Easter Sunday

Easter Sunday – Christ is risen alleluia

It has been said that if you want to get to know someone, live with them for a while or go on holidays with them. They get to know you too! After a while all the quirks show up, and we get to know one another’s habits, from the way we dress, wash, clean up after ourselves and so on. It is always a source of amusement to hear of married couple’s experiences, and the unexpected things that tend to get under their skin about each other’s behaviour. One couple I know soon found themselves annoyed with how they squeezed the tube of toothpaste – one squeezed the tube in the middle to the annoyance of the other who felt it should be squeezed evenly and uniformly form the end! This I have heard called ‘weatherproofing’ – some call it ‘nagging’!

Another couple I know spoke of the annoyance of the wife - of how, in this case, the husband scraped excess unused butter from his knife back on the side of the butter dish!

It is the everyday things, the seemingly small things that grate, not the major crises that one would expect to challenge the relationship! One does not have to be married though to experience the petty annoyances that aggravate. Think of the things that our mothers used to drill in to us, hanging up our coats, bringing our dishes to the sink, doing our homework, going to bed, making our bed, and so on.
I labour the point because there is an extremely important detail, a clue, as it were, to the disciples’ final realisation that Jesus would – and did – rise from the dead. The disciples Peter and John, two of the three closest disciples to Jesus, are the first of the Apostles to see the empty tomb, undisturbed. What do they see that convinces them that Jesus had truly risen? The way his clothes were left after Him!
What do we read?

So Peter set out with the other disciple to go to the tomb. They ran together, but the other disciple, running faster than Peter, reached the tomb first; he bent down and saw the linen cloths lying on the ground, but did not go in. Simon Peter who was following now came up, went right into the tomb, saw the linen cloths on the ground, and also the cloth that had been over his head; this was not with the linen cloths but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple who had reached the tomb first also went in; he saw and he believed. Till this moment they had failed to understand the teaching of scripture, that he must rise from the dead.

The rolling up of the head cloth by itself is the ‘giveaway’. Jesus tidied up after Himself as He did in life in the three years that the disciples had got to know him.

So now, in the minds of the disciples, Jesus ‘pulls it off’ as it were. The trademark astonishment of the disciples, in this His greatest miracle, their failure to understand, now gives way to complete realisation –and most importantly faith, faith in who Jesus is.

The ultimate teaching today is that there is resurrection for all of our dead and for ourselves. The key to eternal life for us too is faith in the Risen Lord. As for our beloved dead are with God, and God is very near.

Good Friday homily 2012

Good Friday homily 2012 - as seen and heard on RTE

Dear friends

Greetings to all of you from St Colman’s Cathedral, Cobh this Good Friday.

We have just listened to the Passion of our Lord according to St John. Now, at this 3.00 hour, we are at the heart of the Passion of Holy week. Shortly we will be venerating the Cross, the centre-piece of our Christian faith and the sign and symbol of this, the darkest of days.

Before we do so, I invite you to pause before the cross. If you have a crucifix before you at home or wherever you are at the moment, let us reflect for a few moments before it. There is one aspect of every Crucifix that is at once obvious and yet easily overlooked – and that is – Christ hangs alone.

Christ, as we heard just now, betrayed by Judas, abandoned by his followers, delivered by the chief priests and the elders, and handed over by Pilate to be crucified, now hangs alone amid much betrayal and cowardice. Jesus is all alone in intense pain, about to die.

What does this aloneness of Christ mean to us?

How often have we felt alone – perhaps at home, in a sick bed, in a hospital ward or a nursing home? At such times, with more time on our hands than we would care to wish for to reflect on our lives have we felt great isolation, fear and pain, with longing for someone to listen, or to keep silent company with us? How often we might feel let down by others, have felt pity for ourselves that no-one has come to visit us, that there is no-one who, we feel, really cares?

