Preferring Nothing to Christ

Luke 1:57-66,80

What will this child turn out to be?

I have always loved this line from Luke’s account of the Birth of John the Baptist. The reader knows just who he will turn out to be. And yet, I am always caught up in a feeling of expectancy and possibilities. An earlier line in the account kindles a similar feeling of expectancy for me:

The time came for Elizabeth to have her child, and she gave birth to a son; and when her neighbours and relations heard that the Lord had shown her so great a kindness, they shared her joy.

This longed-for child is already surrounded by a network of love and joy. I’d like to think that it is from this implicit place of security that John was able to make his radical choices and follow a path that would eventually lead to martyrdom. No parent would wish this for their child, and yet, there Elizabeth and Zechariah stand as models of righteousness and faith. Their trust in the power of God’s promises was truly tested.

I have to confess to being a little unnerved by many of the portrayals of John the Baptist that I have seen on films etc. There is always an element of the ‘wild man’ about him. And the puzzling detail of surviving on locusts and wild honey can make it very hard to identify with him on a human level. (Now the leather belt and sandals are a different matter, as they are part of my everyday wardrobe!) I can however identify with the clarity of his preaching. That one word, REPENT, change of heart, is the essence of the Benedictine vow of Conversio Morum. It’s a daily call to reorientation and to making space for God. It’s through this vow that I have the opportunity to grow a little more each day. In truth, we never stop growing and never stop asking of ourselves: ‘What will this child turn out to be?’ And, thankfully, what’s not always clear to us, is always clear to God.

How has the Lord shown you great kindness? How can you share your joy?

Luke 1:39-56

‘Mary set out and went as quickly as she could to a town in the hill country’.

When Mary sets out to visit Elizabeth there’s a sense of urgency and excitement. By all accounts Mary’s journey to Elizabeth won’t have been easy. Whatever we imagine the terrain to be like, the journey was long and not without danger for someone Mary’s age. Luke gives us none of these details. His focus in on the joy of two women meeting. Mary and Elizabeth have lived lives of faithfulness to God’s Word. Their faithfulness has made them so open and ready to receive: God can easily find a home in them. On this Feast we sing a hymn written by one of our Sisters. This verse always strikes me:

Virgin mother, childless wife,
Vessels of his will;
In their flesh his kingdom grows,
Secret, holy, still.

Some similar themes are at work in a sonnet for the Visitation by Malcolm Guite:

Two women on the very edge of things
Unnoticed and unknown to men of power
But in their flesh the hidden Spirit sings
And in their lives the buds of blessing flower.

This place for the kingdom to grow ‘secret, holy, still’ is within each one of us.
Each one of us has the capacity for these ‘buds of blessing’.

How can you nurture this kingdom life within you?

Exodus 24:3-8 
Hebrews 9:11-15
Mark 14:12-16, 22-26 

Today the Church lays before us a series of texts which tell us about an important part of our faith story. Each text tells us something about the love relationship of the covenant which bound our ancestors and the new covenant which binds us now. Each text mentions blood. This is not nearly as accessible a symbol for us in the 21st Century as bread. Bread is familiar and comforting, whereas blood, whilst life-giving, can also symbolise danger and death.

The ritual involving blood, described in the reading from Exodus, is not any easy idea for us to explore. But while the details of the sacrificial system might be alien to us, what the text describes is a time of intimacy. In the verses which precede today’s text God has spoken to Moses and been very specific about those he is to bring with him to Mt Sinai:

The Lord said to Moses, “You and Aaron, Nadab, Abihu, and 70 of Israel’s leaders come up the mountain to me and worship at a distance.  Moses may come near the Lord, but the others may not. The people must not come along with Moses.”

Moses is being called to a moment of encounter with the God who spoke to him from the Burning Bush. Every detail matters. Moses sprinkles the people with blood as a sign of the intimacy that God wants with the Israelites. It is a pledge that the God who brought them from slavery to freedom, desires to sustain them and bring them life. Our lectionary text stops here. But the verses which follow are some of my favourite verses in the Old Testament:

‘Moses, Aaron, Nadab, Abihu and seventy elders of Israel then went up, and they saw the God of Israel beneath whose feet there was what looked like a sapphire pavement pure as the heavens themselves, but he did no harm to the Israelite notables; they actually gazed on God and then ate and drank.’

