2nd Sunday Lent C - Homily 1

Homily 1 - 2007

I shared a ward in a hospital a few years ago with five other fellows. One of the nights I was there, as I was trying unsuccessfully to get off to sleep, a nurse was talking to one of the men. She was saying that she and her husband had decided not to have any children. Given the way the world is, she felt it was not a good place or a good time to bring a child into it – too much suffering, too much violence, too much uncertainty.

I was glad she was not talking to me. I don’t know how I would have worded my reply. She was a very compassionate and caring nurse. And I agree that there is  too much suffering, too much violence, too much uncertainty. But I didn’t share her conclusion.

Jesus promised his followers that they would have to suffer, indeed, that they would have to die, at least to their pervasive and irrepressible self-interest. Certainly, no one lives wrapped in cotton wool. But he also relied on them to build a better world based on the common dignity of every person because profoundly loved by God. And he assured them that God would work with them. A few more duplicates of herself would be good news in a suffering world.

In today’s Gospel, the transfigured Christ was shown talking with Moses and Elijah. They were talking about his passing which he was to accomplish in Jerusalem – a euphemism, if ever there was one, for his tortured death there. But Jerusalem was also the place from where he passed to the Father - the place where he was raised by the Father to a new mode of living (that we, for lack of something better, call risen life).

Talking to Moses and Elijah was significant. Both men in their time had stood up to and were oppressed by the political rulers of their day, both went through experiences of  depression and even despair. Yet both were also key players in the unfolding of God’s dreams for Israel and for the whole world.

Suffering is an unavoidable part of life - but surprisingly it’s also the context from where wisdom, and joy and peace and contentment have grown.

There was a Greek playwright, Aeschylus, who lived about five centuries before Christ. He wrote in his insightful, poetic way: Whoever learns must suffer; and even in our sleep the pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart; and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.

Tonight I shall baptise Nate Chalmers into the Church. I’ll christen him, placing on his life, as it were, the matrix of Christ. That wonderful font over there is the womb from where he will draw Christ’s life. At the start of our gathering tonight, young children, with their families, have indicated their intention to continue their initiation into that mystery of Christ and the Church. We have three adults at this moment preparing for entry into the Church at Easter. And the rest of us are here to take part once again in the mystery of Eucharist.

None of them really realises what they are taking on. None of us really realises what we are taking on each time we step up to join in the Eucharistic mystery. We know that life is a mixture of suffering and joy. We know that they somehow connect – though we often wish they didn’t – as Aeschylus said so cryptically, by the awful grace of God... or better, by the mysterious graciousness of God.

As Catholics we have no monopoly on wisdom. We have no monopoly on joy. We have no monopoly either on suffering. What we do have is each other to support, enlighten and encourage us. We have a faith that holds meaning and purpose, and the help to recognise the presence of Christ in the thick of life.

We don’t see him transfigured. We don’t need to. We know he’s there – and that’s enough.