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The Auction: A parable of our Salvation

You may remember,  I have proposed at the beginning of our Lenten journey that we would take this season as a Walk with Jesus with all Sundays in lent as our major stops. I also proposed then to meditate on the person of Jesus as we go along with him. On the First Sunday of Lent, we saw him overcome the temptation of the evil one by standing on his ground, and being true to who he is and to whom he is representing. On the Second Sunday we saw him transfigured, thus giving James, Peter and John a glimpse of his glory. On the Third Sunday, we found him upset of  what the religious leaders have done to the temple, which he called  his ‘Father’s House’.  On the Fourth Sunday, a respected member of the Jewish Council Nicodemus visited him and Jesus expressed to him of the greatness of the ‘Father’s love that he sent his only Son so  that everyone who believed in him may not be lost but have eternal life. Last Sunday, the fifth Sunday of Lent, some Greeks went to see him, and Jesus explained that by that gesture ‘his hour has already come’. And this Sunday, the Passion Sunday or the Palm Sunday, we are all called to walk with him again, this time, more closely and more intimately as he makes his way to the Cross.

Therefore, I am not giving a long homily today because the Passion narrative itself is inviting us to listen to the Word of the Passion narrative, to put ourselves into the scene of the Passion or even enter into the role of any one of the characters there and reflect what have we done to Jesus.

For the meantime, this story might help us to appreciate all the more how important Jesus is in our life. Without him and if he didn’t lay his own life for us, we would not be assured of our salvation and our eternal life. If we just take him as our friend and saviour, our way, our truth and our life, then we gain everything. 

The Auction 

There was once a wealthy man who owned a priceless art collection including a number of old masters that were the envy of many art connoisseurs. This same man also had a much-loved son, and they often used to enjoy their art treasures together.

However, war broke out, and the son was called up, and went off to fight. One day, the telegram arrived informing the father that his son had been killed in action. The old man was devastated. He grieved silently, alone and unremittingly.

A few months went by, and one day, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood there, with a small package under his arm. ‘You don’t know me,’ he introduced himself, ‘but I knew your son very well. We were in the same unit, and I was with him when he died. I am the soldier he gave his life for. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when the bullet struck him. We had become close friends, and before he died, I drew this little picture of him, I’m not a great artist, but I want you to have this sketch now.’

The father was silent for a long time, gazing into the eyes of his son, looking out from the soldier’s sketch, his own eyes filling with tears as he gazed. Then he thanked the soldier and offered to pay for the picture.

‘Oh no, sir. It’s a gift. I can never repay what your son did for me, but I want you to have this sketch. It’s all I have to give.’

The father hung the portrait above the mantelpiece, for everyone to see. He treasured it far more than all his other paintings put together, and he showed visitors the portrait of his son before he took them to visit any other paintings.

Not long after this incident, the old man died himself, and his art collection was put up for auction. Art collectors came from all over the world, thrilled at the possibility of buying one of the treasures. The auctioneer began the bidding. The first picture to come up for auction was the unknown soldier’s sketch of the father’s son. The auctioneer tried to start the bidding going.

‘What am I  bid for this first picture in the collection?’ he asked. There was silence. Then there were rumblings and grumblings. ‘Come on,’ the art collectors said, ‘get on with the real stuff. No one’s interested in that old sketch. We’ve come for the valuable pieces. Why don’t you just get on with the sale?’

But the auctioneer was having none of it. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but my instructions are clear. The deceased insists that the first item in the sale is this picture of the son. Now who will start me off with ten pounds for the son?

Tentatively, a hand was raised at the back of the auction room. It was the gardener. He had worked for years for the old man, and he had loved the son. I’ll give you ten pounds for the son,’ he said, it was all he could afford. The hammer went down: once, twice, three times. No further bids. No one else was at all interested.

‘Sold!’ called the auctioneer. ‘To the man at the back, for ten pounds!’ there was relief all round. Now the buyers could get their hands on the valuable pieces. But the auctioneer laid down his gavel. ‘The auction is over,’ he declared. ‘My instructions from the deceased are that whoever takes the son receives the entire estate, including the whole art collection. The man at the back who took the son receives everything.’

(The stone rejected by the builders has become the cornerstone [Psalm 118:22; Mk 12:10)

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The ‘little people’ on the ‘death’ of Jesus

Palm Sunday 2012 (Readings)

In the 1660s, the famous English diarist, Samuel Pepys, would go to church twice on Sundays – in the morning and in the afternoon. This was not because he was especially pious, but rather because a good sermon was free public entertainment. If the preacher didn’t go on for at least an hour, Pepys – and many others – thought he was neglecting his duty. That was before television. I wouldn’t dream of preaching for an hour, but after reading the whole of St Mark’s account of the Passion, I would like to draw your attention to a few details.