If we lay this story alongside today’s Gospel text from Mark we are again invited to a scene of intimacy. Jesus with his disciples brings a deeper meaning to a ritual that they have celebrated all of their lives. And here the disciples gaze on God and eat and drink. The meaning and memory of that meal will sustain them as they form a community and adjust to life after Jesus has ascended. Sharing one loaf and one cup are the signs of God’s covenant.

Today as we gather to celebrate the Eucharist we know ourselves bound in covenantal love. Though the style of our celebrations of the Eucharist may vary, we are each invited to gaze on God and to eat and drink.

Where have you experienced God’s covenantal love in your own life?

Deuteronomy 4:32-34,39-40
Romans 8:14-17
Matthew 28:16-20 

The mystics believed that we are all born with a capacity for God (Capax Dei).
St Augustine believed that this capacity makes it possible for the human person to be re-formed through God’s gracious gift.

It has become common place for society to be described as ‘post Christian’ or as ‘secular’. While it may appear that Christian values are all but forgotten in the way in which our ordinary lives are ordered, I think we may have lost sight of the fundamental truth that we all carry within us the capacity for God. This capacity won’t always be expressed in the traditional ways, but I do believe that in the heart of every human being is the desire to know that they are part of something much bigger than themselves. Every human being wants to be connected to someone or something that gives meaning to their life. We are made for connection.

St Augustine sees our re-forming in terms of the image of the Trinity. Just as there is unity among the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, so too, there is unity in a person’s memory, understanding and will. At the core of each human being is a mystery which reflects the great mystery of the Godhead. In the ordinary run of life it’s easy to lose sight of this mystery that we carry within us. We are often more of aware of our failures than our triumphs. Maria Boulding,  expresses this so well in her book, The Coming of God, which has become for me a personal spiritual classic:

All your hopes and disappointments, your joy and suffering, your achievement and failure, your ups and downs: none of it is wasted. Provided only that you consent without qualification, the work of grace is going on in you through the whole business of living, to hollow you out, to make you Capax Dei, as the old mystics used to say, able to receive God. You yourself are the place of desire and need. All your love, your stretching out, your hope, your thirst, God is creating in you so that he may fill you.

When we celebrate the feast of the The Trinity we celebrate relationship and connection. Each of the readings for today highlights the quality of that connection:

Keep his laws and commandments as I give them to you today, so that you and your children may prosper and live long in the land that the Lord your God gives you for ever. (Deuteronomy 4) Israel is bound in a relationship of covenantal love.

The Spirit himself and our spirit bear united witness that we are children of God. And if we are children we are heirs as well: heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, sharing his sufferings so as to share his glory. (Romans 8) Our adoption as sons and daughters is the guarantee of our relationship with the Father.

‘Go, therefore, make disciples of all the nations; baptise them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands I gave you. And know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time.’ Christ promises to be with us always when we speak and act in the name of the Trinity.

How can you live out this Trinitarian love this coming week?

John 15:26-27,16:12-15

From the beginning of Lent on Ash Wednesday to the celebration of Pentecost, the Church has marked out a path for us to follow. We have walked in the wilderness with Israelites, fasted in the desert with Jesus, followed him as he taught and worked miracles, we have sat at the table in the Upper Room, fallen asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane, stood in the cold in the courtyard of the High Priest’s house, we have watched from a distance as he drew his last breath on the cross, we have run early in the morning to the tomb, we have had breakfast on the beach in Tiberias and now Jesus stands before us saying:

When the Advocate comes, whom I shall send to you from the Father,
the Spirit of truth who issues from the Father, he will be my witness.
And you too will be witnesses, because you have been with me from the outset.

Jesus promises to send us someone on whom we can call, someone we can call to be at our side. This is the literal meaning of Advocate or Paraclete. When I look back over my faith journey there are many who have been and continue to be people on whom I can call. There are many who have embodied the Spirit and been at my side when I needed them most.

Where in the coming week do you most need the Spirit to be at your side?

John 21:20-25 

‘If I want him to stay behind till I come, what does it matter to you? You are to follow me.’ 

We have come to the final chapter of John’s Gospel and perhaps have a sense of having made a long and sometimes meandering journey through the themes of Light, Life, Love and Glory.

There are puzzling lines in today’s text with mention of the Beloved Disciple and the idea that he was to stay behind until the Lord comes. It can seem strange to think of Jesus loving one person in particular. Much of our theology tells us that Christ makes no distinction among people. Of course, on a human level we know that we do in fact love some more and others less.

