Week of Prayer for Christian Unity

GOD’S GIFT OF UNITY

There has been a lot of talk in recent decades about cloning, the division of individual animals (or even humans) so that the guy next to me would be an exact genetic copy of myself. One scientist commented that to succeed in cloning human beings would mean exercising a power equivalent to God’s. 

But the point, and the wonder, of God’s creative power is that, far from making clones, God creates unique individuals. There are billions of human beings but no two faces are exactly alike. No two sets of fingerprints, no two DNA codes are exactly alike. Certainly no two experiences of life and love are exactly alike. Creation is about variety, distinctiveness, uniqueness and individuality, not about sameness, uniformity, repetition and monotony. When God creates you or me he throws away the mould. There is no other being who enjoys the existence which is God’s unique gift to me.

Some seventy years ago Teilhard de Chardin, a French Jesuit, developed an original vision of creation evolving towards a fulfilment which he called ‘Omega point’, a moment or level of reality in which the entire universe will be taken up into Christ. For Teilhard, as for the Fathers of the Church, humanity leads all creation towards God. Physical evolution is followed by moral and spiritual progress which involves greater individuality and greater unity.

This may seem strange at first. Surely greater individuality means greater disunity since the more each of us becomes ourselves the more different we are from everybody else? And greater unity must involve the sacrifice of individuality as we agree to let go some of our distinctiveness for the sake of unity? Not so, says Teilhard, because the power by which creation is evolving is the power of love. What does love do? Hold together what is the same? Introduce clones to each other (so that well known songs become ‘the first time ever I saw my face’ and ‘some enchanted evening, you may see yourself, across a crowded room’)? On the contrary. The power of love holds together and unites things that are different.

Teilhard is on solid ground here, basing himself on what the New Testament says about the work of God’s Spirit of love. In 1 Corinthians 12 Saint Paul speaks of a variety of gifts within the people of God but one Spirit. He says there are all kinds of service to be done but always to the same Lord. Working in all sorts of different ways in different people, it is the same God working in all of them. For Saint Paul love establishes things in their unique individuality even while uniting them more strongly with all that is different. In the text referred to he continues by speaking about the human body, a symbol for the unity of Christ, a body made up of different parts and functions but animated and held together in unity by one Spirit.

It is a central Christian prayer that all may be one, but this surely cannot mean some kind of collapse or reduction of variety, uniqueness and individuality into a monotonous sameness. January 18th marks the beginning of the week of prayer for Christian unity. It is not clear yet what kind of institutional unity may be possible between the followers of Christ who are currently divided from each other. It certainly will not involve a kind of ‘religious cloning’ so that the different approaches to prayer and worship, different theological styles and emphases, different spiritualities and traditions of religious life—it cannot mean that all this will collapse into just one way of doing things.

At the same time there must be some fundamental agreement between individuals and groups if they are to be at one with each other. The impetus towards greater respect and deeper understanding of other Christian denominations must continue at full strength. A central task of the new millennium will be increasing understanding between the world’s great religions and on-going dialogue with all who ‘seek God with a sincere heart’ (Eucharistic Prayer IV).

Any unity we enjoy resides in the first place in God, source of all life and love. We are allowed, and enabled, to share in the unity which is God’s, to have some glimpse of it in our own experiences of love. Even in God unity does not mean dull uniformity and monotonous sameness for within God’s absolute unity there are three Persons, the Father and the Son and the Spirit of love who holds them in one.

When we speak of the marriage of man and woman as a sacrament we mean it is a privileged place of love and unity, where two who are different become united while remaining always themselves. It is from that unity-in-difference that new human beings come to birth in the daily miracle of God creating new persons never seen before and so the possibility of new relationships never before established.

The Spirit of Catholicism

Published recently, The Spirit of Catholicism is a book in which I present the substance of Catholic belief and life, what the res catholica believes itself essentially to be. From its basis in the Bible, learning from key figures of Christian history, and in the full light of Pope Francis's missionary ethos, this account of Catholicism seeks to cast new light on familiar teachings, the treasure carried by this 'earthen vessel'.

Neither apologetic nor controversial, it shows how embodiment is at the heart of Catholicism – Christ, Mary, sacraments, a historical institution. It shows how this body is structured and develops into a form of life marked by a special kind of fraternity and resulting in a particular presence in human history and society.

Catholic teachings about Mary and the Eucharist, about hierarchy and authority, about spiritual life and pastoral care, about holiness and love, are presented in their deepest and fullest context: Christ as the Son of God and head of humanity, the Holy Spirit giving energy and new life, and the Father, the great love that awaits us.

