Year C – 7th Sunday in Ordinary Time

On a Small Peace

[Sam.26:2,7-9,12-13,22-23; 1Cor.15:45-49; Lk.6:27-38]

In 1914, the first year of WWI, over 600,000 men died.  That December, Pope Benedict XV begged the warring leaders of Europe for an official truce.  Or at least, he pleaded, let the guns fall silent at Christmas.  But they refused, saying the war must go on.

Then something odd happened.  On Christmas Eve, near Ypres in Belgium, German troops began decorating their trenches.  They erected Christmas trees, lit candles and started singing ‘Stille Nacht, Heilege Nacht’.

On the other side, British soldiers started singing Christmas carols, too.  And both sides shouted Christmas greetings at each other.  Then men started crossing the mud and barbed wire of no-man’s-land to shake hands and exchange gifts of food, tobacco and souvenirs with the enemy.  In some places they buried their dead together, and elsewhere they even played soccer.  

There were many spontaneous ceasefires along the Western Front that Christmas, involving about 100,000 soldiers.  In some places the peace even lasted until New Year’s Eve. 

This was a small peace inside a nightmare.  It was also a miracle, because the war resumed soon afterwards.  By 1918 some 40 million people had been killed or wounded and only a third of the truce participants actually survived the war.

In 2004, Christian Carion made a movie about this truce, calling it ‘Joyeux Noel’ (Merry Christmas).  It was nominated for an Academy Award in 2005.  Carrion wanted to make it in France, and he found a suitable site on a military reserve.  But permission was refused and he filmed it in Romania instead.  A French general had told him, ‘We cannot be a partner with a movie about rebellion’. [i]

The world has a real problem when peace is considered ‘rebellion’.

So why did this small peace occur?  The historian Andy Rudall, in his book ‘Neat Little Rows’, says this peace was only possible because of the Christian heritage of the two warring sides.  ‘Christmas is the pinnacle of the Christian calendar,’ he said, ‘and everyone knows what it’s about.  It’s about Jesus.  It’s about reconciliation…’

And it’s about peace.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus gives his disciples (that’s us) a new law:  we must love our enemies, even when they hate and curse us and treat us badly.

Now, this is a big ask.  It’s not easy to love someone who’s bullied, mocked or betrayed us.  It’s hard to ignore the bruises and scars when we’re hurt or abused or stabbed in the back.  And yet that’s just what Jesus tells us to do.  Like those WWI soldiers, he’s calling us to leave our trenches, to cross no-man’s-land and to shake hands with the enemy.

Agape is deliberate love, a love based on the will. This is what Jesus is calling us to do.

Our basic nature is to resist that, and there is a certain temporary satisfaction in turning away from those who hurt us.  But I’m sure we can all see the benefits of letting go of our grudges for the sake of peace.  

So, how do we love our enemies?  Well, firstly we need to remember what kind of love Jesus is talking about.  The Greek language has several words for love.  There’s storge, which means natural affection.  There’s eros, or romantic love.  And there’s philia, the love of friends.  These three forms of love are all based on our emotions and they come naturally to us. 

But Jesus isn’t talking about them.  Rather, he’s calling us to agape, or divine love.  Agape is deliberate love, a love based on our will.  It’s not based on our emotions and it’s not based on the other person’s merits. [ii]  Agape is the choice, the decision we make to love someone else, regardless of other factors.  This is what Jesus is calling us to do.

So, someone may really annoy us, but for the sake of peace we decide to agape them.  How do we do that?

In her book ‘How to Love People You Don’t Like’, Lynn R Davis says that you don’t have to like someone before you love them.  Then she suggests 51 ways to follow Jesus’ command to ‘love your enemy’.  Her suggestions are very practical, and they include: being civil, being polite and truthful, avoiding conflict, controlling your tongue, forgiving them, encouraging and supporting them, learning from them, interceding for them and keeping the peace, among others. 

