Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings where the defenceless hobbits Frodo and Sam travel alone and in disguise the perilous journey to Mount Doom within the hostile land of Mordor, carrying the precious Ring under the noses of their unsuspecting enemies. It reminds of those two seemingly insignificant travellers Mary and Joseph on their journey to Bethlehem, bearing the Saviour of the world to his birthplace; and apart from the dust disturbed by their passing feet, the universe barely trembles. Who knows where God is to be born this Christmas?

As we go about our daily routine in our world today, however humble and humdrum it may be, the gospel of Mark today tells us four times: “stay awake!” Watch out for the Light of Christ disguised as your darkness, and bid him welcome.

God bless you and yours.

John

CHRIST THE KING
 20th November 2011

What the media have dubbed “the Arab Spring” is a series of popular uprisings in Arab countries in the Middle East, intent on overthrowing autocratic leaders who have held together disparate cultures and factions by force. When first they assumed power, many of these dictators were hailed as saviours by their people: the Christian minorities in Egypt, Syria and Iraq, for example, owed their survival to the protection afforded by Mubarek, Assad and Saddam Hussein. While tyrants have been removed, the question is: who and what is replacing them? Will the replacements unite or further divide these nations? Will the various factions pursue self-interest at all costs, or is there a common bond strong enough to convince them to work together for good? And what is that bond?

What is evident internationally is reflected in Britain too. For example, the media spotlight on protestors against the capitalist regime camped outside St Paul’s Cathedral in London, or on the violent eviction of Irish Travellers from Dale Farm, Essex are symptoms of a sick society, which has no overarching bond or philosophy to affirm, encourage or give hope to its members. “Survival of the fittest” is the slogan for politics, economics, industry and commerce. The human face of care and compassion is conspicuously absent – and yet it is exactly the underlying desire for acceptance and affirmation which fuels protest and violence across the world.

Christ the King is no despot but a shepherd, who cares for his flock and lays down his life for them. If we claim to be his followers, then our actions will prove it: feeding the hungry, assuaging those thirsting for justice and peace, caring for those imprisoned (physically, spiritually, emotionally) and the fearful, sick and vulnerable members of our society (not just our own religion or group). The Body of Christ is the only bond big enough to heal and embrace our torn planet – if only we could be seen in practice to live that truth.

God bless you and yours.

John

THIRTY-THIRD SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
Remembrance Sunday 13th November 2011

Although even the Second World War is slipping from living memory now, it’s not too difficult to recall the debt we owe to those who gave their lives in 1914-18 and 1939-45. The world may be a very different place now, but we still live with war, terror and death in many parts of the globe. While it often seems a senseless waste of human life, the value of each single person who is prepared to put their own life before that of others is beyond price.

The parable of the talents is about taking calculated risks. To bury your talent is not only an act of cowardice – it deprives the world of your unique gift, however humble. God has made us who we are, loved and gifted us, in order to love and give in the service of others. And loving is always risky, because based on trust. The men and women who gave their lives in two world wars did not bury their talent – they risked all and appeared to lose all, but gained the possibilities for peace which (tragically) we have squandered since.

Jesus spoke of the grain of wheat that only produces fruit if it falls to the ground and dies (John 12). It was a parable about his passion, death and resurrection. Which is why every Sunday is Remembrance Sunday, and at every Mass we do this in remembrance of him. We not only recall a hero’s sacrifice with gratitude for what he has done for us (Eucharist), but enact our own self-sacrifice, and offer our living bodies with Christ to the Father. If we hold back from taking the risks, our gifts remain buried. Let go and be free!

God bless you and yours.

John

THIRTY-SECOND SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
6th November 2011

To begin November with bright skies and end-of-summer temperatures, while the leaves are falling amid soporific insects thinking spring has come, is both a comfort and a challenge. We make the most of the good times, but must always be prepared for the sudden turn in fortune without undue anxiety. When the grip of frost or bitter north wind enwraps you, don’t say you weren’t warned!

It’s in that spirit we consider the parable of the ten bridesmaids. We can be deflected from Jesus’ central message by thinking the wise virgins are mean for not sharing their oil with the foolish. But the “oil” here is not a commodity but an acquired skill. If you haven’t done your revision, you can’t walk into an exam on the day and hope to pass with only your neighbour’s crib notes. Nothing can take the place of our own preparation and commitment. Similarly, we can’t live on borrowed spirituality; our growth in prayer and a relationship with God has no substitute.

Wisdom, then, is not about amassing information or buying favours. It’s about being ready to listen compassionately to the voice of the Spirit in the events of daily life, sensitive to the will of God discerned within our own hearts and in the world about us. If our lamps are not lit it’s pointless cursing the darkness. The bridesmaids of the gospel were expected to ready, day or night, for the bridegroom’s coming. We too await the Bridegroom Jesus as he comes to claim his Bride, the Church, and take her into the wedding feast of heaven. If we are not prepared to be surprised by winter, how will we welcome another Advent just three weeks away?

God bless you and yours.

John

THIRTY-FIRST SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
30th October 2011

We live on a planet in turmoil: “nations are in tumult, kingdoms are shaken” (Ps 46:7). The world economy is in meltdown; law and order is without authority and teeters on the brink of anarchy; distrust is rampant and cynicism has become a widespread survival technique. There is a desperate search for security, purpose and meaning in human existence and there are plenty who offer political or economic solutions to the seekers, usually with their own agendas in mind. Religion is perceived as either a sideline for the escapists or a fanatical threat.

If this sounds unduly pessimistic, or even cynical, I am simply painting a picture of the scenario in which our Christian faith, our Catholic identity, is called to operate. And because we are mandated to engage with this situation, not build a separate sacral world on another planet, we are in danger of being infected with these negative attitudes, even as the world is desperate to catch the Good News bug from us. The danger we face is twofold: either becoming so engrossed in the present climate as to be ineffective witnesses, or retreating into religious professionalism, like the Pharisees of old.

To keep our faith alive, we need constantly to pause, reflect and pray in order to nourish a living relationship with our God in Jesus Christ. The psalm quoted above, after speaking of tumult, gives us the remedy in verse 11: “Be still, and know that I am God”. It is only in God we will find our ultimate security, meaning and purpose.

Allow the words of today’s responsorial psalm to seep under your skin. “Truly I have set my soul in silence and peace.... Keep my soul in peace before you, O Lord” (Ps 130).

God bless you and yours.

John

THIRTIETH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
Mission Sunday 23rd October 2011

“You observed the sort of life we lived when we were with you.... and you were led to become imitators of us and of the Lord” (I Thess. 1:5). Paul clearly indicates that the process of conversion of the Thessalonians began with the impression he and his companions made on them simply by being who they were. This impression led to a desire to be like them. The order of words is instructive; it was by becoming imitators of Paul’s group that they became imitators of the Lord Jesus, not the other way round. At that point, the Holy Spirit filled them with such joy that they embraced the gospel of Christ. They went from observation through imitation to faith commitment. Then they in turn are observed by others who want to become imitators of them, and the process of evangelisation gathers momentum.

The great commandment of love is also descriptive of an organic process; it is not a static monolithic statement. The faculties with which we are to love God are human ones: heart, soul and mind. The evidence of our God-love will be observed in our human loves, in the way we love our neighbour. And the way we love others is in turn dependant on the way we see ourselves. If we have observed God’s love for us in the example of others, if we have become imitators of parents, teachers, priests who have modelled the gospel for us, then we will be secure in heart, soul and mind in our relationship with our neighbour, who in turn may want to know the reason for the hope we have. Pass it on!

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-NINTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
16th October 2011

The method used by the Pharisees to trap Jesus in today’s gospel was to start by praising him. They could not escape the plain evidence of Jesus’ conduct, even if they didn’t like it. First, they declare him to be honest. Then they say he teaches God’s way honestly. They may not agree with his message or behaviour, but his transparency runs counter to their own way of thinking and acting. Thirdly, they acknowledge of the one who constantly teaches “do not be afraid” that he is not afraid of anyone; he is not in competition in the status race, so he can be himself. By contrast, they are often jostling for position, eager to manipulate the truth to their own advantage. Jesus does not play that game. He doesn’t need to. And neither do we.

Our calling as Christians is not ultimately to follow Jesus’ teaching, but to follow Jesus. Our baptismal grace is not simply to tell others about Jesus. Our mission is to be Jesus, so that others can see Jesus in us, in the lives we lead. We will only become aware of that when we can see Jesus in everyone we meet, when we are no longer afraid of what people think of us, when our love is universal, when we are neither overawed nor in contempt of another.

In the question about paying taxes, Jesus’ answer is based on ownership. Whatever you have that belongs to Caesar, you have no reason to keep for yourself – that’s stealing. But the unanswered question is: what does belong to Caesar? On the other hand, what belongs to God? And here the answer has to be: everything. Are we giving God his due? Or are we holding something back?

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-EIGHTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
9th October 2011

One of the advantages of living in a Norfolk village is being part of a community. Not all villages retain a sense of neighbourliness, which means that the well-being of those who live around us is important for our own well-being; but here it is so. When I was parish priest in Ingatestone, nurturing a parish community was made easier by the fact that parishioners already had a sense of belonging to the village community – indeed, many had moved there because that was what they sought.

The cult of individualism, which over the years has fragmented society, makes building community an uphill struggle; yet underneath the surface many individuals living lives of quiet desperation are yearning to belong, to be part of a network of relationships where their contribution matters, and where they can find the resources to support their own needs. A hundred years ago, belonging to a community of some kind was necessary for survival; today we can all paddle our own canoe, thank you very much. Or so it seems until you uncover the casualties of that thinking.

Those invited to the king’s son’s wedding feast are too busy with their own little world to respond to God’s invitation to face a bigger reality. But those dragged off the streets into the banquet can hardly believe their luck; from being isolated by their poverty and exclusion from society, suddenly they are at the heart of the Church. All are welcome.

Is that sense of openness and welcome an integral feature of our parishes today? Is the Eucharist, the foretaste of the banquet of heaven, a celebration of belonging, to which all can contribute, and all feel lovingly supported? That is the kind of community Jesus intimated, in that mysterious phrase “the kingdom of heaven”.

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-SEVENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
2nd October 2011

“Paradise” is an Arabic word which means “garden”. The Garden of Eden where Adam and Eve dwelt in pre-lapsarian bliss was the primordial Paradise, and a foretaste of heaven. Yet the word originated in the process by which a garden was created, a process outlined in both Isaiah and the gospel reading today. First, you find the place in the wilderness you are going to cultivate. Next, you clear it of rocks and large stones, and use them to create a wall around the site to protect it. Then you dig and fertilise the soil ready for planting.

But the vineyard planted in God’s garden didn’t realise the paradise expected. In the Isaiah reading, the grapes were sour; in the gospel, the tenants robbed the owner of the vineyard. We may have planned carefully to ensure a good harvest or a successful enterprise, but there’s no guarantee that the weather or other people will oblige. From the Garden of Eden onwards, the Bible catalogues God’s frustrated plans for humanity – so why should we expect an easier ride than God? Our true flourishing happens when we adopt God’s attitude to setbacks: endless patience and mercy.

Paul’s advice in the second reading is apt. Don’t allow your mind to be full of vengeful, angry or negative thoughts, or they will fester and turn to sour grapes. Instead, leave no space for them: “fill your minds with everything that is true, noble, good, pure, loving, honourable and worthy of praise” (Philippians 4:8). Then you will not be robbed of the peace of God which passes all understanding. That indeed is paradise.

As Dorothy Gurney wrote: “One is nearer God’s Heart in a garden than anywhere else on earth.”

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-SIXTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
25th September 2011

Whenever we hit a problem, tragedy or impasse in our lives, we tend to think of it as an obstacle which will have a negative impact on us. This is a natural reaction because our ego is programmed to seek its own comfort and gratification before anything else. All that thwarts that desire becomes a threat to be avoided at all costs.

At the same time we are seeking happiness and fulfilment; and we soon find self-gratification doesn’t always make us happy. But when suffering crosses our path, as inevitably it will, our attitude to it will make us or break us, diminish us or make us into a new creation.

Jesus tells of the sons whose father sent them to work in the vineyard. The second one protected his own agenda at all costs; when threatened with work he did not want to do, he simply said “Yes!” to placate his father but then ignored the request. Many situations like that occur today – people will do anything to avoid responsibility by walking away from whatever they don’t like, and so never grow up. The first son was more honest. “I don’t want to go; I don’t like having to obey; I’ll resist it as long as I can.” But he has a change of heart, a moment of metanoia. Like that other parable of two sons, where the prodigal “comes to his senses”, the first son here grows into a new creation by obedience to the father’s will. He becomes a happier person in the process.

It is those who pause to reflect, those who have the courage to sit in the terrifying silence and refuse to drown out the whisper of God with noisy diversions, who find true peace.

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
18th September 2011

When the day of our life fades into dusk and the shadow of death, what will we see if we look back over the contours of our one precious life from the dawn of birth? However short, however long, in poverty or plenty, the Lord has ready our denarius – not so much a reward as a gift, like parents who can’t refrain from giving their children a present simply because they love them, regardless of their merits or otherwise.

I had a lovely message the other day from a gentleman who told me he had misspent his life addicted to gambling, and when his father died two years ago he resolved to start afresh and be the son his father would have been proud to have. He had remembered the hymn “I watch the sunrise” from his days at a Catholic school, although not a Catholic himself, and had the hymn at his father’s funeral. Now he listens to it every day; it keeps him calm and has enabled him over the last two years to live a new life free of his addiction.

Like the labourers in the vineyard who arrived first, or the elder brother of the prodigal son, we can perhaps look back over our lives with a sense, not of gratitude for our achievements and blessings, but of resentment that others have either done better or entered the vineyard at the eleventh hour after a dissolute life. In today’s gospel, the master’s reply to the complaints of such people is a question we need to find an answer to: “Why be envious because I am generous?”

Only God can make a final judgement on anyone’s life, including mine. Why close my fists over my one precious life, instead of opening my hands to receive his generosity?

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
11th September 2011

It used to be asked: “What were you doing on the day President Kennedy was shot?” Today, the tenth anniversary of 9/11, there will be similar reminiscences of one of the most unspeakable crimes in living memory. It led to the Iraq war and the campaign against Al Qaeda, to the campaign against the Taliban and the Afghan guerrilla war. Its effects have had worldwide repercussions, tidal waves of terror which have continued to spread.

In the immediate aftermath of 9/11 the words one heard most often were retaliation and revenge – a natural reaction to such an outrage but hardly helpful, let alone Christian. They played directly into the terrorists’ hands and raised the stakes higher.

