24 Sunday Ordinary Time, C, 15 September 2013, Luke 15:1-10

summerhillcollege.ie

(This homily was delivered at Sunday Eucharist in the College of the Immaculate Conception, Sligo, my alma mater. The occasion was part of a series of celebrations to mark the opening of Summerhill's new school building.)

I am really delighted to be here with you today. My name is John Coughlan. I am a priest of the diocese for five years now, I am glad to say! I completed my leaving certificate here in Summerhill in 1998, having begun as a student here in 1993. I want to say a word of thanks to the College Chaplain, Mr Keogh, for inviting me to give the homily for today’s Mass. Paul and I were classmates here in Summerhill, and we have been very good friends since our time here.

I have a very good friend who comes from Belfast. His name is Joe McDonald, and he was a Christian Brother for twenty-something years. During that time he was a teacher in a number of large grammar schools in Northern Ireland, both in Belfast and in Newry. Somewhere along the way, Joe realised that the Lord was calling him to become a priest. He applied to the archdiocese of Dublin and was accepted to study for the priesthood. He arrived in St Patrick’s College, Maynooth on the same day as me, August 26, 2001.

The reason that I am telling you about my friend, now Fr Joe McDonald, is that when he was just 29 years of age he was appointed as the headmaster of a large grammar school in Newry – the Abbey Christian Brothers Grammar School. When he was appointed, the school had just come through a few crises. Morale was low and there was a feeling that the school might close. Unlike Sligo, Newry had two boys grammar schools. There was the Abbey and also St Colman’s College, the diocesan college for the diocese of Dromore. Needless to say, there was a lot of competition between the two schools, for student numbers, on the football field, in the academic league tables, and so on.

When the then Brother Joe was appointed as headmaster in 1989, the Abbey faced an uphill struggle to success, or a downhill slide into failure. The second option seemed more likely. However, once he was appointed, Brother Joe set out to turn the big ship around. He faced severe problems. Students weren’t wearing uniform. Graffiti marked the walls and corridors. Staff were resigning to take up jobs in better schools. The name of the Abbey was dirt in the town.

One of the first things that Joe did as headmaster was to insist that every pupil would wear the complete, full school uniform to school every day, and that they would wear it throughout the day to each class, with no exceptions. He was met with fierce resistance. Parents were up in arms about the cost. Students didn’t want to abide by the rules. Teachers said it would be impossible to enforce. But, come hell or high water, Brother Joe would not be turned. The new rules were enforced one piece at a time. Brother Joe had a stock of old uniforms and shoes that he used when students arrived without their uniform. As more and more of the uniform became enforced in the school, eventually the tide began to turn. Gradually, through a process of encouragement, enforcement and downright doggedness, the Abbey got a new set of clothes. It would be the first step in a new era for the Abbey.

Today, the Abbey sits on a brand new school site, with a brand new building and other state of the art facilities. Students are keen to enroll in the school because of the high grades. Teachers want to be part of the Abbey, not just because it looks good on their CV, but also because the Abbey is a place where you want to remain the vocation of teaching.

Many years after finishing in his role as headmaster, the now Fr Joe ran into a former student of his in Dublin Airport. The student, now an accomplished businessman, recalled the heady days of the turnaround at the Abbey when Joe was headmaster. One story that he told about that time was that before Joe was headmaster, the Abbey students would be slagged off at the bus station by the other students in the town. Their unkempt uniform brought the mocking ire of students from the other Colleges. The Abbey boys could only return petty rebuttals to the hurtful snubs. However, that all changed when the Abbey boys arrived in their pristine, new school uniforms. An air of pride and accomplishment arrived with them at the bus-stop. They were no longer the butt of snide comments and petty jokes. The now successful businessman thanked Fr Joe for his hard work and doggedness in restoring pride and hope to the Abbey grammar.

This weekend the community of Summerhill College has something to celebrate and be proud of. An incredible new school building has been opened and blessed by Bishop Jones. Students and staff now enjoy facilities that generations before, including myself, might only have dreamed about.

