Ascension - Homily 3

Homily 3 - 2011

Last Sunday, I went up to the Mallee township of Rainbow, right out at the edge of the Wyperfeld National Park, with the Little Desert stretching out westwards.  The little Catholic community there were celebrating the centenary of the building of their Church.  To mark the occasion, one of the parishioners had collated some facts and figures and photos and put them together into a  small booklet.

One of the items that attracted my attention was a report from the local paper.  I shall read out a small section: .. the decadence of any rural centre very soon becomes reflected in the dilapidated conditions of its various churches.  ... in many cases the existing structures are more than ample for the diminished demands,and the churches merely become mournful monuments of departed prosperity.... This is especially noticeable at a time when so much is being said and written concerning ... the growing number of people who absent themselves from places of worship...  When was it dated?  25 March, 1911 -- a hundred years ago.  I was surprised. So much for the good old days!  Perhaps perversely, it also had the effect of cheering me up!

Sometimes, as I look at our present world, I am tempted to feel disheartened.  So much that is going on distresses me deeply.  You might feel similarly yourselves.  After dedicating my life and energies within the Church for the building up of God’s Kingdom, I am tempted to wonder what there is to show for it all -- what we have achieved?  What keeps me sane, what keeps me still having a go, [apart from the occasional engaging newspaper cutting of a hundred years ago] is an even older comment made two thousand years ago: I am with you always.  

I am with you always.  The one who said it was one who had floated a vision to transform the world.  He had been killed... gone -- eliminated without a struggle, shamed and humiliated by the religious establishment and the secular power of Rome.  And here he was - alive, telling this small group of eleven men that he was none other than the Son of God, sharing the power of God, indeed (as today’s Second Reading put it), seated at the right hand of God.

And who were these eleven? former followers who, under pressure, had denied ever having known him, had deserted him and left him to die helplessly hanging on a cross.  And some of them still didn’t know where they stood -- some of them hesitated.  To this confused group of eleven men, who still hadn’t said a word of apology, he entrusted the mission to transform the world.  He trusted them.  I draw enormous encouragement from all this.

It leads me to ask: What is success?  As Jesus died, his only success was his integrity.  He died unshakeably hoping [not seeing - hoping] ... hoping, not in his strength, but in the power of his Father, in the power, ultimately, of loving.

This is the one whose mission we share - teach them to observe all the commands I gave you... keep declaring to the world that the only program that leads to life and to genuine human fulfilment is the choice to love, to keep on loving, and never to compromise.  We are, none of us, any more suitable for the task than were that worshipping, hesitant eleven.  But we draw strength from his unambiguous assurance, despite all our unworthiness and inadequacy: I am with you always.