We do not have to be sick to feel alone. Loneliness, a sense of being neglected, forgotten, misunderstood, wondering if anyone could even be bothered to understand - these are often the dark thoughts and moods that surface when we are left for a prolonged period on our own in pain or sorrow.

Whatever form it takes, the Cross is the great rude awakening. The Cross introduces, or re-introduces you and me to the world of suffering to, what CS Lewis called, ‘the world of others’. I may, by way of example, be rudely awakened and shocked when I hear of a diagnosis of an illness, be it mine or that of someone dear to me.
The Cross often catches us unawares, and comes in many guises in your life and mine. At times, when reminded of the pain and suffering of others, we feel a sense of shame that we could be so caught up in ourselves, that we could be blind for so long to the plight of so many in our world. Taken up with our own agenda, the Cross seems to be an unwelcome intrusion into our cosy world as we experience the loss of the three things we all hold dear, namely our convenience, our comfort and our control, those temporary supports that at some point or other we all have to let go.
Some crosses in life are unavoidable. We can be reminded at a funeral of our impending mortality – and none of us are comfortable with that reminder.

But as we ponder today the cross of Jesus, it is not that we are celebrating an instrument of torture or pain. We are commemorating Christ’s suffering, his intense pain at all levels of His being – His prolonged mental, physical, emotional and above all spiritual anguish – endured out of love for our sakes. Nor are we trying to explain away suffering today. Rather, suffering is seen in all its naked awfulness on the Cross.

We are identifying today with the Cross, because Christ in His wisdom and love, chose the path of suffering and in doing so, identifies Himself with US in our pain, in our sense of being forsaken, in our thirst for others’ love. This is a great mystery.

Above all, what we are saying today is that WITH Christ there IS a reason to carry on. There is meaning, though hidden from our sight.

We all meet people with incredible heart-rending suffering. In the course of my ministry, in their suffering people have said to me: ‘Father, I never knew it could hurt so much.’ Others have confided to me, in their weariness: ‘Father, will it ever end?’ ‘Is there no end’, they ask, ‘to the pain of bereavement, to prolonged depression, of anxiety, of seemingly endless meaninglessness?’ More have asked amidst the scandals in recent times: ‘is there no end to this feeling of a sense of betrayal in the Church?’

The crucifix is BOTH Christ and the Cross – as Christians we come to the realisation, sooner or later, that we cannot have one without the other – Christ without the cross, the cross without Christ.

Jesus said: ‘if anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself, take up his cross every day and follow Me.’ To be a Christian is, by definition then, to suffer, but not needlessly. As Christ and the Cross go hand in hand, then likewise to suffer without Christ present in the midst of great pain means that we suffer terribly alone and in misery. As one holy man, by the name of Saint Braulio, put it, ‘everything that happens in our lives without Christ is mere emptiness’. It is worth repeating: ‘everything that happens in our lives without Christ is mere emptiness.’

Therefore, it follows that with Christ, everything that happens has meaning.
There is something more. We are not meant to suffer alone.

Many of us today on Good Friday will also pray the Stations of the Cross. There we remember in particular those who accompanied Christ, even though they could not take the Cross away from Him. Let us be Simon of Cyrene to one another, bearing one another’s burdens; let us try to be like Veronica wiping away one another’s tears. Let us also practice the tender compassion of Mary and the faithful few by our silent presence to Christ in those who suffer in our midst.

Today therefore, throughout the Christian world we are following Christ to Calvary, but we are also acknowledging moments too in our lives when all is dark and bare and meaningless.

But be assured, viewers and listeners to this broadcast, of our prayers for you today here in Cobh. You are not alone.

Later this year we will be hosting the International Eucharistic Congress in June. The theme of the congress is Communion with Christ, Communion with one another. We are the Body of Christ –we belong to one another. We are all in this together. We are the one Body of Christ.

Finally, as we pause at the cross today, we know that the Cross is not the end. The light of Easter beckons ever so dimly in the distance. We are people of hope in the resurrection - that all pain comes to an end.