A new building is great. It symbolises for us what our Church, what our State, and what our Society think of education. It is a significant investment in the present and future education of young Catholic men in Sligo and its surrounds in the 21st Century, and of course, those of other faiths and no faith. As a Catholic school, Summerhill is of course committed to the education of young Catholic men, but drawing on what it really means to be a Catholic, drawing on our Catholic ethos, we welcome all those who come here seeking an excellent education.

Which brings me to the core point of my homily today. What is it that makes this school a community of faith? Does coming here to Sunday Mass on the school campus make this community a community of faith? I don’t think that it does. Celebrating Mass here may well symbolize our desire that Summerhill would be a community of faith, but it may not mean that Summerhill is a community of faith.

For that reason, does Summerhill have to be a community of faith? I would argue that it does. We are human beings. As human beings we have some clear needs. We need love, we need security, we need shelter, we need oxygen and water. We need heat when it is cold.

And we ourselves need to be believed in. We need other people to believe in us. We need our parents to believe in us. We need our teachers to believe in us. And ultimately we need God to believe in us. And that, my friends, is what God did when, as St Paul told us in the second reading: “Here is a saying that you can rely on and nobody should doubt: that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” That Jesus was sent by God among us was and is a profound statement of God’s belief in us! God believed that if he sent his Son among us that we would be saved. And to be saved, salvation means to become the best that we can be. To be the holiest, the most integrated and wholesome that we possibly can be. To achieve the fullness of our potential as human beings. And it doesn’t take a brainwave to work out that that is a core reason why the Church is fundamentally committed to the education of our young men and young women.

The Church believes in your sons, the Church believes in you because Christ Jesus believes in you. And if we accept that, then we should be a community of faith. We are not simply here to churn out new plumbers, priests, lawyers, bricklayers, mechanics, teachers, did I say priests? We are here and we are involved in calling to greatness the young men of this generation. And, we believe in you. That is why there is a brand new building here. That is why there are teachers here. That is why there is a school chaplain here. A community of faith is a community that cares for the treasure at its heart – the young men who are being formed for a lifetime of following their hearts desires, of listening deeply to the plan the Lord has for their lives – lives that are full of promise and greatness and achievement, and perhaps some failure, but not letting that defeat us.

As the Lord Jesus sat down and ate with sinners, so also he comes to you and I today to share a sacred meal with us. In this moment, he calls us to remember and give thanks for the gift of life, for the gift of parents, family and friends. For the gift of the opportunity of an excellent education, to be the best that we can be. He calls us to eat his body and drink his blood, that by his grace, with his help, we may become a community of faith, faith in each other, and faith in the Lord Jesus who saves us.

3 Sunday Lent, C, 3 March 2013, Luke 13:1-9

Archbishop Oscar Romero

A few years ago, I was travelling by plane to the United States. When we were about 10 or 15 minutes out from Orlando, the Captain came on the speaker and told all of us that we were in for a bit of a bumpy landing. There was a huge storm cell hovering around the airport and we were going to be the last plane to be given permission to land. Just as he went off the speaker, the plane lurched. Suddenly one of the stewardesses, who was in the aisle in the middle near my seat, was up in the air! And just as quickly she was back on the floor. Everyone giggled and laughed, nervously. We had been warned by the captain, and the warning instantly came true!

This is the kind of thing that is happening in the gospel story this morning. Jesus gives an example of the sudden death of Galileans while they were making sacrifice. For us, we might think of the El Salvadorean Archbishop, Oscar Romero, shot dead in 1980 while he celebrated Mass. And again, Jesus gives the example of a group of 18 people, killed when a tower collapsed on them near Jerusalem. We might think of all the people that we know who die suddenly because of some tragedy. It could be a car-crash, or the Tsunami victims on St Stephen's Day 2004.

Jesus asks the question twice: Do you think that they were worse sinners than anyone else? Is that why you think they died. Of course, when we imagine Archbishop Romero, who cared very much for the poor and oppressed, those who were unjustly treated in El Salvador under the regime of the time. He is called 'San Romero' in the Americas – 'Saint Romero'. I'm not saying that he committed no sin, but he died because of his Christianity, not because he was a sinner.

