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Homily – 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Year B

14th Sunday B

 

The expression familiarity breeds contempt is as old as the hills. We find it in works ranging from Aesop’s fable of ‘The fox and the lion’, to the tale of Melibee in the Canterbury Tales, where Chaucer says, over-greet hoomlynesse (or familiarity) engendreth dispreisynge (engenders contempt). We all know from experience what the reality of this expression can mean in our lives. We get used to people and assume we know them. We take them for granted and can be blind to their good qualities. We become dismissive and are quick to find fault. We lose a sense of wonder.

In today’s gospel we hear of Jesus’ return to his home village after a period of preaching and working miracles around Galilee. No doubt news of his activities found its way back to Nazareth and on the Sabbath he is invited to teach in the local synagogue. Initially the people are astonished and they recognize in Jesus something out of the ordinary. Where did this man get all this, they ask, his wisdom and his power to work mighty deeds? We don’t know what Jesus said but the initial astonishment quickly sours and gives way to hostility and rejection. Who does he think he is? We know him. He grew up among us. He is just the local carpenter. We know his family. He is no different from us. How mistaken they are! Yes, familiarity breeds not just contempt but unbelief. Jesus says as much when he tells them, ‘a prophet is not without honour except in his native place and among his own kin and in his own house.’ And he is taken aback at their lack of faith.

Today’s gospel suggest that a great obstacle to faith is familiarity, hoomlynesse: a refusal to believe that God’s presence could possibly come to us in so familiar a form as the person next door; a resistance to recognise that God might have sent us a prophet in someone who, to our eyes, does not quite fit the bill. We can be like the locals of Nazareth who had fixed ideas as to when and where and how the Messiah should come to Israel. The local carpenter, the son of Mary, did not measure up. And they really missed out.

In today’s second reading St Paul draws our attention to another type of prophet that God sends into our midst, one to which we also turn a blind eye and even ask him to take away. Paul calls it ‘a thorn in the flesh’. All sorts of suggestions have been made as to the nature of this thorn in the flesh of the Apostle but that is not the point. For Paul it was the discovery that this thorn, the abiding personal weakness that he shunned, could be a channel of God’s grace, an opening onto the mystery of the cross of Christ. ‘I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest on me.’ Shutting the door will not do, he tells us, for the God who came to us in the flesh meets us there in the flesh of our experience, all of it, all of our self and our world.

Growth in the Spirit almost always shows itself in the capacity to recognise Christ more and more in the ordinary, the everyday. The great saints never ceased being filled with wonder at the mysterious presence of God. ‘The Word became flesh’ not only means that the Son of God became a human being, but that he took human form in a town as ordinary and insignificant and out of the way as Nazareth. Can anything good come out of Nazareth? For sure, it can! But can we identify the Nazareth in our own selves, in our families, in our community and open the door to the Heaven in ordinarie that is in the place we would least expect it to be?

Fr Senan OSB

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Mindful Monk – the final episode in the current series

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Mindful Monk – Fr Simon tells us about ferns in the glen

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Homily – 12th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Year B

12th Sunday in Ordinary Time B

Glenstal, 20.06.2021, 10 a.m.

Job 38:1-4, 8-11 2 Corinthians 5:14-17 Mark 4:35-41

 

Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? (Job 38:1) Who shut in the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb? (Job 38:4)

On hearing these words Job must have thought that God was entirely alone when he made the world, and that, being all-wise and all-powerful, our Creator had no need of an agent to carry out his work. But in the Prologue to the Fourth Gospel we read: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. All things came into being by him, and nothing has come into being except through him (Jn 1:1-3). These verses tell us in the clearest terms that in fact God is not a lonely being, and he always acts through the agency of his eternal companion – the Word who became flesh and dwelt among us (cf. Jn 1:1-3) in the person of Jesus of Nazareth.

None of the so-called synoptic gospels – those of Matthew, Mark and Luke – refer to Jesus Christ as the divine Word incarnate, but they too make many allusions to Jesus’ divine nature. For instance, they present Jesus as a man who performs some of the actions that Holy Scripture attributes to God alone, as is the case in today’s third reading, taken from the Gospel of Mark. So let us take a quick look at the main points of the story.

The boat in which Jesus and his disciples were sailing across the Sea of Galilee was being tossed about by a mighty storm. Woken up by his terrified disciples, Jesus ordered the wind to cease, and the sea to be still, and at once they obeyed his command. Seeing this, the disciples could not but have remembered the words of psalm 107: they cried to the Lord in their need and he rescued them from their distress. He stilled the storm to a whisper: all the waves of the sea were hushed (Ps 107, 29). This was how God had rescued those who were about to be swallowed up by the waves, so the disciples asked themselves: “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (Mk 4:41)

Who indeed is this man who became known to history as Jesus of Nazareth? Countless answers to this question have been given down the centuries, but for those whose minds have been enlightened by faith there is only one answer that can be deemed true and accurate: Jesus is the Christ, the son of the living God (cf. Mt 16:16). As St Paul says, we no longer know him from a human point of view (cf. 2 Co 5:16) but profess rather that Jesus Christ is the only son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God (Nicene Creed). And because faith tell us that Jesus is both human and divine, we place all our hope in his promise that he will always be with us, even to the end of time (cf. Mt 28:20).

