Week 17 Saturday (Year 1)

Readings: Leviticus 25.1, 8-17; Psalm 67; Matthew 14.1-12

The first reading gives us the biblical basis for the jubilee year which is being celebrated in the Church in 2025. The fiftieth year was to be a 'super-sabbatical' year during which things were to be restored to their original just arrangement. People were to return to their property, the heritage of their family, and if they had been obliged to alienate any of this in the previous fifty years it was to be restored to them. Likewise if people had been obliged to go into slavery they were to be freed. It was announced on the Day of Atonement, the great day of repentance and reconciliation, with the blowing of a trumpet, yobel, the ram's horn, from which the English term 'jubilee' comes. Later in the Bible we read that in this jubilee year debts were to be cancelled. 

Throughout the history of God's chosen people the promise of a great jubilee continued to inform their hopes and when Jesus stood up to read in the synagogue in Nazareth he chose to preach on a text from Isaiah which speaks about 'the year of the Lord's favour', in other words the jubilee year. 'Today this text is fulfilled in your hearing', he says, which is another way of saying the kingdom of God to which you look forward is coming to be even as you listen. It is coming to be in him for he is the fulfilment of all the promises of the Old Testament, the realisation of all its hopes.

The tradition of celebrating a Holy Year in the Church began in the year 1300. At first it was to be celebrated once a century but after some time it settled down to a celebration every 25 years and so it continues to this day. It is understood in the first place as a kind of 'super-Lent', a time of repentance and reconciliation, of return to our true homeland ('come back to me with all your hearts') and the cancellation of debts (the 'indulgence' granted by the Church refers to the broadest possible offer of forgiveness and reconciliation from God). 

Pope Francis inaugurated the Holy Year of 2025 and Pope Leo will close it at the beginning of 2026. Francis gave it the theme of 'Pilgrims of Hope' because it seemed to him that this was the virtue or gift which is most urgently needed in the Church and in the world at this time. We live in a time of tension and anxiety, with wars and rumours of wars, carried on militarily but in other ways also, when humanity is fragmented and troubled in many ways. We live in a time, says Francis, when many people seem to have lost the joy of living a human life: witness the declining birthrate in many countries, including many traditionally Christian ones.

Hope is the virtue that frees us to live with joy, freedom and energy. The future is in God's hands. God has worked many wonderful things for us in the past and is absolutely reliable, which means that God's promises for the future can be relied on. Living with that confidence and trust regarding the future - 'all will be well and all manner of thing will be well' - means we can devote our energies to what needs to be done today, here and now, and we can do it freely and joyfully.

Hope is always accompanied by faith and love: these three graces constitute the programme of a Christian life. Hope is founded on faith - in particular our faith in the Risen Lord - and nourished by charity. But in turn, says Pope Francis, hope makes our faith joyful and our love enthusiastic.

As I write these words Rome is full of young people, come to celebrate the Jubilee of Youth with Pope Leo. We pray together for an increase in the gift / virtue of hope in the Church. May all who seek to follow Christ be filled with joy in that following and give themselves generously and with enthusiasm to the work of building the kingdom of God among us even now. It means bringing good news to the poor, helping the blind to see, setting free those who are oppressed or imprisoned, showing in how we live that the year of the Lord's favour has indeed come.

Week 17 Friday (Year 1)

Readings: Leviticus 23:1, 4-11, 15-16, 27, 34-37; Psalm 81; Matthew 13:54-58

If it is true that human beings will worship something, then the question of true worship is clearly very important. How are we to keep ourselves from idolatry, giving the kind of honour and respect which we call 'adoration' to the living and true God and to Him alone?

The wonderful first reading from the Book of Leviticus spells out the times and kinds of worship that were pleasing to the Lord, the God of Israel. These were times for renewing the covenant and for returning to life within the covenant. The rituals described combined seasonal feasts, found in many cultures, with historical anniversaries, also found in most cultures. No reason is given for the particular arrangement of times, seasons and actions beyond 'I am the Lord'. It was the Lord's will that he be worshipped in these ways and that his actions on behalf of the people should be recalled in these ways.

Anthropologists will find reasons appropriate to their discipline in this list of feasts and festivals - one need refer only to the work of Mary Douglas to see how rich a mine Leviticus is for anthropological study. But theologians see 'worship' in all of this, the ways in which the Mosaic Law laid it down that God was to be honoured and respected, the covenant observed and renewed,  breaches of the covenant confessed and forgiven. It is a complex ritual system designed simply to acknowledge God's glory. To borrow a phrase from the Jesuits, whose founder Saint Ignatius we remember on 31 July each year, it is all 'ad majorem Dei gloriam', for the greater glory of God.

