Baptism of the Lord (Year A)

Readings: Isaiah 42.1-4,6-7; Psalm 28/29; Acts of the Apostles 10.34-38; Matthew 3.13-17

We may find ourselves agreeing with John the Baptist - the baptism should have been the other way round, Jesus baptising John rather than John baptising Jesus. But Jesus does not agree with John when he says this, and so he does not agree with us either.

So what is the 'righteousness' that is being fulfilled as he submits to baptism at the hands of John? It is not only that things ought to be done in the way foretold in the prophecies but that this way of doing things reveals something essential about Jesus and his mission which would otherwise be missed.

He stands in solidarity with human beings by submitting to John's baptism. He does not personally need it since he is without sin, unfailingly conscious of the Father's presence and unfailingly obedient to the Father's will. But the truth of his dwelling among us is underlined in this event. The flesh which the Word became is our flesh, subject not only to the limitations and weaknesses of our animal nature, but all too easily distracted and seduced by all that leads to sin - fear, anxiety, humiliation, desire, pride, indifference.

Jesus, though free from sin, stood in solidarity with us, his sinful brothers and sisters. If he had baptised John it would not be clear that he is, really and truly, one of us, our flesh and blood, come to share our situation and to free us from sin.

Later, Jesus will be baptised in another way, in the mysteries of his suffering, death and resurrection. 'Can you be baptised with the baptism I will undergo?', he asks his apostles, halfway through his public ministry. He is referring to those mysteries of his suffering, death and resurrection which establish that baptism in the Holy Spirit and in fire which John predicted. John the Baptist himself was later baptised into those mysteries through his anticipation of the suffering and death of Jesus. In his martyrdom John was still serving righteousness, witnessing to justice, as Jesus said they ought to do. And in this way too we can say that John is baptised by Jesus.

The presence of the Father and the Spirit at the moment of Jesus' baptism by John also confirms that things are unfolding as God intended. The heavens open in answer to the most urgent and persistent prayer of Israel, and the chosen one, the servant of the Lord, the promised messiah, is anointed with the Holy Spirit and commissioned by the Father. He is the Beloved Son on whom God's favour rests. By the will of the Father and the work of the Holy Spirit, his death will bring life to the world.

His baptism at the hands of John announces all of this. It is the beginning of his public ministry. The salvation of the world is now underway and the kingdom is at hand. By submitting to baptism at the hands of John, Jesus also confirms what he says to the Samaritan woman: 'salvation is from the Jews'. His work emerges organically, within the whole history of God's presence and dealing with his people, a history of which John the Baptist is the most recent and the greatest representative.

And so it is right that Jesus was baptised by John and that later he would establish in his own body the baptism in the Holy Spirit and in fire which brings salvation for the whole world.

You can listen to this homily here.

Saturday after Epiphany

Readings: 1 John 5.14-21; Psalm 149; John 3.22-30 

Jesus first came to public attention as a follower of John the Baptist., He came to the river Jordan to be baptised by John, thereby associating himself with John's mission and preaching. It is John who first speaks about Jesus, 'behold the Lamb of God', he says to his own disciples about the one on whom he saw the Spirit rest. Today's gospel gives us then a unique glimpse of Jesus as a 'practising baptist', we might say, for he is at least with his own disciples, the first Jesus-followers, who are baptising in their turn. Whether he himself officiated John's baptism of repentance is not clear.

What is very clear, here and elsewhere, is that John the Baptist was the most remarkable witness to the light which Jesus is, the Light of the World. John served the true light and the light of truth by his way of living, by his preaching and by his death. He did this with great courage and, as we see in today's gospel, with great humility. Humility is truth, it means simply accepting what is true, our own nothingness in the sight of God and our own greatness in the sight of God.

The theme of truth is already raised in the first reading which says that those who believe in Jesus have eternal life because they are in the One who is true, in his Son Jesus Christ, in the One God who is the true God and eternal life. The world can only offer us a variety of idolatries, ways of giving our minds and hearts, our adoration, to things that are less than God and whose promises are vain in the end, things that are, at their worst, not only false but death-dealing.

