28th Sunday Year B

See Commentary on (Mark 10:17- 30) in Mark 10:17-22 & Mark 10:28-31


Homily 1 - 2006

What must I do to inherit eternal life? The question obviously expressed a longing – but a longing for what?  Eternal life was the expression the man used. I wonder what he had in mind. Was his question: What must I do to be deliriously happy and to be ultimately safe, secure? Perhaps it was both, perhaps neither.  Certainly Jesus’ answer caught him totally off-guard: sell everything, give it to the poor, stay close to me and observe – follow me! Jesus lost him altogether.

And then Jesus’ next comment nearly lost the disciples: How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God! Jesus repeated what he said. And after an incredulous questioning from them, Jesus went on to say it was not only hard but impossible – not just for the rich but for everyone!  For you it is impossible – but not for God. It’s pure gift of God – totally beyond our control.

Still, Peter felt reasonably confident: What about us? We’ve left everything and followed you. And Jesus went along with that. But had Peter and the others in fact left everything?  Judas would later deliberately betray Jesus in cold blood. His initial enthusiastic response to Jesus somehow turned sour. What was more important to him? What did the following of Jesus ask that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, surrender?  And Peter himself – Under pressure from a servant girl, he denied that he ever knew Jesus. And the other ten, who had shared Eucharist with him a few hours earlier, once he was arrested, abandoned him and fled.  What was more important to them than their solidarity with Jesus? What did they fear losing? What could they not give up?

All of us at some stage have personally aligned ourselves with Jesus – freely deliberately and (hopefully) enthusiastically.  Why do we sin? What do we consider more important than consistently and radically following his way? What matters so much to us that we can’t let it go?  As we look at ourselves as a nation, we could well ask: What matters so much to us that we are prepared to ignore the clear vision of Jesus?  Why don’t we respond more generously as a nation to the two-thirds of the world’s population struggling with incredible hardship? Why don’t we courteously welcome to our shores those fleeing persecution and probable death? Why do we sometimes and selectively follow the path of violent resistance to enemies and evil doers despite the clear example of Jesus that resistance be non-violent? Why do we knowingly risk wrecking the planet, leaving much of it possibly uninhabitable for future generations?  What is more important to us, the need to be in control, the need to survive physically even at the price of our dying morally, the need to live comfortably, the need not to have to change our ways?

Perhaps it’s easy to criticise at the macro level. It is not so really demanding, or so personally practical. Besides, we share those responsibilities with others who do not share our sense of the centrality of Jesus.  So what about the micro level, the level of our ordinary day-to-day interactions? Why do we sin? Why do we criticise? abuse? waste? cover up?  What are we afraid of losing? Why do we struggle to give up our image, our comfort, our sense of superiority and self-righteousness, our need to feel somehow in control?

As Jesus said: For us it is impossible - unless we know that someone else is in control, and that we can unconditionally trust that other. To know that, we need to have encountered God. That was the source of Jesus’ freedom. It can be the source also of ours.


Homily 2 - 2009

The rich man in today's Gospel was a good man - he kept all the commandments; he truly wanted to inherit eternal life.  He is the only person in the whole of Mark's Gospel of whom it is said: Jesus loved him. But, when challenged by Jesus, as the Gospel put it, he went away – sad. What was going on?

He wanted to become holy. So do I. So do you.  But I think all of us have our own idea of what's holy. We'll be open to grow within that mindset - even if it asks a bit of us.  But no way would we question our sense of what's holy; and we wouldn't, for a moment, listen seriously to anyone who called into question our conviction,  our certainty, of what's holy.

That is largely the problem that Jesus encountered.  The ones who weren't interested in holiness were not those who believed that they needed to quiet Jesus by killing him. It was the ones who were concerned about it.  Jesus had called for conversion. There is one sort of conversion that says: My actions, my behaviour, is off-target; so I must change.  But there is the deeper conversion – the sort of conversion that Jesus called for – that says:  My thinking might be off-target; what I've so far taken for granted may be off-target; what I'm familiar with, what I'm proud of, what I've tried hard for, what I've made sacrifices for, may be off-target. But, if I am convinced of my position, what could ever lead me to be so disloyal as to question it?  That, essentially, was the Pharisees' problem. It's the problem of every good, law-observant, religious person.  Jesus did his best to crack it – he succeeded with some; but failed with many.

We need to be free enough in order to be self-critical. We need to be free enough to hear the criticism of others. We need to be wise enough to discover what truth there might be, if any, in the attitudes, and even criticisms, of others.  To be free enough to be self-critical, we need to be drawing our sense of identity, our sense of who we are, from the fact that we're loved – ultimately, that we're loved by God - unconditionally, whatever we're up to, wherever we're at. And we need to be comfortable with the fact.  To get a taste for truth, to discern where truth lies, we need to listen to God - to God speaking sometimes what we'd rather not hear.