In fact the Spiritual Exercises composed by Saint Ignatius can seem like a modern Book of Leviticus, a complex system not so much of rituals as of personal introspection and meditation designed, like the public worship of the Israelites, simply to acknowledge God's glory. The Exercises, is a modern work, belonging to a time when a new emphasis on the individual was emerging, and focused on the acknowledgement of God's glory in the life of the individual Christian. The Book of Leviticus was focused on the community of believers acting together in common praise and worship of God, a liturgical spirituality in the literal sense (liturgy = a work of the people).

Both Leviticus and the Spiritual Exercises are directed to Christ, his sacrifice and the ways in which we share in it. Leviticus anticipates Christ and the Exercises are designed to lead people to Christ. We know, what was not yet known to the people of Nazareth when he returned there, that in Jesus all the sacrifices, rituals and festivals of the Law were brought to an unexpected fulfillment. On one level the people of Nazareth knew more about him than we do: who his father, his mother, and his brothers were. But on another level we know more about him - that in his body he fulfills all the divine promises made to Israel just as in the same body he offers perfect worship to the Heavenly Father. Our liturgical and spiritual exercises enable us to share in that fulfillment as they enable us to participate in that worship.

Week 17 Thursday (Year 1)

Readings: Exodus 40:16-21, 34-38; Psalm 84; Matthew 13:47-53

We may find ourselves smiling at the seeming naïveté of the disciples in their reply to Jesus (perhaps he smiled too). ‘Do you understand all these things’, he asks them. ‘Yes’, they say, with what seems like enthusiasm. All these things? Yes! We know their track record for misunderstanding the teaching of Jesus. We know also that they really have no idea what lies ahead, either for Jesus or for themselves.

Perhaps what they mean is ‘we understand the parable’: it is about the last judgement, about the angels separating good from bad. Is it not good that it is angels and not human beings who make this discernment? Perhaps they see this point. It will have more hope of being a discernment done without prejudice, more just than we could manage, more objective.

The first reading speaks of a moment of tranquillity in the understanding of God’s people as they make their way through the desert. On the journey God is with them, directing things. The Tent and the Dwelling mean He is present, His glory fills that space, they know He is with them in the cloud by day and in the fire visible by night. For now there are no laments, no complaints.

Is it that the chosen people, like the disciples, have come to ‘understand all these things’ (represented by the ten commandments placed in the ark and the parable of judgement in the gospel)? Both groups might feel that they can say ‘yes, we understand’. But in the case also of the Hebrews we know better, and not only from reading about them. We know it from our own experience. Soon they will be weighed down once more by tiredness and hunger, by fears and anxieties.

In one way we also understand all of it: God is always with us, God is always guiding things, God is love and God’s act is always creative, so all will be well and all manner of thing will be well. Even sin is behovely, as Julian of Norwich says, has its strange place in witnessing to God’s mercy. In principle we know all this and we hold to it by faith. But there are moments when we lose the awareness of it, an awareness that at other times can be so strong in us.

Truth be told we need to lose that awareness from time to time. Truth be told we have not yet understood everything God wants to reveal to us about Himself nor do we understand everything about our place in His plan. We might actually want to confine God in His Tent. The ‘all’ we think we understand may simply be the ‘enough’ that we can manage. But God is always journeying ahead of us, leading us into new places and new experiences, calling us to face new challenges and new possibilities.

So the old comforts us, even in its mix of good and bad, success and failure, strength and weakness. We know where we are. Problems in individuals, families, communities and institutions persist as long as they do – across many years sometimes – because we become accustomed to our old problems. Of course we lament and complain about them, but they are familiar, we have worked out ways of living with them, and somewhere inside we are happy for them to remain because who knows what new problems might come along with change? The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know – so they say.

But God, Creator of all things, Lord of the Hebrews, Father of Jesus, is ever ancient and ever new. He is always with us. But if we are to remain with Him we must be ready to move with Him, to up our tent and move forward. Wisdom means cherishing what is good in what is old, certainly, but it also means being ready to follow Him along new paths. Because God is ‘I am who I am’, the One who will be with us, we can be confident that the new thing He is building will mean, in the end, a fuller revelation of his glory and a deeper joy and fulness of life for us.

Do we understand all these things? Of course not. But let us not give up on the journey. Let us continue to follow where He leads for He is always with us.

