2nd Sunday Lent C - Homily 2

Homily 2 - 2013

Tonight's Gospel is so full of symbolic allusions, one tumbling over the other.  Together they add up to a wonderful message, a wonderfully encouraging message.  Let us tune in, towards the end: "As Peter spoke, a cloud came and covered them with shadow; and when they went into the cloud, the disciples were afraid.  And a voice came from the cloud, saying, This is my Son, the Chosen One.  Listen to him." 

Perhaps you can relate to the cloud.  Perhaps your prayer experience can be that, or your life.  Thick cloud – can't see anything, stumbling about, fumbling around.  Perhaps not quite fear [like Peter, John and James], but confusion, uncertainty … well, perhaps, a little fear.  But sometimes, a voice, or a thought, or an insight, or a change of mood – that you wonder might be from God… 

Let us look more closely at what Peter, John and James heard.  "Listen to him!" What had he said? There were two things, in fact, that he had said - just beforehand.  The first: "The Son of Man is destined to suffer grievously, to be rejected and to be put to death; and to be raised up on the third day".  Immediately following that, he had added: "If any of you want to be followers of mine, renounce yourselves, and take up your cross everyday, and follow me."

Let us listen again to the voice.  "This is my Son, the Chosen One".  The disciples had just witnessed a symbolic enactment of that: "As he prayed, the aspect of his face changed and his clothing became brilliant as lightning."

The Jesus they had known so far, whom they had knocked around with, the Jesus who would soon be rejected, humiliated and helplessly crucified was in fact God's Son – the human revelation of God, deeply loved, not abandoned, by his Father, sent to realise his Father's dream of a saved world – what Jesus called the Kingdom of God.  What on earth does that say about Jesus, about God, about God's Kingdom … about you, and me?

And let us keep listening! "If any of you want to be followers of mine, well, renounce yourselves, take up your cross every day and follow me".  What shape does your everyday cross take? It is simply what happens every day, sometimes not much more than being in the dark, uncertain, stumbling about, fumbling around.  How might we "take it up" - choose to take it up - and "follow him"?

A lot of us here tonight [and apologies to the others] can feel "beyond it", no longer where the action is, increasingly irrelevant.  Our energy reserves are not what they used to be; opportunities are fewer; our circle of friends reducing.  Yet, there is something unique and precious that we can bring to our world and to our Church.

We have experienced a lot of life.  Our wisdom has grown.  [Not many might want to hear it, but it is there for the asking.]  We have known our knocks, but we are still on our feet.  And we can still keep smiling - [in a world that doesn't smile much] - and mean it!.  We have learnt patience, and, deep within us, patience has become established as serenity.  There is much more.  Alone, none of us might bring much, but together it builds to a critical mass.  Together, we create a mood, a climate, that can nourish and support and welcome others.

They tell me that in some thoroughbred horse studs, they have a donkey in every paddock.  Apparently, when storms break and lightning flashes, the highly-strung thoroughbreds panic and gallop around wildly and dangerously.  The donkey just stays in the middle of the paddock, standing quietly, perhaps chewing the grass.  Before long, the terrified horses begin to circle around the donkey, slow down and grow calm.

Perhaps "listening to him" and "bearing our cross" may mean standing in our paddock, being simply who we are, as we are, deepening peace in our little corner of life.