As the Second Reading put it tonight: The word of God is something alive and active: it cuts like any double-edged sword but more finely; it can slip through the place where the soul is divided from the spirit, or joints from marrow; it can judge the secret emotions and thoughts.  In order to hear God telling us that we're loved, we have to listen – intently. To hear God calling us beyond where we are, possibly challenging us, we have to listen. Essentially, we need to pray.

Tonight's first reading from the Book of Wisdom, put it nicely: I prayed, and understanding was given me; I entreated, and the spirit of Wisdom came to me. But, too often in our prayer, we do the talking.  More important is to listen, to say nothing. Listening, no matter how hard we try, we usually seem to hear nothing.  So our prayer can be saying nothing, hearing nothing - but, in the saying nothing, and in the hearing nothing, it's surprising what does happen - not to our heads, but to our hearts.


Homily 3 - 2012 

The translation sells us a bit lightly when it simply says: Jesus was setting out on a journey. What Jesus and his disciples were doing was continuing the journey – the momentous journey to Jerusalem and to resurrection, the journey that would first go by way of Calvary.  Mark uses their journey as the narrative setting of the Christian journey across this stage of life to the next, in both of which we can live with the kind of life that he calls eternal life. 

Today's incident touches a number of significant issues. The rich man raises the basic question: What must I do to inherit eternal life? His general thrust is great, but his assumptions are all wrong. Eternal life can be a cliché that hides more than it reveals. The basic human longing is better phrased as life in all its perfection, life to the full, being fully alive. Becoming fully alive is not something that someone else, even God, can give us. And it is certainly not a factor of inheritance. We have to live it ourselves. God doesn't give it; God certainly enables it and empowers it. But we have to live it. 

Even the assumption behind: What must I do? is questionable. It would be better to ask: What kind of person must I become if I am to be fully alive?  In the case of the rich man, Jesus said: "Well, there is one thing you certainly lack: You're not free. You can't let go.  Jesus even adds: Do not call me good – which, I think, in this context may mean: Do not hand over your personal responsibility even to me. 

Interesting! Becoming fully alive seems to be a factor, not of having more or of doing more, but of having less and of doing less – of travelling lightly, of simplifying. But Jesus does not leave it there. We can't let go. None of us is free enough. For us, unaided, it's impossible. But that is not the end of it: For God, everything is possible. What we can't do alone, we can do if we let go of our controlling and allow God to transform us. 

How? Jesus looked steadily at him, and loved him – and invited him to follow. Likewise, before speaking to the astonished disciples, Jesus first gazed at them. What happens to people if they can be still enough for long enough to let Jesus look steadily at them, to gaze at them?  Let's keep reflecting. Becoming truly alive seems to be a factor also, perhaps even more so, of relationship, of learning to be loved and to love. Come, follow me!  And that takes shape in human community - well, perhaps, in Christian community. As we, enlightened, enthused, and empowered by the love of Jesus and of the Gospel, loosen our grip on [as Jesus says] house, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children and land, we find true community. 

True community is where we do not relate in mutual co-dependency but where we are loved and where we love – relating, respecting, and appreciating each other – not owning, not needing. In Jesus' mind, this is the community of believers, of all who follow him - the truly catholic community.  For him, this is the hundred times better, hundred times more inclusive, community [his symbolic description, in fact, of the Christian community]– where [as far as he seems to be saying] there are no fathers, patriarchs, no one taking over people's personal conscience, but where all are brothers and sisters, mothers and life-nurturers to each other, and all see themselves as little ones. 

Where do we find eternal life? life to the full? How do we become fully alive?  Come, follow me!  Meet my gaze. Let me love you. But Do not call me good. Do not cling even to me. Learn the freedom of relating in love. Let go! Loosen the grip! Sit lightly! And see what happens.


Homily 4 - 2018

I like today’s Gospel. The more I look at it, the more it gets me thinking… and wondering. Basically, it deals with two concepts that ultimately overlap: eternal life, and entry into the kingdom of God… and in the process it occasions some challenging reflections. Unfortunately, eternal life and the kingdom of God can easily become just clichés and merge into more general hypnotic, sleep-inducing church-speak. And that is a pity.

Eternal life, after all, is our human sharing in the living of God, of our Trinitarian God, which, to the best of our knowledge, is essentially relationship based on self-awareness, intimate knowing, passionate loving and creative joy [or joyful creativity]. Since we are made in the image of God, that is what would make us truly ourselves and fully human.

But we so easily get it wrong. Did you notice the rich man’s question, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” As a rich man, he knew all about inheriting wealth, and property, and a decent share portfolio. And I suppose with such things, you have a certain power and control over your world, such that you have room and capacity to do a lot of things that others cannot. But what was his sense of eternal life that made him think he could do something to inherit it?