And, don't forget, as we journey through Lent what our destination is: It is the cross. Jesus died on the cross on Good Friday. This is the death of a sinner, and yet we carefully proclaim that this person was the one without sin.

"Do you suppose these Galileans who suffered like that were greater sinners than any other Galileans? They were not, I tell you. No; but unless you repent you will all perish as they did."

Unless you repent. What does Jesus mean here? What does it mean: 'to repent'? Does it mean that we repent of the sins that we know we have committed? Yes! Of course!

And for us – as Catholic Christians, we not only repent at our baptism, but we recognise that we need to repent over and over again. That is why we have Confession – the Rite of Penance, sometimes known as the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

But, here, this morning – with the parable of the fig tree – Jesus is calling for more than simply an apology for the sins that we have committed. He is looking for the fruit of our repentance – "Look here, for three years now I have been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and finding none."

The parable of the fig tree is a parable of the Kingdom of God. As followers of Jesus Christ, we have already encountered the Kingdom of God in a kind of 'already, but not yet' kind of way. "A lot done, a lot more to do" as a political slogan had it from a few years ago.

Repentance is a two-sided coin – repentance for our sins is one side – being fruitful bearers of the Kingdom of God is the flip-side. This is the bit that we are really slow about today in Ireland. It is the bit where we are ashamed of our faith – ashamed of our Church – ashamed of our God. And maybe we have good reason.

Today is a new day, however: A Second chance. A new start. A new beginning. 'unless you repent ...' the gospel says. This is an encouragement to us to embrace our Christian calling – to be heralds of the Kingdom of God: Jesus Christ, Today, Yesterday, Forever.

5 Sunday Ordinary Time, C, 10 February 2013, Luke 5:1-11

The Calling of the Disciples
Mosaics from San Marco, Santa Maria Assunta in Torcello, and Murano

Can we trust anyone or anything today? The horsemeat scandal – it might be harmless to us, thankfully, but it  undermines our sense of trust. Needless to say, can we trust anyone? Bankers, politicians, bishops or priests? Trust is something that is ever shrinking in our world. Stocks in cynicism are rising – shares in deception appear to be on the increase.

Our faith is built on trust. A few years ago an 11 year old girl in a school near Castlerea in Roscommon asked me how I know that God exists. She wanted me to prove to her that God exists. So, I said to her that I cannot prove that God exists. I said to her that our faith, our Church, does not offer us any easy explanations for the existence of God.

No, instead, I asked her what her parish was called. She said it was called Castlerea. I said, yes, it is called Castlerea, but there is another name for it. She said she didn't know. So, I told her – the name of their parish was Kilkeevan – which literally means the Church of Kevin, or maybe we might say the Church of St Kevin. So, I said, for the most part we know that God exists because somebody called Kevin had experienced God so much in his own life that he felt called to follow God – and to tell other people about God. We remember him so well that we called the parish after him.

The same as here in Calry (St Patrick's Church) – we remember the Saints because of their role in telling us about the faith we share. For us then, the Saints can seem like really holy people – and yet everyday we are sharing our faith with other people, and other people are sharing their faith with us. So, we are Saints for each other.

Our readings this morning are all about encountering God and sharing that with other people. What is it like to encounter God? Well these biblical stories are a good starting point. In the first reading from the prophet Isaiah, we hear of Isaiah's call from God, and having met the Lord of hosts, Isaiah wonders how he will live. He is struck by his own lack of preparation, his lack of cleanliness to be present to God in such a way. This is an apocalyptic story of God's desire to have a relationship with us, even though we as human beings may feel incapable of such a relationship, unprepared for such a relationship, unworthy of such a relationship. It is the Lord's work to prepare the one who is called: by means of the seraph who cleanses Isaiah's lips – it is by the grace of God, Paul tells us that he is called an Apostle, and it is by the grace of encounter with Jesus that Peter, the self-confessed sinner in today's gospel, it is by the grace of encounter with Jesus that Peter can possibly follow Jesus. To follow Jesus means to be his disciple – that is, to leave everything, all material possessions to follow the Lord. What does this mean for us?

