Deacon Peter

On Our Transformation

(Gen.15:5-12, 17-18; Phil.3:17-4:1; Lk.9:28-36)

In Luke’s Gospel last week, Jesus went into the Sinai desert for 40 days to pray, to fast and to reflect, preparing himself for his great mission. 

In Lent, this is what we’re all called to do. 

Today, Luke’s Gospel takes us to the top of Mount Tabor in lower Galilee, where Jesus goes to pray with Peter, James and John.  There the disciples see Jesus talking with Moses and the prophet Elijah.  For a while they’re dazzled as the light of God shines through Jesus’ face and his clothes are as bright as the sun.

Now here’s the question:  If we’re in Lent and meant to be in the desert, why are we today taken to a mountaintop, especially when it’s green?

Well, firstly, when the Bible speaks of the desert it isn’t always a barren place full of sand and stones.  Rather, it’s typically a quiet, mystical place where people go to reflect and pray.

The Holy Land has many mountains, and in ancient times people thought they were the closest point between heaven and earth.  Indeed, in Scripture God often reveals himself on mountaintops and Jesus often goes there to pray.

By taking us there today in our Gospel, God wants us to pray as well.  Along with almsgiving and fasting, that’s what he hopes we’ll do this Lent.   But more than that, God knows it can be a struggle for us to sit quietly in any sort of desert, so he encourages us by giving us a brief glimpse of who Jesus really is. 

There on Mt Tabor, Jesus’ disciples were amazed to see him shimmering with an intense, divine light.  They knew he was different, but previously they couldn’t see beyond his ordinary humanity.  Now they can see who Jesus really is, and we can see that he’s the light at the end of our Lenten tunnel.

It’s significant that Jesus’ transfiguration occurs while he’s praying.  We should remember this.  While he’s praying, Jesus is transformed both inside and out.  His face changes and his clothes dazzle white, and he becomes a mesmerising figure, radiating the glory of God. 

Something similar happens to Moses in Exodus (34:29-35).  After praying on Mt. Sinai, his face shines so brightly that he has to cover it with a veil. 

The message for us here is that if we pray like Jesus, if we pray like Moses, then we too can expect a profound transformation, both inside and out.

But there’s another reason we’re taken to the mountain today. That’s because God wants us to see that Jesus has come to fulfil the promises of the Old Testament.  In Matthew 5:17, Jesus says, ‘Don’t think that I’ve come to abolish the law or the prophets; I’ve come not to abolish but to fulfil.’  So we see the Old and New Testaments coming together as Jesus talks with Moses and Elijah on the mountaintop.

While he’s praying, Jesus is transformed both inside and out. Something similar happens to Moses.

Now, while they’re on the mountain, the disciples are covered by a big cloud and they become frightened.  There’s rich symbolism in the image of the cloud.  The Bible often refers to clouds; they typically represent the invisible God.  In Exodus, when Moses and the Israelites cross the desert, God’s presence is always accompanied by a cloud. 

The message for us here is that if there are any clouds casting shadows on our lives, God is in them.  Indeed, God is always in them.  He’s our silver lining.

And when the cloud appears in Luke’s Gospel, the disciples hear God’s voice say, ‘This is my Son, the Chosen One. Listen to him’. 

Now these words are significant.  Listen to him.  The disciples weren’t good at listening to Jesus.  They really didn’t understand what he was trying to tell them.  Many of us aren’t so good at listening, either.  Listening sounds like an easy thing to do, but it’s not. 

One reason might be because we’re too busy talking.  Some of us are chronic talkers.  And sometimes we’re selective about what we’re prepared to hear. 

St. John of the Cross once wrote that many people who think they’re listening to God are actually only listening to themselves.

This Lent, let’s take this message from today’s Gospel.  Let’s try to find our own private mountaintop.  And in the quiet moments let’s really listen to what God is trying to say to us, in the Scriptures, in the sacraments, and in the ordinary moments of our daily lives.