The wonderful thing about eternal life is simply that it is life, about becoming more alive – and it is God’s gift, already, waiting to be activated. How we activate it is the issue. That is what Jesus came to show us – but it is no great secret. We need to accept being loved – by anyone, for a start. But best of all by God. Surprisingly, it is easier said than done. To accept love at its best, unconditional love, calls for what seems like a real death to self. For a start, it means letting go of our instinctive need to be totally in control. Love is like that.

Here, again, the Gospel passage is instructive. It says, “Jesus looked steadily at him and loved him”. [That is not said explicitly of too many in the Gospel – except of Martha and Mary and their brother Lazarus.] Jesus invited him, too, to follow him – so that the two could get to know each other better, and so that their friendship, mutual respect and love might deepen. What a wonderful start that could have been for the man if only he had let it be. Jesus recognised the blockage in his case, and to help him to see it and to deal with it, he then said to him, “There is one thing you lack. Go and sell everything you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven..”. For all his apparent earnestness [he had after all “kept all the commandments from his earliest days”], the poor fellow could not face the prospect, and despite all his wealth, indeed, because of all his wealth, even though still with all his wealth, “he went away sad”.

To relate, or to possess? To relate, or to control? They do not sit easily together. How do you possess without being possessed, without becoming addicted and ultimately losing freedom? How do you control, without being controlled, without needing to feel in control, without fear of losing control? It is not impossible – but it certainly needs the steady help of God.

As Jesus looks at us steadily and loves us, can we hear him saying, “There is one thing you lack”? Can we hear him saying, lovingly, to us, “There is one thing getting in the way of a truly liberating and fulfilling relationship and sustaining friendship between us, getting in the way, too, of life to the full, of eternal life now for you?” It is worth following up.

Eternal life leaves keeping the commandments for dead.


Homily 5 - 2021

The apparently upright, commandment-observing, rich man, asked Jesus about “inheriting eternal life”. He asked the wrong question. Eternal life cannot be “inherited”. To inherit supposes ‘making your own’, ‘controlling’. “Eternal life” can only be received [as Jesus would say later] . It is always and only ‘gift’. The Gospel said that Jesus “looked steadily” at the rich man and “loved” him. He invited him to “follow” him; offered him the chance to “enter the kingdom of God”. To “love”, to “follow”, to “enter” have nothing to do with owning, with inheriting. They speak of relating, of engaging with — not with controlling. Indeed, they are the expression of letting go, selling off, certainly not acquiring as one’s possession.

When speaking afterwards to Peter and the other disciples, Jesus spoke of their “leaving house, brothers, sisters, father, children or land … for the sake of the gospel”; and promised that they would “receive” them back “a hundred times over”, along with “eternal life”. [Unfortunately the translation says “repaid” rather than “receive”. However, the original Greek language clearly says, “receive”.] Being “repaid” and “inheriting” are legal rights. “Receiving” has to do with accepting a gift. We have no right to “eternal life”. The difference in attitude is crucial— as is the consequence, now and later on. Rather than a legal transaction, “eternal life” is a beautifully free relationship. Jesus had also referred earlier to God as “good”. The goodness of God can only be received, experienced. It cannot be bought by merits or whatever — sheer unmerited gift.

Let’s look a little more closely at our own experience. I cannot speak for you, but I can share something of my own.

When I was a young lad, our house was not just a house, not just a shelter. It was home. What made the difference was the love, freely given and received — the love of mum and dad, and of my one sister — a “hundred times over” difference. All I had to do was “receive” their love — and fortunately I could — unmerited, and with no control on my part.

As for my sister and me — she was three years older than I — just old enough when we were young for us not to be rivals. We would not have called it love then, but it was close enough. We did not see much of each other as we grew older and went our separate ways. However, I treasure fondly the last few weeks before she died a few years back — when she was in hospital slowly letting go of her life. For me, it was a precious time of conscious discovery of our love; and of deep respect and appreciation for each other. She was looking forward to meeting God face to face. I found her inspiring. It was already an anticipated experience of “eternal life” — for her, certainly, and also for me. And all gift!

Two or three times a week, in the early morning, I take a walk around the Lake Hamilton. I find it consistently beautiful, whatever the weather - the water, the trees, the birds, the distant hills. It is all gift, there for the seeing.

Around the perimeter is a reasonable amount of real estate and a number of quite presentable houses. I own none of it, will inherit none of it, but I can appreciate it — without having to worry about the things that owners need to worry about. As I look at the houses, when I think of it, I sometimes pray that they be experienced as “home” by those who live there.

It strikes me that receiving everyone, everything, even God and God’s goodness and love, as gift, whether in the midst of “persecution” or whatever else is going on, is the best source of true happiness; and great practice for “eternal life”, as Jesus noted.

100-times over? Well, more than enough! always on tap! at least in the memory!