For me, this is the single most important thing in life – the encounter with Jesus. By means of this encounter, personally in my own life, I am able to stand here before you today as a priest of the diocese of Elphin. What was that encounter like? For me it was an experience of deep peace, an experience of deep love, an encounter with the holy. I remember sitting in the back of the Cathedral in Sligo after school sometimes. That peace that I encountered there was unlike any other kind of peace that I have ever experienced.

So, am I horsemeat or real beef? Can you buy this product and trust it? Am I the real deal? I believe that I am the real deal – I believe that you can trust me. I stand before you as a sinner, as a human being and as a man – but also as someone called and anointed, ordained to share the Good News, to preach the Good News of Jesus who is our peace. It is by God's grace, in keeping with God's own plans, not by my own doing, that I stand before you as a priest of Jesus Christ. And that, I think, is the only really true reason to become a priest today.

4 Sunday Ordinary Time, C, 3 February 2013, Luke 4:21-30

When I turned 17 my parents gave me a birthday present: insurance on my Mother's car. I still remember that car, it was a 1994 Ford Fiesta.When I was 18, I bought my first car. It was a 1992 Toyota Corolla. It wasn't much bigger or faster than the Fiesta, but I thought it was fantastic! I fitted an aftermarket exhaust that made a rumbly noise, alloy wheels and a new CD player. It had power-steering and central locking. It never broke down and I was very pleased with myself. It got more polish on it than most cars see in a lifetime, and I took pride in being able to change the oil and spark plugs. I even changed the radiator, which was a relatively big job! The Corolla carried me to Maynooth in August 2001, and it ferried many's the seminarian to the cinema and back... I loved that little car, and I suppose I still do love my cars, as I have shared with you before.

During the week in Maynooth I had reason to read the following story from St Augustine:

Suppose we were wanderers who could not live in blessedness except at home, miserable in our wandering and desiring to end it and return to our native country. We would need vehicles for land and sea which could be used to help us to reach our homeland, which is to be enjoyed. But if the amenities of the journey and the motion of the vehicles itself delighted us, and we were led to enjoy those things which we should use, we should not wish to end our journey quickly, and, entangled in a perverse sweetness, we should be alienated from our country, whose sweetness would make us blessed. Thus is this mortal life, wandering far from God, if we wish to return to our native country where we can be blessed we should use this world and not enjoy it, so that the invisible things of God being understood by the things that are made may be seen, that is, so that by means of corporal and temporal things we may comprehend the eternal and spiritual. 

On Christian Doctrine (I, iv)

I was immediately struck by Augustine's reference to 'vehicles for land and sea'! Little did he know what developments there would be in the world some 15-1600 years later! I think that there is something amazing about that vehicle reference in Augustine. Just listen to what he says about it again:  "But if the amenities of the journey and the motion of the vehicles itself delighted us"... Those things in life that tantalize us, the things that tickle our fancy – Augustine tells us that these things distract us from our one true love; these lower loves call us away from the highest love: God. For Augustine, the good things of this world are to be used but not enjoyed, because in some sense our joy is only to be found in God. They are a means to an end.

So, what tickles your fancy? Is it clothes? Or cars like me perhaps? Or is it Sky TV, or hours spent on the internet? For Augustine, this is not about the bad things that we might do, its not about those things that might be clearly sinful – it is about the good things that are given to us to use in this world. And for Augustine these good things are meant to lead us to even better things – to God; Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

The passage of Luke's gospel that we have just heard follows immediately on from the passage we heard last Sunday. Just to jog your memory: Jesus arrives home to Nazara – to Nazerath – and he enters the synagogue. He stands up to read and they hand him the scroll of the prophet Isaiah – and he reads from the prophet Isaiah: "The Spirit of the Lord has been given to me... " And then he says: "This text is being fulfilled today even as you listen." That sentence must be very important, because it is repeated in the liturgy this Sunday – it is the beginning of this Sunday's passage, and the ending of last Sunday's: "This text is being fulfilled today even as you listen."