The tagline of the movie ‘Joyeux Noel’ says, ‘Without an enemy there can be no war’.

Isn’t that just the kind of life we want?  Isn’t that just the kind of world we want?

All it takes is a decision.

A decision to love others, just as Jesus loves us.


[i] David Brown, Remembering a Victory for Human Kindness. Washington Post, 25 December 2004, p.C01

[ii] Leon Morris, Luke. Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, MI. 1974:142. 

Year C – 6th Sunday in Ordinary Time

On the Farmer and the Poor God

[Jer.17:5-8; 1Cor.15:12,16-20; Lk.6:17,20-26]

[Shinto Japan has many gods: a god of good fortune, a god of places, of fire and wind… ]  

There was once a struggling farmer who had four children. They were always fighting and yelling and there was never enough to go around.

The farmer didn’t work hard, but he did what was necessary to get by, so life was often hard.

One day his wife complained, ‘Our lives are so awful.  We must have a poor god’.  And they did.  They had a poor god.  He lived in their dusty attic as he watched over the family.

Yes,’ said the farmer, ‘That’s why we’re like this.  We should get rid of our poor god.’  So they planned to run away from him and start again somewhere else.   They packed their things and went to bed, waiting for the morning.

But the farmer couldn’t sleep.  He kept dreaming about being rich.  He got up quietly and walked to the porch in the moonlight.  There was a stranger, making sandals from straw.  ‘Who are you?’ demanded the farmer, ‘this is my porch.’

‘Why, I’m your poor god from the attic,’ he replied, ‘I’m making sandals.  You’ll need them tomorrow.’  The farmer cried, and said to his wife, ‘The poor god knows we’re trying to escape.  Now we’ll never get away!  Poor gods never let go.  We’re doomed.’

The next morning, the husband and wife felt miserable, while the poor god kept making sandals.  He gave each child a pair, and then made more, hanging them from the porch rafters.  Someone came by and admired the sandals.  The poor god was touched.  No-one had ever cared about him before.  He gave him a pair.  Then others came by, and they received sandals, too.

Seeing this, the farmer’s wife said, ‘We should at least charge a sack of rice.’  So, the next day the farmer took some sandals into town and returned with three sacks of rice, a new hoe, a chicken, a cooking pot and some sweets. 

Then the farmer said to the poor god, ‘Keep working, we need many things.’  The poor god said, ‘Gladly, but I’ll need help with harvesting, collecting straw and mixing the dye colours.’ 

So they all started working.  The children collected the straw, the wife mixed the dyes and the farmer made sandals of different designs. 

Slowly, things changed.  They all became happy, and the poor god put on weight. 

What truly gives us life? Is it possessions? Is it anything that can be bargained, bought or sold?

Then they prepared their house for the feast of Shogatsu, and the arrival of the god of good fortune.  (The Japanese celebrate New Year by opening their front doors to welcome new gods.)

The farmer was sure he’d become rich, and the poor god started packing his things.  The rich god would replace him shortly.

That night, as the poor god headed for the door, the family cried, ‘Don’t go!’  But the poor god replied, ‘I must, otherwise the rich god can’t come in.’  And then the rich god arrived, wrapped in his kimono and jewels, looking fat and proud.  The rich god said, ‘Yes, it’s time for you to go.  This is my family now.  Out, out!’

But the farmer said, ‘I’ve made a terrible mistake.  I thought I wanted to be rich, but I’m already rich.  My wife laughs and sings, my children work together, and I love making sandals.  You have to stay, poor god… we need you.’  They pushed the rich god out the door, and hugged the poor god. 

They lived happily ever after, and every New Year they locked their door, and told everyone how they were saved.  The farmer said, ‘Thank heavens for the poor god.  Lord knows where we’d be if it wasn’t for the poor god.’ [i]

Now, this story is about us.  In today’s Gospel, Jesus warns, ‘Woe to you rich.’  This might seem a strange thing to say when everyone today wants to be rich.  