Even the Old Testament, with its lex talionis (“eye for an eye...”), in its later books begins to see the futility and destructiveness of retaliation. Sirach today is clear: “Resentment and anger, these are foul things.... Remember the last things, and stop hating.” The enormity of the crime demands a response, but surely the bigger the atrocity, the more we need to weigh the situation and consider before we act. “Remember,” Sirach says. How quickly the blindness of rage makes us forget the most important things.

Forgiveness and compassion is at the heart of the gospel teaching. Outside Christian circles it is often perceived as weak and soft, condoning or giving in to wrongdoing. It is of course the only way to reconciliation and requires courage and humility. It is Jesus’ secret weapon for peace, since it defuses tension and anger and sets people free to move forward out of a spiral of retaliation in a new direction.

Don’t let it rankle. Let it go. You don’t need it.

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
4th September 2011

With the introduction of the controversial new English translation of the Roman Missal (at least in part) this weekend, it is a moment of testing for the Church in these islands. Will it help to unite or divide the average congregation? After the initial confusion and irritation of an unfamiliar set of words, how parishioners respond to it will depend largely on the health or otherwise of their existing parish relationships: with their priest, bishop, liturgical ministers and with one another. Not only each one’s personal spirituality, but the shared liturgical spirituality of the community will be crucial.

Where there is disruption and destructive behaviour in a Christian community, Jesus gives wise counsel on procedures to deal with it. “If your brother or sister does something wrong, go and sort it out between your two selves.” Where community begins to break down is in ignoring that first critical step. How many of us will complain to a third party before talking to the offender first? Gossip is the enemy of unity. If the offender is open to listen, there’s a chance of reconciliation and the cancer of disharmony is caught early. If it doesn’t work, you may be part of the problem, so go back to the offender with another person as impartial witness. Only if that does not succeed does the injured party go public and report it to the parish council who can then consider the matter and give the offender a third hearing.

While Jesus’ words can be practical wisdom for the local community, it should also apply to the world-wide Church; but sadly this is not always so. If the Church herself is seen to practise what she preaches, she can challenge the world to be reconciled. But if her members are not listening to one another, how will the world listen to the gospel?

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
28th August 2011

Some years ago I was asked to give a talk to an ecumenical gathering on the theme: “Why I am still a Catholic”. What prompted me to accept the invitation was the appeal of the word “still” in the title. Why I am a Catholic is probably rooted in my upbringing in that faith from infancy. But what keeps me there? Why am I still a Catholic?

In today’s first reading is part of the answer – I am still a Catholic for the same reason Jeremiah remained a prophet, despite the “insult, derision, all day long”, the embarrassment at the attitude and behaviour of fellow Catholics, not least Church leaders, as well as my own sins, fears and weaknesses. I am still a Catholic because like Jeremiah I let myself be seduced by the Lord despite my hesitations and doubts. As Peter and the apostles said when Jesus invited them to leave after hearing a difficult baffling teaching, “Lord, to whom shall we go?” (John 6). I am still a Catholic because I love the Lord and he hasn’t shown me anything better. The perfect Church doesn’t exist – or if it does, it has only one member: me!

I have chosen freely and continue to choose daily to be a follower of Christ, which in gospel terms means I renounce myself and take up my cross. That can sound a negative oppressive path without love, overly submissive. But experience over many years has taught me the opposite: to renounce myself is to “throw off everything that hinders us” (Hebrews 12) and throw myself into the arms of the seductive Lord; to take up my cross is to admit, even boast of, my weakness so that the power of Christ may stay over me (2 Corinthians 12).

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
21st August 2011

This week has seen me in the Outer Hebrides, in the extreme north-west of the British Isles, where Gaelic is an everyday language. It is still fiercely independent and deeply religious; on the Isle of Lewis the shops are closed on Sundays and until recently there was no Sunday ferry service to the mainland. And although religious bigotry has largely gone, the southern Hebridean island of Barra is almost totally Catholic, while Lewis, the most northerly, is very definitely Presbyterian Protestant.

Yet it was while exploring the west coast of Lewis that I found remains of two ancient churches dedicated to St Peter. Both were built on rocky outcrops overlooking the Atlantic, far from the panting heart of Rome. In their precarious existence on the edge of the world they spoke mutely of a link with a wider Church spanning two millennia.

When Jesus asks the apostles “Who do you say I am?” was there an awkward silence? It is a huge question and one capable of a variety of answers. But Peter’s direct and inspired response comes straight from his heart and goes straight to the heart of the matter: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Despite his human weaknesses Peter is declared to be the rock on which Christ will build his Church, the one entrusted with the keys of the kingdom of heaven. These are amazing promises, seemingly out of proportion to Peter’s profession of faith.

Today the Church can appear arrogant, out of touch, struggling to survive, or a prophetic voice in the world. Whether perched precariously on the edge or standing confidently at the centre, we the Church need to be united in bearing witness to Jesus, so that he becomes the focus, not ourselves.

God bless you and yours.

John

NINETEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
7th August 2011

There have been many times in my life (and no doubt there’ll be more to come) when I have had to make decisions which not everyone will understand, or taken a course of action in faith without knowing the outcome. But if we spend all our lives choosing the safe option we will always be disappointed, like the man in the parable of the talents who hid his coin in the ground rather than risk trading it.

Jesus sends the disciples off in a boat while he remains on shore to pray. It was his idea to send them, not theirs. And when the storm hits the lake, if they weren’t so preoccupied with fear, they might well complain that it was Jesus that sent them into it. A right course of action, carefully chosen after much prayer, can and often does lead to unexpected darkness and danger. Did I get it wrong? Do I blame myself, or God? In fact, is anyone to “blame” except our inborn instinct to be in control?

Adventure happens when we take risks. Indeed, we would probably not be still alive unless we had. When Jesus walks on the water to the struggling vessel and crew in the middle of the night, the disciples thought they were hallucinating. If it’s you, says Peter, then I’ll act as you do, Lord, and show I believe it’s really you. And off he goes. But like a tightrope walker who looks down at the drop instead of the goal ahead, Peter starts to sink. “Save me!” is the cry of one who finally admits they’ve no further control, and total dependence on another is the only possible option, whether it works or not.

Jesus’ final question always haunts me. “Why do you doubt?” Why indeed, when it’s so much better to trust. Help!

God bless you and yours.

John

SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
24th July 2011

When Jesus tells the parables of the treasure hidden in a field and of the merchant looking for pearls, at first it seems like he’s contradicting the sharing of the gospel. Why keep the Good News a secret and hold it to yourself when it’s supposed to be proclaimed from the housetops?

Before we can preach the gospel we need to own it. In order to make it our own we need to enter its depths and immerse ourselves in it. And the “it” is not a thing but the person of Jesus Christ. Through prayer, the scriptures and the sacraments, we have first to soak ourselves in the mystery of his presence, begin to realise how priceless he is, and sacrifice everything for him. As we do that, we come to understand how breathtakingly rich is the word entrusted to us. We need time alone with Jesus, as he needed it with the Father, to enable this work to germinate and take root in our lives. We buy the field with our lifeblood, as he bought us with his. The treasure is hidden because we are not yet ready for it; we have had a glimpse of heaven, and nothing else matters until our desire for it is satisfied.

Since this is a lifelong process, our proclamation of the Good News is not an end in itself but the means by which bring others to become curious and excited about the real treasure of their lives; and at the same time we test our own commitment to the kingdom of God. If I cease to wonder at the pearl of great price I hold in this earthen vessel, I will not recognise the beauty of Jesus in each person I meet – including myself.

God bless you and yours.

John

SIXTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
17th July 2011

The media love a scandal – and never more than when the scandal is about the media. The story of the lengths that News of the World journalists went to in order to obtain a story is mind-boggling. It illustrates well that once we abandon morality, it isn’t long before we see nothing wrong in illegal or even criminal behaviour.

People sometimes rail at the Church for being too soft or failing to confront these issues. The Church does speak out but her voice is often muted by deliberate misrepresentation by the media, or simply because her message is unintelligible or appears irrelevant. The temptation is to shout the gospel message from the battlements of Fortress Church while ensuring the Pagan World stays outside. But true evangelisation is stepping into the place where we are vulnerable, open enough to live Christ’s life with courage and love in the face of ridicule or rejection. Our very vulnerability is the opening for the gospel to flow out of us. It is a risk – yes, but how else can we witness? Do we have to have all the answers before we lower our drawbridge?

Today’s parable of the weeds among the wheat is about having the trust and patience to allow sin and grace to co-exist in this crazy mixed-up world. Our crude human attempts to pre-empt God’s judgement by extricating the tangled roots of good and evil may betray our fears and prejudices, rather than reveal the innate divine tendency to see goodness in the darkest heart and dispense extravagant mercy.

Michael Evans, the Bishop of East Anglia who died this week after a long battle with cancer, put evangelisation as his first priority. His vulnerability and honesty about his suffering was a most powerful witness. The national TV news began with the scandal of the News of the World. But the local TV news led with a moving tribute to Bishop Michael Evans.

God bless you and yours.

John

FIFTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
10th July 2011

What strikes me whenever I read the parable of the sower is its reckless generosity. Surely any decent farmer would scatter his precious seed wherever there was a chance of it growing. Why waste it by letting it fall on the path or into the thorns? It carries the same message as many other parables of Jesus; in the story of the vineyard workers, for example, where those who have worked twelve hours are paid the same as those who came at the eleventh hour, the master of the vineyard says: “Why be envious because I am generous?”

God’s prodigal love will risk anything to get to us, even rejection and indifference; trodden underfoot, strangled by thorns, failing to come to anything, he still refuses to give up on us. The Word was made flesh, and his preaching fell on stony ground; he was crowned with thorns, and on the cross appeared to come to nothing. But in the fertile soil of his disciples’ hearts he found a ready welcome; they took all he gave them and, each according to their capacity, scattered the word with the same reckless generosity – thirty, sixty, a hundredfold.

They too encountered in the same measure rejection and indifference, acceptance and growth. And as we in this generation receive the word of God in the patchy soil of our world, we are no different.

Perhaps much of what has given me has been lost in transit, or choked out of my life. But what precious fruit has been born in me, I have a duty to share, to give of it freely without sure hope of return, without counting the cost. It is not mine to keep; it is a gift – it is THE Gift. And the precondition of its giving to me is that I should give it away in the same generous spirit.

God bless you and yours.

John

FOURTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
3rd July 2011

In his letter to the Romans (8:9,11-13, today’s second lesson) St Paul contrasts the spiritual person with the unspiritual one. The spiritual person, he says, is one who lives and breathes in the Spirit; the unspiritual, he implies, is self-centred. Many in our world today glorify self-will, masquerading as self-fulfilment, over submission to God’s will. Submitting to the Spirit looks like weakness, even madness for those who do not believe (cf I Corinthians 1:23-25). Only those who let go and let God experience the real freedom of the Spirit.

A few verses later in I Corinthians, Paul points out that it is to the foolish, the weak and the little ones of this world that God chose to reveal himself as the true wisdom and the real power. Jesus in today’s gospel has the same message. “Are you child-like?” he asks. “Do you have a sense of wonder? Have you realised that you will never understand me unless you give up trying to control and dissect my words?” In a snippet of intimate conversation with his Father, he seems to give God a knowing wink: “However hard they strive to get it, the learned and the clever overreach themselves. The secret is to be humble. Then the light will dawn.”

It is only in the light of this that his next words make sense: “Come to me, all you who labour and are over-burdened, and I will give you rest.” It sounds so inviting, that rest in our frantic busy lives. But its precondition is to come to him. Until we place ourselves in Jesus’ hands, we will never find true peace. “Shoulder my yoke and learn from me.” A yoke is for two to carry the burden: I am on one side, Jesus the other. We pull together.

God bless you and yours.

John

SOLEMNITY OF THE BODY AND BLOOD OF CHRIST
26th June 2011

It’s instructive to analyse the language we use for eating. “Any food?” enquires the ravenous teenager. “Have you anything here to eat?” asks Jesus of his disciples in the upper room on Easter Sunday.

In today’s world with its busy and fragmented lifestyle, food becomes simply fuel for the body. Watch the cars queuing at a petrol station and those queuing at a drive-through McDonalds – they’re both simply refuelling. But necessary as food and drink are for our survival, those of us who have more than enough to eat (and plenty of choice too) can take it for granted.

The best way to appreciate food is to share it, and to do so in the context of a meal. Food and drink become a gift to be savoured, and with it the gift of love and friendship. A meal, more than a take-away, fosters unity and mutual appreciation. The care taken in the setting for it can do as much or more than the menu. Meals are universal settings for celebration, reconciliation, thanksgiving and a host of other occasions; they are a language universally understood in every culture.

Sharing a meal, however, is an act of generosity and often self-sacrifice. In many countries, in the Middle East and Africa for example, it is expected that you will share your resources with a visitor or stranger who happens your way, as Abraham and Sarah welcomed the three angels (Genesis 18). It may be your last crust, but the guest has claim to it according to custom: the story of Elijah and the widow of Zarepheth comes to mind (I Kings 17).

The Eucharist is both sacrifice and nourishment, giving and receiving. It celebrates how much God has given us in Christ, as we drink in his Word and savour his Body and Blood. Yet simultaneously God celebrates our self-giving in Christ, as we feed our brothers and sisters in need.

God bless you and yours.

John

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TRINITY SUNDAY
19th June 2011

There is only one God. Jews affirm: “the Lord our God is the one Lord”. Islamic faith declares: “there is no god but God [Allah]”. The Christian creed begins: “I believe in one God”. Monotheism asserts that there is only one God.

Yet history shows that humankind has arrived at monotheism via polytheism, a belief in many gods. Primitive man was in awe at the vastness of the known world, and only slowly learned to understand and tame the wildness of it. Each mysterious force – the wind, the sea, earth and fire, and so on – was named and worshipped, appeased lest its power overwhelm. Gradually these coalesced into a pantheon, a “family” of principal gods, each with their particular responsibility in the cosmos.

The Israelites emerged from worshipping many gods to worshipping Yahweh. The process went from polytheism to monotheism through henotheism (Yahweh is the greatest and only God worth worshipping, but the other gods around have to be reckoned with). The whole Old Testament bears witness to the struggle to arrive at true monotheism. Islam too emerged from an Arabic culture of polytheism; its uncompromising monotheism is a conscious and deliberate statement of uniqueness, over against the multiplicity of human ideas and beliefs.

