4th Sunday Year B
See Commentary on Mark 1:21-29 in Mark 1:21-28 & Mark 1:29-31
Homily 1 - 2006
The Pope wrote an encyclical letter last week on the theme of love: pretty basic! It’s title was taken from a phrase in one of the Epistles of John: God is love. Deus Caritas Est. We have heard it before; but it is still good to think about.
Science aims to tell us: Why is this? Why is that? Why is this like this? Why is that like that? What is it made up of? How did it begin? But if we ask: Why is there anything at all? Why not perpetual, eternal nothing? some of us say: The source of simply being is what we conveniently call God. If God then is the Being enabling our cosmos, giving it concrete existence, Benedict wants to remind us that this mystery sourcing all that is is simply love. Our tradition teaches that we have been made in the image of God – so loving is hard-wired into us. And we’re restless, unfulfilled, until we love. Sounds good! But what does love mean? In our experience, if we ponder hard enough, we discover a number of different energies that we have called love. Ancient Greek philosophers, well before Jesus, put names to four of these love-energies.
They talked of womb-love – that mothers know – fierce, protective, self-sacrificing. At times the Hebrew prophets spoke of God’s love in terms of womb-love, only more fierce, more intense. Does a mother forget her baby or a woman the child within her womb? Yet, even if these forget, I will never forget you.
The Greeks also spoke of erotic love, that instinctive attraction that we feel towards certain people, that impels us to want to be one with them, to lose ourselves in them, as it were. It leads us to feel that our happiness depends entirely on the other, on having them, on being with them. It is a formidable force, but can quickly enough flip from one person to another, without anyone necessarily knowing why. Check the women’s magazines!! Usually it is not the result of our choosing. It sort of just happens.
There is also the love of friendship. Attraction-based love can move us onwards into friendship, leading us to discover our need for intimacy, for knowing the depths of the other and for sharing our own. All that I am, just as I am, offered to all that you are, just as you are. Jesus invites us to that kind of love: I do not call you servants, but friends. Surprising, modern research has shown that not many men have others they would call true friends, other than perhaps their spouse.
There is a fourth level of love, not based on attraction or even friendship, (though often blossoming forth from them, but not necessarily). It is the love that prompts you to spend your energies for another, to serve others, not because of who they are or what they are like, but because of who you are, the kind of person you are. It is the love that is unconditional, forgiving, merciful, serving, not getting anything out of it, but determining simply to give. We need to choose to be so. This particularly mirrors the essence of God’s loving. It is Christian love, made possible by our sharing in the life of Christ. One modern theologian summed it up in two words: to let be in the richest sense of those two words: to let, meaning to enable, empower, encourage, support; to be, meaning to become, unfold, emerge or grow.
Elements in our modern culture tend to focus on attraction-love – that is what all our pop songs are about. Benedict reminds us that we have been made for more than that. Only as we grow towards unconditional, giving love do we experience the deep peace that God hopes for us. But it takes a lifetime, and beyond!
Homily 2 - 2012
He spoke with authority – unlike the scribes. I like the word authority – as I understand it. The catch is that the word has so many meanings and is used in so many different contexts. What does the word mean when applied to Jesus? The language of the Gospels is Greek; and the Greek word used here of Jesus is a kind of picture-word conveying the sense of being [or life, or energy] flowing out from someone. Jesus taught with authority in the sense that, when he spoke, he had the effect of making people feel more alive … liberated … energised … interested. Ultimately there is only one energy that is truly, supremely, life-giving and liberating; and that is the energy of love.
When Jesus spoke, people could sense that he truly connected with them, that he respected them. They could feel their own dignity affirmed and stimulated. His genuinely connecting with them stimulated their interest. They became open to listen to him, to reflect, and to seek out what he meant. Such true authority is powerful. And there lay a problem. People in positions of power, real or imagined, could see him as a threat – and many of them did.
Today's Gospel incident is a case in point. Whatever about the details of the historical event [and they are few], Mark used it to introduce Jesus' ministry in Galilee. The incident happened in a synagogue, on the Sabbath – both key elements in official Jewish life. Jesus' presence there triggered off a decisive confrontation with a man already there in the synagogue – whom the Gospel described as possessed by – that is, under the power of – an unclean spirit. Speaking through the man, and seemingly voicing the fear of unclean spirits in general [because it spoke in the plural], the unclean spirit shouted out: Have you come to destroy us? And immediately, but fruitlessly, it tried to dominate Jesus by naming him explicitly: I know who you are….
Jesus did not in fact destroy the unclean spirit. Jesus destroyed no one. Jesus simply firmly commanded it to be quiet and to surrender its control over the man. And, faced with the transparent authority of Jesus, it did. No violence in Jesus – just the authority of life-filled love.