Week 17 Wednesday (Year 1)

Readings: Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99; Matthew 13:44-46

The experience of Moses, becoming radiant as God is radiant, is a kind of transfiguration. We read in the First Letter of St John that we become like God when we see Him as He really is. This begins to happen already with Moses, with whom God speaks face to face, as with a friend. Moses becomes radiant and glorious to such an extent that the people are fearful of approaching him. It is only when he speaks (a moment comparable to Jesus addressing Mary Magdalene in the garden) that they are put at ease and listen to the words he brings to them from God.

The person who finds the treasure hidden in a field is, Jesus tells us, filled with joy. He is transformed, his life radically changed, as he goes and sells everything in order to buy the field. The merchant is in a different situation since his job is to look for pearls. He spends his life searching and eventually finds one of great value. We are not told about his joy but can presume it, as he too goes, sells all he has, and buys the pearl.

In one case we are told that the Kingdom of Heaven is like the treasure, in the other case we are told that the Kingdom is like the merchant searching. So the Kingdom is in the relationship between people and something of great value that gives them joy and becomes the exclusive focus of their lives.  It might come their way fortuitously or as a result of long searching. Either way it becomes the exclusive focus of their lives from that moment onwards. Likewise God became the exclusive focus of Moses’ life after his encounter with God in the burning bush. Likewise the Father was the exclusive focus of the life of Jesus from the earliest moments of his existence.

We are left with questions about the man who found the treasure and the merchant searching for pearls. What did they want these riches for? It seems it was enough to possess such great wealth. With the treasure of the Kingdom, or the treasure entrusted to Moses by God, we have also the words of Moses and of Jesus, to interpret, to explain, to teach us why the Kingdom is the treasure worth looking out for, why the pearl of great price worth searching for.

Week 17 Monday (Year 1)

Readings: Exodus 32:15-24, 30-34; Psalm 106; Matthew 13:31-35

What was it that led the people to make the Golden Calf? In what did their sin consist? Impatience, perhaps, waiting for Moses to return from his latest tryst with God. Coping with the invisibility of God is a real challenge for creatures for whom sight is central, creatures designed to know and understand through physical experience. How are we supposed to relate to what cannot be seen, heard, touched, tasted or smelled?

A golden calf would at least be visible and tangible. And we would have put a lot of ourselves into it, the most valuable things in our possession. Perhaps if we sacrifice them, our jewels, some power somewhere in the universe will appreciate what we have done and reward us for it. It doesn't really matter which power, as long as somebody somewhere shows signs of benevolence towards us.

Keeping alive the memory of what God had already done for them: this was another challenge. Memory depends on sensation, the things we've seen and heard, touched and tasted. And if we've had no experiences like that with God how can we remember what God has done for us in the past, even if at moments in the past we have been convinced of His presence and action? How can we hold on now to what happened then?

Perhaps the main problem was simply boredom which is bound to come in when there is such a gap - a transcendent gap if we understand anything about God - between our desires and the ways in which those desires are to be fulfilled. Here we are, parked in a desert, uncertain of the way back or the way forward, unsure of where food and drink will be coming from, having our doubts about the man we agreed to follow ...

A key to this, as to any 'pagan' relating to God, is the thought that the divine is a power somewhere in the universe. This is the difficult teaching which the Lord, the God of Israel, has chosen to undertake, to lead a people into a knowledge of Himself, God who is living and true, Creator and Lord of all things in heaven and on earth. How is he to teach them about himself so that they will not confuse him with one of the idols or with one of his own creatures? Because He is Creator of all, God is not one of the things, not anything in the universe, not caught in time or space, not a supreme being among beings, not 'the biggest thing around' ... what kind of purchase can we hope to have on what we would regard as a proper understanding of God?

It is a very difficult lesson the people are being asked to learn and there is a long road ahead of them yet. There are very difficult lessons we are asked to learn if we persevere in seeking God and we have a long road ahead of us yet. Impatience, invisibility, fickleness, boredom - any of these things might be enough to distract us into hedonism, indifference, or idolatry of one kind or another. All of them together might be practically irresistible.

The parables of Jesus offer a contrasting picture which might just be the thing we need as we reflect on what the first reading reminds us about ourselves. He gives two parables about the eventual blossoming of things that for most of their lives remain hidden. The smallest of all seeds disappears into the earth and is invisible and forgotten until the great bush appears which is the blossoming of that seed. The yeast disappears into the flour and again becomes invisible and forgotten until its effects in the baking become clear.

Jesus speaks in parables which might seem to be the last thing we need. In spite of our boredom threshold and lack of patience, our need for external stimulation and our poor remembering, Jesus comes to teach us about 'what has lain hidden from the foundation of the world'. He has come to put a face on the Divine Mystery and to give us the capacity, finally, to dispose ourselves correctly towards that Mystery, to worship the living and true God in spirit and in truth. As we read through the gospels we see again and again the kinds of difficulty it presented to the disciples, the many ways in which we tend, always, to misunderstand. But Jesus persevered in his mission and has won for us the Spirit who enables us to remain joyful and energetic in the search for God, to remember what He is doing for us until we see Him face to face.