If we pray well, like Jesus and like Moses, we can be sure that our lives will also be transformed, both inside and out.­

On the Mystical Desert

(Deut.26:4-10; Rom.10:8-13; Lk.4:1-13)

Sometimes it helps to know where a word comes from.  The word ‘Lent’ comes from an Old English word meaning ‘springtime’.  And in Latin, ‘Lente’ means ‘slowly’.  So Lent really is an invitation to us, to slow down and prepare ourselves for the new growth of spring.

Before any spring, of course, there must be some kind of winter, so the Bible often talks about the desert as a place of emptiness and silence where people go to be shaped and purified.

In Exodus, before the Israelites enter the Promised Land, they wander in the desert for forty years.  Jesus does something very similar in today’s Gospel.  Before he begins his ministry, the Spirit leads him into the Sinai Desert for forty days to pray, fast and reflect.  There he’s tormented by demons, but ultimately his relationship with his Father is strengthened and he finds himself ready for his great mission.

Early on in the Church, good men and women like St Anthony of Egypt and St Paula actively sought purification, and literally went into a desert for a while. 

Today, the desert is more likely to be a mystical place in the heart than a physical location.  But it’s still an important place to spend some time if you want to refresh your heart and mind and prepare yourself for a major change in your life. 

The Canadian writer Fr Ron Rolheiser says that before we can be filled by God we must first be emptied, and this is what the desert does for us.  The loneliness might seem a bit threatening, but if you have the courage to stay there, things will happen to you.  Slowly and silently, with the help of God, you’ll be transformed from the inside out.

This is what Lent is meant to be for us.  For forty days we’re encouraged to face the chaos inside us that normally we either deny or simply refuse to face – our selfishness, our anger, our jealousies, our distance from others, our greed, our addictions, our unresolved hurts, our unhealthy desires, our struggle with prayer, our faith doubts and our moral mistakes.

In Lent we’re invited to look at ourselves honestly, to recognise our weaknesses, to feel our fears, and to open ourselves up to the fresh air of Jesus Christ.

Our secular society teaches us to avoid all that.  It thinks it’s better to be distracted and entertained than to face our real selves.  And so we too often ignore the mess that festers below the surface of our lives. 

If God’s language is silence, it’s no wonder that so many people have lost the ability to talk with him.

We do this in so many ways.  We’re addicted to work.  We’re glued to our electronic devices.  We turn on the TV or Game Station. We listen to the radio.  We reach for a newspaper or magazine.  We see a movie.  We eat.  And some of us talk incessantly. 

We seem to do everything we can to avoid silence and the truth of our real selves.

The German Dominican and theologian Meister Eckhart once wrote that nothing resembles the language of God so much as silence.  If God’s language is silence, it’s no wonder that so many people have lost the ability to talk with him.

So, this is our challenge this Lent.  Let’s just stop for a while.  Let’s go quietly into the mystical desert and be silent for a while.  Let’s fast as the Church encourages us to, but let’s pray and reflect as well, and be charitable towards our neighbour.

Fr Ron Rolheiser says that in every culture there are ancient stories which teach us that it’s sometimes important to sit in the ashes.  One example is the story of Cinderella.  The name itself literally means the little girl (puella in Latin) who sits in the ashes (cinders). 

The moral of the story is simple:  before you get to be beautiful, before you can go to the great feast, you must first fast and spend some lonely time in the ashes, humbled, dirty, tending to duty and waiting.

For us, Lent is that season.  It’s our time to sit quietly in the ashes, waiting for the extraordinary joy of Easter.  We began this process a few days ago, on Ash Wednesday, when our foreheads were crossed with ashes. 

So, this Lent, let’s make time to sit humbly in these ashes.  And while we’re there, let’s fast and pray and be charitable towards others, until it’s time for us to rise up in joyful celebration with Jesus at Easter.