Let us start with Jesus’ agony in the garden at Gethsemane. While his disciples are dozing in the background, Jesus prays: Abba (Father), everything is possible for you. Take this cup away from me. But let it be as you, not I, would have it. That reminds us of an earlier scene where James and John, the sons of Zebedee, asked our Lord to reserve privileged places for them in the kingdom of Heaven. Jesus asked them: Can you drink the cup that I must drink? Full of self-confidence they assured him that it was not a problem. Well, on this night they were going to discover that it could be a very challenging problem.

Immediately after the arrest of Jesus, St Mark writes: They all deserted him and ran away. Remember that a couple of years before, Jesus had called each of these men individually to follow him, and they had all left family and occupation to do so. They had accompanied him everywhere; they’d often heard him preach, and they’d witnessed many miracles. And what did they do on this night? They ran away!

It’s true that Peter followed at a distance, but during the sort of trial in the high priest’s palace, he didn’t exactly cover himself with glory. In fact he was to deny that he even knew Jesus – once, twice, THREE TIMES! Of course he was to regret his disloyalty, and we can think of Peter as the prototype of the forgiven sinner. All those disciples who fled after Jesus’ arrest were to go on and eventually to die martyrs’ deaths. Whatever sins we ourselves have committed, we should never forget that if we truly repent we can always be forgiven.

The following morning the Jewish leaders handed Jesus over to Pilate, the Roman prefect, accusing Jesus of the treasonable offence of claiming to be a king. Pilate could see that there wasn’t much evidence to support such a charge. He would have preferred to release Jesus, so he mentioned the custom of freeing one prisoner at festival time. “Would you like me to release the king of the Jews?” he asked. No they wouldn’t, and instead asked that Barabbas be liberated. Now we are familiar with the Hebrew word bar meaning ‘son of’, as in Simon bar Jonah; and we realise that abba is the Aramaic word for ‘father’; so Barabbas means ‘son of the father’. Furthermore, there is a non-Biblical tradition that this man’s first name was also Jesus: he was Jesus son of the father. So there is irony in the choice by the crowd of this prisoner in place of Jesus [of Nazareth] Son of God the Father.

Now there was a Jewish philosopher in Alexandria named Philo Judaeus. He died about the year 40 A.D. He actually met Pontius Pilate and described him as “naturally inflexible, a blend of self-will and relentlessness”. Philo said of his governorship of Palestine that it was marked by “briberies, insults, robberies, outrages and wanton injuries, executions without trial constantly repeated, and ceaseless and supremely grievous cruelty”. Yes, he would have preferred to release Jesus, but he wasn’t going to risk provoking a riot and jeopardizing his career in order to defend the human rights of some Galilean preacher.

Moving on to the crucifixion itself, which took place outside Jerusalem, beside a road leading into the city, listen again to Mark’s words: The passers-by jeered at him; they shook their heads and said, ‘Aha! So you would destroy the Temple and rebuild it in three days! Then save yourself: come down from the cross!’ The chief priests and the scribes mocked him among themselves in the same way. ‘He saved others,’ they said ‘he cannot save himself. Let the Christ the king of Israel, come down from the cross now, for us to see it and believe.’ Even those who were crucified with him taunted him. St Luke tells us that one of those crucified with him rebuked his companion for mocking Jesus and expressed faith in him. Here in Mark’s account there is only mockery. As Raymond E. Brown writes: “On the cross Jesus has no friends; he is a solitary righteous man closely surrounded on all sides by enemies.”

Yet a little way off there stood the group of women who used to follow him and look after him when he was in Galilee. And there were many other women who had come up to Jerusalem with him. They could not intervene in any way in the execution, but they felt sympathy for him, they watched everything, and they saw where Jesus was buried. On the morning of the resurrection they were able to go straight to the tomb and it was one of them, Mary of Magdala, who gave the first news of the resurrection to the disciples.

The centurion who commanded the execution squad would have been some sort of pagan. As a soldier he had seen death before, and probably violent death. Having witnessed Jesus’ death, he was moved to exclaim: In truth this man was a son of God. It is part of Mark’s artistry that it should be the pagan soldier who is first to recognize Jesus as the Son of God.

After the death of Jesus, another figure enters the story: Joseph of Arimathea. Mark describes him as a respected councillor – i.e. he was a member of the Sanhedrin, the body which had decided that Jesus was to be sentenced to death. He lived in hope of seeing the kingdom of God. That means he was a pious and learnèd Jew who looked forward to the fulfilment of the prophecies. There is no evidence that he knew or was a follower of Jesus. He would, however, have been familiar with the instruction in Deuteronomy: If a man guilty of a capital offence is put to death and you hang him on a tree, his body must not remain on the tree overnight; you must bury him the same day. He was acting as a devout Jew, observing the Law. It is probably because Joseph was a respectable citizen that Pilate agreed to let him take Jesus’ body and bury it. He might well have refused such a request from someone in the ragtag group of Jesus’ followers.