John the Baptist knows that life and truth come through the one who is coming after him, Jesus who is the Christ. John understands himself as a voice crying in the wilderness of the world, testifying to the coming among us of the Son of God. 'I am not the Messiah', he says, nor Elijah (although Jesus knows him more deeply and recognises him as the 'Elijah' who was to come). Nor am I the bridegroom, John adds. In a beautiful image he describes himself as the 'best man', the friend of the bridegroom, whose job is to watch out for the bridegroom's arrival. His joy is full, his mission accomplished, when he hears the bridegroom's voice and can announce his arrival.

To live in the light of the truth is to be truly humble. 'No one can receive more than what has been given him from heaven,' John says, and 'this is what I have received from heaven, to be the best man.' It is time to hand over to the bridegroom. The bride is his, not mine, he adds, something to be kept in mind particularly by celibate disciples of the Lord who might be tempted to regard themselves as a kind of bridegroom in the place of Christ rather than what they are, a kind of 'best man' to the bridegroom, serving the relationship between him and his bride and not intruding upon it.

'He must increase, I must decrease', John says, and it is not false humility or anti-Baptist propaganda from the early Jesus-followers. It is simply the truth, and the truth is the life of human beings. Live in the light of who you are and you will be fully alive. Live in the light of the Bridegroom who is your best friend and your joy will be complete.

Friday after Epiphany

Readings: 1 John 5.5-13; Psalm 147; Luke 5.12-16

Some of what is happening in the world might lead us to think that withdrawing to a deserted place to pray, as Jesus does at the end of today's gospel, might be the best thing we could do at the beginning of this year. Natural disasters, wars underway and threats of wars, the climate crisis, crimes of violence and sexual abuse, the rates of abortion and suicide - it can all seem too much, leaving us feeling sad, fearful and impotent. The man Jesus encounters in the gospel today is 'full of leprosy', just as the world today can seem to be comprehensively sick. Jesus has resources, of course, that (it seems) we do not have: he can stretch out his hand and touch the man and heal him in an instant for this is what he wants: 'I do will it. Be made clean'.

The Word of God become flesh and dwelling among us, Jesus has come precisely to engage the world's sickness which he does by preaching the truth, by teaching the way of wisdom for human beings, by healing the sick, by sending the demons away. There is a rhythm of contemplation and action in his ministry. His whole hidden life, between the ages of twelve and thirty, is a kind of long contemplative preparation for his brief but revolutionary public ministry. During those years he grew in wisdom and in grace before God and before human beings. Once his ministry begins, however, his contemplative moments are few and far between, with people searching for him all the time.

Is it true, however, that he has resources we do not have? He says somewhere that those who believe in him will perform deeds as great as his, and even greater ones. His outstretched hand touching people now takes the form of the sacramental life of the Church - the water and the blood are witnesses to this, baptism and the Eucharist. His will to heal us and his command that banishes sickness now takes the form of his word preached in so many places every day, the way in which he is still saying to us, 'I will, be clean'. We are cleansed by the word he speaks, John tells us in his gospel (15.3).

And the Spirit is the third witness that accompanies the sacraments and the word, God's testimony within human beings which already establishes eternal life in those who receive it. In his letter John wants his readers to know that they have eternal life already, that they have been anointed with the Holy Spirit, that they have been made partakers of the divine nature (that's the second letter of Peter 1.4): in other words the resources available to Jesus have been shared with those who believe in him.

We also need contemplative moments in which to recover a sense of the gifts we have already received. Perhaps it is more urgent than ever at the beginning of this year with all that can weigh us down. As the world enters what seems like a darkening place it is more than ever urgent that we join Jesus in deserted places in order to pray. But urgent also that we do this not in order to escape what can seem overwhelming, a world 'full of leprosy', but in order to return to what we have been given as our possession, a share in His Spirit. If we have forgotten about that, or somehow lost contact with it, or have become alienated from it, then this is the time to return to it. It is our land and our inheritance, given us by the Lord. Every new year is a time for us to be cleansed and strengthened, enabled to shine as the lights in this dark world that we are called to be, people of truthfulness, justice, compassion and love. These are the resources that heal and save and God has made us co-workers with Christ to live and to act as he did, to practise these virtues and so, in our turn, heal and strengthen our world.

