18th Sunday Year C

See Commentary on Luke 12:13-21


Homily 1 - 2007

Whenever people ask questions in the gospels, they seem to ask the wrong questions, and get an answer they didn’t expect. That was, obviously, the case in today’s reading. Perhaps, there is a lesson for us there.

Today we are invited to ask God for more vocations to the priesthood. I feel uneasy.

Jesus doesn’t suggest anywhere that the Church needs more priests. His concern was more lay apostles. Go, make disciples of all the nations. Pray the Lord of the harvest to send labourers into the harvest. He was concerned about the need for more lay-apostles because of the crying needs of people generally. The harvest is great.. needs seem infinite.

God’s first love is people – everyone – the world. We’re mixed up, vicious, violent, indifferent… hungry. We’re confused, barking up the wrong trees. We’re hurting! And God wants to help us, because God is concerned about all this, because God loves us.

His method was to send Jesus. Jesus’ method was to select some of this vast humanity, to train them, to motivate them, to enlighten them, to share with them his dream, and then, to send them out to do the same with whoever crossed their paths and looked interested – to be lay-apostles in the world of people he loves.

But the inertia of the world at large makes it all hard work. Lay apostles need on- going support, constant enlightenment, renewed encouragement, and so on. We need each other. Together we are Church. We have our sacraments to remind us who we are and what we’re for, to keep the vision and the goals clear, above all… to put us in touch with the source of it all, our creating, life-giving, redeeming, forgiving and patient God.

And to have the most important sacrament, the Eucharist, some of us need to be priests.So if we are to be able as Church to carry out our mission to the world, if we are to be kept in touch with the energy-source of it all, we need some priests among us. Inevitably, then, our prayer for labourers out there at work in the harvest involves a prayer for enough priests.

Has God fallen down on the job lately? I would suspect not. But, whenever we pray for more priests, we tell God that we want only those whom God calls also to be celibate. That narrows the goal-posts somewhat. In addition, we say we are interested in them, only if they are also prepared to be professionally trained for seven or eight years, full-time, committed for life, financially supported by us, and male.

Perhaps God may be saying: “You’re asking me for more priests. I’m asking you for more commitment to your apostolate as laity.”

What is God up to at the moment? Can we be so busy talking to God and telling God our wants, that we’re not listening to God talking to us and telling us God’s needs?

Personally, I like to leave it open-ended, not pre-empting anything.

As Jesus taught us last week: Say this when you pray: Father, may your name be held holy, your kingdom come; give us each day our daily bread, and forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive each one who is in debt to us. And do not put us to the test. That, it seems to me, covers the whole lot, and succinctly says it all.


Homily 2 - 2013

Many of us here are probably old enough to remember the Seeker’s song: We'll build a world of our own that no one else can share.  All our sorrows we'll leave far behind us there.  And I know you will find there'll be peace of mind when we live in a world of our own.  I’ve been thinking it could well be our National Anthem.  It seems to sum up the mood of the nation just now – at least, if the political number-counters are right.  “No refugee who tries to enter Australia on a leaky boat will ever be allowed to settle here permanently”.  It is as though we live in a world of our own, and are determined to keep it that way.  I can just imagine the man in today’s parable singing, I'll build a world of my own that no one else can share.  All my sorrows I'll leave far behind me there. And I know I will find there'll be peace of mind when I live in a world of my own.  And Jesus’ comment?  Fool!

Is Jesus’ story relevant in today’s world?  Of course, it doesn’t stand alone.  Remember the Gospel of a few weeks back – the parable of the Samaritan traveller, and Jesus’ question, Who was neighbour to the man in need?  Remember last Sunday’s Gospel, Lord, teach us to pray?  and Jesus’ reply, When you pray say, ‘Give us this day our daily bread’.  A lot of Christians pray that prayer every day, and around our world most of them by far don’t have enough bread for the day.  The reason they don’t have enough for the day is not because there isn’t enough, not because God wasn’t listening to them, but because some others of us who pray the prayer too are not prepared to share.  Our frantic preoccupation is to build a world of our own that no one else can share.

Why does Jesus say to the lucky landowner, You fool!?  Because the landowner believed, as so many of us seem to believe, I know you will find there'll be peace of mind when we live in a world of our own.  It doesn’t work!  You fool! 

Pope Francis made the remark recently: “It is not that we’re living in an age of changes but in a change of ages.”  It is hard to get our minds around the challenges facing us urgently.  The Western world is paranoid about security. It is a world becoming increasingly globalised, and yet a world where we are trying, on some fronts, to insulate ourselves from that world we live in.  We wish there weren’t people – traumatised people, refugees, victims of wars and famines – fleeing persecution and violence.  According to the United Nations High Commission for Refugees, there are over 15 million internationally displaced refugees and just under one million asylum seekers.  We wish there weren’t – but there are!  Will the world find peace of mind by nations increasingly trying  to insulate themselves from them, to isolate themselves?