All our lives we have been listening to the story of Our Lord’s passion, death and resurrection, but each time there is something new to discover. So I exhort you this week to take some time at home to re-read this story and to reflect on God’s great love for each one of us. Then we might devoutly pray that hymn from Philippians: His state was divine, yet Christ Jesus did not cling to his equality with God but emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave, and became as men are, and being as all men are, he was humbler yet, even to accepting death, death on a cross. But God raised him high and gave him the name which is above all other names so that all beings in the heavens, on earth and in the underworld, should bend the knee at the name of Jesus and that every tongue should acclaim Jesus Christ as Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Contributor)

01-04-2012

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Seeing Jesus is believing in Him

Homily for  5th Sunday of Lent 2012

There is a hymn for our Night Prayer of the Church that I really like. It goes like this: ‘The sun that bids us rest is waking, our brethren ‘neath the western sky, and hour by hour fresh lips are making, thy wondrous  doings heard on high.’

This just goes to show that every hour, every minute there are people in different parts of the world praising, thanking God. This just goes to show that we are all one in prayer to God, no matter who we are and wherever we are. This is also the same thing in our celebration of the Eucharist. No matter  where we are, whatever time it is, or whatever language we are using, we are all one in celebration of the One Sacrifice of Christ.

This goes to say that we who are here today as a worshipping community celebrating the Eucharist is the concrete realization of Jesus’ word in the gospel today: ‘Unless a grain of wheat falls on the ground and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest’ that can sustain everyone and which can be enjoyed by everyone. Every Eucharistic celebration therefore, wherever in the world it may be, or whatever people celebrating it, is all participation of the One sacrifice of Christ on the Cross, and a celebration of his resurrection as well. If Jesus didn’t die, we would not have universal  celebration for his sacrifice. If he didn’t rise again, we also didn’t have reason to celebrate this Eucharist. Francis Moloney, puts it rightly when he says: ‘Our Eucharistic celebration proves that Jesus’ lifting  up’ and his falling into the ground in death has gathered the nations scattered around the world.’

It is therefore our call, our duty or responsibility if you like to make our Eucharistic Celebration, an expression of our concrete and personal commitment to Christ. How can we do this?

Like the Greeks in our gospel, let’s do our best to ‘see Jesus.’ In the gospel of John seeing Jesus means ‘believing in Jesus’ For Mother Teresa seeing Jesus is embracing the poorest of the poor. For her, to see Jesus is to see through our fellow human being. So perhaps we can  ask ourselves ‘Why do I believe in Christ?’ Then it is to be followed by another question: ‘How am I expressing this Christian belief in my life?’

However, it is also important to understand that we can’t do it on our own. More so, we can’t make it happen. Only God can make it happen. It is because faith is a gift. But there’s the rub here. The Greeks in our gospel went through the Apostles. In our case, this means, we go through the Church. Some of us might say, we don’t need the Church, because we believe in Christ anyway. But it is important to remember that Christ and the Church are two sides of one coin, according to Archbishop Tim Costelloe. When he gave a talk to the young people in Melbourne about three years ago, the then Bishop Tim notes that a coin with only one side is of no value at all. It is true. I also like the image of an isolated ember in the fire place. The ones burning together can go on and give warm to the whole place, but the one apart would eventually fade and extinguish. Even St Paul would affirm this when he speaks of Christ as the head of his Body the Church- and because we only have one Christ thus, we are to be united in and with him as well.

Our first Reading today also offers us another way to  make our commitment to Christ personal and concrete. The prophet Jeremiah speaks of God himself writing his law  within us, in our hearts. God has written his covenant within us, so no matter how much we deny or ignore it, it’s always  there. We can know this when we feel drawn to do something good or noble towards other people or toward something, but we can’t explain why. The concrete experience of this is when we feel in love. We just couldn’t explain why do we fall in love. The two people who are in love don’t need to know why they are in love, they just enjoy it and celebrate it together by being faithful to one another. This is also our call- to be FAITHFUL to God. This must lead us then to ask ourselves: ‘How faithful are we to our God who is dwelling within us?’

SO as we continue our Lenten journey, let’s keep reviewing our lives and trying to make the good better and make the better best.  How committed are we to see Jesus? How faithful are we to God and his Church? They are big questions because  there is always a temptation that our being a Christian is already enough. We have to overcome the temptation telling us that WE CAN’T do it. We can. It is only that sometimes or oftentimes WE JUST WON’T DO IT.  Now is the time to respond to God’s invitation  to lose our lives in order to gain them.