Week 17 Sunday (Year C)

Readings: Genesis 18:20-32; Psalm 138; Colossians 2:12-14; Luke 11:1-13

Prayer is very simple: it means asking somebody for something. The basis on which a person prays varies with the relationship between the one who prays and the one to whom he prays. If the relationship is a business or professional one then some freedom might be possible in asking for things, but within strict limits. We see something like this in the first reading today in which Abraham bargains with God. It is a business or professional relationship but in an oriental context and so a greater degree of freedom is possible. In fact, as people who have visited bazaars in those parts of the world will know, a certain amount of bargaining is expected. Part of the character of a sale in the streets of Jerusalem, for example, is to enter the person's shop, refuse to buy for the first price offered, perhaps have some tea, and then bargain the seller down a bit so that each party feels they have gained something in the process.

This is just a rough analogy for Abraham bargaining with God. The stakes are high: the destiny of the people in Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham appeals to the justice of God: 'should not the judge of all the world act with justice'? Of course, we might say, and it seems that God is prepared to be bargained down even to one just person, but the bargaining stops at ten and that is the agreement on which Abraham and God part.

The gospel reading gives us three related teachings about prayer. The first is the Our Father in Luke's version, shorter than Matthew's, and given in response to a request from the disciples, 'teach us to pray'. Presumably they had prayed before but now, having seen Jesus at prayer, they want to do it like him. The prayer he teaches them, according to some scholars, is simply a brilliant summary of the prayers of Israel. All the different intentions expressed in the psalms - petition, thanksgiving, praise, lament - are listed in the phrases of the Our Father. It is as if Jesus is saying 'pray to God on the basis of the relationship long established between God and yourselves, the covenant God made and renewed with your fathers'.

The second teaching shifts the emphasis to friendship: perhaps this is the best relationship on which to base the practice of prayer. It seems clear that friends will give each other what they need but there may be limits to their generosity or the request may come in a way that is unreasonable as here. But then persistence should be enough to get you beyond those limits and your friend will be irritated or shamed into giving you what you want, if only to get a bit of peace from your nagging.

The third teaching about prayer brings us home, we might say, at least as far as a Christian understanding of prayer is concerned. We are to think of God as 'Father'. Reflect then on that relationship, the child asking his or her father for something, and then see what limit there might be to prayer on that basis. The father is not going to deceive the child or give her something harmful. It is the first word of the prayer Jesus teaches his disciples, 'Father'. It is not the 'Abba' of Mark, Romans and Galatians but close enough, evoking a relationship of trust and intimacy.

And now all limits are obliterated (the term is from Colossians 2, the second reading). The Father is now ready to give gifts beyond anything the children are likely to request: 'if you who are wicked know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him'. How would we know what we were asking for if we were to ask for the Holy Spirit? We need the same Spirit, Paul tells us, if we are to begin to understand the gifts God has given us.

So we are into a radically new relationship, not one restricted by standards of justice, but one in which mercy and grace anticipate both the requirements of justice and the limits of our asking. Even when you were dead, he brought you to life, Paul says in the second reading, obliterating the bond against us by nailing it to the cross.

So we are receivers before ever we are petitioners. We have our needs, and desires, and hopes; our concerns, and sadnesses, and disappointments; and we are encouraged to speak with God about all of this. But God's gifts have preceded all of it, have come before our praying. We spend our lives seeking to understand the gifts we have received. The eyes of faith reveal to us that we live in a world where there are no limits to mercy and goodness; where everyone who asks receives, everyone who seeks finds, everyone who knocks has the door opened to him. The Father is always ready to give us the Holy Spirit, a gift which anticipates our asking since it is only in the strength of the same Spirit that we can call God 'Father' or call Jesus 'Lord'.

Prayer is very simple: it means asking somebody for something. The basis on which a person prays varies with the relationship between the one who prays and the one to whom he prays. Adopted as the sons and daughters of God, brothers and sisters of Jesus, recipients of the Spirit that enables us to say 'Abba, Father', why would we ever hesitate to pray? Why draw back from asking, seeking, knocking? Why doubt that the heavenly Father is waiting to give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?

Week 17 Friday (Year 2)

Readings: Jeremiah 26:1-9; Psalm 69; Matthew 13:54-58

Matthew, Mark and Luke agree: Jesus did not go down well with the people of his native place, his own country or ‘fatherland’. If he had come preaching doom and destruction as Jeremiah did their reaction would be more understandable. But he comes speaking words of grace, a time of healing, reconciliation and restoration.

