Category: abbeynews

Sunday 7^th November, 2021

Fr. Henry O’Shea

1Kings 17:10-16; Heb 9:24-28; Mk12:343-44

“For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” 1Samuel 16.7a

In certain schools of Jewish thought and practice, even to this day, personal belief, faith, or intellectual assent, are less important than a strict and accurate observance of the precepts of the Law in every sphere of life, from private prayer and public worship, to the most mundane of actions. This does not mean at all that in Judaism there was and is no room for the heart but, certainly at the time of Our Lord, outward conformity was primary.

Christ’s great insight and change of emphasis lie in his placing of what is in the heart above outward conformity to rules, above any ticking of the boxes of conformity.

This is why, as we read in today’s gospel, that Jesus is allergic to the scribes with their minute knowledge of the Law and its 613  rules and regulations, swanning around in long robes and basking in public adulation in the front seats of the synagogues. This insidious attitude of the knowers-better is a universal phenomenon, which has always been present, in every culture, in every religious, artistic, business and political culture It is particularly corrosive when linked to our relationship with God and to the way we relate to other people that flows from how we see and treat God.

This is why Jesus uses the example of the widow and her tiny monetary contribution to the treasury, pointing out that as a gift of her heart, this tiny sum vastly outweighs the lavish donations of those who, in their abundance, hardly miss what they give. The widow, gives her heart, which ultimately is all that the Lord is interested in. And she give that heart freely. She is not forced. Because the Lord respects her freedom and does not want to force anyone.

The readings at Mass on Sundays are usually chosen so that the first reading and the gospel complement each other. This is very clear today where there are obvious parallels between the widow of Sidon and her generosity to the Prophet Elijah and the widow at the treasury, so praised by Jesus, himself the fulfillment of the prophecies of Elijah.

Today’s second reading, from the letter to the Hebrews, tells us why and how Jesus can be that fulfilment.

In the evening office of Vespers in the Churches of the East, there is a beautiful hymn in praise of the Light, sung while the evening candles are being lit. The opening words are:

Hail gladsome light,

Of his pure glory poured,

Who is the eternal Father, heavenly blessed.

Holy of Holies, Jesus Christ, Our Lord.

The author of the Letter to the Hebrews tells us that Christ is the definitive appearance of the Father’s revelation of himself. Christ is the only and final sacrifice that perfects and puts an end for all time to all human sacrifices. In abolishing these sacrifices, he has abolished all human altars and temples and is himself the sacrifice, the altar, the temple, the only true priest. He is the definitive Holy of Holies. Not only does this Holy of Holies make possible and offers to us an end to sin, but by making us part of himself in Baptism and feeding us with himself in the Eucharist, gives us access to true worship with and in the only Holy of Holies.

The heart is the organ by which we recognise, through which we are inhabited and cling to this Holy of Holies, Christ Jesus himself. Clearly, the term ‘heart’ means more than the name of an essential organ of the body. Here, ‘heart’ means the essential core of my being. Here, ‘heart’ means, that instrument and facility, that active combination of seeing, knowing, getting-it and loving, that engagement of our minds and our capacities for love. ‘Heart’ is a dynamic and energizing giving and receiving of our emotional and intellectual capacities in an eternal learning-curve.  This is the part of us that the Holy of Holies wants for himself.

And this is why the widows of Sidon and the widow at the treasury are, literally, an eternity removed from the misguided know-alls who see only as those men and women see, for whom outward appearances are all that matter.

The Orthodox chant mentioned above finishes:

Now we are come to the sun’s hour of rest;
The lights of evening round us shine;
We praise the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit divine!

Worthiest art thou at all times to be sung, with undefiled tongue,
Son of our Father, giver of life, alone:
Therefore in all the world thy glories, Lord, they own

“For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All Saints 2021

In 2007 Gene Weingarten won a Pulitzer Prize for a story he wrote in the Washington Post about a social experiment carried out by Joshua Bell. Bell is an American violinist and conductor who plays the Gibson Stradivarius worth $4 million. At 17 he made his debut in Carnegie Hall, in 2007 he won the Avery Fisher Prize and in 2008 received the Golden Plate Award of the American Academy of Achievement. 

On 12^th January 2007, Bell donned a baseball cap and played for 45 minutes as an incognito busker at the Metro subway station L’Enfant Plaza in Washington, D.C. 1,097 people hurried past, but only 7 stopped to listen and only one recognised him. He collected $52.17 from 28 different people; $20 coming from the man who recognised him! He played the exact same music three days earlier to a packed concert venue where people payed top dollar for a seat. If you want to hear him yourself he is playing Beethoven with the New York Philharmonic on 24^th of this month in Tully Hall at the Lincoln Centre, New York, where a front row seat will set you back $468!

So many people hurried past this once in a lifetime opportunity to hear up close one of the world’s greatest musicians. However, the really fascinating question is, what was it about those 7 individuals who stopped and listened, that allowed them to hear what so many could not? They saw past the externals and really heard the music which resonated deep down with their own humanity.