As Julian of Norwich put it: ‘all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.’

Holy Thursday

We have all used the expression ‘famous last words’ and indeed may be familiar as with the famous last words or epitaphs on a headstone of a famous historical figure.
But more importantly, ‘last words’ apply to death. What is your or my experience of death and separation?

If you have been by the bedside of someone you care about as they lie dying in the last weeks and days of a terminal illness, you may recall and treasure their last words, your last conversation with them. They are charged with meaning and emotion. There is a strange privileged bond when you are specifically addressed by them with others present. They ask for you, and you draw nearer so that they can see you and hear you. Later, after their passing, you pause to remember those intimate moments you had alone with them or with others.

We treasure therefore in a particular way the last words of Jesus, addressed to the Father and to those around Him at the Last Supper and at Gethsemane tonight. It is said that people die as they live – and Jesus’ last words reflect the continual intimacy He had with His Father as well as His continuous selflessness towards others. Jesus therefore died as He lives, ever giving of Himself.

Tonight we are caught up in the drama of the last hours of ‘normality’ of Jesus, when He is in control. We are at once bystanders and participants in Holy week.
How often we have re-lived, or re-played in our minds, in slow motion, the last weeks, days or hours with a loved one, a family member a dear friend. All we seem to have left now are the memories. At times, after they have died, we have the strange sensation of their lingering presence, at least in the immediate aftermath. The emotional impact - the laughter, the tears, the sorrow and pain, the process and stages of mourning, the anger, the depression, the guilt of self-pity all take their course.

The actions and words of Jesus, therefore, all find resonance in our lives and experiences.

Holy Thursday is all about the last journey together – Jesus has said;‘where I am going you cannot come’ and we react ‘must you leave me all alone’?

The last meal together - the last time He touched me -the last time we sang or prayed or spoke together - the last time I saw Him – are the experiences felt by His followers during His Passion and death.

All of this forms the mood of the Church tonight as we gather for the Mass of the Lord’s Supper and as the dark clouds of impending doom gather over Jesus in His last free hours. They also relate to our own experiences of parting with those we love.

The words of Jesus; ‘I will not be with you much longer’ correspond to a diagnosis of a terminal illness, the prognosis of how much time do I have, months, weeks, days, even hours. We brace ourselves for the inevitable, though we are never ready for the impact of death and final separation no matter how much time we have to prepare for the awful blow.

‘Do this in memory of me’ – if someone has ever said to you ‘after I’m gone, I want you to do something for me, it’s important, you reply: ‘anything’. Jesus’ parting wishes to His disciples are three-fold:

(1) The washing of the feet –to go and to love and serve one another in humility.

(2) The celebration of the Last Supper - which is the first Mass and the inauguration of the priesthood with the words: ‘Take and eat, this is my body, drink, this is my blood’, and ‘do this in memory of me.’

(3) while He is gone, but He has left us a parting gift – that of His Real Presence in the Blessed Sacrament which we honour particularly with the solemn procession to the altar of repose and in silent adoration as we ‘keep watch’ – his last favour to his most intimate disciples – ‘can you not keep watch one hour with me?’ We end tonight therefore with a vigil, as we see Jesus struggle in the mystery of his humanity and divinity – as He struggles to surrender to His Father’s will.
We have kept vigil with those we love, by day and night, and now Jesus asks us to do the same.

There is silence; there are no words we can say at such a time. Jesus’ hour has come, the hour of darkness and suffering, of surrendering Himself to death for our sakes. Let us honour Him, let us adore Him, let us return love for the love He has shown us. After all, all He wants from any one of us, is something we can each uniquely give, that is our love.

Palm Sunday

Passion Sunday

The drama of the Passion story, with parts and voices and narrative is re-told in our churches today. It is the Passion - only – no resurrection account is retold just yet.