Messa dello Spirito Santo

Capitolo provinciale delle Suore Domenicane di Santa Caterina da Siena

Omelia per la Messa dello Spirito Santo - 21 agosto 2020

 Letture: 1 Corinzi 12:3b-7,12-13; Salmo 103 (104); Giovanni 20:19-23

Qual è il significato di questa preghiera allo Spirito Santo, invitandoLo ad essere presente e ad assistere in questo momento così importante del vostro capitolo provinciale? Perché invocarlo proprio oggi, il giorno delle elezioni? Quando ricordiamo Chi è la Persona che stiamo chiamando, lo Spirito Santo, il dono inviato alla Chiesa da Gesù al suo ritorno al Padre, la forza dell'amore che anima la Chiesa e la adorna con la pienezza dei doni divini – è una cosa molto grande che stiamo facendo.

Potremmo essere tentati di pensare che in questo modo possiamo in qualche modo condividere la responsabilità delle decisioni che prendiamo. Con l’aiuto di Dio le cose andranno bene nel futuro, ma se così non fosse, possiamo sempre assegnare almeno una parte della colpa allo Spirito Santo – “cosa pensava di fare quel giorno quando ci ha spinto a prendere questa o quella decisione?” Naturalmente se le cose vanno bene possiamo prendercene il merito noi stessi – quelle furono buone decisioni che prendemmo quel giorno! C'è una frase straordinaria negli Atti degli Apostoli, quando i discepoli annunciano la loro decisione dopo il cosiddetto concilio di Gerusalemme: “è parso bene allo Spirito Santo e a noi”, dicono (Atti 15,28). Insieme, Spirito Santo e noi stessi, insieme, abbiamo preso le seguenti decisioni ... è un'affermazione piuttosto straordinaria, che ciò che è stato deciso è l'opera sia degli esseri umani che conversano e decidono, sia dello Spirito Santo che opera in loro, attraverso di loro, accanto a loro ... qual è il modo migliore per descriverla, questa operazione dello Spirito nelle azioni umani?

A volte potremmo essere portati a pensare che più ci sottraiamo alla responsabilità, più spazio lasciamo allo Spirito Santo per mostrare la sua mano, per rivelare la sua volontà. Dobbiamo svuotare noi stessi dei nostri pensieri e delle nostre inclinazioni, diventare come marionette o burattini nelle mani dello Spirito Santo, completamente a sua disposizione per fare di noi ciò che Egli desidera? È una condizione spirituale desiderabile, essere così disponibili allo Spirito da essere come marionette nelle sue mani? Ma una marionetta o un burattino non è un essere umano ed è negli esseri umani e attraverso gli esseri umani che lo Spirito Santo opera. Persone umane hanno intelligenza e libertà, intelletti e volontà, e noi chiediamo l'aiuto dello Spirito Santo non per prendere il posto di quei doni naturali, ma per permetterci di fare il miglior uso possibile della nostra intelligenza umana e della nostra libertà umana.

Abbiamo bisogno dello Spirito Santo soprattutto per essere il più possibile liberi. Abbiamo bisogno che lui venga non per prendere il posto della nostra libertà, ma per rafforzare la nostra libertà. Abbiamo bisogno di lui per aiutarci a superare gli ostacoli e le distrazioni che inibiscono la nostra libertà e che ci chiudono in noi stessi. C'è un'immagine sorprendente nella lettura del Vangelo di oggi: “erano chiuse le porte del luogo dove si trovavano i discepoli per timore …”. Ci sono molte cose che ci portano a chiudere le nostre porte, forze che lavorano su di noi sia esternamente che internamente, e abbiamo bisogno dell'aiuto dello Spirito Santo con entrambi.

La prima lettura parla della grande sfida esterna che dobbiamo affrontare: come costruire la comunione, fare l'unità, quando c'è così tanta diversità tra di noi? È sempre opera dello Spirito, che porta in sé una varietà di doni e di ministeri e servizi, una varietà di personalità, di esperienze e di prospettive. Questo è un compito centrale per noi, no, costruire la comunione della chiesa, creare una comunità domenicana – tra i tanti individui che siamo, siamo chiamati a costruire una mente comune, un progetto comune, una vita condivisa. Per questo abbiamo bisogno dell'aiuto dello Spirito Santo. È di questo che si tratta, dice San Paolo, l'unico Spirito dal quale tutti siamo stati dissetati per diventare un unico corpo. Ogni volta che celebriamo l'Eucaristia preghiamo per questa comunione: “… a noi, che ci nutriamo del corpo e sangue del tuo Figlio, dona la pienezza dello Spirito Santo perché diventiamo, in Cristo, un solo corpo e un solo spirito”.

Ma abbiamo bisogno dell'aiuto dello Spirito altrettanto, forse anche di più, per le realtà interne che ci portano a chiudere le porte, che ci imprigionano in noi stessi e che diminuiscono la nostra libertà. Molte cose ci spingono a chiudere le porte del nostro cuore e della nostra mente: paure e ansie, gelosie e ambizioni, rivalità e ferite del passato, pregiudizi e preferenze personali. Queste sono le cose che sovvertono la nostra libertà e che rendono difficile per noi sia vedere chiaramente ciò che è vero sia agire semplicemente per e dall’amore. Lo Spirito Santo è il fuoco che scongela queste cose in noi, sciogliendo la durezza del nostro cuore, calmando le nostre paure, spezzando le catene e aprendo le porte, affinché possiamo vivere con più fiducia nella verità e nell'amore.