Very often we might wonder what Jesus would be like if we were to meet him face to face. Would he be a political leader? A social revolutionary? Would Jesus be a financial whizz-kid, able to predict the markets with certainty and save us from economic woes? Would Jesus be a great General in a Salvation Army, fighting for justice in the world? What would Jesus be like if we were to meet him?

For Luke, Jesus is a prophetic Messiah. That is not to say that Jesus is merely a prophet, not at all. No, it is to say that if we are looking for the characteristic that would best describe our Messiah, our Christ, our anointed one, it would not be that Jesus was a social revolutionary; rather it would be that Jesus was prophetic.

In our gospel last Sunday Jesus quoted from the prophet Isaiah. This Sunday, continuing on from that Jesus makes a profound statement: "I tell you solemnly, no prophet is ever accepted in his own country." He then illustrates that by telling his listeners  about the prophets Elijah and Elisha. This story that Jesus tells is a prophetic story. And what follows is a standard response to prophecy by the people: they move not only to hustle him out of town, but to throw him over a cliff! No mistaking the taste then: this prophetic man was not accepted by his own people.

For us followers of Jesus, he is the culmination of all prophecy. And so, if we are to be prophetic – and we are all called to be prophetic by our baptism as priest, prophet and king – if we are to be prophetic, then that means that we are to imitate the prophetic character that Jesus shows us. If we are really prophetic then we may well be shunned as Jesus was shunned by his own people. A prophetic message is not a popular message – it doesn't serve to gain the prophet brownie points with his or her listeners.

The preacher's task then is not to entertain the people – it is not even to relish in his own eloquence or ability to draw people in. No, the preacher's task is to transmit in a faithful way as possible, for no personal gain, the message of Christ in all its fullness. The preacher's task is to proclaim the love of God, and to remind people of their true homeland – their heavenly homeland. The preacher's task is not to be popular, but rather to remind people of God – to point towards God because God calls him to do just that.

For St Augustine, battling with these questions many centuries ago, there are clearly higher and lower loves. Loving God is the highest love for him, and it is the love that will bring the greatest blessings into our lives. But, on our journey to loving God we must make use of material goods to get there. These goods can entrap us – tantalize and fascinate us – and so we forget the greatest love of our hearts and settle for a lesser love. For Augustine, we might say, this is what sin really amounts to in our lives – it is settling for some-thing less than God.

We might say that there is something prophetic in Augustine here. In other places he says that he does not seek the money, the power or the authority that great knowledge would grant him. Rather, he seeks to be a servant of truth, for truth's sake – not to be greater than others, but to serve them.

For us today, as preachers and witnesses to Christ, we must not go after the lesser love of popularity, the lesser love of people's approval. Our task is to remain true to Christ, true to our calling, true to our homeland in heaven.

So, here we are – this first Sunday of February 2013. We have reflected extensively on the gospel for this Sunday. We also remember our first reading from the prophet Jeremiah – the call of Jeremiah by God to prophesy in his name. And then listen to St Paul in the second reading: "If I have the gift of prophecy, understanding all the mysteries there are, and knowing everything, and if I have faith in all its fullness, to move mountains, but without love, then I am nothing at all."

Love is the highest gift. And that was the aim of all of St Augustine's work – to love. To explain true Christian love and to share it with others. To love God, to love neighbour and to love self. These three together. And, if we love our neighbour then we want the best for them. If we love our own self, we want the best for our self. And if we truly love God then we have some awareness, some sense of how much God has loved us first by sending us his Son to die that we might live.

So, don't let some lesser love get in the way of the higher loves. Make use of the good things of this world to gain access to the higher things – and don't be afraid to share that with others, because this really is a message of liberation – it is a liberation from the distractions and half-joys of this world in anticipation of the great joy that is to come; it is to believe in the task of making the kingdom come alive in the here and now by committing ourselves truly and completely to Christ, now and forever. Amen.