Perhaps the exchange between Jesus and those who protest his anointing for death is an interpretative key. The stand- off of the Pharisees and the leading Jews that we have read in recent days at Mass now ends with the betrayal by Judas and Jesus’ handover to the Sanhedrin.

Jesus’ own body is treated with reverence only at the beginning and end of the account. The gentleness and tenderness in which he is held in regard by the faithful few is in stark contrast to the noise and blows that are in the middle
Throughout the Passion he is abandoned, alone, betrayed, interrogated, accused, ‘dealt with harshly’ (Isaiah) rained on with blows, scourged, mocked, stripped and crucified by the mob. The words of Jesus become fewer as the narrative proceeds. ‘Harshly dealt with, he bore it humbly, like a dumb lamb before its shearers.’

Shakespeare famously said:
‘All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances..’

We stand in Church today at Mass and read out our assigned parts – that of Jesus, or the Narrator, the Crowd, the Others. Why? Because all of us sinners have played our part and continue to so one way or another, as one of the ‘good guys’ or ‘bad guys’.
We can list out the good: the compassionate woman who anointed him, the disciples, most of them women who took care of his body, Nicodemus.

The bad: Judas, Pilate, the priests and elders, the Romans, the thieves, the people who rained down blows, those who carried out the mockery and scourging, the wavering uncertain commitment of the disciples, those who watched with disdain as Jesus lay dying.

If ‘All the world's a stage’, how then is the Passion being continually played out in today’s stage of our world and our Church? How is Christ’s Body the Church, being treated?

‘The poor you will always have with you’ at the beginning of the Gospel are the other Christs, or corresponds to the presence of Christ anew in those in our world - the downtrodden who experience injustices - isolation, mockery, are stripped of their rights, condemned, persecuted, pass by on our streets ignored, and die by the whim of the mob of popular opinion.

Who are the poor today in my own life? Where is Jesus being treated unjustly today in the person of my neighbour by me personally, because ‘whatsoever you do to the least of my brethren that you do unto me?’

We think of the poor; the persecuted Christians; those rounded on by the mob, subject to media ridicule, even at times certain members of Christ’s Body the Church.

What part are we playing today? Who can we identify with? Christ, the disciples, particularly the men who do not come out of today’s Passion, smelling of roses. Or the compassionate women, Simon of Cyrene, Nicodemus?

Have I, like Christ, ever experienced isolation, betrayal, mockery, condemnation?
Have I ever practised, or meted out on the other hand, isolation, betrayal, mockery, condemnation of others?

Likewise have I practised or experienced the examples of mercy?

Regarding ‘the players’, therefore, the two questions the Passion challenges you and me with are:

Which of the characters do I aspire to be?

Which of them am I, in reality, at present?

5th Sunday of Lent

Today we celebrate the 5th Sunday of Lent and in three weeks time we will celebrate Easter

As Lent draws us closer to the mysteries we celebrate in Holy week we are reminded that Jesus predicted His own death for our salvation.

'And when I am lifted up from the earth,
I shall draw all men to myself.'
By these words he indicated the kind of death he would die.

Jesus predicts His death – and by His cross and resurrection we are set free.

When the Son of man is lifted up He will draw all men to himself.

THIS DECLARATION BY JESUS HAS FOUR IMPLICATIONS:

(1)

In a few short weeks we will venerate the Cross on Good Friday with the words – Behold the wood of the cross on which hung the saviour of the world and we will respond Come let us worship.

The cross in those times was a symbol of oppression, of punishment, of torture and an agonising death. But it has become for all Christians a sign of hope and victory.


When the Son of man is lifted up He will draw all men to himself.
(2)

Jesus is truly risen from the dead. He has been lifted up from the earth, the tomb. Jesus promised Martha that ‘anyone who believes in me, even though he dies, yet shall he live. I am the resurrection and the life. Do you believe this?’
Christ conquered death by rising from the dead. He promises each of us in our turn a resurrection. This world and all it contains, as good and as wholesome as much of it can be, is passing away. We are destined to eternal life, to be 'raised with Him on the last day’. St Paul tells us: 'if we have died with him, we shall also rise with him.’ But we must not only die physically, we must continually die to sin. Therefore, each time we go to confession is a mini-resurrection from the mire of sin to walk once more a life in the Spirit and as a child of the light.

