Speaking with real authority

Homily for the Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B 2012

“They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.” Any number of people can get up in front of a crowd and put on the trappings of authority, claiming truth for their message. In some cases the reaction will be immediate: this is an impostor, this person is suffering from delusions, from megalomania. The audience will turn away and not listen. In other cases they will listen, but not recognize that the spellbinding person before them is a fraud, beset with deep psychological problems, and they are carried away, often with terrible consequences. Just think of Hitler or of many contemporary dictators who manage to fool their people at least until they wake up and realize that they have been living in a nightmare.

But in the case of Jesus, there was a sense among the crowds that his authority was genuine. His words deserved to be heeded. “What is this? A new teaching – with authority!”. They were puzzled, their universe was being turned upside down because of what Jesus was advocating, many of them eventually rejected him, but they sensed his authority.

In this Gospel passage his authority is proven by the fact that he is able to command the unclean spirits and they obey him. The crowds are amazed. They know that there is something powerful and without precedent in what Jesus is saying and doing.

But there are many other instances of Jesus projecting a sense of authority. He reads the beautiful passage of Isaiah in the synagogue of Capernaum, which begins “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me” and tells them in no uncertain terms that those words are being realized in his person. He says to the crowds: you have heard it said, referring to the many convoluted interpretations of the law proposed by the scribes and pharisees, but I say to you, speaking on his own authority, speaking words that are direct, compassionate, challenging, full of wisdom. We normally finish our prayers with AMEN, which is a word by which we agree and make our own what the prayer has expressed. Often Jesus begins his words with AMEN: Amen, Amen, I say to you. He is not agreeing with something else’ authority. The AMEN, the sense of trust and reliability is grounded in his own person. Another instance: to prove his claim that he can forgive sins, he cures the paralytic. There are many similar Gospel scenes.

Where does this authority come from? Of course being who he is, the Son of God from all eternity, he spontaneously speaks as God would speak, but without drawing attention to his prerogatives. He doesn’t tell people ahead of time that he is divine. He speaks in human terms and lets his words speak for themselves.

If we go to the first reading, we find another source of his authority. He has authority because he listens to God his Father. The prophet which Moses predicted is to speak in the name of God, to speak the words that God commands him. In other words his authority to speak as a human being is enhanced by listening to God his Father and being attuned to the movements of the Holy Spirit, as Jesus did during his human journey. It is not for nothing that Jesus spent long hours in private prayer, often on a mountain top apart from his disciples. This is a secret source of his authority.

Listening to God, but also listening to other human beings. A younger person can try to put on the mantle of authority and speak of things which he or she has not really experienced, and those of us who are older will see through him. An older person who has heard, seen, experienced life over many decades, who has rejoiced, who has suffered, who has shared in the joy and suffering of others, does have something to say. This helps us explain why Jesus spent most of his life hidden away in Nazareth, living the life of his village, learning a trade. He could have been out there preaching, but he needed to learn the lessons of life enough that when he opened his mouth during his public ministry, people would readily recognize that he knew what he was talking about.

None of us has the authority to speak as Jesus spoke. But in the lives we lead within our families and our communities there are times where we are called upon to take on the mantle of authoritative speech and to say something that comes from deep within our hearts and is meant to make a difference in the lives of others.

How can we prepare ourselves for this role of authority? Like Jesus we must listen, we must observe, we must learn what is going on around us. Above all we must listen to God in prayer, to be enlightened by him, to receive the promptings of his Spirit that invite us to speak a powerful word. Otherwise our words will have only the trappings of authority; they will at best be harmless and without impact and at worst cause much damage.

Does all this listening mean that we are subservient? No. Look at the example of Jesus. He was in constant contact with His Father and he spoke the words the Father wanted him to speak. But in doing that he spoke with his own power, his own authority, his own conviction. He made his own all he had heard and observed and the ensuing words came from him.

