4th Sunday Year B - Homily 4

Homily 4 - 2018

Did you notice how Mark, in today’s Gospel, spoke of Jesus’ impact on people? Firstly, he said that Jesus made a “deep impression” on them. After he had performed an exorcism, the people were “astonished”. It seemed that his impact was more than just a flash in the pan. Rather, Mark noted, “his reputation rapidly spread everywhere, through all the surrounding Galilean countryside”. Mark put that impact down to the people’s experience of what they called Jesus’ personal “authority”, without explaining what their experience of that authority involved. What was it? What did it feel like? I wonder. Whatever it was, it felt good. Did he give them hope? And if so, hope for what? Hope for change, perhaps – but if so, what kind of change?

Within a couple of years, people were unanimously screaming out “Crucify him!”. How come? What had happened? The authorities no doubt had something to do it. There’s that word, “authorities”. But surely there was more to their change of heart than the leadership of the authorities. Might it have been that they got their hopes confused, that what Jesus had in mind was not what they had in mind? Jesus called for them to change, and indeed to change radically – to see, to hear, to understand, with new eyes, new ears, new heart. Either they did not understand, or they were unwilling to take on the challenge.

On Thursday night, I watched on ABC TV the announcement of the Australians of the Year. All four of them made a deep impression on me [even the Prime Minister did!]. They each seemed to speak with an inner authority too. There were two women, two men. One from our first inhabitants, one a second generation Chinese-Malay, one an immigrant from England, another a third or fourth [or more] generation migrant, like most of us here. What impressed me about them was that all seemed to have a wonderful vision for our nation’s future. They were creative; they were interested in helping others to grow; they were encouraging of people’s potential; each in their own way humble. They gave me hope. But then I began to wonder, did I see them empowering others to grow and change, or did I see them empowering me too to grow and change? Was I just sitting there in my armchair, dispassionately weighing them up – or was I open to learn from them, to be inspired by them? Then I thought, if everyone is like me, will nothing change?

As a nation we seem to like celebrations; or is it more the day-off and the relaxation or fun it enables that we like? The day-off looks to the now, and is satisfied if the now is enjoyable. Celebrations are different, at least true celebrations are. True celebrations celebrate something, usually something that occurred in the past but that is still relevant to the present and the future, something that we appreciate, something that we share in together, something that is in constant process of being realized, and that calls for our personal cooperation. When they do that, they are powerfully unifying. Days-off, enjoyable as they may be, do nothing.

Sacraments are celebrations – but familiarity means that we can forget what they are, what they are for, how they call for our cooperation. Do this in memory of me. Do what? How does doing this help us to revive his memory? Why remember him? Is there something we do not want to forget?

Just as people who were once deeply impressed, even astonished, in time came to shout out, “Crucify him”; just as national celebrations, when not really worked at around the clock, can easily become empty and degenerate into simple days-off [and perhaps even become divisive in the process], sacraments, too, can become empty and boring – unless we keep clear and work at appreciating and developing around the clock the values we are celebrating.