Iris Murdoch è una filosofa molto conosciuta nel mondo anglofono. Di solito viene descritta come inglese, anche se in realtà è nata in Irlanda. Scrive bene della libertà, parlando di due momenti della nostra libertà: la libertà di vedere e la libertà di fare. Ci sono cose che ostacolano la nostra libertà di vedere, cose che confondono la nostra visione e distorcono la nostra percezione in modo che non possiamo vedere in modo semplice e diretto ciò che è vero. Abbiamo bisogno dell'aiuto dello Spirito Santo in questo momento della nostra libertà: vedere chiaramente ciò che è vero, ciò che è giusto, ciò che è meglio, per purificare gli occhi della nostra mente per vedere con precisione. Ma abbiamo bisogno dell'aiuto dello Spirito Santo anche per il secondo momento della nostra libertà. Non basta vedere ciò che dobbiamo fare, bisogna saperlo fare anche noi. E questa è la libertà di fare, di agire. Anche le nostre azioni possono essere ostacolate nella loro libertà da molti fattori e lo Spirito Santo ci aiuta a farci strada attraverso questi fattori per poter agire, per quanto possibile, semplicemente per carità, per amore del bene.

Questo è il motivo per cui oggi ci rivolgiamo allo Spirito Santo. Lo Spirito Santo è Dono e Lui è Amore. Il suo potere e la sua influenza non distruggono o sospendono i nostri doni naturali di intelligenza e libertà. Il suo lavoro è piuttosto quello di rafforzare queste capacità in noi, in modo che possiamo vedere chiaramente e senza confusione, e che possiamo agire in modo autentico, senza distrazioni o ostacoli.

Egli ci conduce in un luogo di pace per quanto riguarda le decisioni che dobbiamo prendere. La pace è il primo dono del Signore risorto ai suoi discepoli e lo Spirito Santo stabilisce la Chiesa nella pace. Quando avrete fatto tutto il possibile per riflettere e per dialogare insieme, per discernere ciò che è giusto e buono, allora potrete procedere con calma e serenità, senza paura, fiduciosi nella presenza del Signore con voi e nella guida dello Spirito in voi.

Questa è la preghiera che facciamo celebrando questa Messa dello Spirito Santo: che con il suo aiuto serviremo al meglio la verità e l'amore, fino alla pienezza delle nostre capacità e delle nostre forze, che vivremo nella verità che ci rende liberi (Giovanni 8,32), agendo secondo verità nella carità (Efesini 4,15), cosi che che in ogni momento ameremo Dio, Padre, Figlio e Spirito Santo, e i fratelli e le sorelle con cui condividiamo la nostra vita.

Anniversary Mass, Dominican Sisters of St Margaret of Hungary, 1868-2018

Homily for Anniversary Mass, Dominican Sisters of St Margaret of Hungary

13 October 2018

Votive Mass of St Dominic

Readings: Isaiah 52:7-10; Psalm 95 (96); 2 Timothy 4:1-8; Luke 10:1-9

When Jesus tells his disciples what they are to bring and what they are not to bring as they set out to preach his kingdom he does not say anything about typewriters. And yet at a certain moment in the history of the Dominican Congregation of St Margaret of Hungary, the typewriter was a very powerful symbol of that freedom to preach the Kingdom of which Jesus speaks in the gospel reading that we have just heard.

The typewriter was an instrument with which thoughts, ideas and information could be communicated and reproduced, and the communist regimes, in Hungary as in other countries of Eastern Europe, became paranoid about the typewriter. When we read accounts of how Dominican sisters managed to continue their apostolic work in Hungary between 1948 and 1989, we see how important the humble typewriter was for their teaching and catechetical work. In a very powerful film called The Lives of Others, set in East Germany in the same period, the hidden typewriter is crucial to the work of defending human dignity and struggling for human rights. One of the Hungarian sisters, Beata, wrote later that ‘typing was playing with fire: the secret police was very careful to seek out every typewriter, every house search started with confiscating typewriters and any typed and copied material’. I suppose it was because the typewriter was at first anonymous but also eventually identifiable that it became a serious crime to have one. But for anyone with a message to communicate, it was a very useful tool.

As a congregation dedicated primarily to education, the Dominican sisters were directly attacked by the communist regime, their schools and convents taken and their way of life terminated. The Church was regarded as an obstacle to reaching the perfect society and we can imagine accusations of ‘indoctrination’ and even ‘brain-washing’ which are sometimes made against Catholic education, an accusation which is patently false. It is false because Catholic education, confident in the truth’s ability to take care of itself as St Thomas Aquinas puts it, encourages in people a desire always to seek the truth. It encourages us to go on asking, like the little child, ‘what’, ‘how’ and ‘why’? What is it? Where is it? Why are there things rather than nothing? Why do things work the way they do? How do aeroplanes fly, buildings stay standing, babies get made? Why do we believe to be true what we do believe to be true? And most of what we know we believe, accepting it on the authority of those we judge to be reliable witnesses, guides and teachers.