Likewise with us. Many speak with arrogance, with self-sufficiency, with false self-confidence : listen to the debates going on right now in the endless political season south of the border, and you might catch some of this going on. Others like to protect themselves with appeals to the authority of others. Their speech is studded with references and quotations. Rather than demonstrating authority, this demonstrates insecurity. We seek for that middle space where we are able to make our own what we have heard and reflected on stand by it with confidence. This is my role as preacher. I could launch out on my own with no reference to the Gospel and the teaching of the Church and you would soon realize that I am a fraud. I could cover my traces with one papal document after another, and you would get the sense that I am overly careful and maybe trying to impress. I try to find a middle space where I am both totally receptive and docile and totally confident and authoritative.

This is your role in many areas of life. How to find that middle space. That is the question. The example for all of us is Jesus who listened in depth and compassion to what others had to say, but who spoke with authority when his turn came. Let us follow his example, and hear his words, allowing them to change our lives.

King of Darkness and King of Light

Homily for Epiphany 2012

Trained as I am in the spirituality of St. Ignatius Loyola, when beginning my prayer on scriptural texts, such as the ones for this celebration, I will take account of all the persons present in the text. Today’s Gospel is rich in personages: the Christ Child, Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, unless they had already gone back to their fields, the hidden presence of God the Father and of the Holy Spirit. One question remains: how many kings were there? We can find the first two very easily: Jesus is acknowledged as King, worthy of homage and adoration. There is his dark counterpart, King Herod, who wanted him dead.

Are there any more kings than that? Our attention turns to the wise men. We presume that there were three of them because there were three gifts, but we do not know that for sure. They come from the east and are enshrouded in mystery. The term used for them in the greek text is Magi, which we translate as wise men. They could have been astronomers, astrologers, interested in unusual confluences of stars and planets in the sky; they could have been scholars who had some knowledge about the sacred texts and customs of various religions, and noticed the predictions that there would be a newborn king of the Jews. They were also seen as kings, as in the well-known hymn “We three kings of orient are.” They could have been all of these. The beauty of the Gospel story is that it stimulates our imagination.

Herod and Jesus are certainly kings, and the contrast between them is stark. This contrast is described in the first reading of today’s mass, in which we hear:

“For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you.”

These words have come true time and time again. They were true at the time of Jesus. The Roman Empire was a mighty political and military machine. Peoples were beaten down, exploited. Today we complain about violations of human rights; in that time there were no human rights. You will readily notice in the New Testament the struggle of the Jewish people under the Roman thumb. They were desperate for a messiah, a king to lead them out of the intolerable situation they were in.

An especially repulsive instance of that darkness we find in the Gospel reading of today. It is King Herod, the client king of Judea who held power over the Jews, power delegated by the Romans. He kept a rough peace, but ruled by arbitrary whim, and, intent on consolidating his own power, had countless people put to death, including members of his own family. As we know, he organized the slaughter of male infants two years old and younger in Bethlehem to get rid of the potential rival brought to his attention by the three wise men.

But then the first reading continues “...but the Lord will arise upon you and his glory will appear over you. Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.”

Light and darkness are caught up in a relentless struggle, but in the end light overcomes the darkness. This is the whole point of today’s feast.

The powerless, speechless, vulnerable infant of Bethlehem is a total contrast to Herod. He is a king whose reign will last forever. Herod dies very soon after these events, most certainly having hastened his death by his own decadent life style. He was a king racked by insecurity and paranoia. He promoted conflict, fear, to maintain his hold on power. The new king born in Bethlehem was indeed the king of peace. So sure of his relation to the one he called Father, he let go of his prerogatives as God and took on our human condition in all its vulnerability, taking on the form of a slave, as Paul tells us in his letter to the Philippians.

Today we celebrate the appearance on the scene of this new King, and the term used in New Testament times for the appearance of a king or emperor in a particular part of his territory was “epiphany.” Epiphany is a triumphal feast of light.

The three wise men, or kings, play a key role in today`s story. They are the intermediates between the Herod the king of war and Jesus the king of peace.