“If you desire to know yourself and to possess yourself, go into yourself, and do not search for yourself outside” says St Isaac of Stella, “Distinguish between what is around you, what belongs to you, and your self!” A saint is a person who realises that they are made in the image and likeness of God and that God’s own music, that infinite Wisdom, is resounding deep within. Can you hear it?

This is why Jesus could exclaim “Blessed are those who mourn, they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” We can choose to live like this if we want, or we can choose to live life in a state of semi-death, refusing to hear the music; to be a person who hardly hears, who seldom sees, who barely or rarely loves, who refuses to forgive, who struggles to possess rather than share. This is why St Irenaeus of Lyons said, “the Glory of God is the human person fully alive.”

Isaac of Stella reminds us “If someone has never seen light they will not recognise darkness either.” “The Lord Jesus and perhaps he alone, could be in a crowd, be undisturbed by it, and so could see it.” Remember Jesus knew that the woman who was haemorrhaging had touched the hem of his garment in the vast crowd and power went out from him. Have I worked up the courage to begin that inner journey, or do I remain on a superficial level?

The saint has heard the voice of God calling out, ‘O Adam, O Eve, where are you?’ Still in the shadows perhaps, so that you cannot see yourself? Sewing together foolish fig leaves to cover your shame? Look within and see yourself, face the truth, whatever that might be. Listen to the precepts of the Master and incline the ear of your heart. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, the kingdom of heaven is theirs.” “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.” “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” Become a saint, exchange those fig leaves for your white garment and hear the heavenly score resounding.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In this podcast Fr William talks about how the cycle of prayer in the monastery gives shape and rhythm to our day, to our year, and to our lives: https://bit.ly/2ZyeLT2

Audio only: https://bit.ly/3pNi7Na

In our Gospel today we see Jesus leaving Jericho and taking the dangerous road to Jerusalem where scourging, crucifixion, death and resurrection, by which the world is saved, await Him.  Yet no thought of reasonable triage prevents him, like the Good Samaritan, from tending to the blind Bar Timaeus who sits on the side of the road calling for mercy. Mercy and joy Jesus gives him by restoring to him his sight.

Our story today is  indeed of Mercy and Joy, and Wisdom and Might.

We too call upon the Lord for mercy  –  in threefold form ? make manifest His on –going  work of creation within us.

Bartimaeus’ attempts to call upon the Lord were met with opposition from those around him who scolded him and told him to keep quiet.

But other voices spoke to him saying, Courage, get up, He is calling you.

  We might ask what are the voices which prevent us calling on the Lord?  There is the voice of our ancient enemy, the Satan, the accuser of our race who may use our own thoughts or the words of others to paralyze us with too much shame, and so that we fail to discern the presence of the gracious Lord.

  And whence come the voices who tell us, Courage, get up,  He is calling you?  They are the voices of those who themselves have tasted the goodness of the Lord, of our friends on earth and in Heaven.  They are the voices of all those who from our infancy have looked on us with Love and wished us well, who still abide with us and know the Lord is near.

Up with us then at last to allow the Lord restore our sight,  the delight of our hearts, that we may exult in His presence with the joy of  his gift of life, now and forever, Amen

There’s an old joke about a confused American tourist, driving around a remote area of the West of Ireland, hopelessly lost among the by-ways and boreens. This was before Google Maps and Sat Navs and he had no idea where he was or how he would get to the village he was supposed to be staying in for the night. Totally confused and frustrated, he saw an old man walking along the road with his sheepdog and pulled up beside him and rolled down the window and asked him how he would get to his destination. The old man paused for a few moments, rubbed his chin and began to shake his head. Eventually he answered: “Well the first thing I’d do is that I wouldn’t start from here”!

As I looked at today’s Gospel, and at the first sentence, this silly story came to mind. Today’s Gospel begins with James and John, coming forward and asking Jesus for seats one on his right and one on his left, in his glory. A pretty bold and pushy demand… As I considered what to say about the Gospel, the response of the farmer to the tourist in that old joke came to mind: “Well the first thing I’d do is that I wouldn’t start from here…”

You see, if the Lectionary had started the reading just a few lines earlier in the Gospel, we would understand the context much better. Because in the verses just before today’s reading, Jesus tries to prepare his disciples for what was to come when they reached Jerusalem. It was disturbingly direct: ‘See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.’

And how did James and John react? They totally ignored all the appalling bits about their teacher and leader being arrested, condemned, mocked, spat upon, flogged and killed, and immediately jumped to the happy ending, asking for the best seats in the house after the resurrection. If I were ever in the awful situation of telling my closest friends that I knew I was about to be murdered, I’d hope that their first words wouldn’t be a demand to be the main beneficiaries of my will… The request of the sons of Zebedee was completely bone-headed and obtuse and it’s easy to caricature them and ridicule them, as I’m doing right now. But maybe we aren’t actually all that different. Jesus had just announced something so awful that perhaps they simply couldn’t take it in. It’s easy to imagine the stunned and silent horror of the disciples when they heard Jesus foretelling what was to come, and so in their panic they simply broke the awkward silence with the first thing that came in to their heads. They changed the subject. An Irish person nowadays might react by asking if anyone would like a nice cup of tea instead! But it’s the same dynamic: it’s easier to change the subject than to deal with shocking and difficult news.