Catholic education seeks to generate in those who are taught not just an appetite for the truth but also a desire for the great virtue of charity. We know it is the heart of the teaching of Jesus: love God and love your neighbour. Charity originates in compassion for those who are suffering, a compassion that not only touches the heart or the emotions, but that finds its way to the lips as we speak up for what is right, to the hands as we work to build the kingdom, to the fingers as they type the words of truth and pass them around to all who want to hear.

A system of education which has at its centre these two great values, the love of truth and the practice of charity, can never be a system of indoctrination or brain-washing. A system of education whose fundamental principles are ‘always seek the truth’ and ‘always think of the other’ is open and not closed, it is outward looking and not introspective, it is at the service of the Church and society and not self-serving or partial.

The search for truth and the practice of charity serve the dignity of the human person. This is what is most fundamentally attacked by political and other regimes that seek to suppress either the search for truth or the reach of charity, restricting people’s access to the sources of truth or setting limits to the extent of our charity.

In the dark days the sisters established new kinds of base communities and continued to reach out particularly to young people. Even without typewriters they set off, as one of them records, ‘with faithful hearts. We carried the light of faith, the beam of hope and the warmth of love! It was not easy but we saw our mission; with this secret in our hearts we set off into the uncertain future’. In those days the sisters were asked to live the simplicity of the gospel, pared down to its essentials, and they did it, not without anxiety and sadness but also with courage and joy.

There is a temptation to dwell on the Congregation’s history between 1948 and 1989. But there have been three great periods in its 150 years of history which others will speak about with more knowledge and authority. There is the first eighty years in which the congregation became established. Its communities and its schools were thriving at the eve of the Second World War and God alone knows all the good that was done during those first eighty years. After the communist period the Congregation has enjoyed these past thirty years of re-foundation and renewal. The communities we see today are made up of older sisters who lived through the forty years of communism and younger sisters who have joined the congregation since then. This is a rich combination which is bearing admirable fruit in the communities and educational institutions which the congregation has been able to re-establish. We can say, in the words of Saint Paul in the second reading, that the Dominican sisters of Hungary have remained faithful to preaching the Word of God in season and out of season.

Another thing that is striking, even from a quick glance at the congregation’s origins and history, is its sense of belonging to a bigger Dominican family. We see that the sisters have always sought to work with the Dominican friars, for example, to live near them and to be in collaboration with them. They have worked with groups of Dominican laity as a way of sharing the charism of Saint Dominic with as many people as possible so as to involve others in their mission of teaching and preaching. The sense of belonging to a bigger Church family has also been strong, the sisters seeking always to work with the bishops and clergy of the Church, to be in solidarity and communion with all who profess the same faith, and to reach out to all people of good will who value the approach to education that the sisters take.

A powerful lesson we learn from the difficult years of the congregation’s history is how, in the end, it is the martyrs who are remembered when their oppressors are forgotten. At the time it seems like the opposite: on the day of their martyrdom or imprisonment the powerful prevail and the powerless are lost. But in God’s providence the last become first and the first last. There is a wonderful irony in the fact that our knowledge of the work of Dominican sisters in the dark years comes from the archives of the secret police. People moved by a certain obsession and anxiety have recorded for posterity the good deeds of people moved by very different concerns. In the time of persecution it might seem as if identity and dignity have been taken away. But those who serve truth and charity are never abandoned by the Lord and in His good time their good deeds are made known. Their witness shines all the brighter against the background of the darkness in which they remained faithful. As the prophet Isaiah foretells in the first reading, in many and various ways the Lord continues to lay bare his holy arm in the sight of all the nations, and the ends of the earth continue to see the salvation of our God. 

Sister Armella’s file in the archives of the secret services is called ‘Disciples’. Here is another wonderful irony, for what better word would we want to describe us than this? Like Saint Dominic we are disciples, followers of Jesus. We are students in the school of Jesus, seeking always to learn from Him, consecrated in the truth and called to follow His way of love. All across the 150 years of the congregation’s life the sisters have responded generously to the same challenge: how to be true to their vocation to teach the truth of the gospel amidst changing environments and regimes, how to be faithful to the requirements of charity in changing social and economic situations.

In giving thanks for the Congregation’s history up to now we pray also for the years to come, that God will continue to bless the sisters of the Hungarian Congregation of Saint Margaret, that He will send many vocations their way, and that He will enable them by His grace to flourish ever more strongly in their service of truth and charity.

Sisters, go and preach the Good News to everyone, in every place, in every possible way, and at all times. Do not forget that you are the loving servants of the Word of God, sharing with all whom you meet the light of His truth and the joy of His love. And do not forget your typewriter, or whatever the modern equivalent is among the tools of the preacher’s craft!

