Fr Peter's Homilies

5th Sunday of the Year (B) : Homily / Sermon

2012-01-30T16:57:00.001Z

Let us go elsewhere, … so that I can preach there too, because that is why I came. (Mark 1:37-38)

Today’s Gospel presents us with a day in the life of Our Lord - afternoon in the synagogue, then to Simon Peter’s House - in the evening receiving the sick - in the morning moving on to preach and heal somewhere else. He’s a workaholic!

To understand the Gospel, the Church often gives us an insight in the first reading, from the Old Testament. Here is the book of Job, we also hear about a day in the life:

Is not man’s life on earth nothing more than pressed service
…Lying in bed I wonder, ‘When will it be day?’
Risen I think, ‘How slowly evening comes!’
Restlessly I fret till twilight falls.

So which are you - the workaholic, relentlessly moving from task to task, need to need, place to place? Or the person who peers carefully through the curtains, praying for another ‘snow day’?

And it needn’t change so much if you don’t have to go to work anymore - after all, some of us get up in the morning eager to embrace the day … while others hide under the sheets, avoiding the day for as long as possible.

Now let’s not be mistaken by our readings today. Some people are so active that they never stop and think. Some are so busy that they forget the needs of the people around them, especially family and friends.

That is not the example of Jesus. Jesus is a man of action, but he is also a man of prayer. He embraces the crowds, but also goes off to a lonely place to pray. Preaching without prayer is empty, Activity without reflection is just busy-ness, as Shakespeare puts it: like ‘a tale told by an idiot, signifying nothing’.

We don’t have to be busy, manic activists to please God. We do not need to wear ourselves into the ground to please him. But we must always remember that prayer is not another activity, but the powerhouse, the fuel, the motivation, which gives us our purpose and our focus, and from which all our action flows.

4th Sunday of the Year: Homily / Sermon

2012-01-27T13:07:00.001Z

He gives orders even to unclean spirits and they obey him! (Mark 1:27)

I think mental illness has always scared people. How many horror stories there are about insane murderers and killers. In years gone by the insane were locked away, and their shrieks and cries in the Bethlehem hospital in London even led to the coining of the word ‘Bedlam’. Even in our own, so enlightened days, there is some shame in mental illness and fear of those who are schizophrenic or bipolar, or just, as people would say ‘nutters’.

And yet, we are told, mental illness is extremely common. Most people, at some time in their lives, suffer from Stress, or irrational anxiety, or depression. Many people at the end their lives suffer from mild or acute dementia. And most of us, probably all us, know someone who had a more severe mental illness.

Nowadays we treat all but the most severe in the community - or we say we do. There is no Bedlam Hospital today. Unlike the Victorians who it away, for us Community care is everything.

It was the same in Jesus’ day. Mental illness was poorly understood. They thought these were demons, unclean spirits, possessions. But in doing this they recognised that the person is not the illness. They feared the illness, but loved the person who was afflicted. They were all someone’s son, or daughter, husband or wife. They didn’t tell the mentally ill that they should pull themselves together. All too often we do that. And lock the mentally ill away not in hospitals, but in prisons. Let us not suppose that we are so very much better than they were.

And Jesus, when he meets these people, he heals them. He speaks sharply to the illness, but treats the afflicted with compassion. He does not avoid them, or shuns them, but he stand before them, with confidence, with authority.

This is a new teaching because it brings hope to those who were losing hope. It proclaims healing to those who did not known they could be healed. Jesus casts out fear, because he teaches that true healing is not just of body, but is of body and soul. He comes to save all who dwell in darkness, of pain, of sin, of suffering.

This is the miracle. A real miracle. A healing that takes us out of the blind alleys of human fear and misunderstanding. Here is a teaching that is new.

3rd Sunday of the Year B : Homily / Sermon

2012-01-21T09:30:00.001Z

‘Follow me and I will make you into fishers of men.’ (Mark 1:17)

Today's Gospel presents us with a simple story - the call of the disciples Peter and Andrew, and James and John. Two sets of brothers. Four manual labourers, four workmen. Four people who were no doubt skilled at their work, but probably otherwise uneducated. And as we know from elsewhere, they were direct, straightforward, and sometimes hotheaded men.

And Jesus invites them not to fame or riches. He promises not worldly status or even an easy life. He does even invite them to join a cosy community isolated from the troubles of them world.

He calls them to leave the work they know, and embark upon something they can hardly begin to understand. The only hint or inkling they can have is that in calling these two pairs of brothers, he is saying, come and do what I do, come and call others to follow - be fishers of men, callers of humanity, gatherers of peoples.

And so - at the very start, at the first assembling of his followers, Jesus is preparing for a time when they must take the lead. He is assembling those who must follow him in order to gather others. He is already anticipating a time when they must do this without his immediate presence - at least not present in the way he was on that day by the lake.

He is assembling a community, a Church, to continue his work of preaching, teaching, comforting and calling. A Church that is set to grow because its purpose is to drag others into its nets, to call others into its fellowship, to proclaim and message of hope and welcome humanity into God's love.

At the moment of the call of the very first of the apostles, he is preparing them already for his death and resurrection.