The image of the Beloved Disciple leaning on Jesus’ breast at the Last Supper has occupied the minds of many spiritual writers. It’s possible to weave all kinds mystical ideas into this scene. I like to stay at the simple level of closeness to Jesus. What does closeness to Jesus mean in my own life? Where are the Last Supper scenes in my own life? Where do I seat myself at the table?

We have a lifetime to ponder these questions. As you prepare to take up Ordinary Time again, look back over Eastertide and notice the times when you have known yourself close to Jesus.

John 21:15-19

Our Gospel texts during Eastertide have laid before us many themes. They weave in and out of each other and form a kind of fabric. Amongst the many themes, these stand out for me: Love, Glory, Life, Believe in Jesus and Truth.

Today it is Love that is to be our focus as we re-visit the scene with Jesus and Peter, on the shore at Tiberias.

‘Simon son of John, do you love me more than these others do?’

For me this is one of the most profound and challenging questions that Jesus asks in the Gospels. Jesus is about to entrust Peter with the care and leadership of his followers. Every meal shared, every story told and every sign and wonder worked has led to this moment. Peter has grown in relationship with Jesus and it is from this place that he responds. Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves him and each time Peter responds. Peter is commissioned to ‘feed’ and to ‘tend’ those in his care.

However we might understand Church leadership and authority today, its roots are in relationship. Henry Wansbrough osb comments on the three fold question and response:

‘Its form makes it clear that it is a demanding service of love and care, not a comfortable dominance of rank and authority.‘

How is Christ calling you to serve?

John 17:20-26

Father, I want those you have given me
to be with me where I am,
so that they may always see the glory you have given me
because you loved me before the foundation of the world.

Often in liturgy we find ourselves holding several time frames at once. We have celebrated the Ascension and now we wait for the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost. But our Gospel text has us back around the table with the disciples at the Last Supper and Jesus is looking to the future. The whole text is about intimacy and connection. The disciples have experienced a close connection to Jesus while he was on earth and Jesus wants this same connection to be theirs when they are united in heaven.

It can happen in the spiritual life that all of a sudden you feel as if your connection with Jesus has gone. Suddenly what once felt secure and life-giving just evaporates. When you are in the midst of this type of experience you have difficulty imagining that things could ever go back to normal. Today’s Gospel gives us hope. It is into our darkness and confusion that Jesus speaks these words:

I have given them the glory you gave to me,
that they may be one as we are one.

Jesus’ relationship with his Father is the guarantee that out of darkness light will come.

How do you hear Jesus’ words?

John 17:11-19 

They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world.
Consecrate them in the truth; your word is truth.

If we trace the use of the word ‘world’ through the New Testament we find that we are being asked to hold several concepts at once. In John’s Gospel we hear that
Jesus and his followers, ‘do not belong’ to the world but are sent into it. And then at the same time we hear that God ‘so loved the world’ that he sent his Son to redeem it.

The Christian tradition of monasticism presents a similar picture with its classic teaching of ‘fleeing the world’ (fuga mundi) on the one hand and its significant contribution to learning, agriculture and even champagne production, on the other. I think it’s fair to say that monastics have always been steering a middle course. In his Rule, St Benedict urges his monks: ‘Your way of acting should be different from the world’s way: the love of Christ must come before all else.’ I find this helpful because it gives a focus and sets the counter cultural choice of monastic life in the context of love.

How can you put the love of Christ before all else today?

John 17:1-11

I have made your name known
to those you took from the world to give me.
They were yours and you gave them to me,
and they have kept your word.

Today we hear again the opening verses of Chapter 17 of John’s Gospel. Each couple of sentences presents us with an idea which builds up our understanding of the glory that is revealed in Christ. We can see this lengthy prayer as Christ articulating his relationship with his Father. Faithfulness and trust run as a thread through the whole passage.

The dynamic of the relationship between Father and Son has been made concrete in the way in which the Son has nurtured those entrusted to him. Christ can confidently say that those entrusted to him have ‘kept your word’. In this simple phrase a whole thought world is echoed. I hear in this phrase the touchstone text of the Old Testament:

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,
with all your soul, with all your strength.
Let these words I urge on you today
be written on your heart.
You shall repeat them to your children
and say them over to them whether
at rest in your house or walking abroad,
at your lying down or at your rising;
you shall fasten them on your hand
as a sign and on your forehead as a circlet;
you shall write them on the doorposts
of your house and on your gates.

Keeping the word permeates every aspect of life: the word binds in love and shapes in fidelity.

How can you keep God’s word today?