For that’s when new life begins.

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.

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[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. 

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.

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[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.

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 from Nazi cruelty, where he could.  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 is 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 is really hesitant.  He has 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?

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

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.

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.

On the Wedding at Cana

[Is.62:1-5; 1Cor.12:4-11; Jn.2:1-11]

The Church is full of signs. Some are obvious, like signboards on the street, but many are subtle and easily missed.

There’s the bread and wine and the oils.  Fire and holy water.  Altar and ambo, and the tabernacle.  And our vestments tell a story.  The colour green we use today represents life and abundance and God’s kingdom growing quietly but surely.

Our Gospel readings since Christmas have also been full of signs and symbols.  Through these readings, God has been revealing himself to us in several different ways.

On Christmas Day, when Jesus was born, lying in a manger as a homeless refugee, God revealed his solidarity with the poor, the vulnerable and the needy of our world.  His first visitors were poor shepherds who were social outcasts.  They recognised Jesus as God and worshipped him with hearts full of joy.

Then, at the Epiphany, when the Wise Men from the East journeyed to Bethlehem, God revealed himself to foreigners and strangers from remote parts of the world.  They also came to worship Jesus, bringing him gifts and again there was happiness and joy.

Last week, at Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan, God once again revealed something of himself.  As the dove descends on Jesus, he’s filled with the Holy Spirit and God says, ‘this is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased’.  Jesus is empowered and endorsed by his Father, and he then begins his public ministry of healing, teaching and saving souls.

And now in today’s Gospel, God reveals himself once again when Jesus performs his first miracle, turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana.  Many people think this miracle’s simply a wonderful event.  However, it’s more than that, and that’s why John doesn’t use the word ‘miracle’ in his Gospel.  Instead, he calls them ‘signs’, and he uses this word 16 times in the first part of his Gospel.  Not surprisingly, some people call the first half of John’s Gospel the ‘Book of Signs’.

At the end of chapter 20, John says: ‘These words are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you

The miracles of Jesus are signposts pointing to him and guiding our belief in him.

may have life in his name” (20:30).  And so, the miracles of Jesus are really signposts pointing to him and guiding our belief in him.

John includes 7 miracles in his Gospel, each carefully chosen to point us to Jesus and to reveal something about God’s power and presence. 

According to John, changing the water into wine was Jesus’ first sign.  Here God reveals his power to transform something ordinary into something very special.  He also reveals his deep interest in the affairs of ordinary people, by ensuring the success of this wedding celebration.  And of course, God reveals how generously he blesses his people. 

Think about it – there were 6 stone jars, each holding ‘20 to 30 gallons’.  That means a total of between 450 and 680 litres of excellent wine – the equivalent of 600 to 900 bottles.  For a village party!  God was indeed hugely generous.

Some have wondered why Jesus would ‘waste’ a miracle on providing wine at a wedding.  But all Jesus’ miracles had a purpose beyond relieving immediate suffering:  they were a display of God’s power and glory, and they demonstrated his great love for ordinary people.

At a deeper level, too, these signs teach us about Jesus and help us to build our relationship with him.

At the start of the wedding celebration, Jesus’ disciples were following him for their own reasons.  However, once they witnessed this miracle, they really believed he was someone very special.

So, not only does Jesus transform water into wine, he also transforms his disciples from being mere companions into those who believe in him.  He changed them, and they will never be the same again. 

And so he changes us, too.  If we follow the signs and really get to know Jesus, we will never be the same again, either. 

On the Sacrament of Baptism

[Is.40:1-5,9-11; Tit.2:11-14;3:4-7; Lk.3:15-16,21-22]

Today we celebrate Jesus’ Baptism. This brings our Christmas season to an end, and it marks the second epiphany, when John the Baptist reveals Jesus to be not just an ordinary man, but also the true Messiah. 