But here’s the question:  What truly gives us life?  Is it possessions?  Is it anything that can be bargained, bought or sold?

What gives us life is love.  The love we find in our homes, our families and our friends.  Love is what truly transforms lives.

That’s why Jesus warns us, ‘Woe to you rich’. 

Jesus is our poor God.  Lock your doors; don’t let him leave.


[i] Adapted from The Peasant and the Poor God, by Ruth Wells, quoted in Megan McKenna, Luke: The Book of Blessings and Woes, New City Press, New York, 2009:139-144.

Year C – 5th Sunday in Ordinary Time

On Schindler’s Conversion

[Is.6:1-8; 1Cor.15:1-11; Lk.5:1-11]

Have you seen the movie Schindler’s List (1993)?  I visited Oskar Schindler’s factory in Krakow, Poland, in 2016.  It’s now a museum.

Oskar Schindler (1908-74) was a Czech businessman and German spy who joined the Nazi Party in 1939.  That year he also started managing a factory in Krakow, using Jewish labour. 

In the beginning, he was an amoral, hard-drinking womaniser and gambler who loved making money.  But through the war something inside him changed.  He began noticing how poorly the Jews were treated.

At first he took an interest in his workers, helping them and protecting them where he could from Nazi cruelty.  Then he started bribing the Nazis to let him recruit Jews for his factory.  He also lied and forged and swindled to save as many people as he could from the gas chambers.

Schindler had two factories. One made pots and pans; the other ammunition.  But he made sure they were both inefficient, undermining the Nazi cause.  In 1944 his ammunition factory only produced one load of live shells; the rest were all faulty. 

By the war’s end, Oskar Schindler had spent his entire fortune saving 1,200 Jews.  In 1963, Israel’s Yad Vashem Institute declared him ‘Righteous Among the Nations’.  And at his request, when he died penniless in 1974, he was buried in the Catholic Cemetery on Mount Zion in Jerusalem.   

Now, how do we explain his transformation from a Nazi profiteer to a veritable saint?  Well, firstly, this change wasn’t overnight.  Indeed, there was no single moment when he decided to save people.  As David E Crowe writes, it was a gradual process of change over three or four years, and especially during the last two years of WWII when he experienced a dramatic moral transformation.[i]

Oskar Schindler changed because God spoke to him through his eyes and ears, and through his heart and conscience.  He saw, he listened, and he responded. 

Oskar Schindler changed because God spoke to him.

And as he slowly changed from within, he became absolutely determined to save as many lives as he could, regardless of any personal and financial risks.

So, why do I tell this story?  It’s because it’s a good example of how God calls us all to conversion.  And it’s a process that’s replicated in Luke’s Gospel today.

Jesus is teaching on the shore of the Sea of Galilee.  Simon Peter and his friends can see Jesus as they clean their fishing nets nearby.  Then Jesus asks Peter if he can use his boat. Peter’s reluctant; he hardly knows Jesus.  But Jesus did cure his mother-in-law, so he agrees.  They go out into the bay, where Jesus teaches from the boat. And later, Jesus asks Peter to go fishing. 

Now Peter’s really hesitant.  He’s fished all day and caught nothing.  But he does respect Jesus, so he reluctantly agrees.  He drops his nets and catches so many fish that he’s astonished.  He’s in awe of Jesus, and thinks, ‘I don’t deserve this’.  He starts to feel unworthy and says, ‘Go away from me Lord, for I’m a sinful man’.  The boat almost sinks and the men are frightened.  But Jesus reassures them.  They return to the shore and there Jesus calls them to become his disciples.  ‘From now on’, he says, ‘you’ll be fishers of men’.

In both of these stories, we can see that the process of conversion is gradual.  It begins by simply observing, watching the action from a distance.  Then it involves listening to what’s being said, and allowing it to move our hearts.  After that, it involves gradually accepting small commitments within our comfort zone, helping here and there.