(January 21, 2012)

Second Sunday of the Year : Homily / Sermon

2012-01-13T23:51:00.001Z

Jesus turned round, saw them following and said, ‘What do you want?’ They answered, ‘Rabbi,’ – which means Teacher –’where do you live?’ ‘Come and see’ he replied; so they went and saw where he lived, and stayed with him the rest of that day. (John 1:38-39)

Jesus, where do you live?

It might seem to us an odd question. Why would that matter? And yet, where we live is very important to us. Home sweet home, we say, and There’s no place like home. A home is more than a house or a flat or a few rooms in building.

Home is where the heart is, we also say, and it is the heart that turns bricks and mortar into a place of safety, of comfort, of peace. It is a refuge from the troubles of the world, a place where we gather hope and strength. And our home says much about the sort of people we are, what we care about, what matters to us.

So where does Jesus live? And why does it matter?

At his birth he was homeless - or was he? Matthew tells us that he was born in a stable because there was no place in the Inn. In St Luke’s Gospel we read Jesus’ words ‘The birds of the air have nests and the foxes have holes, but Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.’

Yet John tells us that ‘The Word became flesh, and dwelt amongst us’. He made his home amongst us. His home. The world is his home. It is here where his heart his. These are the people he loves. He lives not in some remote or far away place, but right in our midst. He is with us. And like the disciples, he calls us too.

(The picture was drawn by Erika Aoyama on November 16, 2002. Source: http://tinyurl.com/7ysu5bz)

The Epiphany : Homily / Sermon

2012-01-06T10:45:00.001Z

This is January. The name ‘January’ refers to the old roman god ‘Janus’ who stands at the door of year looking forward and back. It is a time when we reflect on the past year and look forward to the coming year.
We are now well established in the new year. Most people, and many of the schools, have been back to work for the past week. Newpapers and television, generally thin for news at this time, have been reflecting on the year ahead. In dark long days it is hardly surprising that there is a lot of pessimism about.

And as the new year gets underway we celebrate also with the feast of the Epiphany. Better to reflect on this, than the gloomy predictions of the news media.

Everyone knows that the day celebrates the coming of the wise men, the kings, the magi, to the child Jesus. It is the celebration of a long and hard journey, which ends with the revelation of Truth himself.
When the magi arrive they find an ordinary house and an ordinary family - not so different from ours - and the house is blessed by their arrival, and their worship, and their gifts: the splendour of gold for a king, the luxury of frankincense for worship and the tenderness of myrrh for burial. The gifts express both hope and anxiety for the future.

And - now here’s the strange thing - that ordinary house is actually blessed not by the visitors, but by the one they visit. The blessing is received not by the the host, but by the guests. The real gifts are received not by the family, but by those who give. The Truth is revealed not to those who receive the message, but to those who carry it.

In a way this visit of the wise men is a model of all human worship of God, and indeed a model of what it means to have faith. We praise and bless him, yet we are the ones who receive his blessing. We bring gifts to offer to him - yet we are the ones who receive the gifts of his grace. The host receives us into his presence, yet it is we who receive the host.

At the end of mass today there will be the traditional blessing of chalk which we shall use to bless our houses. The number of the year indicates a prayer for God’s blessing as this year begins. The letters C M B refer to the three travellers who visited the holy house – Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar – but also are the initials of the latin words “Christus mansionem benedicat.” “May Christ bless the house.”

As we enter a new year let us bring all our hopes and anxieties to him. In a way these are our gifts - Gold for hope, Myrrh for our worries, Frankincense for our prayer. We cannot forsee or predict what will happen. But we can bring our hopes and concerns before him, and he will give us strength.

May Christ bless our houses, our homes, our families, and our lives, now and for ever.

Mary, Mother of God: Homily / Sermon

2011-12-31T09:02:00.001Z

Homily for the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God

As for Mary, she treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart. (Luke 2:19)

These few words, which occur on a couple of occasions in Luke's Gospel, have had a far reaching impact. They are words which struck Blessed John Henry Newman too, and he preached a famous homily on them, and they inspired him to write one of his best known works, the Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine.

They speak to us about the Heart of Mary, the Immaculate Heart. A phrase not used in Scripture itself, but a phrase which reveals much of what Scripture teaches. They tell us so much not only about Mary, but about our own understanding of God.

In telling us that Mary treasures and ponders these words, St Luke is telling us that she said little, but thought much. Unlike the time when the Angel visited her, she does not ask questions, she does not challenge the message given to her. That was her moment of faith, when she accepted God's will for her. Now she listens, treasures, ponders. She lets the message unfold in all its detail. She reflects and prays. She has already accepted God's will, and now, bit by bit it becomes clear to her just precisely what that means.

And that is how faith works. When we commit ourselves to faith in God, belief in his coming in the flesh, his resurrection, in the Trinity - it does not mean that we instantly and fully understand all these things. The commitment of the heart always comes ahead of the understanding of the mind. Faith leads to understanding, commitment comes before knowledge, for it is the heart that enlivens the mind.

If there are aspects of the faith we do not understand, doctrines and dogmas which puzzle and confuse us, teachings which are hard to listen to or explain, we should never feel inadequate or allow this to undermine our faith, but turn rather in prayer to this simple woman, who listened, treasured and pondered; who served her Son; and who is Mother of Faith, Immaculate Heart, Mother of God.