The Christian belief in the Trinity may at first sight seem like a step backwards from monotheism towards polytheism, and this is what Jews and Moslems might suspect. In fact we believe it’s a step forward into a richer expression of monotheism. God is one but God is Love. How can God enter into relationship with us without being a God of relationship in essence? Love is self-giving, and we believe that the Persons of the Trinity are the model of all human relationships: we are made in the image and likeness of God who shares himself with us and wants us ultimately to share his life for ever.

God bless you and yours.

John

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PENTECOST SUNDAY
12th June 2011

Whenever I visit France, although I can speak a little French, I am frustrated by my inability to communicate fluently. It is even more the case in other countries where I can say “Good morning” and “thank you” but little else. Without a grasp of language, direct communication with and therefore understanding of other peoples and cultures is virtually impossible; we are closed to their world.

The Acts of the Apostles tells us that on the day of Pentecost the crowd that gathered to hear the apostles were drawn from “every nation under heaven”. They were amazed that what the apostles said spoke directly to them without being translated first. It is clear that the message God proclaims through the Holy Spirit should not be confined to one language or culture, but be immediately available to everyone, everywhere, without distinction. How that happens is the challenge the Church faces every day. Inevitably we do use human language in communicating, and by so doing we are subject to misunderstanding and misinterpretation.

Latin was the language of the later Roman Empire when the Western Church was developing; Greek remained the lingua franca of the Eastern Church. The split between Catholicism and Orthodoxy occurred over the language of doctrine rather than doctrine itself. Now that Latin is no longer a living language in Europe (despite the efforts of a few to revive it) we no longer have a universal alternative. English is widely used across the world today, but its usage has many local variations and nuances.

The rich diversity of culture in our world should not be seen as a hindrance to the Spirit’s work, but as the very stuff with which the Spirit creates unity and harmony. Can we not be amazed at the wonderful variety of this created order, and let the Holy Spirit draw us all together in an even more astounding symphony of praise?

Come, Holy Spirit!

John

ASCENSION SUNDAY
5th June 2011

Time was when Ascension Day always fell on a Thursday, forty days after Easter. Only five years ago in England and Wales, it was moved, along with Epiphany and Corpus Christi, from a weekday to the nearest Sunday, following European practice. The reason given for the change was the poor attendance of congregations at weekday holydays of obligation, and it was felt that having these feasts on a Sunday would bring them to the attention of a people in danger of forgetting them.

Now the bishops of these countries are considering reversing the change, for Epiphany and Ascension at least. The reason? Because the Church of England still celebrates them on the traditional dates. I find that very heartening. At the very time we are introducing a new translation of the Roman Missal deliberately designed not to have any texts in common with the Anglican Church, here at last in a sign that our bishops are bucking the trend to distance the Catholic Church from her ecumenical partners.

Ascension Day is not about Christ distancing himself from us by leaving this earth, but by taking us with him on his journey to the Father. It’s not a farewell, a finale. It’s our moving to a new level in our relationship with him. Matthew’s gospel doesn’t end with tears and goodbyes, but with the great commission to go out to the world, make disciples, baptise in the name of the Trinity, and teach by word and example. As Pope Paul said in 1975, the Church exists to evangelise, to spread the Good News. Thirty-six years later the world needs the Good News more than ever. Squabbles about translations and separate denominations and tinkering with dates while the world is starved of Good News is hardly encouraging. We need to move on to a new and more imaginative living of the gospel by letting Christ take us to a new level. And for that to happen we need the Holy Spirit.

Christ is risen. Alleluia!

John

SIXTH SUNDAY OF EASTER
29th May 2011

It may seem strange that the Church chooses for its gospel readings in the latter half of Eastertide the Last Supper Discourse – the four chapters of St John (13 to 17) in which Jesus addresses his disciples on the eve of his Passion. Surely they should belong to Holy Week?

The wonder of St John’s gospel is that everything he writes is filtered through resurrection-tinted spectacles. Even the saddest and most painful moments of life, from the Christian perspective, are not the end of the story. Resurrection is always round the corner, or even present in the midst of darkness, hidden from all eyes except the eyes of faith. It does not take the pain away, but gives meaning to the moment, a reason to “hang on in there”. Good Friday is always followed by Easter Sunday. It’s just that the Saturday in between can feel like eternity.

This week I went to visit some of the ubiquitous medieval churches dotted around the Norfolk countryside. The last was the saddest – hidden down an overgrown path off the main road was the burnt-out shell of an ancient place of worship. Till then I hadn’t realised it was the victim of an arson attack in May 2004. Rusty provisional fencing prevented entrance to the building, for obvious safety reasons; the graveyard was swamped in nettles over four feet high. The signboard at the churchyard gate leaned languidly into the undergrowth as though falling asleep.

Yet somehow I felt a surge of hope that this melancholy sight was a presage of rebirth. There has been a church on this site for over a thousand years, a centre of pilgrimage in honour of an obscure seventh-century French saint; the monastery he founded in Normandy is today a flourishing Benedictine abbey. “I will not leave you orphans,” says the Lord. “I will come back to you, and your hearts will be full of joy.”

Christ is risen. Alleluia!

John

FIFTH SUNDAY OF EASTER
22nd May 2011

You read it here first! In September 2009 I wrote in Just a thought... that we were about to have sprung on us a new English translation of the Roman Missal, and that there would be significant changes in the prayers and responses we have been used to at Mass since 1975. Now it’s official. On the first Sunday of Advent this year, the new version will come into play.

Strictly speaking, it is not a translation but a transliteration. The version we are currently using is an attempt, not wholly successful, to render the meaning of the Latin in clear dignified English. It tries to capture the meaning, I believe admirably, using English grammar and syntax, producing a text which reads aloud well. The new “translation” simply reproduces the Latin text word for word in English, paying scant regard for English spoken idiom. Indeed, the authors’ deliberate intention is that it should be different, set apart, “sacral” and “hieratic” language. Then why bother to render it into foreign English? Why not keep it in Latin (which is probably what they really want)?

There are some positive advances. Many of the scriptural allusions were lost in the early translation; the new version has restored them. As a musician I will relish the opportunity to set the new Mass texts to music; but already I’ve found that the rhythm of the new texts is often clumsy, setting composers a real challenge if the people are expected to sing them. At the heart of the problem is the clash between two perceptions: inclusive or dualistic? Isn’t the Incarnation about uniting heaven and earth, not keeping them apart? The rapprochement between Church and world inspired by Vatican II seems have taken a reversal. There are many rooms in my Father’s house, Jesus says. Indeed; and the walls between them are getting thicker.

The Lord is risen. Alleluia!

John

FOURTH SUNDAY OF EASTER
Good Shepherd Sunday
15th May 2011

Love, care, vigilance, faithfulness, companionship, compassion, trust, correction, encouragement, initiative, leadership – all these are epithets of the shepherd. They describe not only the qualities of the shepherd in relation to his flock, but also towards himself. “Integrity is the loincloth round his waist” (Isaiah 11:5).

In recent years the shepherds of the flock of God (I Peter 5) have had a rough ride. Just as rogue investment bankers have damaged the banking profession, or dishonest dealings by some MPs has undermined the whole Government, so a tiny minority of abusive clergy have stained the good name of the Church. Instead of spotlighting the majority of honest, hard-working and often heroic people who serve the economy, politics and the Church, the media ignores them.

In St Augustine’s famous sermon on the shepherds in Ezekiel 34, he comments that when a good sheep observes his leader preaching one thing but doing the opposite, he is being starved and tempted to abandon the right way. Good example is vital to a healthy society.

Look at the qualities of a shepherd listed above. Whether we’re talking of priests, office managers, parents, teachers, government officials or the medical profession (to mention a few) these qualities are expected to greater or lesser degree.

This week I had the opportunity to see the award-winning French film Of Gods and Men about a Cistercian monastery in Algeria. The true story of the French monks who lived in peaceful harmony with their Muslim neighbours recounts how they received death-threats from Islamic extremists and were harassed by Algerian authorities to leave the country. They decided to stay and paid with their lives. These are the shepherds we need to hear about – people who are frail and ordinary and obscure, yet get on with the daily task of trying to live the gospel by pointing to Christ, not themselves.

Christ is risen Alleluia!

John

THIRD SUNDAY OF EASTER
8th May 2011

As with so many of the “recognition” scenes after the resurrection, the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus has a delicious taste. We know who this stranger is but they don’t. We wait for the lovely moment when their eyes are opened and they know what we know: it’s Jesus!

What makes it so delightful is not our superior knowledge but the fact we’ve been there too. In all our lives there have been moments when it suddenly dawns on us.... when we break through to another level of perception, or simply see things from a different angle. It happens to me when I’m trying to solve a cryptic clue in the crossword, and suddenly the answer clicks into place.

Every moment of every day, Jesus is walking at my side. I am often too busy or preoccupied to notice, but there he is. As in the resurrection appearances he takes many forms: not just a stranger on a walk or beside the lake while we’re fishing or a gardener near the tomb, but countless other “disguises”, from the next person you meet to a piece of broken bread and a cup of wine. Sometimes he can be a bit of a nuisance when we have something else on our agenda; at other times when we cry out to him he is shrouded in darkness and silence. But whatever form the risen Lord takes, it is for our benefit, not his. And yet, however vaguely, it is our searching for him, our desire for meaning, purpose, beauty and love in our lives, that prompts him to reveal himself. As Pascal observed, “we would not be seeking him if we had not already found him”. Or, put another way, Jesus has already found us and waits for the delicious moment we recognise him.

Christ is risen. Alleluia!

John

SECOND SUNDAY OF EASTER
1st May 2011

Today Pope Benedict is to beatify his predecessor Pope John Paul II, who will henceforth be known as Blessed John Paul. To recognise someone officially as (almost) a saint so soon after his death is unusual but not without precedent; Mother Teresa was similarly “fast-tracked” by Blessed John Paul himself not long ago. But in the first millennium of the Church, when the present lengthy process of canonisation was as yet undeveloped, many a saint was declared by the local Church because of popular acclaim; miracles of healing and other signs were attributed to their intercession, and their graves became centres of devotion and pilgrimage, sometimes immediately after their death.

Saints act as lodestars to the faithful. We do not believe we can ever become saints ourselves but admire the example of their lives; it encourages us to persevere. But the truth is, we are all called to be saints. Our problem is our narrow perception of what holiness is. When we read the idyllic description of the early Christian community in today’s first reading (Acts 4:42-47) we know that the Church does not live like that most of the time, but it’s good to remind ourselves where we should be going, and to know that it is possible to arrive there. Holiness happens not because of our heroic efforts but of God’s gift of his Spirit to us, a gift freely given through the death and resurrection of his Son. Responding to that gift is what makes us holy.

Those the Church has beatified or canonised would be the first to proclaim that humanly they are no different from the rest of us. The more we allow God to have his way with us and not resist, the holier we become. All we have to do is to remain faithful to the teaching of the apostles, to loving one another, to the Eucharist and to prayer.

The Lord is risen. Alleluia!

John

EASTER SUNDAY
24th April 2011

Nothing of our universal human experience is alien to Jesus. He has shared in the whole gamut of human emotions and thoughts, acts and deeds, from his conception to the grave. It follows that nothing in Jesus’ life from womb to tomb is alien to us. We may live in a different time and in another part of the world; we may not have been born in a stable or died on a cross; but we can readily relate to the human reality of the unique individual he was, just as we recognise the unique and special characteristics of each person.

Today’s feast is central to the Christian faith because it recalls and relives the first event in our human existence beyond our present experience. If we believe that nothing in Jesus’ life is alien to us, this has to include the resurrection. Resurrection is part of our human nature as God created it, even though beyond present experience. The account of the empty tomb graphically illustrates this: he is not here, he goes before us. Jesus is not where he was expected to be, and where he is now is where we’re going. Too many people have consigned the incarnate Son of God to the dustbin of history, and written off the Christian message because Christians are where they expect them to be – tucked out of sight in church. Only when Christians are seen in unexpected places living hope-filled resurrection lives does the world sit up and take notice.

And that is merely the beginning. Resurrection life is not a consequence of stirring ourselves into action or embarking on charitable works, hoping to impress the natives. It is a consequence of following Jesus. And he does not stop at the tomb; he keeps going before us. Don’t lose sight of him!

The Lord is risen, alleluia!

John

PALM SUNDAY OF THE PASSION OF THE LORD
17th April 2011

The Passion narrative, partly because of its length but also its emotive subject matter, reveals the person of Jesus most vividly. We cannot fail to be touched, even at two thousand years’ remove, with his every thought and movement in the twenty-four hours between the sunset on Thursday and the Last Supper, and the sunset on Friday when his body was laid in the tomb. Those who have been alongside someone in their last hours of life, whether shockingly traumatic as in Jesus’ case, peacefully at home at a ripe old age, or anything in between, can testify to its powerful effect, recalling their last words and actions, and perhaps struggling to understand their meaning.

As the disciples of Jesus reflected on the Passion, writing the story from their perspective and having the honesty to include their abject cowardice and betrayal, they are not at the centre of the picture: Jesus is. A very helpful exercise in Holy Week is to reflect on the story of our own lives, its successes and failures, and tell that story as if we were relating it to Jesus. Then ask Jesus to retell our story as he sees it from his perspective on the cross. Are there any differences in the two accounts, and if so, what are they?

The life, passion, death and resurrection of Jesus is not complete without including the life, passion, death and resurrection of each of us, of the whole world, of the entire creation “groaning in one great act of giving birth” (Romans 8). In the end, it is not finding Jesus in our lives; it is finding our lives in Jesus. That has been the purpose of our Lenten journey. Lord, by your cross and resurrection you have set us free. You are the Saviour of the world.

John

FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT
 10th April 2011

Lent is about preparing for Easter, and Easter is about resurrection. So it is not surprising that somewhere in Lent we need to focus on the meaning and experience of resurrection: not only Christ’s, but ours too. Today’s gospel could not be more graphic.

To be resurrected, of course, you have first to be dead. Facing the reality of death is particularly difficult in times like ours when medical science is making new advances and the process of dying is often marked by denial (“I’m sure you’ll be better soon”). Surrendering our human faculties until nothing is left (“the terror of perpetual extinction” as Vatican II puts it) naturally makes us recoil. Every night as we fall asleep into unconsciousness we are rehearsing for that ultimate surrender. And throughout our lives we practise many “little deaths” as we let go of something we thought essential to our existence – the dream job, the house where we live, or transitions in life like leaving home or retirement. And most of all when we mourn the death of someone near and dear to us.

Like the Transfiguration three weeks ago, today’s gospel is taking us through the curtain of grief and loss to a glimpse of our ultimate destiny. But only a glimpse. After Jesus had raised Lazarus from the tomb, Lazarus resumed life only to die again at some unspecified hour. When Jesus rose again it was to a transformed and eternal life united with God. In the words of St John’s first letter, “what we are to be in the future has not yet been revealed. All we know is that when it is revealed, we shall be like God, for we shall see him as he really is.” In the words of Jesus to Martha, do you believe this?