A Homily for Summertime

Summertime

Roll them out, the song says, those hazy, lazy, crazy days of summer. It is not just a practical necessity, to have some time for relaxation and change as if we were machines that would overheat if we do not rest them now and then. It is a virtuous thing, something morally good and respectful of the kind of creature we are, to recognize our need for rest and fresh stimulation. The opposite is not good: not to rest and take a break, not to switch off and cool down for a bit.

Of course there may be people reading this who cannot afford to take a holiday. This may be because of economic or family situations. It may be that the money is not to hand or there are commitments at home that need constant attention or for some other good reason. But where it is possible we ought to try to have a good break and a real change from the ordinary routine. As physical beings we need to rest because we get tired. As animals we cannot survive without enjoyment. People talk about being bored to death and it is true that to be without joy, delight and pleasure is a kind of living death.

It is important for our health that we have a hazy, lazy and even crazy time now and again. Saint Thomas Aquinas says that, from time to time, human beings must do things that are ‘ludicrous’. This term comes from the Latin ludus, which means a game. We must do things just for the fun of it, tell corny jokes to amuse our friends (or at least ourselves), hang around doing nothing in particular, and spend time playing, enjoying things that have no point beyond the enjoyment itself.

We offend against this ‘holy madness’ if we refuse to play: all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy and Jill a dull girl. We offend against it also when we find our enjoyment in things that are harmful, violent, or obscene. Such activities exploit others or damage us (over-indulgence, for example). We need to maintain a balance between silliness and seriousness. We must be prepared to be foolish without making complete fools of ourselves. We must continue to respect people, places and times so that our enjoyment is not at the expense of human dignity, either in ourselves or in others.

But that still leaves lots of space for ‘holy madness’. In a very wise little book the German Catholic philosopher Josef Pieper argued that ‘leisure is the basis of culture’. If we work so as to fill all the time and space, and exhaust all the energy that is available to us, and we leave no gap around our work, then we cannot live happily he says. We cannot then live in the way we ought to if we are to be content human beings. There must be space around us, for prayer, for relaxation, for thinking, for doing nothing, for kicking stones along the footpath, for sitting in lazy silence with our friends and family, for simply looking on and admiring the world. This is what Pieper means by ‘leisure’, a contemplative and receptive appreciation of life.

A passage in the Bible that describes how to have a good party includes the simple command: ‘amuse yourself’. In doing it though we must also ‘bless him who made us and plies us with his good things’ (Sirach 32.13,17). We are simply following the example of God who takes delight in the world he has created (Proverbs 8.30-31). Without rest and re-creation we fail not only to enjoy life but also to recognize that the whole thing is a wonderful gift. We are greatly blessed in so many ways and it is important to find the time and space in which to appreciate this and give thanks for it.

Another word for all this is ‘grace’. We have received ‘grace upon grace’ (John 1.16) and we must ‘always be thankful’ (Colossians 3.15). The first chapter of the Letter to the Ephesians is one of the most powerful of the New Testament texts on grace. God has blessed us, it says, with all the spiritual blessings of heaven in Christ. He has made us His adopted children through Christ, to make us praise the glory of his grace, his free gift to us in the Beloved. The Beloved is Christ in whom, through his blood, we gain our freedom. Such is the richness of the grace that he has showered on us in all wisdom and insight.

And so it goes on. We sing and dance in response to this. We rejoice and are glad. Hopefully everybody will find enjoyment and delight when holiday time comes round. A holiday is a holy day and a foretaste of the final place of rest, the eternal feast that we hope to share forever in the kingdom of light, happiness and peace.

Week 15 (Year B) Sunday / First Mass

Readings: Amos 7:12-15; Psalm 85; Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:7-13

This homily was given at the First Mass of David Goodill OP on Sunday 13 July 2003

Visiting Caldey Island recently I spent some time in the weaver's shop. It was the first time I had been so close to the process and had it explained to me. And because I was also thinking about this homily, I found myself thinking about the work of the priest as a kind of weaving. His task is to draw in the threads, to gather the community, in that way to work at building up the Church. The people are the threads, each one of us a different hue, a different strength too perhaps, but together they are to make a pattern. The priest must attend to each of us and to all of us, whether we are weeping or laughing, he must be with us encouraging and challenging.

Of course priests are only assistants, servants, to the real Weaver. Even to call us priests is only possible insofar as we represent Christ who is the only true Priest. We have not taken this ministry on ourselves, Paul says, but have received it from Christ. Just like Amos, Jeremiah and so many of the prophets, there are probably times in every priest's life when he finds himself longing for what will seem like a simpler job: minding sheep, tending trees, weaving cloth. But we believe we have been called, through the Church, to serve God whose hidden plan is to bring everything together under Christ as Head.