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The Hour is coming….

Lent V B 2012

The prophet Jeremiah suffered and wrote early in the 6th century B.C.  That was more than 1000 years after Abraham. During those centuries God had chosen the Jewish people to be his very own people whose just laws and good behaviour would draw others to the knowledge and love of God. They were supposed to be a light to the nations. To this end, God sent them prophets from time to time to point out their errors and recall them to his service. This means that Jeremiah takes his place in a long line of prophets, men chosen by God to guide his people.

We heard these words just now: See, the days are coming – it is the Lord who speaks – when I will make a new covenant with the House of Israel and the House of Judah, but not a covenant like the one I made with your ancestors on the day I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt. Naturally we want to know the nature of this new covenant (or alliance) and this is what the Lord says: Deep within them I will plant my Law, writing it on their hearts. Then I will be their God and they shall be my people.

Let’s pause a moment here. In our culture, if we are not doctors specializing in cardiology, when we speak of the heart, it’s because we regard the heart as the seat of the emotions. That is our view; it was not the view of the Jewish people. For them, the heart was the seat of the human intelligence and its will-power. So that line from Jeremiah could read: Deep within them I will plant my Law, writing it in their intelligence. With that understanding, the commandment to love God is not addressed to the emotions. It is addressed to the mind: think of the greatness of God; think of our insignificance in the sight of God; recognize our dependence on God; then bow down in adoration before him.

This passage from Jeremiah represents an important development, initiated by God, in the relations between God and each individual human person. Whereas, previously, the chosen people were a collective, where the sins of some led to punishment for all – military defeat or exile for instance – now individual human beings were to assume responsibility for their own choices and decisions. I think this position is one with which we all feel comfortable. 

Let me turn now to the gospel. You remember that when they were guests at the wedding in Cana, and Jesus’ mother quietly pointed out to him that They have no wine he replied: My hour has not yet come. That was in the second chapter of St John’s gospel. Today we’ve read part of the 12th chapter – and what does Jesus say? Now the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. And what is the signal that the hour has come? The arrival of the gentiles. Among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. These would be proselytes, people thinking of becoming Jews, but they’ve heard something of Jesus and they want to know more: Sir, we should like to see Jesus. They were speaking to Philip – that’s a Greek name – and he told Andrew (another Greek name) and the two of them took the Greeks to meet Jesus.

Jesus understands that the coming of these people from the non-Jewish world is the beginning of the internationalization of his mission. That is why he can say that the hour has come – the hour for the Son of Man to be glorified. ‘Glory’ properly belongs to God so Jesus is anticipating that even the gentiles are to see that he participates in something which is truly divine. I wonder what the newcomers made of the next words Jesus spoke: I tell you most solemnly, unless a wheat grain falls on the ground and dies, it remains only a single grain: but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest. The agricultural fact would have been obvious – but why was he telling them this? I guess it’s part of the preparation of his followers for the scandal of the Cross. Death is the gateway to eternal life. Jesus is to pass through that gateway and his divine glory will truly be manifested at the resurrection. These things would only become clear to the disciples and the Greek enquirers after those events had taken place.

Meanwhile, Jesus has some words of warning for his followers: Anyone who loves his life loses it; anyone who hates his life in this world will keep it for the eternal life. If a man serves me he must follow me … Jesus does not promise his hearers an easy path through life, and I’m sure we’ve all experienced our share of challenges, pain and difficulties. Then he turns to his own situation: Now my soul is troubled. What shall I say: Father, save me from this hour? But it was for this very reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name! Jesus recognizes the significance of the hour. It fills him with foreboding. For a moment he thinks of asking to be spared it, but quickly reminds himself that the Father has entrusted him with a mission. In exclaiming Father, glorify your name! he is effectively saying “Thy will be done”. Was it the Father’s will that Jesus should be tortured and crucified? I think not. But he was asked to bear nobly the worst suffering that human beings can inflict on one another and withal to remain firm in his trust of his Eternal Father.

Just now we heard a short passage from the letter to the Hebrews. During his life on earth, Christ offered up prayer and entreaty, aloud and in silent tears, to the one who had the power to save him out of death. I take that to be a reference to Jesus’ agony in the garden of Gethsemane. In his gospel St John situates the arrest in the garden, but does not describe the agony. Nonetheless we can see from the passage we have been examining that John was aware of Jesus’ very human dread of the suffering which lay ahead of him. The author of Hebrews continues: Having been made perfect, he became for all who obey him the source of eternal salvation.

This of course is the very purpose of the incarnation. At the end of Lent each year we re-read the account of the Passion of Our Lord to remind ourselves of what he endured for us. And each year we need to ask ourselves this question: am I living in a way that befits a person for whom the Son of God suffered and died? (Contributor)

25-03-2012