Happy Lent!

John

FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT
3rd April 2011

We use visual metaphors constantly. If I want to express my opinion, I can speak of my “point of view”; if I come to understand something, I might say, “Oh, now I see!” The Bible also uses language in the same way; light and darkness, seeing and blindness are regular images for belief and unbelief, wisdom and ignorance.

When Samuel is trying to discern which of Jesse’s sons is to be the future king, he naturally looks at the eldest and tallest son as the likely candidate, but God doesn’t go by outward appearances: “man looks at appearances, but the Lord looks at the heart”.

We need a different way of seeing, what the mystics call “the eye of the heart”. In the Eastern Orthodox tradition of icon veneration, a tradition happily being resurrected in the Western Church, you do not look at an icon; the icon looks at you. The eyes of Christ or the saint depicted often appear crossed; the Orthodox will tell you that one eye is turned to God, while the other is looking at you. That is exactly the attitude we should hope to acquire if we want to discern God’s will. I should want to see each person as God sees them, to look at them with the same loving and compassionate gaze of Christ.

Our eyes are designed to focus on an object where the rays of light from each eye meet. An optician once told me that the rays of light from the eyes of an icon are parallel; they meet in infinity (eternity, if you like). The words of a hymn come to mind: “Keep your eyes upon Jesus; let nobody else take his place, so that hour by hour you may know his power until you have run the great race.”

Happy Lent!

John

THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT
27th March 2011

In the cloister of Chester Cathedral there is a modern bronze sculpture of the scene in today’s gospel, the Samaritan woman at the well with Jesus. What struck me about it is that it left me asking the question: who is offering the drink? Is the woman giving the cup to Jesus, or Jesus to the woman? I believe the ambiguity is part of the message.

The story in the fourth chapter of St John opens with Jesus, exhausted, sitting by the well in the midday heat. He is thirsty. He is the first to speak: “Give me a drink.” A basic human need is the starting point of his teaching; he doesn’t come loaded with riches to distribute but with emptiness to be filled. In the feeding of the five thousand, Jesus also points out the emptiness: “Where can we get food to feed all these people?” and to his disciples’ consternation he replies: “Give them something to eat yourselves.”

As we look at our meagre resources and know that we cannot possibly meet the pressing needs of the world’s hunger alone, it begins to dawn on us that that is exactly what Jesus wants us to discover: our inadequacy and helplessness. His own thirst at the well, his thirst on the cross, becomes the opening through which we glimpse the passion of God for us – passionate love, ravenous for our hearts and minds. Are we willing to give him a drink – not just a cupful but pour our lives into his? And do we then find that his divine life flows into ours, and empowers us to feed the world – the emptier we are, the more space there is for the Spirit to fill?

Happy Lent!

John

SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT
20th March 2011

Sitting by the lake in the early afternoon, we listened to the ducks calling to each other as they fed among the reeds. Overhead a phalanx of geese honked as they flew in perfect formation. The water was still. As the silence settled and deepened, we gradually became aware of little rustling sounds in the undergrowth we had not noticed. Even the dog seemed to be tuned to the presence of silence; no-one was willing to break the spell it wove.

From the cloud the Father’s voice was heard: “This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to him.” The disciples who heard it fell on their faces in awesome fear. As when the people of Israel heard God’s voice thundering on Sinai, and said to Moses: “You tell us what God says; we are terrified of his voice,” so the disciples found Jesus more approachable than the mysterious voice from the cloud. Note that the Father didn’t say “Listen to me” but “Listen to him.” When we listen to Jesus speaking our human language in his words and actions, we are listening to God. is a time for listening. We need to find space and time for it – hoping it will happen by chance or pausing a few seconds before rushing off to the next activity will not work. We need a place where we can be quiet for a while – a room alone or a walk along the river, for instance – but only to rediscover the place within our heart where God waits for us. At first it can feel threatening, like the thunder on Mount Sinai. But if we persevere with listening to the terror within us as the silence deepens, a clear pool of peace begins to appear. Then we are ready to listen.

Happy Lent!

John

FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT
13th March 2011

There is a lovely hymn which comes to mind as I read today’s first reading:

In his own image God created man, and when from dust he fashioned Adam’s face, the likeness of his only Son was formed, his Word incarnate, full of truth and grace.

We were reminded on Ash Wednesday that we are but dust of the earth. Dust is nothing but a nuisance; we have dusters to remove it from our furniture and dustbins to put it in. But that useless commodity is the very stuff which God has taken and moulded beyond our dreams into the image of himself. When we look in the mirror, even before shaving or putting on make-up, we are looking at the image and likeness of God. When God looks at you and me, he cannot help but be reminded of Jesus.

Lent is the time given us each year to gaze into the mirror of our baptism and see how clearly Jesus is reflected. We need to grow in faith and love, and we will never do so without testing: am I living an authentic Christian life? When I was younger the test consisted of making sacrifices: if it was easy, it was probably a sin; if it was difficult and distasteful, it was more likely to be of God. Today we don’t have to go rummaging around for penances: life confronts us with them constantly. Temptation always looks good or we would never be attracted by it. It always puts the focus on us. And we are so absorbed by our fascination that we forget - the true good leads us to God via our service to others.

Look in the mirror now. If you can’t see Jesus, Lent isn’t over yet!

Happy Lent.

John

NINTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
6th March 2011

Jesus ends the Sermon on the Mount with a parable – in other words, a question. Parables are colourful stories which are designed to raise questions and get you thinking. The parable of the two men who built their houses respectively on rock and on sand asks us the question: which one are you? And what is the evidence for your answer?

Jesus’ teaching is worthless if I have not listened to it and if I do not put it into action. At present I am participating in a training course for spiritual directors. This month’s session took as its theme: Listening – to yourself, to others, and to God. To listen (in contrast to simply hearing) implies attention; it requires active engagement with the object of one’s listening. It is a form of love. To “love my neighbour as myself” is a command which means I can only love my neighbour to the extent I love myself; to listen to others I have first to listen to myself. And listening to God (a vital part of prayer) is most truly effective when I can listen to myself and to others in equal measure.

When we were buying the house where we now live, one of the questions we asked was: is it well built? Is it above the flood plain? Can it withstand the elements? The season of Lent begins again on Wednesday this week. If I am to live the Christian life and not simply go through the motions, then I have to ask myself: in practice, who or what is the foundation of my existence? Is it strong enough to withstand the storms of everyday life? And how do I access its resources? For me the traditional Lenten practices of prayer, fasting and works of mercy can be expressed as listening to God, listening to myself and listening to others – and finding God in each of them.

Happy Lent!

John

EIGHTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
27th February 2011

Last November we put in an offer to buy a beautiful old house on the Norfolk Broads, convinced that this was the property God wanted for us. To our delight the offer was accepted, and negotiations proceeded towards exchange of contracts around Christmas time. But the vendor began to hesitate, and in mid-January decided to take the house off the market.

It is easy to say that it wasn’t meant to be, that God had something better for us, or to express some similar sentiment, as a sort of consolation to soothe the disappointment. We can over-rationalise it or over-spiritualise it. But experience of God’s providence over the years has given me ample evidence of its truth. Two hours after the news that we had lost the house, another estate agent phoned unexpectedly and invited us to look at another property elsewhere. It was even better than the first one. To cut a long story short, we bought it and moved in this week, only a month after learning of its existence.

We want to control our destiny, to have some say in the shaping of our lives, and to see the foiling of our plans as disaster. To surrender our future into the hands of a capricious God may seem like folly; but to entrust our hopes and dreams to him is not to abrogate responsibility for the choices and decisions we alone can make. Providence plays her hand in our making of those choices. A prayer of St Ignatius Loyola expresses well this mysterious partnership between God and humankind: “Lord, help me to remember that there is nothing in this world that you and I cannot handle together.”

Worrying, says Jesus in today’s gospel, is unproductive. Only trust allows God full scope. How hard we find it to let go and let God.

God bless you and yours.

John

SEVENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
20th February 2011

The lex talionis or law of retaliation was introduced into Jewish Law to mitigate the effects of human vengeance. Among the peoples of the Middle East it was not uncommon to exact retribution for an offence by disproportionate means – for example, if someone stole your goat you were at liberty to take two or more of his. Lex talionis ensured a proportionate response: an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Even then, as has been wryly observed, the whole world would soon be blind and toothless!

Jesus introduced the revolutionary concept of no retaliation at all. “Turning the other cheek” has become the slogan for non-violent response. Indeed it goes even further: if you are forced to go one mile, not only do you go without resistance, but you calmly offer to double the mileage. While this teaching of Jesus is much admired, in practice we Christians are not good at doing it. We resent anyone taking advantage of us, and we don’t like being made to look foolish. So we rationalise Jesus’ words, claiming them as an example of Hebrew exaggeration to make a point.

A second-century homily speaks of the amazement of pagans who hear Christ’s words: “Love your enemies.” But when they see Christians not only not loving their enemies but hating their friends into the bargain, they dismiss this teaching as an old wives’ tale. Nothing much has changed there then! A generation ago there was still a vague respect for the Christian values of tolerance and forgiveness, but today taking revenge is acceptable and even applauded. The escalation of violence and confrontation, from road rage to terrorism, shows no signs of abating. The witness of love is the only antidote.

Try loving the enemy within you for a start.

God bless you and yours.

John

SIXTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
13th February 2011

“You have learned how it was said.... But I now say to you....”

This repeated formula Jesus uses in the Sermon on the Mount starts from the experience of his hearers. As Jews they are very familiar with the Torah, the Law enshrined in the first five books of the Bible, and particularly its essence distilled in the Ten Commandments. Even fifty years ago most people in Britain would know of the Ten Commandments and be able to name a couple of them; not so today. Just reflect a moment. How many of those who do know them actually observe them? Keeping the Sabbath? Honouring parents? Respecting human life? Remaining faithful in marriage? Respecting others’ property? Telling the truth? If we regard such moral imperatives as outdated or unworkable, as many do, we have lost the foundations on which the gospel we read today is based. Before we can pass on Jesus’ teaching which takes us believers to a new level of thinking and acting, we need to ask ourselves if our hearers have even reached to starting line.

That doesn’t mean we can stay at the level of simply keeping the law (“well, he didn’t actually die when I throttled him, so I didn’t break the fifth commandment!”). Jesus’ formula “but I say to you....” implies an invitation to go on a journey with him into new territory, like the disciples on the road to Emmaus. We identify with him, not merely his words. Who is speaking to us? How does he live? Is it really possible to transcend anger, be reconciled with enemies, build an atmosphere of trust instead of suspicion? If we believe that we have the power of the Spirit within us to do so, people may ridicule our efforts but only because they have noticed and are challenged by our behaviour. Perhaps they’ve reached the starting line.

God bless you and yours.

John

FIFTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
6th February 2011

God credits us with far more beauty, intelligence and possibilities than we could ever imagine. That should not be surprising because all we have is a gift from God in the first place; and he is never mean or parsimonious in his bounty. Any restrictions are caused by our lack of vision or faith, not God’s lack of generosity. From our perspective some people have more gifts than others, but God has no favourites and loves each of us with one hundred per cent of his being.

When Jesus informs his disciples that they are the light of the world, he is not exaggerating but affirming our calling to be his witnesses. St John has Jesus saying “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12); today in Matthew’s gospel he applies the same epithet to us. As he reveals God to us in human flesh, so in our fleshly human life we too reveal God to others. Our task is to accept that vocation by being available, not by hiding behind our unworthiness or perceived incompetence (often a disguise for cowardice or complacency). God’s light is in us; it is our duty to put ourselves where that light can be seen.

We are also referred to as “salt of the earth”. We use salt to complement food and enhance its flavour, and helping to preserve its freshness. The spirit of pessimism and discouragement has settled on our world like a wet rag; it’s as if we live under a blanket of depression. Hope, vision and vitality are sorely needed in this climate, and we have those very gifts to offer as Christian people, provided we don’t succumb to the pervasive cloud of negativity. What an opportunity is ours if we can show others that beyond the cloud is the Sun of justice, lifting us from our confusion and fear to the Light who is Christ.

God bless you and yours.

John

FOURTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
30th January 2011

It is said that “actions speak louder than words” but if word and action are in harmony then words have a greater power. The perfect integration of word and action is in the person of Jesus, encapsulated in John’s profound formula: “the Word was made flesh”. Jesus’ ministry is characterised by his teaching and healing, which are not separate compartments of his life; through his sublime teaching he consoled, challenged and healed, and through his healing miracles he taught us of God’s compassionate love.

In Matthew’s gospel, the evangelist intersperses collections of Jesus’ sayings with collections of healing stories. The first major collection of sayings (chapters 5 – 7) known as the Sermon on the Mount begins with the Beatitudes. The Beatitudes are not simply statements – they are invocations, calling down God’s blessing on those who live them. And the list of beneficiaries is at first glance an unlikely bunch. Can I find myself among them?

In order to receive a blessing I must be open to it, to have a “blessing-shaped hole” within me. To be poor in spirit I have to “know my need of God”, as one of the intercessions in the Divine Office puts it. To be gentle and meek I have to acknowledge my inadequacies, and be sensitive to others when it’s tempting to harden my heart. To be a mourner I need to know grief, loss, and aching emptiness. To hunger and thirst for righteousness, I have to have an appetite for the truth as if I were starving for it. The blessings Jesus promise complete what is lacking in us. The remaining four Beatitudes describe the attitudes I adopt when the emptiness of the first four has been filled by God: the capacity to be forgiving, non-judgemental, single-hearted and patient in suffering.

Hmmm.... I’ve a long way to go!

God bless you and yours.

John

SECOND SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MATTHEW
Peace Sunday
16th January 2011

The news this week has been pretty grim – militant extremists in Pakistan, riots in Tunisia, tension between Israelis and Arabs in the Gaza strip, and political upheavals plus an attempted assassination in Arizona, USA. The news is usually an account of atrocities rather than niceties. The volatility and unpredictability of human nature is more challenging than its kindness and generosity. The latter makes us more secure: the former more watchful and unsettled; so we need to assess our response to it.

Assessing our response and acting according to it is called responsibility. If our reading of the situation is that these events are nothing to do with us and how dare they upset us – or worse, we ignore them completely and comfort ourselves that they’re somebody else’s problem – then we have failed our responsibility. St Dorotheus, a sixth-century abbot, famously observed that “if we examine the matter closely, we will find that the reason for all disturbance is that no-one blames himself”. If everyone accepted responsibility for their actions, great or small, the world would be a far more peaceful place. Blame is the name of the game.