Then we’re amazed when the call becomes specific and deeply personal, and something powerful happens inside us.  We start to feel unworthy, even sinful, and perhaps scared.  But then we’re reassured.  And that’s followed by acceptance, and finally, personal commitment.

These are the steps we all typically go through in the process of conversion, as we’re gradually drawn into the life of Jesus Christ.  Think about it.  Reflect on it.

The process of Christian conversion may seem scary, but it shouldn’t because it’s a journey into love.  St Therese of Lisieux said that it’s only the first step that costs us anything. What is that cost?  It’s the pain of change.  After that, everything else becomes much easier.

Over 7,000 people today are directly descended from the 1,200 Jews Oskar Schindler saved from death.    

Right now, Jesus is calling you to make a difference.  Are you listening?


[i] https://www.forbes.com/sites/stuartanderson/2014/03/19/oskar-schindler-the-untold-story-3/#7d90e2fd5537

Year C – 4th Sunday Ordinary Time

On the Essence of Love

[Jer.1:4-5, 17-19; 1Cor.12:31-13:13; Lk.4:21-30]

One word we often hear is ‘love’.  Even the Bible (NRSV) mentions it 538 times.  But what does it actually mean to love someone?

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-61) was an English poet.  In her famous Sonnet #43, she expresses the many different ways she loved her husband, Robert Browning. 

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach ….

I love thee to the level of everyday’s

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise …

In only 14 lines she describes 11 different ways to love.  Before they married, Elizabeth and Robert wrote each other 574 letters in 18 months.  They certainly knew something about love.

But her father didn’t.  He was possessive and controlling and kept her a virtual prisoner at home until she was in her forties.  He wouldn’t let her marry, so she and Robert Browning had to escape to Italy.

St Thomas Aquinas (1225-74) also knew something about love.  He was born in an Italian town near Rome.  His family was wealthy, but they were also possessive and controlling.  When he was 19, Thomas announced that he wanted to become a Dominican priest.  They were outraged. They kidnapped him, imprisoned him in a castle and tried to make him change his mind, but he refused.  Eventually he escaped, too.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus is in Nazareth, telling the people about God’s love and his mission to bring hope, healing and freedom to the poor, the blind and the oppressed.   At first they love his preaching, but when Jesus says that God’s love isn’t just for them but for everyone, they become angry and try to kill him.

Jesus escapes, just as Elizabeth Barratt Browning and Thomas Aquinas did.

So many people think they know about love, but really don’t understand it at all.

Many people think they know about love, but really don’t understand it at all.

In our second reading, St Paul is talking to the Corinthians.  The Corinthian church had many talented members, but they came from very different backgrounds and they couldn’t agree on many things.  St Paul tells them that they really don’t understand what love is, then he describes it to them in 15 different ways – explaining what love is, and what it’s not. 

He makes the point that genuine love isn’t just a feeling; it’s a decision, an act of the will.  Love may begin with an intense desire to be with someone, but it only lasts if we behave in ways that strengthen the relationship – like being patient, kind and trusting, and not being jealous, pompous or selfish. 

But the thing to remember is that love isn’t just a feeling.  It’s a decision. St Thomas Aquinas once said something similar – he said that love is in the mind, it’s in the will and in the decisions we make.  It’s not just a feeling.

St Paul adds that regardless of how talented we are, if we are without love, then we’re nothing.  Whenever we do something, if it’s without love, then it’s ultimately empty and worthless.

Then he says that there’s no point saying we love someone unless our actions match our words. We can say the right words about loving God and each other, but if we don’t show it in the way we live, then we’re really just noisy gongs and clanging cymbals.

And finally, St Paul says that when the time comes for us to go to heaven, the only thing that matters is love.  Everything else is left behind.

Blessed Mother Teresa knew this.  She described love as a one-way street, always moving away from the self in the direction of the other.  It’s the ultimate gift of ourselves to others.  When we stop giving we stop loving, when we stop loving we stop growing, and unless we grow we will never attain personal fulfilment; we will never open ourselves out to receive the life of God.  For it’s only through love that we encounter God. 