The pattern for our work is provided by Christ. The one sentence that still rings in my ears twenty five years after my own ordination is the one spoken to the newly ordained by the bishop as he hands them the bread and the cup: 'model your life on the mystery of the Lord's cross'. His death and resurrection is the pattern, the hidden plan, by which we live and by which we try to help others to live. Sometimes the dying side of that pattern is more prominent in our experience, its darkness and loss, and the consequences of sin. Sometimes the rising to new life side of that pattern is more prominent in our experience, its light and joy, and the fruit of God's love. We are 'God's work of art' being shaped according to this pattern, 'becoming like him in his death if somehow we may attain the resurrection from the dead'. 

Christ provides not just the pattern but the tools for our work as priests. He speaks of them in the gospel reading of today. Priests are to preach the Word which leads to the celebration of the Eucharist and to the celebration of the other sacraments, especially those of anointing and reconciliation, the sacraments of healing. This is how Christ forms and moulds us to the pattern of His love - by the Word of His teaching and the nourishment of His body and blood. And he forms and moulds us also by His healing presence. When the thread snaps the shuttle stops, the weaving is suspended. But he is the Servant of the Lord who does not break the bruised reed or quench the wavering flame. Instead he attends to it and takes care particularly of what is fragile, vulnerable and weak.

The priest has many responsibilities in his service of Christ but he has great joys also. Above all he experiences the joy of leading the people in praising the glory of God's grace, in celebrating God's free gift to us in the Beloved. The beauty of the pattern may remain hidden for now. To a large extent it is. And even though we do catch glimpses of it, we must wait to see its full beauty, to see the full meaning of what we do. So much priestly work is quiet and hidden - but we believe it will be made known someday in the kingdom of truth and freedom where Christ will be all in all.

Jubilee of Religious Profession

Homily at Jubilarians’ Mass, Bushey, 25 April 2015 

Feast of Saint Mark

Readings:1 Peter 5:5-14; Psalm 88; Mark 16:15-20

I.

There are some happy coincidences that help us in today’s celebration. It happens to be the feast of Saint Mark, one of the four evangelists, and that is a very good coincidence. The opening prayer of the Mass says that Mark received ‘the grace to preach the gospel’. It is simple and profound. All Christians receive the grace to preach the gospel. Everyone who is baptized and confirmed receives this grace and the responsibility it brings with it, to bear witness to what they have received. In those of us who have made profession in the Order of Preachers, this grace is given an added strength, a specific flavor. In virtue of our profession, following Christ in the way of Saint Dominic, we receive again the grace to preach the gospel and we want to give ourselves completely to this central task of the Church’s life.

Another happy coincidence is that the air seems to be full of ‘jubilees’ these days. Obviously we are celebrating today’s, Margaret’s platinum jubilee and the diamond jubilees of Anne, Rose and Ursula.  But we are also close now to beginning our celebrations of the Order’s Jubilee, the eight hundred years since its confirmation by Pope Honorius in 1216. And Pope Francis has just announced that this coming year will also be a Jubilee Year for the whole Church, a Holy Year, focused on the theme of Mercy. We have Jubilees within Jubilees!

II.

The last general chapter of the friars, held two years ago, spent a lot of time thinking about the Order’s Jubilee, thinking in particular about how we ought to celebrate it, what is the right spirit or disposition in which to celebrate these eight hundred years of the Order’s life.

It decided that the motto or theme of the Jubilee would be ‘sent to preach the gospel’. Again it is simple and profound. The acts of the general chapter unpacked that phrase a little bit with a series of questions. We are sent to preach the gospel. By whom are we sent? To whom are we sent? With whom are we sent? And what do we bring with us in being sent?

By whom are we sent? The mission that has taken over our lives is a mission that originates in God. The Father sent the Son and the Son breathes the Spirit and sends the apostles and disciples, and we are sent by the Church and by Dominic, by the Order and the Congregation. And so the mission we receive in becoming Dominicans in a province or a congregation reaches all the way back to this mission which has its roots in God, in God loving the world so much that he sent his only Son so that everyone who believes in him might not be lost but might have eternal life. In being sent by the Order or the Congregation we believe we are sent also by the Church and, ultimately, by God working His purpose out even in our lives.

To whom are we sent? We heard the answer to this question in today’s gospel reading: ‘go out to the whole world, proclaim the good news to all creation’. We are sent to everybody and anybody, here, there and everywhere, at any time, in any place. Like the sower in the parable we are to cast the seeds of the gospel everywhere, all the time. There is no particular group or class of people to whom we are sent, no discrimination among those who might hear and believe, it is not for any particular race, class, colour or nation. We are sent simply to everybody, everywhere, at all times.