Our readiness to be at the disposal of God’s will, not our own agenda, is at the heart of the Christian life. John the Baptist was prepared to diminish to let Christ take centre stage. Are we prepared to let go of our own desires and dreams when they are in conflict with the gospel’s demands? And even when they are not, does not the Lord call us to give more when we are tempted to draw back? It is that spirit, born of love, which will ultimately bring peace to our world. Until then, there will always be bad news.

God bless you and yours.

John

THE BAPTISM OF THE LORD
9th January 2011

Somewhat anxiously, I was persuaded at the age of twelve to attend swimming lessons after school at the local swimming pool. The teacher I was supposed to have never seemed to have much time, so his more advanced pupils were asked to help me. One well-meaning lad of fourteen was supporting me as I tried to float as instructed; he inadvertently let go and I sank into the water before he realised what was happening. I never did learn to swim....

Baptism is about drowning. It involves surrendering our lives to God, trusting that he will uphold us and keep us afloat. But it is much more than that. It is our identifying ourselves with Christ in such a way that his life, death and resurrection are manifested in our daily living. What happens when we entrust ourselves to the loving arms of God, only to find ourselves sinking into the deep, like Peter’s attempt to walk on water? What happens when, like Jesus, our surrender leads us to crucifixion and death?

As the three young men are about to be consigned to the fiery furnace for refusing to worship the statue of King Nebuchadnezzar (Daniel 3), the king taunts them: “Where is the god who can save you from my power?” Their reply is to affirm that if God is able to save them, he will; “and even if he does not”, they will not serve any other. Salvation doesn’t always feel like it; it is not a magic formula but a living growing relationship with a God who leads us, as he did Jesus on earth, by mysterious ways. The Son of God at his baptism in the Jordan submitted to the Father’s will and committed himself to seeing it through. We are called to do the same through our baptism.

God bless you and yours.

John

THE EPIPHANY OF THE LORD
2nd January 2011

In the week leading to Christmas, BBC1 TV broadcast Nativity, a dramatic presentation in four half-hour sessions of the events from the engagement of Mary and Joseph to the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem. What came across for me was the complexity of the relationship between Mary and Joseph, especially with the unexpected conception of Jesus, and the way that relationship developed. Clearly, in human terms, they could not have survived the crisis without trust – total trust in God and in each other.

Today’s feast highlights the mysterious Magi and the trust they showed by travelling into foreign lands without a clear idea of exactly how far they had to go or how long it would take. Our own journey through life is like that too, and the gift of faith in God is the fuel to keep us going in trust. The relationships between the wise men themselves, between them and the people they left behind in the east, and with the people they meet on the way, are the testing ground of faith in practice. Their enthusiasm and perseverance in following the star, despite the raised eyebrows or ridicule of many, must have had an effect on some at least.

Part of our trouble today is the tame apologetic way we witness to our Christian faith. If we’re afraid of upsetting others, we’ve lost the plot. Half-heartedness witnesses to nothing except our lack of faith. The world needs to know that God is where we really are, with all our attendant problems and anxieties. By our love, forgiveness, patience and hope, seasoned with a sense of humour, we can create an atmosphere which leads others to ask about our God in Jesus. If trust and loving relationships can be sustained through faith in such a God, there are plenty of people who long to know it. Who will show them?

Happy New Year!

John

FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT
19th December 2010

Christmas is traditionally a time for tradition. There is something about the preparation for and celebration of Christmas which is deeply conservative; exchanging greetings cards, decorating the house, dressing the tree, what we do or who we visit on Christmas Day, festive meals, the giving and receiving of gifts. Even religion gets a look-in here; it’s cool to go to church at Christmas, and even those who don’t go that far are quite happy singing carols. It’s all the more poignant, then, when a change of circumstances, such as bereavement or redundancy, makes the festive season very difficult to endure, and those put in that position feel out of joint.

They could take some heart from today’s gospel. Mary, engaged to Joseph, suddenly finds she is pregnant. All the carefully scheduled wedding plans, the dreams of the future which looked so predictable and joyful, are cast into confusion. Yes, a child expected should bring joy, but this one is unexpected.... And the spectre of fear hovers because she might (wrongly) be accused of adultery, which carries the death penalty by stoning.

Joseph could have washed his hands of her and left her to her fate. But he took the plunge and had the courage to accept the unexpected by marrying her and welcoming the Child as his own. We too can walk away from our responsibilities, ignoring the needs of neighbour as we seek the easy option, the quick fix. But in doing that we close the door of our hearts and narrow the field of our vision. Thank God, Mary and Joseph did not do that. Thank God, God did not wash his hands of us but entered our world in the most unexpected way and in the least expected place. Surely, welcoming the unexpected should be part of the Christmas tradition.

God bless you and yours this Christmas.

John

THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT
12th December 2010

If and when the Messiah appeared on the earth, how would the Jewish people recognise him? What evidence are they looking for to prove he is the Chosen One of God? According to Isaiah, the blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dumb will speak and the lame will dance. In other words, sorrow will be turned to joy and the broken will be restored to wholeness.

In Jesus we see the One who came to do this and much more. His life and ministry are characterised by two cardinal activities: teaching and healing. And in his name today, his Body the Church continues to witness to the presence of God in our midst through those same activities.

During this last week I watched the Panorama programme on BBC1 about the number of people, especially teenagers, addicted to computer games. It seems that while many diseases have been cured and even eradicated by medical science, there are always new ones to take their place – and that applies to mental as well as physical afflictions. What Jesus, and in his name the Church, does is to be available as a channel of healing in its widest sense; how does one bring peace to a soul tormented by compulsive computer games, for example?

Because the Church, being human, is in need of healing herself as well as ministering it, our first action is to walk alongside the broken and the sinful and not stand apart in judgement or condescension. Compassion is its name. Isn’t that what we are preparing for in Advent – the coming of a God who enters a smelly stable and is denied shelter so that we can welcome him in the computer addict and discern the Christ beneath the unlovely surface?

God bless you and yours.

John

SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT
5th December 2010

Winter has come early to Norfolk. A generous covering of snow has settled over this corner of the land, transforming the landscape and hampering travel. Picturesque it certainly is; but everything looks different. Familiar landmarks have disappeared. You stop and think more carefully about your journey.

Advent is like that too. We are asked to look at our lives from a new perspective. Instead of moving from day to day according to our usual routine, we are invited to look where we’re going. Our ultimate destination is the Kingdom. And as we pass the milestones decked with unfamiliar snow, we stop and notice them: prayer, sacraments, the word of God, service of our neighbour, the fruits of the Spirit. In Advent our journey towards Christ is matched by his journey to meet us in the Incarnation.

Isaiah in last week’s reading spoke of transforming instruments of war into agricultural tools – swords into ploughshares, spears into sickles. What destructive attitudes do we need to change into constructive virtues? Similarly, this Sunday he speaks of the restoration of peace in creation: the lion and lamb in friendship, the toddler able to play with poisonous snakes unharmed. This is indeed an unfamiliar landscape and, we might think, somewhat naive. But isn’t this what Christ came to bring about? What could be more naive than the Son of God helpless and vulnerable in a stable? Our own faltering steps in an icy terrain may be tentative and careful, and people may caution us to stay at home; but if we are on the right way Jesus will come to meet us, for he is the Way.

Prepare the way of the Lord, we are told. As I shovel the snow from my doorstep, I meet Christ who has already made his way to the door of my heart.

God bless you and yours.

John

FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT
28th November 2010

As we begin another Advent, the Church’s year has not simply turned full circle but has moved on to a new starting place. T.S. Eliot’s famous lines from his poem Little Gidding come to mind: “the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” We are not the same people who began Advent 2009; we see things a little differently now. The Christian year is not a circle but a spiral. We arrive at the same place but at a different level of experience and understanding.

The image in the first reading of the people of Israel going up the hill to the Temple mount in Jerusalem reflects the idea of the Christian life as an ascent. St John of the Cross describes the stages of the spiritual life like this in his Ascent of Mount Carmel. I recall a holiday in the Italian Tyrol where the church sat on the summit of a mountain, and as the sound of the bell rang clear across the valley on Sunday morning, the congregation climbed from all sides to converge on the summit for Mass.

Where are we going? What is the focus of our path in life? John of the Cross also coined the phrase (in the title of his work) The Dark Night of the Soul, when the way is less clear and fearfully unknown; Blessed John Henry Newman wrote: “the night is dark, and I am far from home: lead thou me on.” Darkness is sometimes of our own making, as we refuse to be led by the light of faith; but if we are genuinely seeking God it is inevitable that we will be led into the cloud of unknowing. Will our Advent see us seeking new ways or settling for the safety of the comfort zone?

God bless you and yours.

John

SOLEMNITY OF CHRIST THE KING
21st November 2010

The recent massacre of Iraqi Christians as they gathered for Sunday Mass in a church in Baghdad is not just a crime against the Church but against all humanity. All people of faith, of whichever religion, feel it especially. The perpetrators of such violence, whatever justification they claim for their actions, are not people of faith, because ultimately all religion is about enhancing the quality of life God has bestowed on us, not about destroying it. This was brought home to me this week when I attended an interfaith meeting. An Orthodox Jewish rabbi, an Islamic Sufi mystic, a Hindu and a Buddhist were all happy to agree that faith unites far more than divides us. However we understand God, God is not into violence – that’s projecting our human prejudices on to God.

Today’s feast proclaiming the Lordship of Jesus portrays him in the gospel as a victim of human violence. The attitude of the two criminals crucified with him conveys nicely the contrasting approaches to crucial issues in life. The first reacts angrily, taking out his own frustration and despair on Jesus by taunting him. It is easy to blame God when things don’t work out for us. It’s not so easy to be like Jesus and accept the unjustified venom that his followers sometimes receive in his name. The “good thief” counters the other with a more reflective awareness of his predicament. His change of heart as he faces his imminent death leads him to look at Jesus more than himself. In throwing himself on the mercy of God, he enters paradise.

A kingdom of truth and life, of holiness and grace, of justice, love and peace is how the Preface of today’s Mass describes Jesus’ kingdom. Can this be seen in the lives we lead as subjects of the King of kings?

God bless you and yours.

John

THIRTY-THIRD SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
Remembrance Sunday
14th November 2010

While Pope Benedict was in Spain last week, I found myself in Rome. The wonderful thing about Rome is the sheer number of churches, ancient monuments, and works of art one comes across at every street corner – and walking is by far the best way to appreciate this. Naturally as a Christian pilgrim I had come ad limina Apostolorum to venerate the apostles Peter and Paul, and one of the most special moments was the visit to the excavations beneath the high altar of St Peter’s Basilica, where the bones of the Big Fisherman himself were on view. The thought that the huge magnificence of St Peter’s, and its central place in Rome and in the whole Catholic world, is built upon these humble fragments of a human life, I find very moving.

The significance of Peter’s life is beyond question, but were you to tell Peter while he lived that he would have such an impact on world history, he would probably laugh. Remembrance Sunday bids us recall those who sacrificed their lives in war. Few of those who did so would recognise the significance of what they did; they may even, like Peter, not consider they had done a particularly good job. But now we can put those lives into a wider context.

Jesus in today’s gospel teaches us not to look at the immediate surface impressions (such as the facade of the Temple or St Peter’s Basilica) but at the ultimate purpose of our existence. Like the bones in an obscure wall cavity under a basilica, we may not look much. He invites us to catch a glimpse of his divine perspective which raises our ultimate purpose beyond our imagining. And that, I believe, is worth remembering and living by.

God bless you and yours.

John

THIRTY-FIRST SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
7th November 2010

There is a wonderful line in the first reading today which reverses our usual thinking and describes beautifully the process celebrated in the sacrament of reconciliation. “Lord, you overlook our sins so that we can repent.” We tend to think that we have to repent before God forgives us. But repentance is a process of conversion which can’t even start unless God has overlooked our sins. What a great word, “overlooked”! It’s almost as if God connives at our sinfulness, turning a blind eye and refusing to judge in order to leave us free to change.

In the gospel, Jesus doesn’t say to Zacchaeus, “Tell God you’re sorry, put your life in order, and then I might think of entering your house.” No, he simply observes Zacchaeus’ behaviour before they meet; the tax-collector is desperate to see Jesus but is terrified of being seen. Conversion is like that: you feel torn between going back and going forward. The very fact of the dilemma illustrates that grace is at work. Zacchaeus’ repentance is clear before he has uttered a word.

As he tumbles out of the sycamore tree in front of the jeering crowd, he finds the unconditional welcome of Jesus a lifeline in the sea of condemnation. The judgement and condemnation of others does nothing to help our conversion – often it does exactly the opposite. Indeed it is our judges who show themselves in need of conversion – and they are the last to see it.

Our relationship with Jesus will inevitably lead us to being more compassionate, forgiving and generous because we recognise those qualities in the way God in Christ has revealed himself to us. Zacchaeus was set free and spontaneously and publicly expressed his freedom by giving generously to the poor as well as making restitution for his cheating.

Do we set others free by our loving acceptance or bind them and ourselves by our condemnation?

God bless you and yours.

John

ALL SAINTS
31st October 2010

Who are the people who light up your life? Who do you look to for inspiration? And what is it about them that touches you?

The answer to those questions will tell you as much about yourself as about those you admire. Those we love and respect hold a mirror to our deepest desires and appeal to the best in us. Few of us have an ambition to be nasty, evil and thoroughly bad. Even our temptation to sin is born not out of the nastiness of the sin but the goodness and the pleasure it promises to give, however disordered. No, we want to grow in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness and so on.... but we often find the achievement of those qualities falls short and we can lose heart, settling for a second-rate holiness with a sigh of regret.

That’s why we need the inspiration and stimulus of others who are clearly modelling the fullness of life, love and service we seek. Not everyone will have all the gifts we admire; perhaps one person always seems hospitable, another always seems to have time for us, another whose heroism in coping with a sick child or a family tragedy moves us to be more patient – the examples are endless. These are the people we call saints.

Today’s feast celebrates them and all who have gone before us on the path of the gospel. The Church chooses some of the more remarkable women, men and even children of the last two thousand years to illuminate our own journey: the recent beatification of John Henry Newman adds one more to an illustrious throng. But never forget that you too are called to sainthood. For all that you admire in others, there are others who are inspired by you. Allow the best in you to shine out in the gloom of a November day!

God bless you and yours.