To begin with, they help us focus on the light that replaces the darkness. That light emerges for them as a bright spot on the horizon, a mysterious star. They are strangely attracted to it, out of their scientific curiosity, but then with a sense of hope and anticipation, and decide to follow it. They had heard of the promise that a new King of the Jews would be born, and this mysterious star might lead them to him. They come to Jerusalem, the capital city of Judea, seeking further information. They are open-minded and open-hearted people, seekers of God, but as soon as they ask about this new king, they create fear and not rejoicing in the Herod’s entourage, who asked themselves: Is this new king, which they knew was predicted, going to be a rival of Herod? Will he be a threat to the political order which they and many others enjoyed? Of course Herod wanted this potential rival snuffed out before he had a chance to establish himself, and providing the wise men with the information they sought, namely that the child was destined to be born in Bethlehem, and sought to use the wise men as a further source of information, not to pay homage to the child but to kill him. Of course we know how the wise men managed to elude Herod on their return home, and how the holy family fled into Egypt.

So the star led them to Bethlehem, and they came into the fulness of the light emanating from the new king. They paid homage to him, with gifts of gold, symbolizing that he was indeed a king, of frankincense, symbolizing that he was God and worthy of worship, and of myrrh, symbolizing that he was a human, and like all human beings, would taste suffering and death.

Not only do the texts of today`s mass allude to events two thousand years ago, they describe our own world. There are many King Herods in our world. Some of them have recently gone to their deaths, but others continue with their snipers and tanks to maintain their uncertain hold on power. Their violence at times floods our television screens and fills us with disgust. But there are other dark kings whose violence is more subtle and hidden. At the same time the King of peace is still with us, but not serving as a military leader to help us overcome our enemies by force. To change the balance of military forces in our world would be a superficial outcome. Unless hearts are changed, minds find new ways to think about peace, the violence will recur again and again.

What about the three wise men, who follow the star that leads them to Bethlehem? There are many men and women in our world who do not know the King of Peace as we know him, but who are attracted to him, and seek the path that will lead them to him. They struggle for peace, for justice. Often in their lives, even if they do not know or recognize Jesus, they give example of the self-sacrificing love that Jesus showed in his life. They are on a journey, following the star as best they can. I am sure we all know people like this.

But let us not only point at them. Let us point at ourselves. Like the three wise men we follow the star as best we can. Sometimes we stray from the path, but we find our way back. We know the promises of the scripture, and we trust that at the end of our journey God will be with us. We know the path to follow, and at the end of the path there is light for us. Can we be beacons of light for others, stars they can follow? Has the light of this feast totally enveloped us? Do we not need to go to the King of peace time and time again, to pay homage, to offer our own gifts, which may not be gold, frankincense, and myrrh, but other gifts close to our own hearts, and even the gift of our own selves. The Eucharist is the best way for us to offer this gift. Empowered by Christ’s gift of himself let us offer ourselves.

Truly Celebrating the New Year

Homily for the feast of Mary the Mother of God 2012

Today, one week after the feast of Christmas, the Church provides for us a liturgical feast for the New Year. The New Year is both a secular and a religious celebration. As a secular celebration, it takes place over a 24 hour cycle as we go through the different time zones of our globe. I turned on the TV set yesterday around noon, and I was greeted with the firework display that took place in Hong Kong, which is 12 hours ahead of us.

In this form of New Year celebration the assembled crowds with their streamers and champagne cry out in unison watching the digital display: “Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Year.” Or we might witness this count-down from the warmth and security of our home. The earth has gone around the sun once, and a new trip around the sun begins at that moment. But we know the new year will come to an end some 365 days later. The course of time is relentless.

But is this all there is to our New Year celebration? What about the religious dimension?

We will begin with the word “new” which carries two meanings. If you go to the New Testament in the original Greek, these meanings are expressed by two words for “new”, neos and kainos. The first word pertains to our secular celebration, the second to our religious celebration.

The first word, neos, is tells us something about the measurement of time. If I say that something is new in that sense, what I am saying is that it is new within its allotted life-span. A toaster is new today, might be considered new for a while longer, but five years later ends up in the dump, and nothing can be done about it. So together with the image of a robust child which represents 2012 there is the shrivelled up oldster who represents 2011. And some of us in the congregation here today feel that in our bones. We could say “we are getting older”, but to avoid raising alarm at our stents, bypasses, and replacement knees, we prefer to say “we are not getting any younger”.