Carol Service Homily 2011

2011-12-19T18:32:00.001Z

Apparently, the Scientists in Cern in Switzerland have now got the evidence they need to prove the existence of what is called the "Higgs boson", the basic building block of matter, and therefore everything in the universe. Journalists like to call it "The God Particle", the origin of everything.

We could therefore rewrite today's Gospel:

In the beginning was the Higgs boson:
and the Higgs boson was the God particle.
Through it all things came to be,
not one thing had its being but through it.
All that came to be had life through it ...

I could go on.

If you are the kind of person who believes in science, then no doubt this is very exciting. If you are the kind of person who believes that science has all the answers and has made religious belief and religious explanations of the world unnecessary, then no doubt you feel vindicated.

Yes, it is important stuff, a sure example of the extraordinary ingenuity of humanity in formulating such theories and making such discoveries.

But let's not miss the point.

Scientific discovery is one thing. It gives explanations, causation, but it does not uncover motives and purposes.

When I changed that reading, I had to make some subtle changes. I had to get rid of the word "with", and change the "he"s to "it". I had to remove all idea of relationship, all idea of dependence, all sense of hope. I had to remove the personal and make it completely impersonal. I had to remove all sense of purpose, and substitute the mechanical.
If science is to be an explanation of everything, then we have to do without any sense of meaning or purpose in the world. If we lay bear the mechanism, then all that is left is machinery.

The Gospel reading tells a very different tale. It tells us not how the world came to be - neither does the book of Genesis for that matter - but it tells us that the universe has purpose, the Word has meaning, and that such things as love, and loyalty, honesty and integrity, the powers that bind us together throughout our lives, the forces that confirm our deep intuition of the immortality of the soul, the values that underpin our hope in a greater and almighty power, these are much more than merely the movement of genes, but the force that gives life and light to the universe.

When we hear the words "In the beginning was the Word" - when we celebrate the Christmas story in all its beauty and charm - we are being told that life has a purpose, The Word has Meaning, and however important the Boson may be (and it is) what binds the world together is not a particle but a loving heart.

(Image from the Daily Mail - An LHC image of a Higgs boson decaying into two jets of hadrons and two electrons).

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-1379844/Science-world-buzzing-rumours-elusive-God-particle-found.html#ixzz1h0U7saff

Advent 3: Homily / Sermon

2011-12-08T00:00:00.000Z

The spirit of the Lord has been given to me, for the Lord has anointed me. He has sent me to bring good news to the poor, to bind up hearts that are broken; to proclaim liberty to captives, freedom to those in prison; to proclaim a year of favour from the Lord. (Isaiah 61:1-2)

What season of the Christian year is most charcteristic of the Christian life?

You see, I think that as Christians, we often think life is a sort of perpetual Lent. It is about repentance from sin, and doing without, and suffering in union with Christ. There is a certain drabness - just as the Church is undecorated so the Christian life is about sacrifice. Perhaps that's the kind of idea that we have grown up with.

But as a reflection of the Christian life it is too bleak, too negative, too much about suffering and not enough about victory, too much about sacrifice and not enough about happiness.

Or perhaps Easter is a better idea. If is a time of happiness and rejoicing. After all, through baptism we die and rise with Christ. In Communion we share in his risen life. Christ has saved us from sin, so we rejoice in the new life we share in him. This is our Easter faith. And over and over again we sing alleluia.

But is Easter typical of the Christian life? It's full of hope. It's optimistic. It's positive. But perhaps that's too much. We know all too well about our sins and imperfections and sufferings. We are Easter people - but not quite yet.

No. I think that more than any other season it is Advent which characterises the Christian life. Advent is a time of joy. Not only do we still sing Alleluia, but we also sing Rejoice! Emmanuel will come! And we echo the words of the first Christians 'Come. Lord Jesus!'. We eagerly await his coming. It is a time of joy, but in waiting we also realise that the best is yet to come. This life has its incompleteness, it's shortcomings, its imperfections.

We wait for the fulness of Christ's presence, yet we do so with a sure and clear hope. Advent is a time of rejoicing, a time of anticipation, a time of hope, a time when we know what it is to do without, because we know what is yet to come.

Advent 2: Homily / Sermon

2011-12-02T23:32:00.001Z

“The time has come, and the Kingdom of God is near at hand!” (Mark 1:14)

The most famous play of the playwright Samuel Becket is called “Waiting for Godot”. When it was published and first performed in the early 1950s it caused something of a storm. By the 1970s when I studied it for A level, it had become something of a classic.

It has no story really. In two acts, the two principal characters wait by a tree for the arrival of Godot. We never really find out who Godot is, and he never turns up. The two characters are like tramps, or clowns, and they seem very weak or pathetic. Overall, it is not an uplifting play, and then, and since, people have argued about what it means and who Godot is. Is he meant to represent God? Possibly? Is the tree the tree of life? Of the knowledge of Good and Evil? Or of the Cross?

The play is really about waiting, and hope, and what it can do to people. The pair are foolish because their waiting is pointless, and never ending. It drags down their lives so they cannot do anything else other than wait. The waiting weighs them down in boredom. It is a fascinating play, but also quite depressing.

The play is far from being a Christian play, because it seems to mock hope and ends in absurdity. Yet on the other hand it does present a mirror image of Christian hope.