When the Son of man is lifted up He will draw all men to himself.
(3)

The paschal mystery is completed with Jesus' ascension to His Father. Jesus tells his disciples at the Last Supper: 'I am going away, where I am going you cannot come. But I am going away to prepare a place for you. There are many rooms in my Father’s house. If there were not I should have told you. When I return I shall come to take you with me, so that where I am, you will be too. You do not the way to the place where I am going.’Our eternal home is awaiting us.

When the Son of man is lifted up He will draw all men to himself.
(4)

What follows is perhaps the most important immediate implication of this declaration of Jesus. It applies to the Mass. At the consecration, we believe that the simple elements of bread and wine are changed, utterly, into the Body, Blood and Soul and Divinity of Christ. When the priest raises the Host and Chalice – at the consecration, at the Through Him with Him and in Him, and at the Behold the Lamb of God, the ‘Son is Man is [once more] being lifted up and drawing all men to Himself.

But at the consecration –something mysterious and marvellous is happening. The priest says: this is my body...this is my blood.’ It is not MY body, it is Christ’s! It is not MY blood, it is Christ’s! So why do I, a priest, say MY Body... My Blood? Because Christ is, as it were, borrowing my voice, using my lips to speak the words about Himself. What is more, we believe that we are at Calvary and the Last Supper all at once, this is Church teaching. The curtain of time parts and we are back 2000 years at Calvary and the Upper Room where Christ says ‘Do this in memory of me’. We are there, or Calvary is here. It is not repeated, it is RE-presented. That is why we say: ‘the mystery of faith’. Christ’s Body and Blood are admittedly, under the appearance of bread and wine, but with the eyes of faith we say, 'Behold the Lamb of God', and ‘the Body of Christ’.

This is why we are having a Eucharistic congress this year to remind us of the beauty, reality and dignity of the Eucharistic celebration.

Let us pray for greater faith in Christ’s Real Presence, so that we may be drawn to Him.

When I am lifted up I will draw all men to myself.

4th Sunday of Lent

We are God’s work of art - created in Christ Jesus to live the good life as from the beginning he meant us to live it.

We have a dignity that has been tarnished by sin. But like a work of art that has been restored these days by long, tedious, careful and painstaking means with modern technology and much loving care – great works like that of the famous Sistine chapel which has been restored to its former glory as the artist painted or designed it, with many fascinating and surprising details often coming to light as centuries of exposure to the grime and grease and stains of candle wax give way to clarity once more. We begin to see the original vision and genius of the artist, and a clearer picture of some of his first attempts that were corrected as well.
But even these priceless works of art will continue to need care with the continued exposure to light, flash photography, air and moisture and the environment. We consider the cost worth the effort for future generations to enjoy the creative genius of a Michelangelo or da Vinci.

Even if we look around the wonders of the painstaking craftsmanship of a cathedral and marvel at the idea of the design of those who planned and built the cathedral in Cobh over 40 years, we know it still costs money to provide for its upkeep.
Why is all this talk of art important?

We are God’s work of art - created in Christ Jesus to live the good life as from the beginning he meant us to live it.’ (Eph 2:10)

Original Sin tarnished and damaged the original design and blueprint and intention of our maker. We are God’s work of art. Every man, woman and child has a dignity, value and worth in God’s eyes from the very mere fact of our existence. Our personal sins do more damage, which also must be reversed.

The passion and the cross and resurrection are as it were God’s great restoration project of all humanity! But God has to work on us individually, every generation – every individual here - and we must be open to the process of being cleaned, cleansed and restored.