2 Sunday Ordinary Time, C, 20 January 2013, John 2:1-11

Joy
Oil for gladness, Bread for our strength, wine for our joy. The gospel story of the Wedding Feast at Cana is a parable of joy. What would a wedding be like without wine? Can you imagine an Irish wedding where the bar ran out of Guinness early in the evening? The joy of celebrating a wedding is a moment to be inebriated, to be filled with joy, it is a moment to drink to the joy of life.

So much of religion appears joyless – even though it may well be necessary to stand up for the rights of the vulnerable – to stand beside those in our society who are ill-treated and downtrodden – all of these aspects of faith are difficult to live out. And more, we can feel that that is all religion is about today – rules, regulations, oppression, authority.

And yet, in this parable Jesus reforms both the religion of his own day, and the religion of our day. This story tells us, early in the year, in the cold of January and near the beginning of the gospel, that one of the key aspects of being followers of Jesus Christ is that we are a people filled with joy!

What is the reason for our joy? In the story of the Wedding at Cana we don't get to know who the bride and groom were. Their names are not given to us. Why is this? Surely, it is kind of strange that the gospel talks about where the wedding took place rather than who the couple were. The key people in this story are Jesus, his disciples, and Mary the mother of Jesus. In a way the wedding is symbolic of the husband and wife relationship that comes about because of Jesus. That is, the husband and wife kind of relationship between God and humanity, between heaven and earth, between Jesus and the Church. It is not just that Jesus is the reason for our joy, but moreso that God became one of us – and in so doing tied together God and humanity forever. Never again can the two be separated. Always and forever.

And this is a blood relationship. It is a kinship, a family bond, a bond that is strong enough to defeat whatever may try to separate it.

But, we have to opt in. While Christ is always faithful to his side of the bargain, we fail time and again. No matter what, we know that Christ is there for us, ever faithful. But he does not force us to co-operate with him. We are free to choose. Free to choose him and all that that means, even being part of his Church and all that that means, maybe even against our better judgment. The Church is our means to real relationship with Christ Jesus.

The water of Baptism miraculously becomes the Wine offered in the Eucharist. And the Eucharist is the Wedding Feast that we gather to share with Christ, our spouse. Real joy is not a fleeting pleasure but a lasting salvation, a lasting hope, a fundamental reconciliation.

The Baptism of the Lord, 13 January 2013, Luke 3:15-16. 21-22

Today’s celebration presents Jesus being baptized by John in the Jordan River.  The celebration marks the end of the Christmas Season and the beginning of Ordinary Time.  It is the only Sunday of the year that belongs to two seasons.

Why?

This feast belongs to two seasons because it is the beginning.  Jesus accepts His ministry, His reason for being.  This is the beginning of the teaching, preaching and healing that make up the public ministry of the Lord.

The ancient Christian witnesses see a great significance in this particular Epiphany or showing of the Lord.  The words of the Father, the presence of the Holy Spirit, demonstrate God’s action among His people.  Jesus in His human nature has accepted the plan devised by the Father to care for his people.

How does this apply to us?  Simply this: This Sunday leads us to consider God’s plan for our lives and how well we allow this to coalesce with our own plan for our lives.

Most of us grew us with goals and ideal we wanted in life.  Maybe we wanted to go to college and get a great job and then get married and raise a beautiful family.  Maybe college wasn’t part of it, but the rest may have been (at least for you, not me.)  Maybe some of us wanted to enter into a life of service to the Lord and to his people.  But even within this, there were certain goals we may have had–achievements as a priest, advancement until were named Pope, etc. 