If hope makes us inactive, if it stultifies our lives, if it imprisons and constricts us, then it is no hope at all. We, the Advent people, are waiting. And we know the wait can be long - “to the Lord a day can mean a thousand years”. So what is the difference?

That is simple. For them, they wait for something they hardly know, but which will change their lives in some inexplicable way in the future. For them the present is tedious, but the future will be different. For Christians it is very different. We wait for someone we do know, who has already visited us, who shares his life with us in the sacraments and the saints. And the waiting, in faith and hope, inspires us and encourages us. The time of waiting, the Advent of this life frees us from hopelessness: it gives us meaning and purpose.

Isaiah’s messenger cries from the mountains, the voice of John cries in the wilderness, and the voice of Jesus in the cities of Galilee to proclaim what is Good News, a joyful message. As St Peter says in the second reading, our waiting for the coming of the Day of God inspires us to live holy and saintly lives, filled with joy.

The problem with the men in the play is for them hope is in something which will change their lives in some vague once upon a time future, whereas for us, hope is in something that is changing our lives now.

Advent Sunday (B): Homily / Sermon

2011-11-25T00:00:00.000Z

“Be on our guard, stay awake, because you never know when the time will come” (Mark 13:33)

The prayer of the first Christians, the final word of the Bible are about the coming of Christ: Maranatha, they prayed, Come, Lord Jesus. The first Christians would meet together on Saturday evening not for a short mass, but for a long vigil throughout the night, as they waited expectantly for the coming of Christ with dawn. Every Saturday-Sunday vigil remembered not only the resurrection of Jesus, but also looked forward to the coming of Christ at the end of time.

We have lost something of that excitement, that anticipation. December is an exciting time for us because of the pressures of preparing for Christmas, and sadly not because in Advent we are keenly looking forward to the coming of Christ.

Let us try to recover something of the wonder and awe which those first Christians had. They read scripture and prayed through the night, so that with the new day, as they shared the Eucharist, they knew that Christ was already with them in the sacrament – not yet clearly seen, maybe, not yet known by all people, perhaps, and yet really and truly present in the Sacrament of the Altar.

So we should prepare ourselves for Christ this Advent, and renew once more our devotion to him in the Mass.

Let us renew ourselves in prayer: before we come to Mass – in quite times spent at home – on the journey to the Church – in a real sense of expectation that we will meet Christ here.

Let us also deepen our knowledge of Christ in scripture – by reading in advance the readings for Sunday Mass – by spending each day reading part of the Gospels, or of the Psalms, or using one of the many guides to the reading of Scripture which are available.

We can see Christ in the Sacrament, and truly meet him – if we prepare our hearts for this beautiful encounter.

The Feast of Christ the King (C) : Homily / Sermon

2011-11-20T08:58:00.001Z

"In so far as you did this to one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it to me". (Matthew 25:39)

We celebrate today the Feast of Christ our King. It is the culmination of the Church year as we celebrate Christ gathering all things to himself and ruling as Lord of all creation.

But the images presented to us in the readings speak very little of kingship directly. The word "King" appears a couple of times in the Gospel, though in fact we have are presented rather with other images of Christ, images which explain what kind of King he is.

Firstly, he is a Shepherd. We see this especially in the reading from the prophet Ezekiel and in the Psalm. These are familiar and comforting words: The Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing I shall want, the Psalm says. He looks after the lost one, brings back the stray, bandages the wounded and keeps the weak strong, Ezekiel tells us. His care is especially for the weak and the wounded, the vulnerable, those who are poor, not simply in monetary terms, but those whose spirit needs lifting and sustaining, whose hearts are heavy, who reach out for the embrace of his love. He revives our drooping Spirit.

But there is another image, too. The Shepherd is also a Judge. The Shepherd may present a comforting image, but that he is also a Judge may be discomforting. He separates the sheep from the goats. He assigns the just punishment to those on his left hand. He distinguishes between the virtuous, who have carried out the works of mercy, and those who have not, and dispatches them to their fate.

When this Gospel is read, often the reading ends with the reward of the virtuous. It may be for reasons of length, but it may also be because we have a slight apprehension that our place amongst the sheep might not be as secure as we would hope. The gentle shepherd may seem a little too demanding for us.

But the message is not different, but the same. Just as we may be poor in needing his compassion to lift up our drooping spirit, so we are rich in being able to offer that compassion to others. He calls on us too to clothe the naked, visit the sick, feed the hungry, bring back the stray, bandage the wounded, make the weak strong.

This is not a fierce and painful judgment, but no more than a challenge to share what we have been given, to forgive others as we are forgiven ourselves, to show mercy to others as his mercy has been given to us, to love as we are loved.

33rd Sunday of the Year A : Homily / Sermon

2011-11-11T22:55:00.001Z

‘His master said to him, “Well done, good and faithful servant; you have shown you can be faithful in small things, I will trust you with greater; come and join in your master’s happiness.” (Matthew 25)

Sometimes we may doubt whether this parable is really for us. Do I have a talent?

And of course, on one level it is a fair point. Not many of us are international swimmers, X factor singers, or skilled sculptors. Oh yes, we are good at some things more than others, but is that a talent?

Take care over the details in the story. It is money which the man gives to his servant to invest, and the currency is called ‘talents’. It might just as well have been pounds, or euros or dollars (in their thousands of course). The connection with great skill is an interesting one, but it isn’t exactly there in the original story.