Few of us look in the mirror with complete satisfaction at our appearance, especially first thing in the morning, we have remedies and formulas at the ready to beautify ourselves or hide blemishes. But often it takes a second opinion to see an unbuttoned collar or shirt, a zip that needs fastening, a stain that must be removed, a wrinkle that must be ironed, asking ‘how do I look?’

Christ is the great restorer of our hearts and souls - and cares for our inner (not outer) appearance by His Body and Blood which He laid down for us. We are washed clean of original sin, chiselled and perfected to our former glory by ongoing restoration work of many years of grace and patient prayer penance and almsgiving and charity. In a particular way in Lent we undergo an annual cleaning, perfecting and examination and by confession and prayer and penance we are restored.

Ultimately each Lent works to help us to last forever – yes into eternity. Our lives are the great project of inner and outer renewal and restoration By Christ.

Let His work continue if it has not already begun in us! Let us be willing putty in His hands.

Let us now at last begin to live the 'good life as He meant us to live it'!

Second Sunday of Lent

The Transfiguration

Today’s Gospel and readings have to do with mountains. They are the place of wonder, of grandeur at the sight of God’s creation.

If you have ever climbed a mountain or hill, you notice that the sounds of human existence – traffic, farm machinery die away, and as you climb higher then you might hear more clearly birdsong and the bleating of sheep, the buzz of insects, the crunching of the ground beneath your feet. Then finally, at the summit silence, nothing but the wind.

Hill-walking has become a great modern occupation and interest especially among city dwellers. There is something refreshing and re-creation-al about ‘getting away’ from the sights and sounds of the city, as well as the distractions of noise in the home, and pressing concerns at work a, to a different place, a slowing down, to the constancy of the mountain and nature.

We remember there and then that we are as Fr Robert Barron said, human beings, and not human doings. We think that we are defined by what we do. So often to break the ice, a person we have just met will ask us: ‘so what do you do?’
So many people retire and found themselves wondering what to do. 5000 people in the public sector have just retired as part of the terms offered by the Croke Part agreement. I wonder how they will get on ‘not needed’ at work anymore. Sometimes retirement, or even just stopping after a busy schedule leaves us bewildered and dizzy and unsure of ourselves as to what to do next. We have so often allowed the demands of work and others define us, that we can be a disoriented when there is nothing to do. Hence the need to find that we are not to define ourselves by having, doing clutter and noise. Or else we will not know what to do with silence. We are all in such a mad tear to get things done, and for what? The house will never be tidy to our satisfaction, it is never done, the desk will always have paperwork, the children or grandchildren will always have problems, so when will we stop and take time out and accept these facts, and that so many are outside of our control.
Taking time out this Lent is also spiritually fruitful. Time apart in silence is so important.
Lord, it is wonderful for us to be here

It is good for us to be with the Lord in a place of silence to get away to listen to stop to pause.

The great events of the Bible often took place on a mountain or hill – the building of the ark, the near sacrifice of Abel, the 10 commandments, the encounters of the prophets; and in the Gospels – the sermon on the Mount, the place of the Transfiguration, the hill of Calvary – where heaven and earth meet, where God reveals Himself to us.
The mountain is the great place of encounter, but the necessary silence comes first.
To know what God wants we have to slow down, turn off noise, and listen to the silence.
There all Jesus wants is our presence. How often in life our presence alone matters, at a bedside, a visit to hospital – we remember the visit more than the conversation, at a funeral, or at happy occasions - at as wedding or christening - we thank people for coming when words matter less. You simply want the person to be there because you value their company and want to share the joy. As a priest the words I hear most often are - ‘thanks for being there’. ‘You were there when it mattered.’

What does Jesus ever ask of His disciples – but to be there?
Abide with me, remain with me, come and see, come to me all you are burdened and I will refresh you, keep watch with me.

Let us find a place of encounter – the Mount, and Mount Melleray are the places ‘apart’locally that you and can I find the Lord.
Let us learn to be still this Lent.

Let us learn to be human beings again.