John

THIRTIETH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
24th October 2010

As I read again the familiar story of the Pharisee and the tax collector praying in the Temple, I am reminded of the distance between them. They both stood to pray at the same time in the same Temple, but “some distance away” from each other. This implies not simply physical but spiritual distance. Their attitudes to prayer were poles apart. Note that the Pharisee said his prayer “to himself”. This could imply humility in that he doesn’t boast aloud of his virtue. But I suspect Jesus meant that his thoughts were directed at his own internal God, his ego. The God he felt he served so faithfully was obviously on the same level as himself, so familiar as to be too familiar. “I am not like the rest of mankind,” he says. “Holiness is not easy, but when you get there you’re really someone!”

By contrast, the tax collector notes the distance, not between him and the Pharisee, but between him and God. He is a sinner and he knows it. He doesn’t need a Pharisee to remind him. He has no good works or personal goodness to offer. He has nothing to lose, least of all a reputation. He is nothing and God is everything. All he can do is throw himself totally on the mercy of his Creator.

I confess there is more of the Pharisee in my prayer than I would care to admit. Spiritual ambition can make me covetous of holiness, humbly congratulating myself at receiving God’s blessings. Or it can make me despair of getting anywhere in the spiritual life and make do with routine religion, thinking that God (namely me!) doesn’t believe I’m up to it.

Once I’m out of the picture and everything is surrendered into the hands of the God I can’t control or manipulate, the real prayer can begin. How often do I have to learn that!

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-NINTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
17th October 2010

They say that moving house is one of the most stressful times in life. Not only are the weeks of packing beforehand and unpacking at the other end (in addition to the moving day itself) the problem. The process of launching a house into the sea of the property market, watching it being tossed about between estate agents and potential buyers, and waiting for the unforeseen moment when an offer is made, is only part of the story. There’s no guarantee that the offer, once accepted, may not be withdrawn at any moment. And if and when the sale is agreed and all comes safely to harbour, it’s time to launch out to sea again to seek the house of your dreams.... or at least the one which your limited resources can buy.

Moses needed a great deal of stamina to keep his arms raised in prayer. In fact he could not have done it alone; he relied on Aaron and Hur to hold them up. We need each other in the Christian community to sustain our faith and prayer. Who are the people who hold up your tired arms and steady your trembling knees in the dark times of life?

Jesus promises us that our prayers are always heard, even when it doesn’t look like it. But we will never see the hand of God at work without faith. Faith enables us to persevere and not give up; it reaches out to hope beyond hope and feeds on prayer, Scripture and the example of others’ faith-filled lives and actions. In the maze of life, as in the process of house-buying, we need a clear and consistent guide. In the immortal words of Blessed John Henry Newman:

Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom: lead thou me on.

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-EIGHTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
10th October 2010

While leprosy still affects more people on this planet that most realise, the isolation and stigma associated with it have ensured the word “leper” has a universal significance. In the time of Jesus, when leprosy was more prevalent and visible, the terror of catching it led people to ensure its victims were shunned, driven into ghettos; where they did appear in public places, they had to wear their hair dishevelled and shout “Unclean! Unclean!” to give warning of their approach. It reminds me of the plight of Jews in Nazi Germany, forced to wear a prominent yellow Star of David and be ridiculed by passers-by. Nearer home, I think of the Irish Traveller community who are judged and condemned for being different.

How does Jesus relate to lepers? We see him going out of his way to meet them. He travels along the border between Samaria and Galilee; he goes to the margins to meet the marginalised, he identifies with the outcast by entering their ghetto. But he doesn’t simply feel sorry for their plight; he challenges them to have faith. “Have you the courage,” he says in effect, “do you trust me enough to believe you are cured, and prove it by going to the priest as if you were?” Someone at last believed in them and gave them hope.

One of their number, however, was a Samaritan. As a leper he shared the same lot as the other nine who were Jews. Once they were cured, he is no longer one of them; he is an outcast again. Yet he is the one to return and thank Jesus, who accepts him unconditionally.

Who are the lepers and outcasts in your life, whom you keep at arms’ length or choose to ignore?

God bless you and yours.

John

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TWENTY-SEVENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
3rd October 2010

Sometimes I think we Christians have a better strategy for sorting the world’s problems than God has. Why God doesn’t take our advice and act more positively is a mystery that has puzzled humankind long before Christ appeared on earth; once Jesus came and revealed the way of the cross, we began to see things differently but were still bewildered and angry at injustice.

Habakkuk in today’s first reading expresses well this helplessness at the evil state of the world. Outrage and tyranny, oppression and violence are all he sees; “why don’t you DO something, God?” he seems to cry. But instead of reacting precipitously, he decides to watch and wait to see how the Lord will respond. We have no idea how long he had to wait. But eventually he got a reply, in which God said: “Don’t give up. Go on waiting... eventually, however slowly it happens, the will of God will prevail. Keep faithful. Only with faith in me will you be able to persevere when all seems dark and uncertain.”

The apostles in the gospel instinctively know their need of faith, and ask Jesus to increase it. But Jesus points out that it doesn’t matter how little faith you have: the tiniest drop is enough to do amazing things. Faith is proved in action. If you want faith, all you have to do is act as if you have faith, and you have it!

Theologians make a distinction between faith as an assent to a set of beliefs, and faith that really expects God to act, however unlikely it may look. It is this latter type of faith we need to exercise daily, looking to Jesus as the one who enables us to move mountains – or at least mulberry trees...

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-SIXTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
26th September 2010

Poverty has many faces. Mother Teresa famously commented that she had met more poverty on the streets of London and New York than she had in the slums of Calcutta. Spiritual and emotional poverty was worse than material poverty in her eyes. The psychological and emotional distress of a refugee from Darfur or a flood victim from Pakistan may indeed flow from material deprivation and displacement. But financial and material security does not guarantee happiness. Those who amass fortunes seem never to be happy unless they can have more – and they can never have enough. Paradoxically, greed is a form of poverty.

When we can appreciate and be grateful for the simplest things, then we discover our true riches. In today’s gospel the poor man Lazarus suffered hunger and disease at the gates of a rich man’s house; his only relief came from the dogs that licked his sores. The rich man in Hades would have been satisfied with a drop of water on his tongue. Perhaps one of the hallmarks of our Western society is an expectation of getting all we want; when recession hits and we can’t get it, we become angry and blame anything and anyone but our own self-seeking. Gratitude is not smugness that we have got our way; it is a realisation that everything, from the air we breathe to the world we inhabit, is a gift from God. And the smaller the thing we say “thank you” for, the greater our wonder, the greater our genuine riches.

The gap between rich and poor in our world is as wide as ever. Global media ensures we can’t forget it, thank God. But what is our response? Are we more concerned to preserve our own status quo as a precondition of helping the poor?

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
19th September 2010

On the occasion of Pope Benedict’s Visit to Britain

There is something hugely satisfying in seeing the Pope walking on British soil, entering places of great historical and political importance to the British people, and above all engaging with the whole range of our country’s life, not just the Catholic community. Rome has come to London, Edinburgh, Birmingham; and Catholics, who were beginning to find their central place in national life under Cardinal Hume and whose confidence had wavered under the clergy abuse scandal and relentless media battering, can now raise their heads again and rejoice to be English, Welsh or Scottish citizens witnessing to a living vibrant faith.

The beatification of Cardinal John Henry Newman which takes place today in Birmingham has a particular significance for ecumenism and for owning a specifically English Catholic genius. As an Anglican Newman discovered Catholicism and endeavoured to nurture its central place in the Church of England through the Oxford Movement. His intuition was right, but ahead of its time; the Anglican Church as a whole could bear the implications but not the logical consequences of a rapprochement with Rome. Newman had to choose, and he chose Rome in 1845. On Friday the wistful possibilities of unity between Canterbury and Rome were touched upon by the Archbishop of Canterbury in his address to Pope Benedict in Westminster Abbey; but the reality remains a dream.

I too recently had to make a decision which involved choosing one of two options I believe should not be mutually exclusive: priesthood and celibacy. I don’t expect it will lead to my beatification! But I find a kindred spirit in John Henry Newman who held such store by the primacy of conscience. Blessed John, pray for us!

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
12th September 2010

They say moving house is one of the most stressful experiences in life, and having just done so, I can believe them. In the process the material contents of your life are packed away and then unpacked in a new environment. Not only do you wonder where something was packed, but once unpacked, where did you put it?

Today’s wonderful gospel relates Luke’s three parables of losing and finding: the lost sheep, the lost coin, the lost son. What is it about these stories, especially the third, that makes them justly famous? All three – the sheep, the coin, the son – were missed. They didn’t disappear into oblivion and nobody noticed or cared. It is precisely because they were precious, vital and left a significant gap that led to a search. Nothing was complete until they were restored, whether the sheep, the coin or the son realised it or not.

And with restoration, when the lost have been found, there is celebration. The relief and joy of repatriation outweighs the pain of loss. One almost thinks the reaction is disproportionate. Who would celebrate the safe recovery of a gold coin, only to spend it on coffee and cakes to celebrate with the neighbours? Who would throw an extravagant party for a returned prodigal who had caused such grief?

Losing something or someone makes us realise their true worth. God recognises the true worth of every human being, and he is always looking out for us. A little sparrow falling to the ground matters to God, and Jesus says that in God’s eyes we are worth hundreds of sparrows (Luke 12:7). Fortunately, even when we try to run away from him and get lost, God never forgets us, and will make any excuse for us. If Jesus gave his life for us on the cross, nothing will stop him loving us.

God bless you and yours.

John

TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
22nd August 2010

Recently I paid my first visit to Lisieux in Normandy, to the shrine of St Therese. The huge basilica on top of a hill seems out of keeping with the “Little Flower” and her teaching on humility. Once inside, however, her heroic life unfolds through a series of side chapels dedicated to the different stages of her story; a bite-sized quotation from her autobiography illustrates each one. Her greatness lay in doing ordinary things extraordinarily well. She spent nine years as a Carmelite nun before a long slow death from TB at the age of twenty-four. In the words of today’s reading from Hebrews, suffering was part of her training, and how well she teaches us through it. Hers is no saccharine spirituality but the devastating openness of a child; try as you might, you cannot avoid the directness of her innocence matured by trial. “Try your best to enter by the narrow door,” are the words of Jesus in response to the enquirer in today’s gospel. These words of Jesus sound restrictive. Doesn’t God want everyone to enter the kingdom? Why not a wide open way without the barrier of a door?

Another gospel image comes to mind: the gate of the sheepfold (John 10). Sheep were protected from the ravages of wolves by the sheepfold, which had one narrow entrance through which one sheep could pass at a time. And the gate was the shepherd himself who lay in the gap at night to guard his flock; then “one by one he calls his own sheep and leads them out” (John 10:3).

One by one we enter the kingdom. We enter by the narrow door of the cross, the “little way” of St Therese of Lisieux. May we have the courage and humility to take that path.

God bless you and yours.

John

THE ASSUMPTION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY
15th August 2010

Where is your life leading? Are you looking forward in hope or fearful of the future? Do you see death as the extinction of your life or the fulfilment of it? Do you even want to think about it?

Today’s feast sheds some light on a shadowy place and lifts the veil of mystery over our ultimate destination. Mary’s entry into glory is not simply one individual’s homecoming to God but a firm promise that all human beings are fully realised in our heavenly homeland. Indeed, that is what heaven is: the fulfilment of our human potential in the One whose image and likeness we bear. The paradox is that death is simultaneously the loss of life and the fullness of life.

Mary’s surrender of herself to God from the moment she made her fiat to her last breath models our own faith journey, surrendering ourselves into God’s hands by seeking to do his will, and finding our true selves in doing so. The more we enter into God, the more complete and integrated we become. This flies in the face of the contemporary desire for self-centredness and pleasure and power which is the opposite of love.

Mary’s Magnificat describes the result of living this amazing love. Human values are turned upside-down; God looks on us in our nothingness, and we are not ashamed or embarrassed at our weakness; it only makes us marvel at God’s greatness in loving us just as we are. And it is that love which makes us realise, as Mary did, the true worth of our human nature.

Mary, teach the joy of following your Son by allowing each moment of our lives to be open to his grace. Then we too will experience the homecoming of a fulfilled life in the eternal company of heaven.

God bless you and yours.

John

SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
25th July 2010

Why is prayer often hard work? Surely you would think that if God loves us so much God would be falling over him/herself to hear and answer us. Yet often the heartfelt pleas we make in the most desperate of situations seem to fall on deaf ears. As a result too many of us give up on prayer and our faith withers from lack of exercise. How many atheists are really disappointed believers?

The first reading today about Abraham persuading God to be merciful presents prayer as manipulation of the divinity, like Jesus’ parable of the importunate widow (Luke 18:1-8). Prayer then is an attempt to change God’s mind, to get God on our side. No wonder it’s hard work - little puny me against the Creator of the universe! Not a chance!

Ruth Burrows in her book The Essence of Prayer alerts us to the truth that prayer is ninety-nine percent what God does and one percent us. To pray is to put on the mind of Christ, to get under his skin as it were, and to see things from a divine perspective. The nearest thing to manipulative prayer in the life of Jesus was his prayer in Gethsemane: “Father, if possible take this suffering away from me.” Jesus acknowledges the intolerable pain of his anguish and begs to be rid of it. He’s not a masochist. But he goes on to say: “But not my will, but yours.” Father, you know what you’re doing when I don’t, and I trust you. Are we prepared to surrender our will into God’s hands? Do we trust God enough?

St Therese of Lisieux wrote: “God always gives me what I want – or rather, God makes me want what he’s going to give me.” Every time we pray the Lord’s prayer we are not advancing our kingdom, but his. Surrender is not giving up but giving in to God. And our wills do not give in without a fight – our ego is the last bastion against the incursions of Love.

God bless you and yours.

John

SIXTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
18th July 2010

What would you do if twenty strangers turned up on your doorstep unannounced? Would you invite them in and entertain them to dinner or (politely or otherwise) suggest they try elsewhere? In the Middle East, Africa and many other parts of the world, a tradition going back thousands of years obliges the first option. I was one of twenty travellers through the Sinai desert in 1998 who “dropped in” on Sheikh Barakat and his family without warning, and he shared with us what food and drink he had, even though it meant he had nothing for himself. Hospitality is sacred. The three men who turned up at Abraham and Sarah’s tent at midday had Abraham’s full attention; he abandoned everything he was doing and gave them of his best. Early Christians were reminded of this tradition; St Paul said “you should make hospitality your special care” (Romans 12:13) while Hebrews 13:2 says: “and remember always to welcome strangers, for by doing this, some people have entertained angels without knowing it”.