You see the story is for us. We all do have gifts, gifts from God. We have all been given something by him, a vocation, an aptitude, an ability. It may not be prizewinning, but it is no less valuable for all that.
You may include being a mother, or grandmother. You could be a teacher. Or a listener. You may be good at odd jobs, DIY, and can use that gift to help family, friends and neighbours. You may have a good singing or reading voice. Or a good sense of humour. You may be good at writing letters, or understanding complex documents or ideas. Or perhaps you just know how to get the DVD recorder to work. Any or all of these may be gifts, talents, granted by God.

Thank him for them. And don’t bury them. Put them to good use, and they will double, they will grow, and they will be to your credit and to the praise of God.

This is the warning here. Do not hide your light under a bushel, but rejoice in your blessings and put them to proper and frequent use. Glorify him in using the things with which he has blessed you, for to do so is not to take pride in yourself, but is to rejoice in making repayment to the Master, from whom come such blessings.

30th Sunday of the Year: Homily / Sermon

2011-10-21T22:29:00.001Z

A couple of years ago, the famous atheist, Professor Richard Dawkins, supported a plan to promote atheism by putting advertisements on London buses. They tried to copy some religious groups by using the kind of slogan you might find on a wayside pulpit - except one that rejected belief rather than promoted it. The adverts read: “There's probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life.”

I find it fascinating, and amusing, for three good reasons.

Firstly, they said that “There's probably no God”. Ah - not certainly. They’re not quite sure…

Secondly, they said “stop worrying”. They obviously think that belief in God makes people worry. Well, the idea that God exists might worry them, but for most of us, to believe in God is far from worrying.

Thirdly, they say “enjoy your life”. They clearly believe that a religious believer does not enjoy life, but is miserable and unhappy.

Today’s Gospel presents us with the commandment to love. Jesus is asked what is the greatest commandment, and he gives not one but two, though the two are really one: Love God and love your neighbour.

If we believe in God, then we must live by these commandments. But does this make us worry? Do they make us unhappy?

Quite the opposite. To know that God is love, and that we should respond to him in love is a source not of anxiety, but of great comfort, great hope, great consolation. To love God is to acknowledge the source of meaning and purpose. To love God is to embrace the truth. To love God is to glory and wonder at all that he has made.

Believing in God does make us anxious or unhappy. He encourages us in our lives. He guides us in the decisions we must take. He challenges us to love one another so that not only is my life happy but the lives of our neighbours may be happy too. He gives us comfort when we are sad. Hope when trouble confronts us. He gives us joy and blessings in our lives. He makes sense out of confusion and hope out of despair. He provides us with far more than enjoyment - he gives us happiness, the happiness of living in the Truth.

To be told “enjoy your life” might at first seem attractive, but what it really means is you are on your own, there is nothing else - no hope, no purpose - and no one else - no sacrifice, no commitment - other people are only there for what I can get out of them.

“Stop worrying. Enjoy your life.” Does not only mean that there is ‘probably no God’ but also that there is ‘probably no Love’.

We know better.

28th Sunday of the Year: Homily / Sermon

2011-10-07T20:07:00.001Z

October is not, perhaps the most obvious month for a wedding, yet this year I have three weddings, on three different Saturdays, this month. Last weekend the bride and groom were blessed with the hottest October day on record!

Yet, as I guess all of us know, planning a wedding celebration and attending to all the details can be a very exacting and very stressful task.

One such difficulty is the guest list. Who do you invite or not invite? Who do you sit next to whom? And what do you do about the people who are likely to come, but just can't be bothered to reply to the invitation?

Well, the King in the parable seems to have similar problems, and there seems go a simple message: if some of those invited can't be bothered to give the courtesy offs reply, then invite those who WILL be grateful.

But, of course, wise advice though this may be, that isn't really what the parable is about. The banquet, the Wedding Feast, is a reminder of the Eucharist, and an image of heaven, eternal life with God.

And the parable gives us a simple yet challenging message.

Firstly, God calls everyone into his Kingdom. The self-important, the self-righteous, the holier-than-thous had better beware. The rich, the wealthy, the influential, the clever, the successful - they are in danger of thinking themselves too good. The invitation is for them, but also the poor, the destitute, the weak, the uneducated, the failures of life, the sinners and the despised. They are invited too.

And there is a second point, which at first may seem to jar. It's to do with this strange detail of the man without a wedding garment. You see, while the invitation is open to everyone, this does not mean it us without conditions. Christ invites sinners, but they must be repentant sinners.

He invited all to his Wedding Feast, but accepting the invitation means accepting a faith and a way of life which changes and transforms us. In entering the Feast we become a new person - the Wedding Garment is the robe of our baptism, which symbolizes a new life in faith and trust and honesty and compassion and love. We must love as we are loved.

We must forgive as we are forgiven. We must give as we have received. As we have been invited, we must invite others.

As we enter the Feast, so we put on a wedding garment, leaving behind pettiness, and ingratitude and self-interest.

27th Sunday of the Year: Homily / Sermon

2011-09-30T19:35:00.001Z

For the third week we are in the vineyard. Two weeks ago we heard about the labourers in the vineyard. Last week we heard about the sons of the vineyard owner, and this week it is the tenants, and the servants, who come to the forefront of our attention.