Where do you start?  I believe that Jesus was on to something.  I feel quite challenged by his comment, You fool! – trying to build a world of your own!  I think that Jesus believed that we are who we are,  we become who we can be, not by going it alone in a world of our own, not by prioritising self-interest, family- interest  or national interest, but by engaging with people, real people; and the desperate needs of some of them may affect adversely our standard of living, our comfort zone.

Is it, after all, my standard of living, my house, my car, my neighborhood, my one-up-man-ship, that gives me peace of mind?  Or is it rather how I am getting on with my spouse, my children, my extended family?  Is it how I am getting on at work with the ones I work with?  Is it more  what I do for people than what people do for me?

What might it be that Jesus was driving at in his enigmatic phrase, making ourselves rich in the sight of God?


 Homily 3 - 2016

In the Second Reading today St Paul warned against greed, especially greed. St Luke would have agreed with him. In Luke’s Gospel, more than the others, we find a number of Jesus’ comments about greed, and particularly the dangers associated with wealth. Today’s passage is a case in point, where Jesus talks about the foolishness of a person who “stores up treasures for himself in place of making himself rich in the sight of God”. Luke was simply applying the petition we make quite regularly in the Lord’s Prayer, “Give us this day our daily bread”. Our daily bread – enough is enough.

Yet, not too many of us Christians share Luke’s concern. Pope Francis does. Everyone at Masses today will hear today’s Gospel; and my question is, Will it make any difference to anyone? We shall agree with it, but do nothing about it – as though it does not apply to us, to me. 

I think that the reason may be that we hear the Gospels moralistically, as we might hear Aesop’s fables, as lessons in how to behave. We miss the point. By and large, most people do not reason themselves into better behaviour. 

The Gospels, in fact, are about our relationship with God. Do you remember how Jesus began his preaching? “The Kingdom of God is near. Repent. And believe the Good News”. That message provides the backdrop and context for everything that follows.  Jesus asks us to “believe the Good News” that “the Kingdom of God” is close. A whole other relationship with God is here for the taking. The Good News part about that relationship experience is that God loves us – and loves us in our human imperfection. God is essentially and necessarily a God of merciful love. This God is not distant, but near – and loves close-up. In the light of that, we can, we want, to change the whole way we see and evaluate and prioritise the details of our lives. That is what “Repent” is about. When we are in touch with God’s love for us, we move beyond fear; beyond self-interest. Our love for God awakens. We hear Jesus differently. We know what he is driving at. We feel the same way. 

How do we come to realise, though, that this close-up God really does love us? How might the insight strike home? A number of life-experiences can set us up for it. Falling in love is basic. Getting married, having children is how most people start. Once people fall in love, they relate differently to the one they love, and they begin to extend their changing attitude to others. When we love, we can live with failure and imperfection, whether that of others or our own. It might pain us more, but we can handle it. We can forgive without betraying our dignity. Our thinking stops being “either/or” and makes way for “both/and”, for paradox. Other experiences can lead us in the same direction. Failure, surprisingly, is one such – sickness is another. By then reflecting on our life experiences, we come to personalise more and more our acceptance of God’s love for us.

One consequence of this growth is that what was important before because of our insecure ego becomes less so because we understand love better. Our priorities change. We don’t need to try to fill our lives by “taking things easy, eating, drinking, having a good time” – which never satisfy. When we can accept that God loves us unreservedly in all our imperfection, enough is enough. Just “give us this day our daily bread”.

Mary got there. She grew up. She had to. And Luke tells us how - “She treasured” her life experiences “and pondered them in her heart.” If she had been present during today’s Gospel incident, she would have known what Jesus was talking about, and would have shared his concern.


 Homily 4 - 2019

You may remember last week’s Gospel where we had Luke’s version of the Lord’s Prayer: “Father, may your name be held holy, your kingdom come, give us each day our daily bread… and so on” We often use it, or Matthew’s longer version, as a prayer that we all know and so can recite together. But the disciples had asked Jesus to “teach us to pray”. Simply to recite the prayer only requires a fairly average memory. To “pray” it apparently takes something more, something that Jesus needs to “teach” us. I think it takes a whole lifetime to learn it well, that is, to understand its implications and to mean it.