The message of the incident - the reason why Mark placed it here and recounted it the way he did - lies in what prefaced it. Mark observed: Jesus' teaching made a deep impression on his listeners because, unlike the scribes, he taught with authority. Instead of giving life and setting free, the scribal establishment's interpreting and applying of the Jewish Law served in fact to exclude, to marginalise, to disempower, to oppress and to exploit. Where Jesus gave life and set free, the scribal establishment had become linked to, and infected by, the realm of evil – of non-life…
The risen Jesus has sent us out to preach and to embody the Good News – not to exclude, to condemn, to push to the edges, or to disempower. He sends us out to destroy no one. We are sent to give life, to give meaning and purpose, to give hope. Taking our warning from today's Gospel, we, as individuals and as Church, must constantly be alert to the possibility that, like the Jewish scribes, we, too can easily fall into the trap of judging people, condemning them; and pushing to the edges - even excluding – those who don't measure up.
The quality of our authority will be a factor of our love for people. It will mean that we encounter people with respect, [even, and particularly, those who don't respect us]. We meet them where they are, not from a stance of superiority, but presuming their good-will and open to whatever insights into truth they might have.
Homily 3 - 2015
Today’s Gospel passage can seem a pretty harmless passage, perhaps irrelevant, even unreal. Yet Mark, who wrote the Gospel, deliberately chose to place it where it is, right at the beginning of Jesus’ public life, the first detailed description of Jesus at work. In his mind it provided the key to understanding the rest of Jesus’ public ministry. Jesus had a showdown with demonic evil, and it happened in a religious context, with its mention of sabbath, synagogue and scribes. It took the shape of an exorcism. Talk of exorcisms can seem countercultural in our sophisticated world. If we approach the incident symbolically, however, we might learn to see that encounters with demonic power are constant, though rarely recognised as such. And there lies their power – we do not see them.
After the destruction by Islamic terrorists of the Twin Towers in New York, the de facto leader of the Western world declared a “war against terror”. Since then, countless innocent lives have been lost, in Iraq, in Afghanistan, in Syria. What many Western powers encouraged as an Arab Spring has turned into a devastating Arab winter. With few exceptions, everyone claims to want peace. But instinctively most believe that peace will be best secured by superior counter violence.
Unfortunately popular religion regularly becomes part of the mix. Islamist fundamentalism does not have it on its own. The “war against terror” became a “crusade against evil”, certainly in the US, if not in secular Australia. Thank God, the Catholic/Protestant conflict has quietened down in Northern Ireland.
Public emotions occasioned by the brutal murder of eight employees of the French satirical magazine, Charlie Hebdo, are simmering down. The tragic incident triggered a huge popular wave of condemnation of fundamentalist Islamic violence and a clear reaffirmation of the right to freedom of speech and the freedom of the press. But is there a danger of another underlying current of a different violence that has passed almost unnoticed? There are other expressions of violence than the barrel of a gun. Violence and oppression can also be psychological or verbal, sexual, religious, economic and social, etc. The demonic flourishes in the unrecognised. Its power lies in the ease with which it can blind us as individuals, and even more so as members of society, where it lurks in our collective unconscious. After all, at every Mass we remember that respected leaders, unquestioningly convinced of their own rightness, calmly condemned Jesus to death; and the crowds went along with them.
A society cannot survive if people insist simply on their personal rights, even legitimate rights. Society is built on commonly accepted responsibilities to the common good. More than that. Responsibilities call for wisdom, thoughtfulness and respect, even common sense.
There is a constant need to challenge important opinions and attitudes on which people disagree; and that provides scope to ridicule pretension. Yet ridicule can degenerate into a form of violence. There is a world of difference between the cartoons of Michael Leunig and those on the cover of Charlie Hebdo. If people genuinely want to convince others and work towards change, they need to work out how best to succeed; and that can rule out otherwise legitimate options. Even in the family you learn that there are times when you consider your words carefully, even hold your tongue, and when you do not insist on your rights.
Elsewhere in the Gospels, Jesus will warn that Satan does not cast out Satan. [He could less cryptically have said that violence does not cast out violence.] He then added, But if by the Spirit of God I cast out devils, then know that the Kingdom of God has overtaken you. The Spirit of God is the power of God. That divine power is never the clenched fist nor the gun nor the hateful sneer but the power of truth and love. And it is at work. More and more people are coming to see that violence does not, after all, cast out violence, coming to say, "Not in my name". The Kingdom of God is steadily overtaking us!
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.
Homily 5 - 2021
In today’s brief Gospel passage, Mark made two comments about Jesus’ teaching. Firstly he wrote: “Jesus teaching made a deep impression on them because, unlike the scribes, he taught them with authority.” And then, after outlining how Jesus had expelled an unclean spirit from someone, Mark wrote: “The people were astonished”. More than a “deep impression” this time. And then came their comment: “Here is a teaching that is new, and with authority behind it.”
Let us look more closely.
Firstly, Jesus’ impact on people — “deep impression”, building up to “astonishment”. Has the Gospel ever had that effect on you? Are you glad it has? or glad it hasn’t? How would you describe its effect on you?