Yet in each parable there is a constant figure in the background. We don't learn much about him, but he is vital to all three stories. He, of course, is the Vineyard owner.

The parallels are fairly obvious. The owner of the vineyard is the Father, God himself. He hires, pays, orders and owns. The vineyard is his.

And the characters in the stories are us. The workers, the sons, the servants, the rebellious tenants. At times good, at times bad, but at all times responsible to the Owner.

But what about the vineyard? It is not simply the Jewish people, or the world, or human society, or even 'the kingdom of heaven'. The Vineyard is God's Creation, his purpose, the workings of his love, his entire plan for humanity. This is truly what it meant when we say the Vineyard is the House of Israel.

And we are imperfect stewards. Sometimes rebellious. Sometimes obstinate. Yet often rewarded beyond what we deserve.

And the final reward is not material comfort, nor even the contentment from the well being of others, but the satisfaction of an invitation to the Vineyard of the Father, the Kingdom of God, the House of Israel.

26th Sunday of the Year: Homily / Sermon

2011-09-23T22:05:00.001Z

Which of the two did the father’s will? (Matthew 21:31)

This weekend we are back in the vineyard - though this time we are not with the workers, but with the owner’s family. One lad agrees to work but doesn't, while the other refused to work, yet does.

The basic message, so familiar from the life of any family, is simple and clear: when words and deeds do not match, it is the deeds which matter.

So often we find it so hard to say what is truly on our hearts. We find it hard to say sorry, yet we will undertake acts to heal rifts with others. We find it hard to admit that we are in the wrong, yet we will quietly correct ourselves. Like the typical teenagers in the parable we claim that we know best, yet follow the advice we are given anyway.

Words are important, deeds more so. We might win an argument, yet convince no one. The most persuasive argument will always be our example. We can tell our children to be honest, but if they see us being dishonest, then they will learn the example, not the words. We can gather together each week and profess our faith, but if that does not make a difference to our lives, who will ever think it is something worth sharing.

By their fruits shall you know them, says Jesus. St Francis of Assisi said to his followers 'Preach the Gospel - use words if necessary'. Deeds speak louder than words.

25th Sunday of the Year: Homily / Sermon

2011-09-18T19:36:00.001Z

Why be envious because I am generous? (Matthew 20:15)

It is sometimes said that there are two topics of conversation which should never be aired in polite company. One is politics and the other is religion. So, to bring both religion and politics together is especially dangerous. Yet this is what todays Gospel seems to do.

Here we have the labourers in the vineyard paid the same rate whether they worked all day or just for one hour.

Now the political mind looks at that story in terms of fairness and justice.

On the one hand it could be said that the parable underlines the rights of the employer, the vineyard owner, to do what he wishes with his money - to pay what he likes to whom he likes when he likes. No place for unions or regulations or a minimum wage here.

But on the other hand another political mind may disagree and say that the parable underlines the need for all to be supported, everyone to receive a basic wage, all to be given a living income whether work is available or not.

Which is right? Well both and neither. The Gospel deals with political issues, but also does far more.

Political life and questions are about fairness and justice, about rights and entitlements. They are all important in their own way. The Church supports struggles for justice, the promotion and protection of human rights – the right to a living wage and the right to own property.

But the Gospel does not stop there. The Gospel is not about rights – but about responsibilities. It is not about justice and fairness, but about love. It is about doing what is right, but also about doing more than is needed.

The Good Samaritan does not only stop to help, but he takes the wounded man to the inn. The man owed a great sum of money does not only give the debtor time to pay, but wipes out all the debt. The vineyard owner does not only find work for those seeking it – but pays them more than they are due.

The Church must challenge politicians. It must promote human life, human rights, peace and justice – but it can never be restricted to them. For God’s love is greater, more generous, than any legislator or political policy could ever be.

24th Sunday in Ordinary Time: Homily / Sermon

2011-09-09T19:48:00.001Z

‘Lord, how often must I forgive my brother if he wrongs me? As often as seven times?’ Jesus answered, ‘Not seven, I tell you, but seventy-seven times.’ (Matthew 18:21)

This week we celebrate the Victory, or the exaltation of the Cross.

It has often seemed to me a matter of great wonder that an action of such pain and suffering and brutality should have become the subject of some of the most moving artworks, and some of the most poignant music in the history of humanity.
In the first few centuries, Christians were so appalled by crucifixion that they never portrayed it in art. Yet the cross was a constant theme of prayer and reflection. St Paul talked of glorying on the cross of Christ. St John, sees the cross, the resurrection, an the ascension all as one - the raising up of Christ. In the second century, St Justin, points out how the plough, the ship's sail and even the form of the human body echo, in God's creation, the form of the cross.

And in the fourth century it was Constantine, the Emperor, who discovered that in bearing the standard of the cross he was victorious, so Christian went from being a persecuted minority faith to the religion of the empire.

Yet this Victory of the Cross is not a military victory, or a victory of numbers, or even a victory of right thinking over foolishness

The cross is sign of hope, sign of redemption, sign of victory because it welds together two interwoven truths of our faith - suffering and salvation.

And this is the great mystery of forgiveness. The overcoming of hurt and pain. The healing of hatred and division. Forgiveness which never gives up, but perseveres even seventy times seven.