Take the thought, “give us each day our daily bread”. “Bread”, I suppose, is to be understood metaphorically and so can mean, “give us each day ‘whatever we need’ for the day”. What do we need ‘for the day’? Whatever about millions of people elsewhere in our world, we in the West belong to an economy where probably no one would be satisfied simply having enough ‘for the day’. Well, would we be satisfied with simply having ‘enough’ – full stop? Is that what Jesus is prepared to teach us – to be satisfied with enough? And if it might be, how might we learn to mean it? That is what I think takes a lifetime; and the wiser we become, the more we understand what in practice Jesus is suggesting. Perhaps even “enough” comes to mean progressively less and less than we imagined. I think that, also with time, we can come to mean our request with greater and greater conviction.

Why on earth might Jesus be suggesting that we go down that path? There seems little doubt that that is what today’s Gospel passage seems to be on about. Is Jesus just out to test us by perversely asking something difficult of us? Hardly. In fact, Jesus suggests that we wind up the prayer by asking God, “Do not put us to the test”. Neither Jesus nor God is on about testing anyone. I think Jesus is hoping that we come eventually to ask for simply “enough” and to mean it because, counter-intuitively, it is the way to genuine human maturity and true inner peace. It might be worth giving it a try, and seeing what happens.

How might we start to be content with “enough”? One way may be to begin to appreciate more what we already have, to learn to say “thank you” to God, honestly; and to say it more and more frequently for more of the things we already have and enjoy. Pope Francis suggested a couple of years ago, that we cultivate the habit of saying grace before meals - and taking sufficient time really to mean it. Some people, at the end of each day, take time to look back and review the pleasant surprises that happened, to look for those moments when they felt the presence and the goodness of God, or when they simply saw something beautiful, even something quite ordinary that they see every day but often take totally for granted. It can be good practice to say “thank you” to someone, and mean it, when she or he does us an ordinary, routine deed of kindness. I

One consequence of this growing in gratitude is that we come eventually to see that everything is gift. Our priorities change. We don’t need to try to fill our lives by “taking things easy, eating, drinking, having a good time” – which never satisfy. When we can accept that everything is already God’s gift, waiting to be appreciated, then enough is enough. Just “give us this day our daily bread”.


Homily 5 - 2022

We call our nation the Commonwealth of Australia. When I think of it, I think that’s wonderful. The common-wealth. What is that saying? I think it picks up the fact that the wealth of the country belongs to everyone: the fertile lands, the buried minerals, the native animals, the birds, the fish in our waters.

The experience of centuries has taught us that a good way, perhaps the best way, of releasing the country’s fertility and productivity and making it available to everyone is by a system of public and of private ownership. And that same experience of centuries has also taught us that, given the risk of individuals being carried away by greed and avarice, the distribution of ownership is best overseen and regulated by the country’s government.

Yet the commonwealth remains basically the common wealth. In fact, our Christian faith believes something even more radical, more basic.

You might remember, if you have good memories, the Second Reading three weeks ago. There, the Letter to the Colossians, when speaking of the Christ, made the point that “all things were created through him and for him” — all things … through him … and for him. Today, in the same letter to the Colossians, we even heard, “There is only Christ: he is everything and he is in everything”. The Prologue to John’s Gospel would make the same point: “Through him all things came to be, not one thing had its being but through him”.

How do we know that? It is not obvious. Perhaps we need to be contemplatives — or poets. I love the observation made by a man who was both contemplative and poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins. He wrote in one of his poems, “Christ plays in ten thousand places, lovely in limbs and lovely in eyes not his, to the Father, through the features of men’s faces”. Three millennia back, some Hebrew wise men responsible for the Book of Genesis, obviously contemplatives and poets , wrote of God creating the world and everything in it. They pictured us humans, created from the pre-existing earth, placed within this created world to cultivate and tend it. It is a role more basic than ownership — a role that judges ownership. What a difference it would make if we could see ourselves and the rest of the created world in that rich and responsible light.

I have been interested to hear recently some of the discussion connected with the current rise in stress-levels within the community— apparently one effect of the more general fall-out from the quarantining associated with the present pandemic. Some would see greater access to nature as a way to lessen the stress. I relate to that. It is another reason getting me out of bed early most mornings to walk around Lake Hamilton and let myself be saturated with its ever-changing beauty. There is the wonderful added bonus that God is real and hidden in it all.

Is that what was behind [though perhaps a long way behind] Jesus’ comments to and about the rich landowner in today’s Gospel passage? It may at least have contributed some of his motivating energy.

Perhaps, though, closer to the surface of Jesus’ concerns, was his deep conviction that ownership is not just a means of enriching ourselves, but of contributing to the common-wealth and of helping to make everyone ultimately better off.