Part of the reason for their reaction might have been small town thinking. ‘Sure he’s from around the corner’, we might hear someone saying about a person who is gaining a reputation elsewhere. It seems that we do not expect greatness to be local, familiar or ordinary. ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’, is Nathanael’s first reaction when he hears about Jesus. But great people have to come from somewhere. And the New Testament teaches us over and over again that God’s preference is usually for the ordinary, that God works through the ‘poor of the Lord’, the ordinary people from ordinary places: Mary of Nazareth, Peter of Capernaum, Saul of Tarsus.

‘Where did this man get this wisdom and these mighty works?’ He is acting from something we did not put into him and operating from somewhere other than the culture we gave him. He is outside the education he received from us and outside the values and limits within which we shaped his formation. ‘We know where he’s coming from’ is another way of putting this, we know what we’ve put into him, and yet he does not say ‘Nazareth made me’. He speaks as if he comes from somewhere else and acts from a source of power with which we are not familiar. He returns to us with a wisdom that is beyond us.

There is always the danger, especially for people who think they have come to know Christ, of domesticating Him, thinking we know where He is coming from and what He is about. We can think we have identified the limits of what is to be known about Christ, the channels within which He will act, and the ways in which He can be present. But His wisdom and action remain available only for those who have faith, that is, for those who remain open to receive fresh truth, unexpected signs, and new freedom.

On the other side there is always also this hope: that there is a greatness in us that is yet to be seen. No matter how ordinary and banal we believe our origins to be, no matter how ordinary our culture or experience up to now, the same gift of faith teaches us that we have not yet reached the limit of what can be asked of us. Jesus comes to visit all our Nazareths, we might say. He brings His wisdom and power to bear there, calling and enabling everyone who listens to Him to love more. This means also to know more, and to do more, for it is in love that Christian greatness consists.

He is the hound of heaven: we must not turn him into a poodle. He remains always strange, free, other, different, receiving us with great gentleness but calling us to new things. The Love we believe Him to be – the divine wisdom and power – is always creating, always renewing, always ready to unveil the extraordinary gift waiting in the most ordinary of places.

Week 17 Wednesday (Year 2)

Readings: Jeremiah 15:10, 16-21; Psalm 59; Matthew 13:44-46

These briefest of parables have something of the character of the koan. In Zen Buddhism the koan is a way of philosophical or religious teaching, usually a one-liner, which at first sight is puzzling, strange, perhaps even absurd. The wisdom packed into these short teachings does not surrender itself to ordinary thinking but only to a certain kind of meditation. The obvious meaning may turn out to be quite superficial compared with what is learned by chewing on them for a bit, perhaps for a long time.

One thing seems clear: finding these parables related in the middle of Jesus' public ministry encourages us to think that the kingdom of heaven, which he has come to preach and to establish, is more valuable than anything else we can imagine. That seems straightforward enough. But the treasure that is the kingdom can be found by different people in different ways. The treasure hidden in the field seems to be found by chance. We are not told that the person who found it was hunting for treasure, just that he happened to come upon it. The merchant, on the other hand, found the pearl of great price in the course of his work. We are told that he was searching for fine pearls. There is no one pattern to the ways in which God is found by people.

Or perhaps it is more true to say 'there is no one pattern to the ways in which God finds people'. What if God is the main actor in each of these parables? He is the man who finds the treasure hidden in the field (remember the parable of the sower - perhaps beneath the unpromising soil God can still find treasure). He is the merchant who is seeking us, wanting us at our best, as it were, seeing a value in us that we do not see ourselves.

If we think first of our own searching - thinking first of ourselves comes so naturally to us - then we are assuming that we know what the treasure will be like: we know already what is valuable and we will only have to see it to recognise it. But what if in the course of our living we realise that the treasure is beyond us - God is our treasure and we do not know what God is. We need to receive the treasure and we need to be prepared for receiving the treasure. We need the desire for it to be given to us - 'set your heart on things that are above', 'store up treasure for yourself in heaven': how on earth are we supposed to know what is (as we are told elsewhere) beyond the eye, ear and heart of human beings?

The reading from Jeremiah reminds us of other aspects of treasure hunting when the treasure in question is God. Jeremiah must walk the same road as the people in relation to God if he is to be an authoritative preacher to them. He must know what he is talking about, which means he must know also what he is asking of them, the kind of conversion to which his words are calling them. It is as if he has become the enemy of God (or God has become his enemy) but this, in so many different ways, is always a moment in walking with God. The one who stands firm in this moment of testing is one to whom the people will then come. The one whose desire has been recreated in the crucible of God's love becomes a magnet for those who are lost in their search. When they have thrown at him everything they can muster, and he still stands, then they come to him, they seek him out.