The little crosses of our hurts and grievances, are but faint images of the deep shadow of His cross.

23rd Sunday of the Year: Homily / Sermon

2011-09-02T20:56:00.001Z

The evidence of two or three witnesses is required to sustain any charge.

This is common sense on the face of it. When there is a dispute, a disagreement between two people, it is very difficult if not impossible to distinguish between who is right and who is wrong. It is the word of one against the other, A matter of 'he said- she said', and we are more likely to believe the one with the greater authority or position or the one who is closest to us, whether or not he or she is right or wrong.

So, of course, if there are more than two or three witnesses, then there are other eyes, other ears, and other voices to say who is and who is not right and true. But today's Gospel is about far more than settling disputes. Jesus is teaching us that our faith, our belief, our worship is not an individual matter - far from it. To be a believer means to be part of a community, to part of the Church. It means, in a deep sense to be part of the Body of Christ - and he dwells in us because we are part of his Body.

While Christ may always be near to us in our private prayers, it is when two or three or more are gathered in his name that he is most fully present. While the Spirit may guide us to right decisions in our lives, it is the Church in the person of the priest who can bind and loose, who can release us from our sins.

As the Poet John Donne wrote, no man - no person - is an island, entire of itself. All of us are connected together, most especially in the Church, and just as it is only by the word of several witnesses that we can have certainty of the truth, so it is that by the Faith of several witnesses, we receive and share and live the Truth himself.

22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time: Homily/Sermon

2011-08-27T14:54:00.001Z

If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself, take up his cross and follow me. (Mt 16:24)

There's a very mistaken viewpoint which holds that religious belief is all about comfort, that prayer is about not facing up to the challenges of life, that faith is about closing our minds to what the world is really like. It is a very popular viewpoint. It affects the understanding of science, it affects attitudes to moral issues, it affects the way in which religion, and the Church is viewed in society.

And it all boils down to this - faith is false because it is about escape, denial, unreality. Listen to the radio, watch the television, and you'll hear echoes and hints of this viewpoint again and again. Religion is the main case of war, and conflict, and division in society. Religion is responsible for the spread of aids. It stifles free thinking and freedom of expression. Only those without the shackles of religion, we seem to be told, can really understand, explain and deal with the issues that face society. Religious people - in the language of the day "just don't get it".

Of course, they are very wrong. Religious groups, especially Christian groups, contribute millions to the economy through their voluntary work. Churches are the biggest voluntary groups in society. The Catholic Church is the largest non-governmental organisation in the world working with the victims of Aids. It was, and still is, religious groups which found and fund schools. Hospitals and hospices too were inspired by Christian faith - which is why nurses are still called sisters. Organisations like Barnados, Oxfam, the Samaritans and Amnesty International were all founded by Christians because of their convictions.

And Why? Because at heart Christianity is not about comfort, or escape, or denial, but about service and sacrifice. It is about service in spite of struggle, in spite of suffering, in spite of conflict, in spite of danger: it is about taking up our cross, and following him.

Glorify the Lord with your life!

22nd Sunday of the Year A: Homily / Sermon

2011-08-25T20:44:00.000Z

If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself, take up his cross and follow me. (Mt 16:24)

Glorify the Lord with your life!

21st Sunday of the Year: Homily / Sermon

2011-08-19T14:54:00.001Z

You are Peter - and on this Rock I will build my Church and the gates of the underworld can never hold out against it. (Matthew 16:18)

In these words, Christ conveys to us two essential truths about the Church.

Firstly, it is indeed a human institution. Peter is the Rock on which the Church is built. The Body of Christ in this world is led by a man. It is a human institution, with a human face. The Church dwells in and amongst society with its cares and anxieties, its joys and its achievements. The Church celebrates the joy of the newly weds, the life of the newly born, and prays at the bedside of the sick, consoles those who grieve, guides and reconciles those who fall on the journey of life. The priests and the bishops are the shepherds of the sheep, the Holy Father the supreme shepherd of the universal Church and all of us are called to show the love of Christ to all human beings. As humans we love. We also fail. Sometimes those sheep, those shepherds, make mistakes, serve imperfectly, fail to convey God's love - but as Christ is human, so the Church lives in humanity ... it is Peter on which the Church is built.

Yet, secondly, the gates of the underworld can never hold out against the Church. Though made up of human beings, the Church is the Body of Christ, the Temple of the Spirit, the Pilgrim People of God. The Church's only purpose is to serve God and to lead all people to heaven. And God guides and protects his Church. The Papacy, the line of the successors of Peter, is the longest continuous institution in the world. Through wars, and heresy, and schism, in spite of wickedness and greed, despite opposition and persecution and ridicule, the Church persists, not only in our hearts, but as a visible institution reaching into all parts of the world, all areas of human learning and concern. The Church is holy, not because we are holy, but because God is holy.

In the words of St Paul in today's second reading:

How rich are the depths of God
how deep his wisdom and knowledge ...
To him be glory for ever! (Romans 11:33)

The Assumption of Our Lady: Homily / Sermon

2011-08-12T13:06:00.001Z

Blessed is she who believed that the promise made her by the Lord would be fulfilled. (Luke 1:45)

Have you ever wondered how you’ll be remembered when you’ve gone? Nowadays it is very common for the priest to speak in some detail at the funeral about the person who has died, and sometimes family members even give a little talk themselves.