This is true in the general sense, of the bits and pieces of daily life, but it’s also true in the particular sense of being a follower of Jesus. We might laugh at James and John for ignoring all the coming suffering and jumping straight to the resurrection, with their outlandish request to be allowed reign alongside the Christ in glory. But we Christians aren’t always keen to focus on the challenges and the suffering that are part of being disciples either. We don’t always want to truly walk the way of the Cross. We are often just as guilty as James and John of treating Jesus like a kind of fairy-godfather, whose principal function is to give us what we want. But the Son of God is not a genie in a bottle who appears when summoned to grant us three wishes. To us, as to James and John, Jesus asks the challenging question: ‘Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?’

Following Jesus is challenging. The rich young man we heard about last week discovered that when Jesus told him to sell all he had. He couldn’t do it, and he went away sad. Today, James and John are told that fidelity to Jesus can lead to suffering and death, and they simply changed the subject. Maybe we need to ask ourselves where we stand. Are we up for the challenge?

In answering the silly and proud demand of James and John, Jesus continued with a lesson on how his followers should live: ‘Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.’ Last Sunday in Rome, and today in all the dioceses of the world, the Pope and bishops launched a two-year process leading up to a Synod – a meeting of the world’s bishops – to discern how better to be a Church that ‘walks together’, a Church characterised by Community, Participation and Mission. They could surely find no better starting point that today’s Gospel: ‘Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.’ Let us pray in a special way today for this process that is now starting all over the world. Pope Francis says he doesn’t want it to be just ‘a Church convention, a study group or a political gathering, a parliament, but rather a grace-filled event, a process of healing guided by the Spirit’. Let us pray that it may be so – keeping in mind, as Pope Francis said during the week, ‘the joyful conviction that, even as we seek the Lord, he always comes with his love to meet us first’.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God” (Mark 10: 25), so Jesus tells his disciples, as they witness a rich man, who wanted to know what to do in order to inherit eternal life, turn down the invitation by Jesus to join them.

It’s an absurd picture, of course, which readers down the ages have sought to moderate and interpret in morre convenient ways.  There have been claims about a narrow gate in the Jerusalem city wall, such as could be opened after the main gate was closed for the night, to which gullible pilgrims were conducted, no doubt for a small fee, to see how a camel might squeeze through.  

Of course, such ways of dealing with the text are a bit stretched. Mainly, however, don’t such attempts to make Jesus sound more reasonable simply miss the point? Surely he was joking, teasing, deliberately provoking his disciples, making fun of their literal-mindedness and that of subsequent readers of the story.

A perfectly decent law-abiding man turns sadly away when Jesus tells him to sell everything and follow him. It’s one of the few instances in the gospels when someone refuses his call.  Does it anger or grieve Jesus?  On the contrary, he seems unsurprised, shows his affection for the man and lets him go. He takes the man’s departure as an opportunity to test his disciples.

Hearing him say that being rich inhibits one’s entry into the kingdom of God astonished the disciples, so that they ask one another who, in that case, can be saved.  They might have asked Jesus, but he will answer them anyway.  As it appears, they have the deep-seated assumption in their culture as in our own, that wealth is a proof of divine blessing. It would not be difficult to identify comments in our social media today, and even policies and political decisions in our own divided society, which reflect attitudes that are essentially the same as the disciples reveal here.  No doubt, with rhetoric about the option for the poor, we could not write them off; but in the meritocratic culture we inhabit in the West, secular and increasingly pagan as it becomes, isn’t success measured by income, and don’t the rich seem to have inherited the earth?

Jesus’s penchant for irony appears at the start of the story as he snubs the rich man, who addresses him on his knees, politely, deferentially, as “Good teacher”, and gets the immediate self-deprecating riposte:  “Why are you calling me ‘good’: God alone is good!” This man turns away from Jesus because following Jesus means taking the radical choice of accepting that it’s Jesus who sets the terms. At this level being a follower means having to follow. There is no conditionality or even mutuality. Faith in this sense is not a question of the existence or not existence of God. It is about believing that love without reward is truly valuable. As the old of St Ignatius prayer says “to give and not to count the cost, to fight and not to heed the wounds, to labour and look for no reward save that of knowing we do your holy will”. Your will be done.

At the climax of the story Simon Peter, perhaps self-importantly, or self-pityingly, or perhaps only in bewilderment (again it is for us as readers to decide), reminds Jesus that he and the other disciples “left everything and followed you”, Jesus responds with a somewhat surreal picture.  Since they have left : lost :  so much, the disciples will receive everything back : “one hundredfold now in this time houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and fields”: albeit “with persecutions”. He slips in parenthetically this wry and sobering reference to the inevitability of martyrdom. For the rest of the promise, however, who wants houses, brothers and sisters, and so on, multiplied in their hundreds? What’s with this business of promising everyone a housing estate in heaven? I think what he’s saying is love without expectation of reward and beyond that you enter the realm of God’s grace, His gift it’s a realm beyond the law and mere commerce which were the two realms that the young man was so good at.