29th Sunday Year B - Homily 1

Homily 1 - 2006

The Son of Man came to serve, not to be served, and to give his life as a ransom for many.  Ransom is a figure of speech, of course, not a literal statement. Jesus didn’t pay anything to anyone. But he did “pay the price”, as it were, of his determination to love, his decision to love the many - that undefined, unlimited multitude, that we are. He paid the price of his commitment to love us unconditionally by being killed for it.  According to the wisdom of the world, you don’t love that seriously: If everyone did that, it would undermine radically our familiar ways of relating as society.  

I was thinking the other night about those of you who have been married for years.  You, in your way, have “paid the price” of loving – of loving each other and your family.  From the moment that the glow of the honeymoon started to fade, you realised that you had committed yourself to a spouse who was far from perfect.  You realised how deep was your own self-centredness, how limited your patience and your energy. Over the years you have had to die to self for your love to survive, to grow and to thrive. You have willingly “paid the price” of loving for the sake of the one you loved.

Your choice to love your children constantly, consistently, and unconditionally has also meant that you have had to die to yourself: Many of you have known the ache of being unable to share with them your own enthusiasm for your faith. You have felt a gnawing burden of guilt. You have seen them making obviously unwise choices on major issues - and you have had to bite your tongues and live with the powerlessness and with your uncertainty about whether you should have done more.  You chose to serve not to be served, and have paid with your lives the price of your love. And so many of you have become beautiful in the process: wise, serene and life-giving.

Those of you (of us!) who never got married, or who became widowed or separated or divorced have also known the inevitable pain of the choice to love and to live authentically the loneliness, the unfulfilled desires, the tiredness - especially when you have chosen to dedicate your energies to the service of the community, or to work for justice and compassion.

The second reading spoke of Jesus being tempted in every way that we are, though without sin – he always chose life.  A life of faithful commitment to love is a life of constant temptation – the temptation to step back, to think of ourselves, to refuse to be stretched any further.  We can all know the pain of dreams unfulfilled, of hopes not answered, of friendships betrayed, of service unappreciated.  We have known the temptations to futility, despair and bitterness. Jesus knew them, too.

In one shape or other, a “price to be paid” seems to lurk in the background of all those who allow themselves to feel and to follow the enthusiasm associated with love.  Yet the choice to remain committed - and to be stretched - surprisingly is the way to peace, fulfilment, joy, serenity, and wisdom.

It’s all something of a mystery - a wonderful mystery before which we can only stand quietly grateful, and somewhat overjoyed. It’s the sort of experience we would love to hand on to others. It is the energy, indeed, behind the Church’s commitment to mission – which we celebrate particularly today. The Church desires so much to share her insights into love, and her access to the love of God made visible in Jesus.