The second word, kainos, tells us about newness in a completely different sense, and it is in that sense that the New Year is a religious occasion. We are not congratulating people for now being one year closer to their grave. We are wishing for them that in the course of the year something good will happen that is genuine and will make a permanent difference. This newness takes us beyond what we can measure on a clock. This newness will never grow old over the years and fall into oblivion.

So when we wish someone Happy New Year, the key point is not to hover over our watches and feel a sense of delight because 2011 on our digital display magically turns into 2012 at the precise moment of midnight. What we really want for ourselves and for all those around us is genuine renewal, newness that does not grow old. The previous year has had its painful and difficult moments. But the new year is the opportunity for a fresh new beginning for each individual, for the communities as a whole, for our world that seeks peace. We want the year to be new in the same sense as the new heaven and the new earth we hope for as Christians. We know that we will often fail in the course of 2012. We are filled with a sense of hope: things will be different. Just wait and see. We make new year resolutions but often fail to keep them. And this sense of failure is even tronger when we survey the world in its intractable struggles. In the face of all this, however, we believe that things will be really different in the new year, that there will be real progress. But let us remember that real progress is progress not in our own eyes but in God’s. That progress is slow in coming, often imperceptible, but it is genuine and lasting. Genuine renewal is far from the superficial signs of newness that modern advertising wants us to notice. We often hear the words “new and improved”. In some cases, maybe so, but in the end those words mean nothing. That newness will be caught up in the relentless wearing down of time. By contrast the newness we wish for everyone is a newness that lasts.

How can we find access to this genuine and lasting renewal of ourselves and of our world? Our hope is not in our own resources but in God’s grace bestowed upon us. So it is essential for us to celebrate the New Year as a religious feast. God is the only one that can give us a fresh new beginning, new hope, new energy.

Before the reform of the liturgy after Vatican II, the theme of the feast was the circumcision and naming of Jesus, an event that for new-born males took place some eight days after the birth. The Gospel still features the circumcision and the naming of Jesus. However the theme of the feast today is Mary as the mother of God.

Circumcision and naming in the Jewish tradition was akin to baptism, and introduces the newborn Jew into the life of the covenant, making him an heir to God’s promises. Jesus was born into the Jewish religion, and his devout parents followed the prescribed ritual for him. He was later baptised by John, and baptism became the introductory ritual for Christians. The newness baptism introduces does not gradually wither away and disappear, but it grows into eternal life. This is the promise of our own baptism.

How does Mary as the Mother of God connect with this celebration of the New Year? The Gospel we have read features an aspect of motherhood which is essential. To be a mother is not only to bear a child for nine months, and then to give birth to it. In her heart, her spirit, her psyche, the mother continues to bear the child after it is born. We see this in Luke`s Gospel passage today. She had just given birth to her child, and the extraordinary events that surrounded the birth impressed her deeply. She pondered them in her heart. There were the shepherds that came unannounced to visit; there was the unexpected arrival of the three kings. And of course the visit of the Angel Gabriel started this whole process of wonder. Who will this child be? What will he do? What will happen to him? In the presentation in the temple a bit later on the reflection was made more poignant. She was told that her child would be a sign of contradiction, that a sword would pierce her own heart. And, like every mother, she watched her child as he developed, and treasured in her heart the signs of new life that were emerging. The quality of his infant way of looking at her. His first steps. His first words. And this continued over his entire life, as indeed it does for all mothers with their own children. They continue to bear their children, to nurture them, to treasure them close to their heart throughout their entire life. They know them in an intimate way that is beyond words.

In the events surrounding Jesus’ birth there are signs of a newness beyond the ordinary. Mary is the mother of God, of the one who came to save us, to plant the seeds of the genuine newness that we wish to one another, that we wish for our world. She may not have been able to put anything into words at this stage of her life with Jesus, but she had a deep perception, an intuition, and little by little his role and her role would become clearer.

So to celebrate Mary as the mother of God is an excellent way for us to give ourselves over to the hope that God is really with us, that in spite of appearances to the contrary there are good things going on, things that bring people closer to one another and to God. This means that the words “Happy New Year” have a great power and meaning, a power and a meaning that come not from us but from God and God’s plans for us. He was named Jesus, and the word Jesus means “God saves”. Let us turn to the eucharist to continue to enact and celebrate our salvation.