By contrast, when Jesus visits the home of Martha and Mary, he is no stranger but a regular visitor, an honoured guest. But unlike Abraham Martha does not give her guest total attention; she is too busy with her own agenda. Her sister Mary, however, gives the Lord her eyes and her ears. Ignoring Martha’s pleas for help, she knows exactly where she should be. And Jesus takes her part.

Like Martha, so much distracts me. Around me the phone rings incessantly, emails need answering, arrangements need making. Inside me I worry about priorities, try to juggle appointments, wonder about the future. But when I sit before the Lord in prayer and give him my eyes, my ears, my heart and my mind, I begin to glimpse the one thing necessary; instead of berating myself and tying myself in knots, I find peace and a clearer perspective by gently focussing on the presence of Jesus.

Offer him the hospitality of your heart. Don’t send him off because you’re busy.

God bless you and yours.

John

FIFTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
11th July 2010

Last week I went to Wintershall near Guildford in Surrey to see the annual outdoor production of the “Life of Christ”. Since 2000 Peter Hutley has been inspired to use his extensive estate in a fold of the North Downs as the setting for a dramatic re-telling of the gospel story from the Annunciation to the Resurrection. From 10am to 4pm the costume drama carries the audience along in such a way that very quickly you realise you are not a spectator but a participant – like the liturgy. For example, Act Two concluded with the Feeding of the Five Thousand. “Where can we find bread to feed these people?” challenges Jesus. And suddenly we (the audience of about a thousand people) are being asked if we have any food to spare.... and it’s just before the lunch break. There’s enough for everyone, of course, with lots left over.

Today’s parable of the Good Samaritan is a lesson in being non-judgemental. To the question “who is my neighbour?” we cannot exclude anyone. Hence Jesus can say “love your enemies” because they too are neighbours. Who isn’t?

The parable highlights our need for compassion towards others. Our neighbour is particularly our concern when he/she is in need. Cultivating an attitude of awareness is crucial to noticing the need. But more is wanted; the priest and Levite noticed the mugged victim but passed by. It was the Samaritan who did the loving thing. Need without deed is empty indeed.

Watching scenes from the Life of Christ or reading his sublime teaching is only fruitful if I endeavour to respond in action. I can write about love and compassion for you to read, but unless I am living a loving life I am a clashing cymbal.

God bless you and yours.

John

FOURTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
4th July 2010

Lord, you sent out your disciples in pairs to prepare the ground for the seed of your word. You didn’t go with them; you gave them instructions about what to do, then left them to it. What trust you showed in them! If it was me, I think I would have been terrified to face that task without your presence.

And yet you didn’t expect us to do it alone, any more than your Father didn’t leave you on your own. You sent us with a companion, “in pairs”, like the disciples on the road to Emmaus. It means we have support, to check with each other that we’re on the right road, that we’re on the same mission; and we can challenge each other if we are tempted to disobey your instructions or compromise your gospel, and comfort one another in times of darkness or uncertainty.

Lord, we do not imagine we can convert the world to your gospel in five minutes; nor do we despair of the enormous task you have entrusted to us. In our world today, there is simultaneously a strong current of self-seeking ambition, violence, cynicism and despair, often expressed as rejection of you; but also a deep hunger, a craving for meaning and purpose beyond ourselves, a spiritual transcendence which, far from escaping from life, stretches the horizons of our human hope to its fulfilment.

How do we service that hunger, Lord? How do we speak to our time in a way that is relevant and attractive? If I am not fired with the way you relate to me in prayer, in word, in sacrament, in loving others and in receiving their love, then I will never learn the language of evangelisation.

God bless you and yours.

John

THIRTEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
27th June 2010

Every now and then I find there’s a word or phrase in the gospels that stands out afresh, that makes me sit up and take notice. It’s not that I’ve never seen it before; it’s just that, at this moment, I am open to understand it anew, or that God is giving me a nudge in a certain direction.

At the beginning of today’s gospel, Jesus “resolutely” takes the road to Jerusalem where he will suffer and die on a cross. The word reveals something of Jesus’ inner conviction. It implies Jesus has come to a decision after considering the challenges of the road ahead, fully aware of the cost. Now he goes forward with purpose and courage, which does not rule out fear and trepidation – he wouldn’t be human if he didn’t blanch at the horror of its outcome.

In the major decision I have taken which has radically altered the direction of my life, I too know I must go forward resolutely. It is not a fatalistic journey, as if I have no say in the matter; nor is it undertaken blindly or selfishly. It is confidence born of faith which sustains me, the presence of Someone who loves and cherishes me, who has been this way before, and invites my loving trust in his abiding companionship. Without that relationship I can go nowhere, just as Jesus was sustained by his Father’s abiding presence. And just as Jesus on the road to Jerusalem encouraged others to join him but challenged those who only wanted to do so on their own terms, so I have to continue to look to him for strength and continue to discern each stage of the journey.

As St Augustine said, sing up and keep on walking!

John

ELEVENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF LUKE
13th June 2010

When Simon the Pharisee invited Jesus to his house for a meal, one wonders what was in his mind. Normal Jewish hospitality would include a greeting on arrival with a kiss of peace, the host (or his servant) washing the guest’s feet, and honouring his presence by anointing him with perfumed oil (on the head, the feet, or both). None of these courtesies was shown to Jesus; he simply walks in from the street and takes his place at table – one suspects the lowest place.

Was Simon trying to embarrass Jesus, or because of Jesus’ reputation as a prophet and healer simply showing him off to his friends? Whatever the reasons, it gets worse. A prostitute wanders in from the street and starts paying attention to Jesus in a most unseemly way in front of Simon and his guests. Now who’s embarrassed? Simon? Jesus? The other guests? The only one not embarrassed seems to be the woman who is so intent on her loving service of Jesus that she is oblivious of everything else. One is reminded of Mary busy listening to Jesus while her sister Martha tries to grab her attention.

To be so absorbed with Jesus without saying a word, except through touch, is characteristic of deep loving intimacy. Mystics and contemplatives understand this. Jesus looks at the woman’s love, not her reputation. And that is true of us sinners too. If we allow Jesus to look deeper into us than our shame, embarrassment, lack of self-esteem, and tendency to judge others, we find all those things melt away in his loving gaze. And when to our wonder and delight we find his love in our hearts, we want nothing more than to share it – no matter what others think. Forgiveness is freedom.

God bless you and yours.

John

TRINITY SUNDAY
30th May 2010

The little girl was busily drawing a picture during the art class. When the teacher came round to look she asked her what she was doing. “I’m drawing God,” she said confidently. “But no-one knows what God looks like,” replied the teacher. Without lifting her head from the desk, the girl said: “They will when I’ve finished.”

We smile at that story because we know that any picture of God is totally inadequate. Yet our curiosity will not be satisfied. What is God like?

The Bible describes many ways in which God interacts with humankind, each encounter adding more questions than answers. Yet a picture of sorts emerges. First, right at the start we are told that we are made in God’s image and likeness. So a clue to God’s identity lies in our own human nature. The danger here is that we then jump to the conclusion that God is made in our image, not the other way round. Secondly the very fact that God interacts with us at all would indicate that God is about relationship, not isolation. Indeed the shortest definition the Bible gives us of God is from St John: “God is love”.

The Trinity (literally “Three in Unity”) is the name the early fathers of the Church came up with to describe the mystery of God. It’s a sort of working definition that tries to respect that there is only one God but a God who lives in relationship. Today’s first reading is a delightful picture of a God who loves creating and enjoys our company. Could that be the picture our little girl was busily drawing?

May the Lord bless you.

Fr John

FIFTH SUNDAY OF EASTER
2nd May 2010

“Just as I have loved you,” says Jesus, “you also must love one another.”

How does Jesus love us? By identifying so closely with our human life that there is no aspect of our frail and varied human existence that is foreign to him. From the moment of his conception in the womb of his blessed Mother to his last breath on the cross, every second of his life revealed the love of God in flesh and blood like ours. While the gospels record some of the events, teaching and miracles of Jesus, they are merely the tip of the iceberg. The details of most of his thirty-odd years are hidden and unrecorded by history; but every breath he breathed was offered to the Father in love and service to the world.

Within the limited lifespan of Jesus of Nazareth, at a particular time and place two thousand years ago, there are restrictions on the effectiveness of his mission of love. But Jesus is more than human. By his resurrection he is now available to all times and places. How does he do this? By choosing us to be part of his Body, the Church. Wherever we are, Christ is. And as Christ loved, so must we if we are to be his effective witnesses. There is no moment of our human existence, from the cradle to the grave, that cannot be available to Jesus’ mission – if we allow him access. As we experience his love for us, our response to that love is in our love for one another. It is impossible to be part of Body of Christ and ignore Christ in one another, equally part of that same Body.

“By the love you have for one another,” says Jesus, “everyone will know that you are my disciples.”

The Lord is risen. Alleluia!

Fr John

FOURTH SUNDAY OF EASTER
Good Shepherd Sunday
25th April 2010

From January to March this year I spent ten weeks at Hawkstone Hall, a pastoral renewal centre run by the Redemptorist Fathers in the depths of the Shropshire countryside. They run three such courses a year aimed at priests and religious men and women seeking sabbatical time, often in transition between different assignments. We were a comparatively small group of sixteen participants, ranging in age from 47 to 80, and drawn from Africa, North and South America, Australia and Europe. It was a wonderful and vibrant experience of the universal Church; and while we in western Europe bemoan the lack of priestly and religious vocations, the evidence of the flourishing Church in Africa especially was heartening.

The recent publicity over sexual abuse scandals involving Catholic priests and religious has done a lot of damage to the Church. It may only be a tiny minority of clergy who offend, but even one is too many. Our hearts go out to those who have suffered such terrible hurt and betrayal. In such an atmosphere it is difficult for us priests to remember the extraordinary truth that God through his Church has chosen us, weak and inadequate as we are, to be channels of his grace through our ministry of teaching, healing, caring and reconciliation. At the moment the awareness of our weakness could make us retreat into our shells and lick our wounds. But that is negative and lacking faith. Instead, we are more than ever convinced of the miracle that God is strongest when we are weakest. It is his glory we seek, not our own. And if all of us, lay and religious, acted on that belief, new leaders and servants of God’s people would come tumbling into the Church. Why not you?

The Lord is risen. Alleluia!

Fr John

THIRD SUNDAY OF EASTER
18th April 2010

Memory is a very powerful thing. Listening to a particular piece of music, catching the scent of a particular flower, or seeing a familiar face in a crowd, can trigger an association with some experience either good or bad.

In today’s gospel Peter goes fishing with his friends, just as he used to before they met Jesus. He is trying to forget the pain of his denials, and now that Jesus is risen he is not too keen to look him in the eye. Escape to the familiar old routine is his answer. But a night of fishing proves fruitless. Dispirited, he heads for the shore.

A voice from the shore comes over the water in the half-light of dawn, inviting the disciples to drop the nets to starboard – and a huge catch results. Memories of Jesus doing that when he first called them come flooding back. “It is the Lord!” says John the Beloved. Peter, like Adam in the garden after the Fall, is naked and tries to hide by wrapping his cloak around him and jumping into the water. And what does he find when he comes ashore? A charcoal fire, like the one where he denied his Master, and Jesus preparing breakfast on it. No escape. He resisted getting his feet washed at the Last Supper, but at least he’s letting Jesus serve him breakfast.

Three times Peter denied him. Now three times Jesus asks him, “Do you love me?” There’s no hint of reproach in his voice, no sarcasm, no judgement. Peter knows he is forgiven and reinstated, and his original calling reaffirmed: “Follow me.”

No matter how far you feel from God, allow him to call you by name with no hint of reproach. Like Peter, will you have the courage to respond with all you heart: “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”

The Lord is risen. Alleluia!

Fr John

SECOND SUNDAY OF EASTER
11th April 2010

Now that a general election has been called in Britain, Parliament will be dissolved and everything will be on hold until after 6th May. Between now and then, the various political parties will be out to woo the voters with their particular policies for the country. Before we listen to them, however, we might do ourselves a favour by digesting a document recently produced by the bishops of England and Wales for just this moment. It is called Choosing the Common Good.

Let me give you some quotes from it by way of a taster:
• The period before a General Election is a time to reflect on what sort of society we live in and how we would like it to be.
• The common good refers to what belongs to everyone by virtue of their common humanity.
• If anyone is left out and deprived of what is essential, then the common good has been betrayed.
• Society cannot change for the better without restoring trust.
• Virtue is doing good even when no-one is looking.

Politicians often claim that churchmen interfere in politics. But politicians have no qualms about interfering in religion. In truth we cannot divide life into neat watertight compartments; and our faith informs everything about life and even what lies beyond it. When, like Thomas in today’s gospel, we reduce everything to the here and now (“what you see is what you get”), we will never convince politicians or anyone else of the claims of faith. But if we believe, as Thomas came to believe, that Jesus is not just a human super-hero but my Lord and my God, then all creation takes on a deeper meaning. It is out of that meaning that we must live if we are to witness effectively to our faith.

Alleluia! The Lord is risen!

Fr John

EASTER SUNDAY
4th April 2010

On the world stage it has been a bleak year so far. The earthquakes in Haiti and Chile, the long winter in these islands, the unrelenting gloom of industrial disputes and economic uncertainty have painted a dark picture. Add to it the continuing revelations of gross misconduct by some Catholic clergy in different parts of the world, and it seems the Church too is part of the picture, at the very moment we need her light and reassurance.

The events of this Holy Week portray Jesus entering the darkness and seemingly being overcome by it. But the way he does it is far from despairingly or with stoical resignation. To the last he goes to his fate with love, generosity and compassion, forgiving his enemies and surrendering himself into his Father’s hands with total trust that all will be well.

The resurrection of Jesus is not an escape from the tribulations of this world into some utopia when this dreary life is over. Easter is about living the resurrection now. In other words, when we refuse to give in to the pessimism, blame culture, and self-seeking attitudes all too prevalent around us, and instead allow God to fill us with the love, generosity, compassion and trust of Jesus, then we are resurrection people. When we hope against hope, forgive while others condemn; when we pray with expectant faith, and persevere in prayer in the face of adversity and seemingly no answer; when we love those who are so difficult to love, who return us insult for kindness, then we are resurrection people. If, like Mary Magdalen, you stay near the tomb of your disappointments and broken dreams, yet trust in God, expect to see an angel gently reminding you that Jesus is leading you out of the tomb to a new life in him.

Alleluia! The Lord is risen!

Fr John

THE EPIPHANY OF THE LORD
3rd January 2010

By now most of you will know that I am going away from the parish for ten weeks on a pastoral renewal course. After giving out for more than seven years at Wickford I feel the need for some space to be refuelled and receive a bit myself, so that I can be a more effective pastor.