Now, some people wonder why Jesus was baptised at all, since he’s the Son of God and free of sin.  The answer is that he didn’t have to be baptised.  He chose to.

On that day, the Jordan River at Bethany was full of people.  They were all unclean sinners who came to John seeking healing and a new beginning.  But their presence symbolically defiled the water. 

That’s why no community leaders were present. They wouldn’t associate with unclean sinners, and they personally saw no need to repent.  But Jesus was different.  He cared for the people and he wanted to encourage them.  So he showed his solidarity by joining them in the river. 

At that moment, Jesus instituted the Sacrament of Baptism, for he brought with him the Holy Trinity to John’s cleansing ritual.  When Jesus waded into that river, his flesh purified and blessed the water.  Then the Holy Spirit descended in the form of a dove while his heavenly Father looked on and said, ‘This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased (Lk.3:22).’

Jesus’ Baptism marks the beginning of his public ministry, and it marks the beginning of our own life in Christ.

There are distinct parallels between Jesus’ Baptism and our own.  At Jesus’ Baptism, God the Father proclaimed him as his ‘Beloved Son’.  At our Baptism, we become the beloved sons and daughters of God the Father, Jesus becomes our brother and Mary becomes our mother (and sister, too).  

At Jesus’ Baptism the heavens opened, and at our Baptism heaven is opened to us.  As well, the Holy Trinity was present at Jesus’ Baptism, while at our Baptism the Trinity makes their home in our soul. 

And finally, Jesus prayed at his Baptism.  At ours, the Church prays for us but we must remember to continue praying if our baptismal gifts are to be effective. [i]

Just before his ascension to heaven, Jesus said, ‘…go and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit’ (Mt.28:19).  Many people have forgotten this. They’ve forgotten why their Baptism is important.  But it’s worth remembering what Jesus said to Nicodemus: ‘Truly I say to you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he’s born again’ (Jn.3:1-21).  It’s through baptism that we’re born again.

Jesus said to Nicodemus: ‘… no-one can see the kingdom of God unless he’s born again.’

So, what does Baptism do for us?  Firstly, it gives us a fresh start by wiping clean all our sins, including both original sin and any other personal sins we may have committed (Acts 2:38).  This means we no longer have to suffer any punishment for those sins.  We can begin again.

Secondly, Baptism fills us with sanctifying grace.  Sanctifying grace makes us holy and it imprints on us an indelible sign that marks us forever as sons and daughters of God.  As well, Baptism fills us with the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit: wisdom, understanding, right judgment, knowledge, reverence, courage and wonder and awe. These gifts give us the graces we need to play our part as members of the Body of Christ, in the Church and in the world.

In 2018, Pope Francis said that Baptism isn’t a magical formula, but a gift of the Holy Spirit which enables us ‘to fight against the spirit of evil’, to make this a better world.  However, as happens with any seed full of life, this gift takes root and bears fruit only in a terrain fed by faith. [ii]

In the Church of Sant’Egidio, in Rome, there’s a crucifix of Jesus without any arms.  It reminds me of St Teresa of Avila’s poem:

Christ has no body now but yours.

No hands, no feet on earth but yours,

Yours are the eyes with which he looks with

Compassion on this world.

Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good.

Yours are the hands with which he blesses all the world.

Yours are the hands, yours are the feet

Yours are the eyes, you are his body.

Christ has no body now but yours.

When next you use holy water to make the Sign of the Cross, remember your Baptism and how you’ve been ‘Christified’. 

Through your Baptism, you represent Jesus in the world today.

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[i] https://www.catholicculture.org/culture/liturgicalyear/calendar/day.cfm?date=2019-01-13

[ii] https://zenit.org/articles/general-audience-baptism-1-full-text/

On Our Guiding Star

[Is.60:1-6; Eph.3:2-3, 5-6; Mt.2:1-12]

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany of Our Lord, and the end of the 12 days of Christmas.