Jeremiah is a type of Jesus, anticipating in many ways the experiences and sufferings of Jesus. He anticipates Jesus in his teaching about the divine love - 'I will be found by you', 'I have loved you with an everlasting love', 'I have drawn you with unfailing kindness'. Once again it is unclear: who is the searcher and who is the one found? Who is the one who finds the treasure in the field? Who is the merchant who finds, at last, a pearl of great price. Are we the ones doing the finding? Or are we the ones who are, finally, found?

Week 17 Sunday (Year B)

Readings: 2 Kings 4:42-44; Ps 144; Ephesians 4:1-6; John 6:1-15

Elisha, through the power of God, fed a hundred men with twenty barley loaves and fresh grain, and had some over. Jesus of Nazareth, through the power of God, fed five thousand men (to say nothing of women and children, Matthew adds) with five loaves and two fish, and twelve hampers of scraps were collected afterwards. The implication is clear and the people draw it immediately: if Elisha was something, then this man is far greater. Not just a prophet, he is the prophet who is to come into the world.

The eyes of all creatures look to God for nourishment, Psalm 144 tells us, and he gives them their food in due season. The eyes of God's human creatures look to him for far more than bodily food because they know that they live not on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God. The prophets are those human beings chosen by God to carry his word to the people, to speak to them on behalf of God, and so to nourish them in heart and mind and soul. In feeding the people as he does, Jesus is acting as a prophet, doing something traditional while teaching them something radically new about the kind of prophetic service he has come to offer.

The remainder of John 6 is a long interpretation of this sign that Jesus gave and that the people half understood. Not only a prophet, he is 'the bread of life'. In other words he is not only a bearer of the Word of God, he is himself that Word. Echoing the rich traditions of the wisdom literature of the Bible, Jesus will present himself as Sophia (Wisdom), the one who summons the people to his banquet, to feast with him on the Word of God that nourishes their hearts and minds and souls.

He will go what seems like a step further and invite them to feast not just with him but on him, to eat him as the 'living bread', totally consumed by them, taken inside, appropriated and made to be part of their bodies. A due season not anticipated by human beings has arrived. Ezekiel 34 had prophesied that a time would come when God would feed his people himself. But that God would feed his people on himself: how could anybody have imagined such a thing?

Jesus of Nazareth, more than a prophet, is the Word of God become flesh. Because he is the Word, we live from him. Because he is the Word become flesh, he places himself at our disposal, subject to the vulnerabilities and ambiguities to which all flesh is heir.

Some of his listeners, scandalised at the direction of his interpretation, will leave and stop going with him. They might have continued to follow him if he agreed to be their prophet-king. But they could not continue to follow him as the prophet-servant giving his flesh and blood for the life of the world.

Psalm 144 continues: you open wide your hand, grant the desires of all who live.

The sign first given at Tiberias continues to be given in the Eucharist. The bread of life is offered to the people as the Word is proclaimed. The living bread nourishes them as they eat his body and drink his blood. It is a sign, in the first place, of generosity and limitless love. The little boy who makes his brief appearance in this gospel story is remembered for his willingness to share what he had brought. The Son of God is remembered for his great act of love when he opened wide his hands on the cross, gave up his spirit and so granted the desires of all who live.

It is easy for us to understand and admire the imagery, the symbolism, involved in this talk of bread. It is more difficult to realise the mystery it makes present: that we become one with him as we eat his flesh and that we are identified with him as we drink his blood. Because of this mystery the Letter to the Ephesians can say 'there is one Body', as there is just one Lord and one Spirit. Through living in that Body, which is his Church, we experience the generous love of God and are made able to live in charity and selflessness, in gentleness and patience.

Week 17 Thursday (Year 1)

Readings: Exodus 40:16-21, 34-38; Psalm 84; Matthew 13:47-53

The children of Israel, through Moses, invited the Lord, the God of their fathers, to travel with them. This is how some suggest the divine name itself should be understood: ‘I am the God who will be with you’. They believed that God had accepted their invitation just as they had responded to his call to come out to the wilderness to worship him. The tabernacle, and the tent which covered it, are the first holy place or temple in which God’s glory comes to dwell and where Moses meets with God. When the cloud, the glory of God, lifted, the people too rose and continued on their way. When it rested, they rested. By day it was a cloud and by night a fire burned in the heart of the cloud.