Thursday after Epiphany

Readings: 1 John 4:19-5:4; Psalm 72; Luke 4:14-22

The homily Jesus gave in the synagogue at Nazareth may be taken as the prototype or pattern for any homily (Luke 4:16-30). The Introduction to the Lectionary identifies four aims for the homily (§41) and at Nazareth Jesus addresses all four. These aims are

1) to lead the hearers to an affective knowledge of Holy Scripture
2) to open them to gratitude for the wonderful works of God
3) to strengthen the faith of the hearer
4) to prepare them for communion and for the demands of the Christian life. 

How does Jesus’ homily at Nazareth meet these aims? First, he chose a text from the Book of Isaiah, the passage which speaks of the Spirit of the Lord coming to anoint the Lord’s messenger, deputing him to evangelise the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, to bring sight to the blind, to set the oppressed free and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour. ‘Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing’, Jesus says, and we are told that they ‘wondered at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth’ (Luke 4:21-22). Literally it means the words about grace that he spoke. The passage from Isaiah tells of the grace, or favour, of the jubilee year in which a fresh beginning makes new life possible. They are heartened and encouraged by this. Later in the Gospel of Luke we hear of disciples whose hearts burned within them as he opened the Scriptures for them (Luke 24:32) but already at Nazareth all spoke well of him.

‘Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing’. This may be taken as the fundamental task in preaching a homily, to show how the Scripture that has just been read is being fulfilled in the lives of those who are listening.  The second aim of the homily is to open people to gratitude for the wonderful works of God. These works are read about in the Scripture readings not just to recall great events in other places and at other times but with a view to showing how they continue to be effective here and now. The Word of God is ‘sacramental’, therefore, bringing to pass in the lives of believers the realities of which it speaks. We might say that it is good news only when those who listen are helped to see how the Word that has been proclaimed is working in their lives.

Jesus preaches in order to strengthen the faith of those who hear: this is the third aim of a homily. The text of Isaiah was presumably already well known to his congregation and he seeks to interpret its meaning for them. The difference in his teaching, we are told elsewhere, is that Jesus spoke with authority and with wisdom, often confirming what he taught by signs and wonders (Mark 1:27; Matthew 13:54; Luke 13:10). But at Nazareth his preaching breaks down and the situation becomes complicated.

So what went wrong? (This is presuming that something did go wrong: perhaps what happened is an example of how effective preaching can be!) Thinking of the fourth aim of the homily, we can see that Jesus is trying to prepare them for communion and for the demands of living according to his new way, but this does not go down well with them. If there is to be encouragement in the preaching of a homily there is also to be challenge. Gracious words call to generous living: to be holy as God is holy, compassionate as God is compassionate, loving one another as Jesus has loved us.

On the one hand Jesus in his homily says that the promises of God’s grace are being fulfilled even as they listen. These promises are being fulfilled in him, in his presence among them with his teaching and his works of power. Who would not be strengthened and encouraged?

On the other hand he begins to explain the implications of this time of grace by showing how it calls his listeners beyond their place of comfort to reckon with deep and demanding aspects of God’s gracious work. He reminds them of how earlier prophets brought God’s word and power beyond the confines of Israel. His preaching breaks down as he invites them to break open their hearts and lives, to be receptive once again to the grace of the Living God. The ancient text has come alive and its blessings are welcomed but its demands are not. The mood turns from wonder to anger and he must pass through the midst of them to get away. ...

This is an extract from a longer article on the homily. The full article may be found here.

 

Wednesday after Epiphany

Readings: 1 John 4:11-18; Psalm 72; Mark 6:45-62

One sentence in Mark's account of Jesus walking on the water is omitted from the parallel accounts in Matthew 14 and John 6. 'He meant to pass by them', Mark tells us (6:48). Strange that this would be the sentence that seems strange in an account of a man walking on water through a stormy sea!