As time goes on, we all refine our goals.  Maybe a person doesn’t just want to become a doctor, but wants to become a cardiologist.  If you were blessed with marriage and then doubly blessed with children, you quickly wanted more in life than just to have a husband, a wife, or a family.  For example, when your love became infinitely more than infatuation, you were determined to do anything, make any sacrifice for your spouse.  When you brought your children home from the hospital, you quickly moved from wanting to have them to wanting to have the very best for them.  Perhaps you hear about those who travel around the world routinely, and wish that you could do that, but in truth, you would rather provide the best for those who continually steal your heart and complete your life.

This is good, all good.  This is sacrificial love.  Your love of sacrifice for others, your spouse or your children, is itself the very existence of God’s love in your home, your little church.

Sometimes we ask ourselves a questions whose answers are  beautifully obvious:  Why was I created?  Or What is God’s plan for me? 

His plan is that you and I make a difference in the world by gifting the world with a unique reflection of His Love that only each of us could provide.

You and I are not mere numbers in a vast planet of people, perhaps even in a vast universe of rational creatures.  You and I are much more than this, infinitely more than this.  You and I are Christians.  We are lovers, Divine Lovers.  We love the Divine and the Divine loves through us.  We exist to love, to love God with our whole mind, heart and soul and to love others as God loves them.

There are people in the world who will meet God by meeting you.  There are people in the world who will meet God by meeting me.  They are people who are searching.  They are searching for meaning in life.  They are searching for reasons behind their joy and pain, their sadness and hurts.  They seek lasting happiness.  They search for answers and they rely on us, you and I, to help them find these answers.

We Christians believe that life is not just a matter of biology.  Life is not just a matter of survival.  Life is not just a matter of chance.  We Christians believe that life, authentic life, consists in serving God by making the Presence of Jesus Christ a reality in the lives of others.

That is why we embrace the work of the Lord until the last day we live.  That is why each stage of our lives presents us with a challenge, a new way to serve the Lord.

We live for the Lord. We die for the Lord.  We embrace the mission of the Father.

Today we join Jesus at the Jordan River.  With Him we also accept the mission the Father has set aside for each one of us.  And we thank God for making us part of His plan for His people.

Epiphany, 6 January 2013, Matthew 2:1-12

A few years ago, shortly after my ordination as a priest, I was serving as a curate there in the Parish of Ss Peter and Paul in Athlone. I lived for two years in the presbytery there and while I was there I had to re-learn how to light a fire. I hadn't lit a fire in perhaps ten years but the house I lived in needed a fire for a bit of heat in the evenings.

I learned how to light a coal fire, a turf fire, and a fire made mostly from wood. There are a few basic things that I learned about making a fire: It's easier to light small, dry pieces of fuel; a fire made from a mix of fuels will light quicker and be easier to keep going; there has to be plenty of air in the fire to get it going; and obviously wet fuel is useless!

Things that give life to us
Even while our lives may seem to us to be shrouded in darkness; in the midst of that darkness, already the light – a small, dim, flickering light is shining in the darkness, inviting us to follow the way of light and life and peace.

The gospel this morning is more than simply the story of the three wise men. It isn't simply a nice follow-on from the nativity story. No, it is a key part of the gospel and it tells us two really important things – who Jesus really is, and who we really can be. We struggle with both of these, not just one of them. We don't just struggle with believing in God, we struggle with believing in ourselves!

The first thing the gospel tells us is who Jesus really is. The three gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh are three ways of telling us about Jesus. Gold tells us that Jesus is a King. Frankincense tells us that Jesus is divine and worthy of worship. And Myrrh tells us that Jesus is really human, that he really suffered and died. The bringing together of these three aspects of Jesus tell us that he is a culmination of all three of these parts of life.
So, in imitating Jesus we have to get to grips with our own power, our divine calling, and the reality of our human existence. Ignoring any of these aspects of our own life means that we are somehow diminished. Likewise, if we over-emphasise any one of these three we are also not complete. Finally, we know that it is not in possessing the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh that Jesus is Kingly, divine and human, but rather that the three gifts symbolise and recognise these qualities of the Christ-child.

If we are to light up our lives today with the light of faith, then we must be willing to discover anew what our real power is as persons, what the divine is actually calling us to do, and what human life is really all about.