With whom are we sent? We are sent with the companions and colleagues, brothers and sisters, who happen to receive the same mission as we do in the same place and at the same time. We live together not because we would naturally have been friends if we had met in some other circumstances. We live together because we share the same mission and have received the same call, to be preachers of the gospel as Dominicans in this province or congregation at this time.  The basis, the ground, of our shared life is the vocation each of us has received to follow Christ in this way, as Dominicans. And that shared life is part of our preaching. Our fraternity – sorority – is not something we do before we preach or after we preach. Our common life is itself the first part of our preaching, part of the ‘sancta praedicatio’, the holy preaching which is in the first place simply our life together.  This is because our life together is centred on the Word of God which we contemplate and study, which we celebrate in our liturgies, which we seek to live out in our common life, and which we then share through our preaching and teaching. Our sorority gives us companionship on the way but it also keeps our preaching grounded and realistic. In living closely with others we experience limitation and routine, likes and dislikes, we learn about virtues and vices, in ourselves and in others, and we hope that this will inform our preaching, to incarnate it in the ordinary difficulties and rewards of building communion.

What do we bring with us in being sent? The answer is simple: we bring the joyful news of the resurrection. We bring the gospel message, that God loved the world so much that he sent his only Son to be its Saviour. We bring the news that ‘Christ is truly risen from the dead’ and that this news changes everything. We are to preach the end of the old and the beginning of the new, a new creation, a new day, a new life – all that is opened up in the joy and promise of the Resurrection. We are heralds of this good news, bearers of this message.

The general chapter also decided that we will seek to celebrate this Jubilee of the Order with gratitude and humility. When Margaret, Anne, Rose and Ursula think back on the 250 years of Dominican religious life which we celebrate today I’m sure they find many reasons for gratitude and many people to whom they are forever grateful. Recently a friend who is about my own age told me that he has been diagnosed with cancer. He told me that his first reaction on hearing this news was an overwhelming sense of gratitude for his life. I was taken aback by this, it was a bit unexpected as a first reaction to such news, but it was a small moment of powerful preaching by him to me, a striking witness to the good news: in the face of this reality, to be filled with gratitude. In a happier context it must be the same also for Margaret, Anne, Rose and Ursula – gratitude for having been given this extraordinary experience of human life, of Christian life, of life as a Dominican – these are all wonderful gifts, reasons to be deeply grateful.

So too will it be with the Order’s Jubilee. While we remember with pride and gratitude our great men and women, Dominic and Thomas, Catherine and Eckhart, Las Casas and Vitoria, and all the rest of them, we want to do it with humility, accepting the full truth of our story, a story that has not always been glorious. As in every human life and in every human community there are shadows and ambiguities, losses and suffering, sins and failures, times when selfishness triumphs and when healing and reconciliation are needed. A Jubilee is a time for gratitude for all that has been, and it is also a time for truth, for accepting realistically and humbly the weaknesses and darkness that have also marked the journey.

III.

A final happy coincidence is that the Order’s Jubilee year, as well as the Jubilees we celebrate today, will now coincide with a Holy Year for the whole Church dedicated to the theme of mercy. The Dominican Jubilee begins before it and ends after it, so the Church’s Holy Year will literally be included within ours. Mercy or grace, God’s loving kindness and tender compassion: we will all agree, very quickly I think, that this is a central theme in Dominican spirituality and theology. At least we would want it to be. We would want to stress, as Dominic did, the goodness of creation, the gift of God that creation is, as well as God’s gift of His Son sent, not to condemn the world, but so that all who believe in him might have eternal life.

The first works undertaken by the Order were concerned with mercy. The first apostolates, it seems, were preaching and hearing confessions. The preaching was undertaken always with a view to mercy. It was towards the celebration of the sacrament of reconciliation. It was aimed at reconciling people with the truth, with the Church, and with God. It was to encourage and invite people into the mercy of God, to restore their communion with God and with the Church. It will be relatively easy for us to find good texts and great preaching about mercy, in Thomas, in Catherine, in Eckhart, in all the great Dominicans. In the south of France to this day there is a rich Dominican spirituality of mercy centred on the figure of Mary Magdalene, patroness of the Order, the first preacher of the Resurrection, and one who in her own life, as traditionally told, experienced so directly the loving kindness and tender compassion of God.

Saint Thomas for his part has some wonderful comments about the mercy of God and it will be great if we can inform the Church’s celebration of this Holy Year with thoughts like his. ‘Every divine action’, he says, ‘has its root in mercy’ (Summa theologiae I 21,4). Creation itself is a work of God’s mercy, as ‘the one who is’ takes pity on ‘the one who is not’, falls in love with her as Catherine says, and therefore brings her into being. And then when she falls ill and becomes sinful God has mercy on her again and takes steps to bring about her healing and salvation.

Some people are expressing concern that Pope Francis is not talking enough about justice when he talks about mercy, that he is not talking enough about repentance when he talks about forgiveness and reconciliation. They fear perhaps that grace is being cheapened and that God’s mercy is being made superficial. Herbert McCabe reminded us often that it is impossible to cheapen grace just as it is impossible to make it dearer simply because grace is always absolutely free.