The fear of the disciples is not connected with the weather conditions but rather with the strange fact that Jesus appears to them on the water. 'Take heart', he says, 'it is I, do not fear'. Ego eimi is the phrase translated 'it is I', the divine name so important throughout John's gospel ('I am') but not given as much attention when it appears here in Mark. Except to note that the Lord of the seas is God the creator, the one who sets their limits, populates them with creatures, and has the power to divide them, dispel them, or cause them to erupt in the desert.

This is another incident in which it becomes clear, it is revealed, that God is present in Jesus. It is another Epiphany then. Matthew supplements it with the story of Peter asking to imitate Jesus by walking on the water. John concludes it briskly by having them all magically transported to their destination. But Matthew and John use the same Greek phrase as Mark: 'take heart, it is I, do not be afraid'.

So within this strange story we find a sentence so strange (at least for some readerships) that it is omitted by Matthew and John, 'he meant to pass by them'. It seems that this is the sentence that tests credulity most sharply, the lectio difficilior which has a claim to being original precisely because it is a more difficult reading. Whatever weird and wonderful things the Incarnate Word got up to, however he decided to disport himself in relation to creation, there is something scandalous, it seems, in him walking past the disciples. It seems to mean ignoring them, having plans and purposes that for the moment do not include them.

Is that what is shocking, scandalous, bizarre in this surreal story? That the Son of God, the Incarnate Word, would have plans and purposes beyond the concerns of his immediate disciples? That his mind might be elsewhere, so to speak? Some interpreters get down to the task of trying to explain away the plain meaning of the text, to bring it round again to show that Jesus couldn't possibly have been intending to ignore the disciples.

The best explanation, though, is that this phrase belongs with the other phrases and characteristics of this incident that make it a theophany, a revelation of the presence and glory of God. The most famous 'passings by' of God in the Old Testament are those in which he reveals himself more fully to Moses (Exodus 33:22) and Elijah (1 Kings 19:11). Paradoxically, then, the 'passing by' of the Lord means a more intense and intimate presence of the divine mystery, that in passing by God comes closer. In coming close God also becomes more mysterious since it can only be in His nature as God that he comes close and that means in His nature as mysterious, infinite, in comprehensible. So Moses sees only God's back and Elijah is aware of God in the sound of fine silence.

The disciples are, appropriately, terrified, not because of the weather conditions but because of the one walking on the waters. But he turns to them, re-assures them, speaks to them, and gets into the boat with them. Here is a new reality, that the One who is, the Lord of the waters, in passing by, and so coming closer in the mystery of his nature, is now accessible and available, has a face and a voice, can be in the boat with them, is there to be touched and seen and heard, in the person of Jesus.

So Mark, with this strange comment, is more faithful to the language of divine theophany than are either Matthew or John who let it drop out. One of the finest texts in the Bible in which the glory of God is sensed in its passing by is Job, chapter 9. Putting it alongside the text of Mark read today we see again how in Jesus God answers Job's questions and in doing so draws us into deeper mysteries:

... how can mere mortals prove their innocence before God?
³ Though they wished to dispute with him,
    they could not answer him one time out of a thousand.
⁴ His wisdom is profound, his power is vast.
    Who has resisted him and come out unscathed?
⁵ He moves mountains without their knowing it
    and overturns them in his anger.
⁶ He shakes the earth from its place
    and makes its pillars tremble.
⁷ He speaks to the sun and it does not shine;
    he seals off the light of the stars.
⁸ He alone stretches out the heavens
    and treads on the waves of the sea.
⁹ He is the Maker of the Bear and Orion,
    the Pleiades and the constellations of the south.
¹⁰ He performs wonders that cannot be fathomed,
    miracles that cannot be counted.
¹¹ When he passes me, I cannot see him;
    when he goes by, I cannot perceive him.
¹² If he snatches away, who can stop him?
    Who can say to him, ‘What are you doing?’ ...