Some people say they love their music, their cars or their ice cream.  But this isn’t Christian love.  The essence of Christian love is the decision we make to sacrifice ourselves for the benefit of those we truly care about.

That’s what Jesus did, by choosing to die for us on the Cross. 

Christian love isn’t a feeling.  It’s a bold decision to sacrifice ourselves for someone else.

Year C – 4th Sunday in Ordinary Time

On the Essence of Love

[Jer.1:4-5, 17-19; 1Cor.12:31-13:13; Lk.4:21-30]

One word we often hear is ‘love’.  Even the Bible (NRSV) mentions it 538 times.  But what does it actually mean to love someone?

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-61) was an English poet.  In her famous Sonnet #43, she expresses the many different ways she loved her husband, Robert Browning. 

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach ….

I love thee to the level of everyday’s

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise …

In only 14 lines she describes 11 different ways to love.  Before they married, Elizabeth and Robert wrote each other 574 letters in 18 months.  They certainly knew something about love.

But her father didn’t.  He was possessive and controlling and kept her a virtual prisoner at home until she was in her forties.  He wouldn’t let her marry, so she and Robert Browning had to escape to Italy.

St Thomas Aquinas (1225-74) also knew something about love.  He was born in an Italian town near Rome.  His family was wealthy, but they were also possessive and controlling.  When he was 19, Thomas announced that he wanted to become a Dominican priest.  They were outraged. They kidnapped him, imprisoned him in a castle and tried to make him change his mind, but he refused.  Eventually he escaped, too.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus is in Nazareth, telling the people about God’s love and his mission to bring hope, healing and freedom to the poor, the blind and the oppressed.   At first they love his preaching, but when Jesus says that God’s love isn’t just for them but for everyone, they become angry and try to kill him.

Jesus escapes, just as Elizabeth Barratt Browning and Thomas Aquinas did.

Many people think they know about love, but really don’t understand it at all.

So many people think they know about love, but really don’t understand it at all.

In our second reading, St Paul is talking to the Corinthians.  The Corinthian church had many talented members, but they came from very different backgrounds and they couldn’t agree on many things.  St Paul tells them that they really don’t understand what love is, then he describes it to them in 15 different ways – explaining what love is, and what it’s not. 

He makes the point that genuine love isn’t just a feeling; it’s a decision, an act of the will.  Love may begin with an intense desire to be with someone, but it only lasts if we behave in ways that strengthen the relationship – like being patient, kind and trusting, and not being jealous, pompous or selfish. 

But the thing to remember is that love isn’t just a feeling.  It’s a decision. St Thomas Aquinas once said something similar – he said that love is in the mind, it’s in the will and in the decisions we make.  It’s not just a feeling.

St Paul adds that regardless of how talented we are, if we are without love, then we’re nothing.  Whenever we do something, if it’s without love, then it’s ultimately empty and worthless.

Then he says that there’s no point saying we love someone unless our actions match our words. We can say the right words about loving God and each other, but if we don’t show it in the way we live, then we’re really just noisy gongs and clanging cymbals.

And finally, St Paul says that when the time comes for us to go to heaven, the only thing that matters is love.  Everything else is left behind.

Blessed Mother Teresa knew this.  She described love as a one-way street, always moving away from the self in the direction of the other.  It’s the ultimate gift of ourselves to others.  When we stop giving we stop loving, when we stop loving we stop growing, and unless we grow we will never attain personal fulfilment; we will never open ourselves out to receive the life of God.  For it’s only through love that we encounter God. 

Some people say they love their music, their cars or their ice cream.  But this isn’t Christian love.  The essence of Christian love is the decision we make to sacrifice ourselves for the benefit of those we truly care about.

That’s what Jesus did, by choosing to die for us on the Cross. 

Christian love isn’t a feeling.  It’s a bold decision to sacrifice ourselves for someone else.