I find it interesting and faintly amusing to hear the reactions of people to this news, ranging from one comment, “it’s all right for you, going off for ten weeks’ holiday!” to another who said, “it doesn’t sound like a break to me – more like a busman’s holiday!” Few people have much idea of what is really involved in a priest’s life; they only see the tip of the iceberg. In this Year for Priests, it seemed an appropriate moment to stand back and give thanks for God’s gift of priesthood, and not allow the pressures and demands to diminish my effectiveness in ministry. As God said to me through a wise prophet some thirty years ago, “you are my son, not my doormat.”

The wise men likewise left their homes and routines to follow a star to unknown lands. It was in having the courage to pursue their dream that they were led to the Christ child. They upset Herod with their search for a new-born king, triggering the massacre of the Innocents. But they were filled with delight when they found Jesus and his mother, and offered their precious gifts. On our journey of faith we too can upset others when we challenge them with the gospel message; but we find our consolation in meeting Christ and his mother in prayer and the sacraments, offering our lives afresh in his service.

May the Lord bless you and yours as we begin this year of grace 2010.

Fr John

FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT
20th December 2009

The snow comes, and predictably the schools close, the roads are treacherous and travel is disrupted. For a moment we are paralysed or severely restricted till we get our snow legs or ice skates. No bad thing to stop and remember what all our frenzied pre-Christmas activity is for – Jesus. Whether or not the first Christmas was really “in the bleak midwinter” with “snow on snow” is beside the point. Yet for the things that really matter we’ll move heaven and earth to get there.

And that’s what God did. Move heaven and earth – or more precisely moved heaven to earth by sending his Son into our midst. Just as when the landscape is covered with snow everything looks different, so when the Word became flesh and lived among us life took on a new meaning and purpose. We are no longer bound by the restrictions of the here and now, the prison of hopelessness, the problems and tragedies of our lives, the fears about the future of our planet or our jobs or our grandchildren. The good news is that God has lifted us into eternity by sending his Son into our time and place, to share our limitations and vulnerabilities and pain, and love us into heaven.

In today’s gospel of the Visitation, Mary was probably not restricted by snow, and certainly not hampered by rail chaos or airport closures. But her journey to visit her cousin Elizabeth some one hundred miles away was not easy. What impelled her was the Good News she carried in her womb and heart; and thoughts not of herself but of God and of others. Our greetings across the miles are so much easier these days with cards and phones and emails and Skype. May we see Christ in one another, and find time for one another.

A blessed and peaceful Christmas to you and yours.

Fr John

THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT
13th December 2009

Have you ever seen God dance? No, I don’t think you will see him competing in Strictly Come Dancing, but the prophet Zephaniah tells the people of Israel, languishing in exile, that the day will come when God will set them free. They will exult and rejoice because God is in their midst. And it seems that not only the people, but God too will be ecstatic about it: “The Lord your God is in your midst... he will dance with shouts of joy for you”.

Of course, God is spirit and cannot literally dance. The prophet is conveying in human language that “the Lord takes delight in his people” (Psalm 149). Can you imagine the Father dancing for joy over you? Do you realise you are that special? What today’s first reading also shows is that when we are happy, God is happy too. In Jesus, who took on our human nature, we can see it literally. While there is no record in the gospels of Jesus actually dancing or laughing, there’s no reason to believe he didn’t – quite the opposite. He is often shown expressing other emotions: fear, tears, anger, love, joy, etc. He is truly “God-with-us” or Emmanuel. Through him we know what God is like in an accessible language, the language of human nature.

To welcome him into our midst this Christmas, we need to ask the question the people asked of John the Baptist when he called them to prepare for the Christ: “What must we do?” Wishful thinking isn’t enough – there’s practical preparation too. John’s answer was to ensure our treatment of others is kind and fair. Let’s hope we’re doing that much already. But why not go a little further, and find joy in doing it? Will you put a dance in your step?

God bless you and tours this Advent.

Fr John

SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT
6th December 2009

Perhaps one of the reasons we have lost our capacity for wonder and surprise is that we have lost our ability to wait. Credit cards were introduced with the slogan: “Take the waiting out of wanting”. You can have it NOW. But what’s wrong with waiting? Yes, of course there are many times where delays can be tiresome, dangerous or even fatal. But getting instant solutions to everything reduces our appreciation and sense of gratitude, and eradicates the future. We have nothing to look forward to.

Once we get what we want, the excitement of desire diminishes, and it’s not long before we want something else. No, we can’t take the waiting out of wanting because wanting is waiting. We long for something we haven’t got, and that longing is of the essence of desire, of our human energy. Ultimately, it is our hunger for God which lies at the root of all our desires, and Advent is the season of the year par excellence when we get in touch with our desires. In the famous words of St Augustine’s prayer in his Confessions: “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless till they rest in you.”

Without waiting we cannot grow. A mother waits nine months for her child to be born. The people of ancient Israel longed for a Messiah, a Saviour to come, but when Jesus was born he took us all by surprise. God did not announce the exact date, but when it did happen is remembered in a specific date and place in history, roughly 2009 years ago.

Has our life of faith become so familiar and predictable that we have lost the capacity to let God surprise us?

God bless you and yours.

Fr John

FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT
29th November 2009

Happy New Year! As the calendar year (at least in the northern hemisphere) heads into the darkest days and longest nights, the Christian year proclaims a new beginning and the promise of hope. Are we simply optimists pretending all is well when everything around us is sunk in gloom and despondency? Is it just a psychological trick to give us false hope? Is Advent just escapism?

If that were true, then the opening words of Jesus in the gospel today are hardly sweet and gentle – quite the reverse. They speak unequivocally of nations overwhelmed by tsunamis and people unable to cope with the world’s traumas. Is he trying to intimidate us? Is he frightening us into submission? No, of course not. That’s not his style. He is being realistic, making us face our own powerlessness and human limitations which he himself assumed in coming among us. If we put our trust in him we will find a way forward in hope, even when we can’t see the result yet. Put your confidence in me, he says. Hold your heads high; don’t cower at the darkness, but trust that I am your Light leading and guiding you.

Advent is a time to stop and reflect while the commercial world bids us do the opposite – go on a frenzied shopping spree. The pressure this puts on people who can ill afford to spend this Christmas is enormous. Jesus says our hearts can be coarsened by the cares of life; we can allow worry to rob us of the peace Christ came to bring. Make time to pray, read Scripture, and remember what really matters in life. Stay awake to the real meaning of the approaching feast of Christmas.

Happy New Year!

Fr John

OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST THE KING
National Youth Sunday - 22nd November 2009

When Jesus stands before Pilate on Good Friday morning, the Roman governor questions him about his authority and status. Pilate thinks of kings and kingdoms in terms of territory and political power; Jesus’ response to him takes Pilate into unknown territory and unearthly power. Yes, Jesus is a king whose mission is to bear witness to the truth. Only those who are on the side of truth listen to his voice and accept his authority. The way to find this kingdom is to find the truth.

Pilate famously asks: “What is truth?” but doesn’t get a reply. The answer is in Jesus’ own words four chapters earlier (John 14:6): “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life.” We tend to think of truth as an abstract concept, the essence of what is right, good and honest. But today truth is treated subjectively; what is true for you may not be true for me, we might say. In other words, it’s not the whole truth. Truth itself is bigger than your truth or my truth.

We may say as members of Christ that we have the truth. But it might be better to say that the Truth (Jesus Christ) has us. Ultimately Truth is not a concept but a Person. Truth does not consist in simply doing the right thing but being in a right relationship with God. We measure the integrity and sincerity of our lives by comparing them to the life of Jesus and his teaching.

Young people often have a way of challenging the humbug and hypocrisy of our society, and of getting the rest of us to face uncomfortable truths about ourselves, much as Christ himself did in his ministry. May we ask God’s blessing on them in the decisions and direction of their future.

God bless you and yours.

Fr John

THIRTY-SECOND SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MARK
8th November 2009 - Remembrance Sunday

The human memory is amazingly sophisticated. It records every second of our waking life and in addition holds unconscious material, the extent of which we cannot guess. How much we can recall is only a fraction of what’s there; and while it will not always yield up the particular memory we try to recapture, at the same time it may reveal something we do not like or want.

Most of us were born since the two world wars of the last century, which is why Remembrance Day helps to remind us of events that have radically shaped our lives today. But the wars and conflicts since, which are still in progress in places like Afghanistan, make it difficult to forget that ordinary human lives like our own have been and continue to be lost in the elusive search for peace. As the Constitution of the Church in the Modern World of Vatican II states, “peace is not the absence of war, nor....the balance of power between opposing forces. Instead, it is rightly and properly called ‘the effect of justice.’”

Remembrance is also at the heart of our Catholic faith. Our central act of worship flows from the command of Christ at the Last Supper to “do this in remembrance of me”. We remember his sacrificial death, not so that we may harbour revenge or bitterness, but paradoxically so that we may have life to the full, because he gave his life for us not out of duty but in perfect love. Whether we recall the death of our loved ones, of those killed in battle, or the victims of violence at the hands of others or of environmental disasters, each of them is united with Christ’s death on the cross, and is included in every Mass which re-presents his death and resurrection. It’s good to remember that.

God bless you and yours.

Fr John

ALL SAINTS
1st November 2009

Saints are more admired than imitated. We look at their heroic lives, sigh with regret that we could never be that holy, and sigh with relief that God isn’t calling us to be anyway. Sanctity is not for us; only for the chosen few, we believe.

Perhaps the problem lies with our restricting sainthood to those in the premier league of holiness. The saints officially canonised by the Church are exceptional examples, coming from many different cultures, countries and historical settings. The majority, somewhat unfairly, seem to be bishops, priests or nuns, which gives the impression that holiness is better suited to the professional religious. Nothing could be further from the truth. The central chapter of the key document of the Second Vatican Council is entitled “A Call to Holiness”, and reminds us that every single member of the Church, by reason of their baptism, is called to be a saint, to be holy.

What is holiness? Is it about adopting a pious attitude, saying lots of prayers, and being as good as possible? No. Holiness is not our initiative, but God’s. God calls us to become like him, to grow closer to him, to “put on the mind of Christ” (Philippians 2:5). He invites us to come to know him through prayer, Scripture and sacraments, and in love and service of our neighbour. In the words of St Therese of Lisieux, we are to do ordinary things extraordinarily well. If that’s what he wants, he will empower us to do it – but in his way, his time. The last thing a truly holy person thinks they are is holy. Only God can see the result of his own efforts in us. As another modern saint, Mother Teresa, used to say, “God never asks us to be successful, only faithful.”

God bless you and yours.

Fr John

THIRTIETH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MARK
25th October 2009

At the beginning of the gospel of St John, as two disciples of John the Baptist start following Jesus, he turns round and asks them, “What do you want?” Again, in last week’s gospel from Mark, Jesus asks the sons of Zebedee who are asking a favour of him, “What do you want me to do for you?” And now it’s the turn of the blind beggar, Bartimaeus, who is calling after Jesus, to hear the Master saying, “What do you want me to do for you?”

It might seem strange that Jesus, who was able to read people’s thoughts, should need to ask those questions. Surely he knew what they wanted. We could say the same thing about prayer. God knows our needs better than we do, so why bother to ask him?

The reason he asks is to get us to think about our desires. A good teacher will not simply feed us information; he/she will try to elicit the information from us by asking questions (drawing us out – which is the root meaning of the word “education”). So when Jesus asks a blind man “what do you want?” he is giving him the space to talk about his real desires. Being able to see may be the obvious one, but no doubt he had many others, like “I’d like to stop begging and have a decent job”.

Jesus is doing the same for me and you. Right now he’s asking you what he can do for you. How will you answer? What do you really want? Do you believe he can really do it for you?

God bless you and yours.

Fr John

TWENTY-EIGHTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MARK
11th October 2009

The rich young man has acquired much in his comparatively short life. And he wants more and more. Not only material goods; he wants the secret of spiritual success too. What do I have to do to add eternal life to the shopping list? What hoops do I have to jump through to get to heaven?

Jesus’ answer is to stand the young man’s thinking on its head. You obtain eternal life by renouncing your life. You become rich by becoming poor and making others rich. But he couches that stark truth in the context of the rich man’s desire. He sees deep inside him a seeking, an insatiable curiosity for real happiness. He sees ultimately what the young man cannot see – that love is the object of his quest. So “Jesus looked steadily at him and loved him” (Mk 10:21). Only by engaging us in a relationship of love can Jesus call us to greater things. If you love someone deeply enough, you’ll do anything for them; as St Paul famously reminds us, “love is always ready to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes”.

Love is always an invitation, not forced on us against our will. The rich young man cannot accept Jesus’ invitation, and turns away sad. The sadness comes from being torn in two – he is inspired by Jesus’ love and challenge to him, but he now finds he cannot go that far; the cost is too great. Perhaps we too feel inspired by the gospel of Jesus, but the pressures and constraints of our daily living make us almost despair of being good enough for God. Hence the disciples’ reaction: “In that case, who can be saved?” And Jesus looks steadily at them, gazes at them, and says it’s impossible for us, but God can do it, if you let him.

Let Jesus gaze at you now with love, and ask yourself how you would like to respond.

God bless you and yours.

Fr John

TWENTY-SEVENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MARK
4th October 2009

One of the reasons why the Catholic Church holds marriage to be sacred and inviolable is because it is a sacrament. Every married couple is making a statement that every day, “from this day [their wedding day] forward.... till death do us part”, they are mirroring the faithful love that Jesus the Bridegroom has for his Bride, the Church. When marriage is no longer a permanent total commitment for life and ends in divorce, it ceases to be a sign of God’s constant love which never ends.

This is not a judgement on any particular failed marriage, as the reasons for divorce are many and varied. But it does argue for a careful, thorough and prayerful preparation for marriage in the Church. The Church insists on at least four instructions for each couple preparing for marriage. When I consider that I spent six years training for the priesthood, a mere four or five hours in preparing for Christian marriage seems woefully inadequate. It is clear that many, if not most, Catholics do not know that a Catholic is expected to be married in the Catholic Church. If they are married elsewhere without explicit permission the marriage is not recognised by the Church.

Some would say that the Church is being unrealistic in such high expectations marriage. But she is only echoing the words of Jesus in today’s gospel: “What God has united, man must not divide.” If God has brought this couple together in unity, what human authority can override God? This is the ideal set before us; and if we fail after giving of our best, we must entrust ourselves to the providence of a loving and forgiving God who can heal our hearts.

God bless you and yours.

Fr John

TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR OF MARK
Home Mission Sunday - 20th September 2009