We need not be surprised that the people saw Jesus’ expelling the unclean spirit as “teaching”. You might have heard of St Francis’ advice to his followers, “Preach the Gospel always. Use words when you have to.” What is your reaction in general to Gospel accounts of exorcisms? Have you ever seen them as relevant in any way to your own situation? What if you toned down the supernatural elements and allowed demonic possession to also cover more common addictions, or obsessions, or phobias, or even things like workaholism or smoking or other common compulsions? Have you or your family ever labelled you as a shop-aholic or choc-aholic? Would you really like to be free from any of those addictions? Have you ever asked Jesus to set you free?
The Gospel possibility is particularly a wonderful sense of freedom. But freedom is interesting. It can seem more attractive as a possibility than as a reality. Given the opportunity, freedom can be frightening. It challenges the familiar.
In the Gospel today, the people referred approvingly to Jesus’ “authority”. They contrasted it to the authority of the “scribes”. But Mark did not make very clear what they meant. However, there was obviously something quite different in the way that Jesus taught, officially unauthorised though he was. I like to see Jesus’ “authority” as an obvious inner strength shining through, an inner integrity. He was not handing on what someone else had told him to say. He was speaking from his own experience, his own convictions. He knew what he was talking about. I also think that he must have somehow let people know that he truly respected them. Even when he suggested change, and costly change, he did it because he took people seriously.
Have you ever felt Jesus communicating with you? wanting to share with you? genuinely wanting to bring joy into your life? Or do you know about him mainly from the teaching of us “scribes” up the front here? or the nuns or brothers who taught you at school? or your parents?
Today’s Gospel passage concluded: “Jesus’ reputation rapidly spread everywhere, through all the surrounding Galilean countryside.” Have you ever wondered what must have happened that eventually the crowds allied themselves with the chief priests and the leading scribes in shouting for Jesus’ death, and joined in their jeering at him as he hung on the cross dying?
Certainly, that was not the whole story. Luke’s follow-up story to his Gospel, the Acts of Apostles, reported large crowds of people from Jerusalem and elsewhere joining themselves to the new-born group of disciples.
Homily 6 - 2024
In case you did not read last Sunday’s Gospel, I shall repeat briefly what St Mark wrote: “After John [the Baptist] had been arrested, Jesus went into Galilee. There he proclaimed the Good News from God. “The time has come” he said, “and the kingdom of God is close at hand. Repent, and believe the Good News.”
Something new was about to happen
The kingdom of God was close at hand
It would be Good News
They would have to trust [i.e. believe] Jesus’ word for it
It would call for real change on their part [i.e. repent].
Jesus then promptly called four fishermen to follow him. They did — though they hardly knew him. Today’s Gospel passage takes up the story.
With some unnamed followers, probably the four fishermen and others, they went together as far as Capernaum, a township on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. On the Sabbath day, they went into the Capernaum synagogue. Apparently he was asked to speak. Mark recounted that his teaching made a deep impression on his hearers — presumably the same message he had been proclaiming already around Galilee. Most of those present, apparently, were impressed, and what impressed them was the sense of authority that he seemed to have —so refreshingly different from the usual traditional platitudes taught week-in-week-out by their official teachers, the scribes.
However, not everyone was pleased with Jesus. One of them shouted out: “What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are: the Holy One of God”. Had he ever acted like that before with a guest speaker?
Jesus’ new message had no doubt upset him deeply. “Have you come to destroy us?” He was really afraid. Did Jesus’ message sound to him like the beginning of the end of everything familiar, destructive of their centuries-old traditions? Were there others who silently agreed with him?
What seemed to have confused him even more was his sense of the uniqueness of Jesus — what the others referred to as the “authority” exercised by Jesus. Might he, more acutely than the others, have wondered whether Jesus’ impact might have been due to the fact that Jesus was indeed “the Holy One of God”? No wonder he was confused and fearful.
In Mark’s Gospel, the synagogue would become the typical location where Jesus would encounter opposition. The official leaders of the synagogue service, the scribes and the Pharisees, became Jesus’ main opponents. No doubt, there would be many reasons for their almost constant hostility towards Jesus. At the bottom of it all, though perhaps not well recognised by them, may well have been fear — fear for their own reputations but fear also for the traditions that they unquestioningly defended.
The new situation, the nearness of God’s Kingdom, Jesus himself, and his teaching, meant unfamiliarity, uncertainty. The thought of the adjustment required of them was frightening. Would they have to accept the leadership of Jesus? take on board his teaching?
How could they trust Him? This “authority” that the people generally seemed to intuit in him — was that powerful enough to touch them, to reassure them, as it had obviously touched Andrew and Peter, James and John?
These are questions, too, for me, for us. Do I trust him? Do I trust everything he taught? Do I trust him enough genuinely to follow him, to get to know him intimately enough to see why he says what he says, why he behaved the way he did? Can I let his “authority” take hold of me? And how will I do it?