The Lord is already ‘God with us’, guiding his people not just physically, indicating when to move and when to stop, but also by the words of the Law, teaching them how to live, and sharing with them his own wisdom and holiness.

Famously, the prologue of St John’s gospel tells us that ‘the Word became flesh and tabernacled among us’. The Word, Wisdom, or Holiness of God, was made flesh, became a human being, Jesus of Nazareth. Here is a new Emmanuel, a new reality, the Son of God dwelling among us as the tabernacle or tent of God’s presence. He is the definitive gift of God’s Wisdom to us, the final revelation of God’s Holiness, and forever now the place of the encounter with God.

The Spirit of Jesus, dwelling in us, makes us to be temples, tents, or tabernacles, places where God, the Blessed Trinity, now dwells. The Church itself, the community of believers, is the Body of Christ. So we do not need to go to special places or buildings, nor do we need special people to take our place in the encounter with God. We do not need anyone to teach us, we read in the first letter of St John, because we have received the Spirit of Christ. A new and remarkable intimacy is established, something more than friendship, a new creation where it is not now we who live but Christ who lives in us.

The gospel reading reminds us that the judgement is also always under way in the paschal mystery of Christ. The Word is a double-edged sword, discerning and distinguishing, separating out the good and the evil. Those who live in the state of grace know this better than anyone else. They see it more clearly than those of us who are still in our sins. It is why the saints are more sensitive to the weeds in themselves: they are more sensitive to the guidance of God’s Word, they see more clearly where they are deviating from it, and they see very quickly where they still need to be pruned. But they see also the gift of God, the union with God in the Spirit, as clouds dissolve and fires burn out and buildings fall away and there is just the Lover and the beloved, the Redeemer and the redeemed, Eternal Wisdom and the human child, face to face.

Week 17 Tuesday (Year 1)

Readings: Exodus 33:7-11; 34:5-9,28; Psalm 103; Matthew 13:36-43

Attending a chapter of the Order brings back memories of earlier chapters. The readings at Mass today bring to mind the observation of an older friar made at a chapter many years ago. He thought we were replacing the far too specific with the far too woolly. It is difficult to keep a balance in these things just as it can be difficult to maintain a balanced view of God's judgement. We can swing between understanding God as severe in his justice and understanding Him as candy-floss-like in his mercy.

This swing in the readings today brings the earlier comment to mind. The first reading lists the characteristics of God as, on the one hand, mercy and grace, endless kindness and compassion, even forgiving wickedness and crime and sin. But on the other hand the same reading says that God will not declare the guilty guiltless but will punish children and grandchildren for the sins of their fathers and grandfathers. An easy solution would be to suggest that a second author intervened to correct what he thought was too woolly a picture of God. But we end up with what looks like a schizophrenic God, forgiving everything but leaving nothing unchecked.

Logically the two are not incompatible, to take full and due account of wickedness while forgiving it always. But it does seem harsh and unjust to punish the grandchildren for the sins of their ancestors. Unless there is something about sin and wickedness that we are under-estimating, bringing far too superficial an understanding to it so that we do justice neither to God's struggle with sin (if we can talk like that) nor to the miracle of God's mercy in the face of sin.

Moses stands and bows low in the presence of God. It is a terrifying and transforming experience. God speaks with Moses face to face, as a person speaks with his friend. At the same time Moses bows down and worships, as is only right, in the presence of God. Rising and bowing, standing and kneeling: the postures of Moses seem to endorse the contrast we see in the characteristics of God. We are called into friendship with God. God accepts Moses' invitation, 'do come along in our company'. But God remains always God, infinitely holy, faithful to His covenant, but demanding that the people too must become holy if they are to live together with Him.

In the gospel reading Jesus, the one who speaks most about judgement and hell in the New Testament, says that the parable of the wheat and the weeds is about the last judgement. The angels will separate out the evildoers from the righteous, sending the first to the fiery furnace while the righteous shine like the sun in the Kingdom of the Father. We need to bow down and to stand up, both, if we are to understand anything here. We need to remember always that we are creatures and sinners, in need of contrition and forgiveness. And we need to remember always that we have been called into friendship with God. In that friendship we learn how these things hold together, what the reality of sin is that destroys even that friendship, what the consequences of sin are that corrupt relationships for generations, what the power of God is that is ready to find a way to forgiveness, even at the price of taking those consequences on himself.

Another way of putting this is to say that we need to be people of hope. On the one hand we must not presume on the friendship which God has established with us as if sin meant nothing now. On the other hand we must resist any temptation to despair, as if there were a sin or a sinful situation that was beyond the reach of God's mercy. The person of hope stands between these two temptations, bowing and standing in the presence of God, worshiping and loving, grateful for the mercy in God's truth and the truth in God's mercy.