In Greek, ‘epiphaneia’ means ‘appearance’ or ‘revelation’, so on the Epiphany we remember the moment when the Wise Men of the East discovered the infant Jesus in Bethlehem. 

Christmas and the Epiphany are like bookends at either end of the 12 days of Christmas.  Christmas is Jesus’ birthday, when he’s revealed to Israel as a little boy.  And at the Epiphany, he’s revealed to all the world as a divine king.  So, together, Christmas and the Epiphany reveal to us the fullness of Jesus’ humanity and his divinity.

Now, some people wonder why the Three Wise Men followed a star.  Today it seems like a strange thing to do, but in ancient times people were fascinated by the sky.  Indeed, the Magi are believed to have been priestly scholars and astronomers who interpreted the dreams of nobles and kings and who studied the movement of the stars.

In those days, changes in the celestial sky were thought to be a sign of major events, such as the birth or death of a king, and the appearance of a bright new star would have been exciting.  And the Magi would have learnt about the Hebrew Bible from the Jews exiled in Babylon.  They’d have known about Balaam’s messianic prophecy that ‘a star shall come forth from Jacob’ (Num.24:17).   

Today, travellers use all sorts of sophisticated technology like GPS to work out where they are and where they’re going.  But in ancient times, people navigated differently.  The Vikings used to interpret the behaviour of birds.  Eskimos studied the snow.  Polynesians watched the waves and the Greeks read the clouds and smelt the air. 

And many cultures, including the Phoenicians, Babylonians and Australian Aborigines used to carefully study the movement of the sun and the stars to work out where they were going. [i]  The Polynesians did, too.  You can see this in Disney’s movie Moana.  Polynesian sailors found their direction by memorising where the stars rose and set, and by using their hands to make calculations. [ii]

Today, we should ask ourselves:  do we know where we are and do we know where we’re going?

Epiphany is a moment when a light shines in the darkness and everything becomes clear.

When the Wise Men of the East followed the Star of Bethlehem, they travelled about 1,000 kilometres and they eventually found Jesus, the ‘bright morning star’ (Rev.22:16).  They took a risk.  They stepped outside their everyday lives, and were rewarded by discovering the source of all wisdom and joy. 

Now, which star will you be following this year?

Many people today spend lots of time following movie stars, pop stars and sports stars, while others chase the stars of fame and fortune.  The problem, however, is that these things are hollow. They might look nice, like rainbows, but they have little or no substance and ultimately they only lead to disappointment.

This year, why not do something far more meaningful?

In 2012, Pope Benedict XVI described the Epiphany as a ‘feast of light’, because it reveals Christ as the Light of the World.  Indeed, all our readings today reveal how Jesus shines a bright light into the darkness.

In our first reading, Isaiah has a vision of Jerusalem as a holy city where God’s light will shine, bringing peace and love and hope to all.

In our second reading, St Paul tells the Ephesians that God’s peace and love and hope are available to everyone, regardless of who they are and where they come from.  And in today’s Gospel, Matthew reinforces this message.

The Magi weren’t Jewish; they were complete strangers, yet they still followed the signs to Jesus.  Like the shepherds, they show us that Jesus belongs to everyone, and not just a select few.

In 2014, Pope Francis said that the journey of the Magi symbolises the destiny of every person.  He said that our life is a journey, illuminated by the lights which brighten our way, to find the fullness of truth and love which we recognize in Jesus, the Light of the World.

The novelist Joseph Conrad once described epiphany as ‘one of those rare moments of awakening’ in which ‘everything [occurs] in a flash’.  It’s a moment when a light shines in the darkness, when everything becomes clear and we discover something new.

This year, let’s resolve to follow Jesus …  to really get to know him …  and to let his light shine in our hearts.

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[i] https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/article/secrets-of-ancient-navigators/

[ii] https://theconversation.com/amp/how-far-theyll-go-moana-shows-the-power-of-polynesian-celestial-navigation-72375