But it’s not a good thing to always expect this. For one thing there is a tendency to praise the person who has died, when what we should be doing is praying for him or her. Also it is not always easy to find something to say. There is even a gender divide: when it is a man you can say where they worked, talk about the hobbies they followed, the clubs they attended and so on. Often for a woman - especially those of a certain age - it is difficult: perhaps she didn’t work and didn’t have any hobbies and rarely went out. No great achievements, apparently : ‘She was just our Mum’.

And people often notice this about Our Lady. Scripture tells us very little about her. Mark’s Gospel tells us little more than her name. St Luke’s Gospel - which we hear today - tells us the most. She is mentioned rarely during Jesus’ ministry; at the foot of the cross she stands with the disciple John; and on the day of Pentecost, she is at prayer with the disciples. Many of the other details which have come down to us about Our Lady - that her parents were called Joachim and Anne, that her last home on earth was with St John in Ephesus, have been handed down through tradition, not scripture.

On the face of it then, Mary did little and achieved little. No real great claim to fame here, perhaps. Few accomplishment. Little to make a fuss about.

But of course we do not need long stories, many details. She is the one who is blessed because she believed that the promise made her by the Lord would be fulfilled. She is full of God’s grace. She is our Mother in the Faith.

Her honour comes not so much from what she did - because what she did was so very simple - but from who she is. She lived her calling to full and at the end of her life was gathered up by her Son to share the fullness of his life.

Why do we give her such great honour? Because ‘She is just our Mum’.

19th Sunday of the Year: Homily / Sermon

2011-08-06T08:43:00.001Z

Courage! Do not be afraid! (Matthew 14:27)

But we are afraid! And is fear always a bad thing?

I fear for my own safety and the safety of others. I take care when driving and crossing the road. I find some of the rides at Alton Towers terrifying. I am not especially keen on going to the Dentist. I’m also a little afraid of heights. Surely in lots of ways this is only natural, and mainly a good thing. Fear keeps us safe and helps us keep others safe. When a parent fears for their child, they are protecting them, nurturing them and educating them. If we have no fear, then we are foolhardy and dangerous.
In this way fear is good.

But fear can also be a terrible handicap. Fear of danger may mean we never get anything done. Fear of authority may mean we never speak out against injustice. Fear of suffering may prevent us from undergoing essential medical care. Fear of bad news may lead us to avoid hearing any news. Fear of the danger in the world around us may mean that we never take a risk, never step out of the front door, and parents - if they are not careful - can prevent children from encountering the knocks and scrapes of life for fear that something worse may happen. We have a word for this kind of fear - it is called cowardice.

Christ calls us to be neither cowardly nor foolhardy. He commands us - remember - to be as wise as serpents, but also as innocent as doves. He calls us to trust in him, but not too much in ourselves and not too much in the empty promises of the world around us. This is what we call Courage. It is facing the trials of the world with eyes open, with an awareness of the dangers and challenges, but also a trust in his purposes and his love. In courage we may have to take risks, face suffering, let go occasionally of those in our care. In courage we must trust God - not always place safe, but neither put God to the test.

Courage is not about the thunder and lightening and clatter which we hear about in the first reading - but the gentle breeze, the quiet voice with which it ends. The trust in God who is there with us - even if we think we are sinking beneath the waves.

18th Sunday of the Year: Homily / Sermon

2011-07-30T08:25:00.001Z

Give them something to eat yourselves (Mt 14:16)

Jesus challenges the disciples. Don’t send the people away to fend for themselves, he says - you can feed them!

Often we lack confidence in our own abilities. We do not think we can cope with a situation, or a crisis, or a particular difficulty. Can we cope - or should we just pass the buck? Jesus challenges us, like he challenges his disciples. Yes - you can do it!

But what can we do, and how can we do it?

Well when the disciples have go - they find that what they have is meagre - five loaves and two fishes - how can what I have possibly make any impact? As the Carol says ‘What can I give him, poor as I am’? What change can I possibly make? The little that I can do - could it make any difference?

Certainly - if we think we can achieve everything on our own then we will either become very arrogant or very disappointed. By our own efforts and abilities we can do so much, but only so much. We are human, we have our limitations and our frailties.

So it is Jesus who takes what little can give, and makes them very great. He takes our few gifts and multiplies them like the loaves. He takes the weakness of humanity and makes it strong enough to conquer even death. He helps us face our anxieties and worries, our trials and struggles. He comforts us, he strengthens us. He gives us joy and leads us to happiness.

And the small gifts that we give become the greatest gift that we can receive.

[The new translation of the mass makes this very clear. When the gifts of bread and wine are placed upon the altar, the priest will no longer say ’through your goodness we have this bread/wine to offer’ but ‘through your goodness we have received the bread/wine we offer you’. It’s a small change, but an important distinction.]

When Jesus says to the disciples ‘Give them something to eat yourselves’, the food which they give is Jesus himself, the Bread of Life. What we can do is only small if all we give is ourselves. If the gift which we offer to others is Christ, the Bread of Life, the Shepherd of the lost, the consoler of the sorrowful, the hope of those in despair - if he is the gift which we give, then we give the greatest gift, Hope, Faith, Love - the food of eternal life.