Week 17 Sunday (Year A)

Readings: 1 Kings 3:5, 7-12; Psalm 119; Romans 8:28-30; Matthew 13:44-52 (or 13:44-46)

Solomon is remembered for his wisdom and because of this reputation most of the wisdom literature of the Bible is attributed to him. For him the pearl of great price, the treasure hidden in the field of this world, was the wisdom and understanding needed to govern well. The Lord is pleased with his request and gives him a heart that is wise and understanding.

The person who finds the treasure hidden in a field is, Jesus tells us, filled with joy. He is transformed, his life radically changed, as he goes and sells everything in order to buy the field. The merchant is in a different situation since his job is to look for pearls. He spends his life searching and eventually finds one of great value. We are not told about his joy but we can presume it, as he too goes, sells all he has, and buys the pearl.

In one case we are told that the Kingdom of Heaven is like the treasure, in the other case we are told that the Kingdom is like the merchant searching. So the Kingdom is in the relationship between people and something of great value that gives them joy and becomes the exclusive focus of their lives, their obsession.  It might come their way fortuitously or as a result of long searching. Either way it becomes the exclusive focus of their lives from that moment onward.

So God became the exclusive focus of Moses’ life after his encounter with Him in the burning bush. So too for David and for Solomon who in spite of their many other distractions and weaknesses remained focused on the Lord and His intentions for His people. Even more so was the Father the exclusive focus of the life of Jesus from the earliest moment of his existence.

We are left with questions about the man who found the treasure and the merchant searching for pearls. What did they want these riches for? Solomon's request makes sense for a man in his position. For the treasure-finder and the pearl-seeker, it seems that it was enough for them to possess such great wealth.

With the treasure of the Kingdom, or the treasure entrusted to Moses by God, or the wisdom entrusted to Solomon by God, or the mission entrusted to the apostles by Jesus, we have the words of the scriptures to teach us why the Kingdom is the treasure hidden in the field and the pearl of great price. They teach us why the Kingdom is worth searching for. It is because it means life for human beings, the fullness of life for human beings, eternal life for human beings. Knowing the Father and Jesus Christ whom he has sent: this is eternal life, says Jesus at the beginning of his priestly prayer in John's gospel. The law and the prophets and the writings are worth exploring, valuing, studying and putting into practice. The words of the scriptures are the field in which we search for the treasure. Why search there, someone might ask? With Peter we can reply: where else can we go? the scriptures are all about Jesus and it is he who has the words of eternal life.

Week 17 Sunday (Year A)

Here is another homily/reflection for today ...

These two short parables are almost haikus, that form of Japanese poetry where everything must be said in just three lines, the first of five syllables, the second of seven syllables, and the third of five syllables. It is a strict discipline but I had a go at translating the parables of Jesus into that form. Here they are in English:

Treasure in a field

Found, and once more hidden.

Sell all and then buy.

Merchant seeking pearls

Finds one of great price and goes,

Sells all, and buys it.

I tried it in Italian also where it is more difficult because Italian words, with so many vowels, have many more syllables than English words. Here is my effort:

Compra quel campo

Vendendo tutto che ha

Per il nascosto.

Perla trovata.

E' di grande valore

E vende tutto.

It is a strict discipline but it helps to bring out the essence of the parables which are already so radically trimmed down.

Notice that the gift can either be found by chance, coming as a surprise to the one who finds it, or it can be something long sought after and finally found by someone who has been seeking it, perhaps for a long time.

Notice that the treasure is hidden again until the man has the money to buy the field. The merchant too presumably keeps it to himself that he has found a pearl of great price. So a certain wisdom, not to say shrewdness, is required if the treasure is to be protected. Silence, discretion, patience, reserve ... likewise with the gifts we receive from God, until the moment is right.

In both cases the cost is, in T.S.Eliot's words, 'not less than everything'. If you want this treasure, this pearl of great price, you must be prepared to give up everything else you own. For what would any of us contemplate doing that, even for a moment? But that is the price to be paid. For the most part we want the treasure, of course, but without having to pay the price.

What else need be said? The first reading put with today's gospel tells us that, at least for Solomon, the pearl of great price was wisdom, the gift he needed most for his particular responsibilities.

The second reading spells out the gift we receive 'in Christ' - a call, a justification, a glorification because we have been predestined to belong to him. These words unpack what is contained in the love of God. God's love for us in the first place (the treasure, the pearl), our love for God in return (selling all we have in order to possess the gift).