Saint Thomas’s way of putting this is to say that mercy is not a mode of God’s justice, a kind of icing or cream that can be added to some cakes. It is the other way round: justice is a mode of God’s mercy (Summa theologiae I 21,4). It is mercy that is fundamental and mercy is the cake itself. (A poor analogy but I hope it helps to make the point clear!) In the second part of the Summa Thomas returns to the theme of mercy and there says that mercy is, in effect, God’s ‘moral’ name. From the point of view of moral theology, the first name of God is mercy (Summa theologiae II.II 30,4). Mercy is not just one of the names of God: it is the name of God. Mercy is not just a fruit of virtue, a disposition or a way of acting. Adapting Saint John’s first letter we can say that ‘God is mercy’.

Those are some comments from Thomas but there are beautiful texts also in Catherine and Eckhart and many other Dominican authors. There are these wonderful resources in our tradition on the theme of mercy, resources which I hope we can bring out and bring to bear on the Church’s appreciation and celebration of mercy during this Jubilee Year.

As we celebrate the Jubilees of Margaret, Anne, Rose and Ursula we ask God to help us to prepare for these other Jubilees that are coming, to experience again, and even more deeply, the loving kindness and tender compassion of God. Using the words of Saint Peter from today’s first reading, ‘may the God of all grace who called you to eternal glory in Christ … confirm, strengthen and support you’ every day of your lives so that you ‘never let go this true grace of God to which your lives bear witness’.

Homily for the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity

God’s Gift of Unity

There has been a lot of talk in recent years about cloning, the division of individual animals (or even humans) so that the person next to me would be an exact genetic copy of myself. A slightly barmy American scientist commented that if scientists do clone human beings they will be exercising a power equivalent to God’s.

But the point, and the wonder, of God’s creative power is that, far from making clones, God creates unique individuals. There are billions of human beings but no two faces are exactly alike. No two sets of fingerprints, no two DNA codes are exactly alike. Certainly no two experiences of life and love are exactly alike. Creation is about variety, distinctiveness, uniqueness and individuality, not about sameness, uniformity, repetition and monotony. There is no other being who enjoys the existence which is God’s unique gift to me. My present work obliges me at times to meet with many people, sometimes up to fifteen in a day, talking about their lives and their concerns. 'Is it not boring?', friends ask. In all honesty, it is not, because the ways of grace are so different in the life of each person. Each story is a new one, and full of interest.

Some forty years ago Teilhard de Chardin, a French Jesuit, developed a slightly eccentric vision of creation evolving towards a fulfilment which he called ‘Omega point’, a moment or level of reality in which the entire universe will be taken up into Christ. For Teilhard, as for the Fathers of the Church, humanity leads all creation towards God. Physical evolution is followed by moral and spiritual progress, a progress that involves at one and the same time greater individuality and greater unity.

This may seem strange at first. Surely greater individuality means greater disunity since the more each of us becomes ourselves the more different we are from everybody else? And greater unity must involve the sacrifice of individuality as we agree to let go some of our distinctiveness for the sake of unity? Not so, says Teilhard, because the power by which creation is evolving is the power of love. What does love do? Hold together what is the same? Introduce clones to each other (so that well known songs become ‘the first time, ever I saw my face’ and ‘some enchanted evening, you may see yourself, across a crowded room’)? On the contrary. The power of love holds together and unites things that are different.

Teilhard is on solid ground here, basing himself on what the New Testament says about the work of God’s Spirit of love. In 1 Corinthians 12 Saint Paul speaks of a variety of gifts within the people of God but one Spirit. He says there are all kinds of service to be done but always to the same Lord. Working in all sorts of different ways in different people, it is the same God working in all of them. For Saint Paul love establishes things in their unique individuality even while uniting them more strongly with all that is different. In the text referred to he continues by speaking about the human body, a symbol for the unity of Christ, a body made up of different parts and functions but animated and held together in unity by one Spirit.

It is a central Christian prayer that all may be one, but this surely cannot mean some kind of collapse or reduction of variety, uniqueness and individuality into a monotonous sameness. January 18th marks the beginning of the week of prayer for Christian unity. It is not clear yet what kind of institutional unity may be possible between the followers of Christ who are currently divided from each other. It certainly will not involve a kind of ‘religious cloning’ so that the different approaches to prayer and worship, different theological styles and emphases, different spiritualities and traditions of religious life — it cannot mean that all this will collapse into just one way of doing things.

At the same time there must be some fundamental agreement between individuals and groups if they are to be at one with each other. The impetus towards greater respect and deeper understanding of other Christian denominations, and of people of other faiths, must continue at full strength. A central task of our time is to increase understanding between the world’s great religions and to sustain on-going dialogue with all who ‘seek God with a sincere heart’ (Eucharistic Prayer IV).

Any unity we enjoy resides in the first place in God, source of all life and love. We are allowed, and enabled, to share in the unity which is God’s, to have some glimpse of it in our own experiences of love. Even in God unity does not mean dull uniformity and monotonous sameness for within God’s absolute unity there are three Persons, the Father and the Son and the Spirit of love who binds them as one. Within our own experience is the reality of marriage, the remarkable and wonderful union of a man and a woman, a privileged place of love and unity where two who are different become one while remaining always themselves.