In fact trusting that Jesus is very close to us all the time, wherever we may be, we can also understand that today’s gospel is a true parable of our own life in this world – and not just an account of an astonishing miracle that happened in the past – for, when we received the gift of faith and were washed clean in the waters of baptism, we accepted our Lord’s invitation to step into a boat and sail across with him to the other side (cf. Mk 4:35). We are now on our way to our homeland in heaven (cf. Ph 3:20) and are sure to reach our destination if we no longer live for ourselves but for him who died and was raised for our sake (cf. 2 Co 5:16). There can be no doubt that our voyage is a perilous one. At times it may seem that Jesus never really woke up from the sleep of death, and we are going to be engulfed by the waters of destruction. But all shall be well if we have faith (cf. Mk 4:40) and bear in mind the words of Jesus at the Last Supper: “In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world” (Jo 16:33).

Fr Lino OSB

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Mindful Monk – Fr Simon in conversation with Mother Maura of Kylemore

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Homily – 11th Sunday Ordinary Time – B

While the leaders of the G7 countries are convened in Cornwall, purportedly to make the world a better place, today’s gospel promises something comparable but of a different order, the Kingdom of God. Two projects, one for the short term, the other for the long! Can they be reconciled? Can we be citizens of both the secular city and the kingdom of heaven?

In the first reading, from the prophet Ezekial, we are presented with a parable about the Jewish people exiled in Babylon. In the name of the Lord, Ezekial declares, ‘From the top of the cedar I will take a shoot and plant it on the high mountain of Israel’. By this is meant that God, the Lord of history, will see to it that his own people are returned to their homeland, safe and sound, as foretold by prophets, to live there as God’s special people. Ezekial’s listeners surely welcomed this. In our own day some comparable good tidings are the promise of a billion free doses of vaccine, the consolidating of alliances and furthering the deal on reducing carbon emissions. Plans, ancient and new, for a better world.

Today’s gospel takes up this theme, but with more modest language. To elucidate the kingdom of God Jesus uses two parables. Firstly that of a tiny seed, the so-called smallest is a sign of the beginning of the kingdom of God! Despite its puny size we are not to lose heart for its future! Secondly: a stalk of grain, for which we are not to lose heart despite it being so slow to bear fruit! Such parables of the kingdom give us pause to think. They are telling us not to put our trust in appearances, God’s plan on earth is progessing inexorably towards a successful future. He is at work though we may strain ourselves to see it. We must keep faith, not be distracted or betray ourselves by the allurements of quick, concrete, progress.

There are many ways we could give up on the kingdom of God! God-fearing peoples, ancient and contemporary, may feel frustrated by the long wait; or they may postpone working for the kingdom till a more convenient time. We could resign ourselves to a merely idealistic kingdom: one that it is already mystically present in our interior lives, leaving us with little or nothing to do, in practical terms.

Finally, there is the temptation to reduce our ambitions and locate the kingdom quite simply on the level of morality, restrict it to the field of ethical action. Pushing this idea further some may try to remove God altogether from the stage for wellbeing here and now, yielding to a wholly secular, post-Christian, shadow of the kingdom of God. Mankind’s positive energies would be harnassed solely for the satisfaction of immediate needs, social calm and the conservation of creation. It seems dangerously close to the third temptation of Christ: ‘taking him to a very high mountain the devil showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendour. And he said’ ‘I will give you all these if you fall at my feet and do me hommage’. Such is a utopian dreaming but lacking a foundation in truth, rudderless in a sea of conflicting demands, each person more or less self-centred.

But today’s gospel speaks of another kingdom, the Kingdom of God – where  the Lord is active in history and guiding his people, inviting them to live in truth and justice, in the love of God and neighbour. And his kingship over the world and over history transcends the moment, indeed transcends and reaches beyond the whole of history. And yet at the same time it belongs absolutely to the present. It is present in our liturgy, in our moral action, it is present as a life-shaping power through the believer’s prayer and being. By faith the Christian already participates in the world to come.

With Christ this kingdom is already here and finds expression in gospel statements like ‘the kingdom of God ‘is at hand’, ‘it has come upon you’, or ‘is in the midst of you’. From this we can see that in Christ, God has drawn near to us and He is the one who acts, ruling in a divine way, without worldly powers.

To conclude let us consider just one example: the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector. They both pray in the Temple in their very different ways. The Pharisee, like the secular city, can boast considerable ethical achievements; but the tax collector knows he cannot boast before God; he prays in full awareness of his debt to grace. The pharisee does not really look at God at all, because he does everything right by himself. He has no real relation to God, who is ultimately superfluous. But  the tax collector sees himself in the light of God, knows that he needs God and that he lives by God’s goodness. He draws life from being-in-relation to God. He will always need the gift of goodness and in receiving it he will learn to pass it on to others. The grace for which he prays does not dispense him from moral action; it is what makes him truly capable of doing good in the first place. In other words the good actions of the secular city are recognised but for the citizen of heaven those same achievements are done in the context of a relationship of love. He needs God and because he recognises that he begins, through God’s goodness, to become good himself. That makes all the difference.

So, planted in love and built on love, let us make our contribution to the advent of God’s Kingdom!

Fr John

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