Feast of the Epiphany

Readings: Isaiah 60:1-6; Psalm 71; Ephesians 2:2-3a, 5-6; Matthew 2:1-12

After they have met publicly with the chief priests and scribes, Herod is anxious to meet the wise men ‘secretly’. It is how politics tends to be done, through secret deals and meetings outside meetings. But today’s feast is about the opposite of secrecy. The mystery hidden in God from all eternity is made known to the world in the birth of Jesus. It is a mystery of light, a revelation, and an illumination. Like all politicians, Herod is anxious to control events and he is already devising his strategy. But another hand is guiding these events, another mind is revealed in how they unfold, and a different power is at work here for a purpose beyond anything Herod can imagine. God’s plan – for it is the hand and mind and power of God that are being revealed – will not be frustrated by Herod.

There had always been a universalist strand in Jewish thought. We find it in the prophets, who issue frequent reminders that the choosing of Israel, and her re-establishment after the Exile, are not just for Israel but are, through her, for all the nations. So the first reading already provides much of the imagery and meaning of today’s feast: your light has come, the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. In the darkness of this world’s night the nations see and are led by the light that has risen over Israel. This universalism is there from the beginning, in the original call of Abraham. He is promised a land and a people so that all the nations of the earth might be blessed through him.

With the birth of Jesus the mystery of God’s love for humanity is revealed definitively and uniquely. In this mystery, the Gentiles, represented by the three pagans who present their gifts to the Holy Family, are fellow heirs with the chosen people, members of the same body and partakers of the same promise. Following their own best understanding of how truth is to be sought, they find their way to Bethlehem. All who seek truth with a sincere heart will, sooner or later, find their way to Bethlehem. The clamorous human world gathers at the feet of this Child, not just the Jewish world of Mary, Joseph and the shepherds but the Gentile world from Midian, Ephah and Sheba. The revelation and the promise are for everybody.

5 January - Weekday of Christmas

Readings: 1 John 3.22-4.6; Psalm ; Matthew 4.12-17, 23-25

There is a poetic ring to the text of Isaiah quoted in today's gospel, words that are beautiful, images that. stir the imagination - land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, way of the sea beyond Jordan, Galilee of the nations. Zebulun and Naphtali are two of the smaller tribes of Israel, who settled in the northern part of the land. They are in the beautiful region of Galilee where the first part of Jesus's public ministry is played out.  It is called 'Galilee of the nations', this area being near to the coastal regions and to Syria, an area through which much trade and communication took place.

The universalism we saw in the feast of Epiphany itself is continued here, Jesus beginning his ministry of teaching, preaching and healing in a crossroads of the world, almost we might say at the street corner, for anybody and everybody, and for Israel in its interaction with other nations for that was its mission from the start.

The First Letter of John tells us that they belong to God who acknowledge Jesus come in the flesh and who love each other as he loved his disciples. There are just these two criteria for belonging and nothing else is relevant, nothing racial or ethnic or linguistic or cultural. 'Come in the flesh' means born into our world, not just into a human body like ours, of blood and bones, but into human society and history, into a particular time and race and culture, with all that this entails.

He became one of us, only one of us, so that all of us might come to the new light which he is. The Messiah is given all the nations for his inheritance, his possession reaching to the ends of the earth. Once again this is confirmed in the adoration of the Magi, those seekers and searchers who have come from far away in order to do homage to the new king.

They followed the star to Bethlehem, the star being the first shining of a light that would grow ever stronger. But it is shining in the darkness and Jesus's ministry begins when he hears of the arrest of John the Baptist. So the shadow of darkness already falls across this beautiful landscape, the shadow of the cross which is this young prophet's destiny.

There is still a long road to be travelled, from Galilee of the nations to the community of disciples to which the First Letter of John is addressed. But we can say that this road is all about a light that grows ever brighter as it draws out the darkness there is in human affairs. And it will be in the moment of deepest darkness, Calvary, that the brightest light will shine, the glory that is his as the only son of the Father, revealing the depth of human sinfulness and the always greater reach of God's love. The Spirit we have received is the Spirit of Jesus that drove him into the wilderness and then to Galilee and then to Jerusalem, to his death and resurrection. The light come into the world with the birth of Jesus does not simply illuminate our situation, it transforms it, giving those who believe in him the power to become children of God.

This is the light that dawns over Bethlehem, the light that begins to radiate in Galilee. It still shines in our world in spite of the many darknesses in which we are immersed, always calling us forward to acknowledge him and to learn from him how to love one another.