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Commentary on James 4:1-10

Strong words today from James.  He speaks about the origins of the conflicts and disputes that can tear communities apart.  He attributes it to inner “cravings” (Greek, hedonon), uncontrolled desires to have our pleasures fulfilled at any cost.  Our word ‘hedonism’ comes from the term used in the Greek original. Traditional spirituality often used the word ‘passions’.

These desires can even drive us to murderous hatred (if not to murder itself).  Rampant crime and violence are among the most evident fruits of our materially affluent societies.  People are driven by never-satisfied desires to have more and more and to have it now:

…you covet something and cannot obtain it, so you engage in disputes and conflicts. [literally, ‘fight and go to war’]

‘War’ here is not the internal spiritual struggle of a Christian, and it seems to be more than just heated arguments between Christians, but rather resorting to physical violence.  Sadly, a perfect description of our affluent societies.

You do not have because you do not ask.

Whom should we be asking?  In the context of the letter it is pretty clear – God.  And when we do ask, we do not receive because we ask wrongly.  We ask simply to satisfy our own personal satisfactions and the objects of our passions.  What we ask has very little relevance to either our own real well-being or that of others.

What should we be asking for?  If our requests are directed honestly to God and his will for us, we will probably find that we are modifying our lists somewhat.  God is hardly interested in our desire to have a Tesla or that holiday on the French Riviera.

James is saying very clearly that the problem is not that God does not listen to our prayers, but that we are approaching him in a completely wrong frame of mind.  In rather blunt language he accuses his hearers of being “adulterers”.

Adulterers! [in the Greek, ‘adulteresses’ but applying to both men and women] Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God?

The imagery is of Israel as the unfaithful wife of Yahweh, a traditional image in the Old Testament (Hosea 1:2).  Jesus, too, speaks to the Pharisees as an “evil and adulterous generation” (Matt 12:39).  ‘World’ here points to those elements whose behaviour is totally opposed to God’s way.  Love of God and love of the world in this sense are incompatible:

No one can serve two masters…You cannot serve God and wealth. (Matt 6:24)

James’ hearers are unfaithful in choosing the “world” as their friend, in the sense of an environment which is in conflict with all that God stands for.

Whatever we ask of God, it should not be simply for passing satisfactions.  It should be something that is directed to the purpose and meaning of our own lives and those of others. Even when we ask for healing from sickness, what will we do with our health when it comes back?

James, quoting a Scripture text that is otherwise lost to us, says:

Does the spirit that God caused to dwell in us desire envy?

  Yes, our God is a “jealous” God in the sense that he calls for the total dedication of ourselves to him.  It has to be all or nothing:

…none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions. (Luke 14:33)

God is jealous for all of our love, not just some of it.  And we know that when we do give our all, we also receive abundantly.  It is because God has shared his Spirit with us that we want what God wants and that God answers our prayers.

In fact, there are two ways of reading the above quotation from James, depending on whether ‘spirit’ refers to our own ‘spirit’ or the ‘Spirit’ of God.  Regarding the two alternative translations, the meaning of the first is that God jealously longs for our faithfulness and our love.  In this case, the Scripture referred to may be to a passage in Exodus where we read:

You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments. (Exod 20:5-6)

‘Jealousy’ here is not a form of envy, but rather God demanding total allegiance, such as a wife or husband must have for each other.

The alternate interpretation of the quotation from James would capitalise “Spirit”, and makes Him the subject.  It is the Holy Spirit who longs jealously for our full devotion.  If this is the correct translation, it is the only clear reference to the Holy Spirit in the entire letter.

Finally in this context, James concludes with 9 short commandments of his own, each of which is so stated in Greek that it calls for immediate action in rooting out the sinful attitude of pride which has been the subject of his warnings:

If we are to avoid divisions and the violence that can ensue, we need to follow these commandments from James, and we need to develop the kind of wisdom that he that speaks about in the previous chapter of his letter (see James 3:13-18).

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Note: This commentary focuses on the Gospel passage from Matthew.

Commentary on 2 Samuel 7:4-5,12-14,16; Romans 4:13,16-18,22; Matthew 1:16,18-21,24 (or Luke 2:41-51)

The Entrance Antiphon for today’s feast summarises the result of St Joseph’s encounter with the angel Gabriel:

The Lord has put his faithful servant in charge of his household.

When we read the Gospel from Matthew today, we find that Joseph is in a most awful dilemma. The woman to whom he is betrothed is pregnant before they have come together to live as man and wife. He does not know that the conception has been the work of the Holy Spirit and certainly doesn’t know that the Father of Mary’s child is God himself.

A Jewish betrothal was a much more binding relationship than our modern engagement. The couple could already be referred to as ‘husband’ and ‘wife’, as Matthew does in his Gospel. In effect, the marriage had already begun. The betrothal could only be broken by a formal repudiation or a type of divorce.

At the same time, there were no intimate relations between the couple during this period. So one can see the terrible dilemma that Joseph was in. He was pledged to marry Mary, but it appeared—and this was the only natural conclusion he could come to—she had been unfaithful. During this time, the situation of a woman involved in adultery was a very serious matter. We know the story in John’s Gospel where a woman caught in an adulterous relationship is to be stoned to death according to the Law. Many men—perhaps we could say most any man—would have been upset, angry and totally humiliated.

Joseph sees only one possibility, to terminate the relationship. This could have been done in a very nasty way. It is the kind of thing we see regularly in our media. But Joseph, we are told, was a “righteous” (or ‘just’) man. In effect, this meant that he was zealous in observing the Law. But in this context it seems to have a deeper meaning, namely, that he was a very good man, a caring and sensitive man. At the same time, he does not want to go through the fiction of being regarded as the father of a child he did not conceive. He decides to go through with the termination of the relationship in as quiet a manner as possible, not exposing Mary to a public trial and stoning:

Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to divorce her quietly.

Another explanation that has been given is that he was not willing to go through with the marriage out of reverence for the mystery of Mary’s motherhood, which he does not fully understand.

In either case, he needs to be persuaded by a message from God that, in spite of appearances, he is to take Mary as his wife, that is, to go through a full marriage ceremony with her. He is further told that the Father of the child is God himself, and he is instructed to name the child Jesus:

…for he [Jesus] will save his people from their sins.

The name ‘Jesus’, in fact, means ‘Yahweh saves’.

There is no doubt that Joseph fully deserves the title ‘righteous’. Someone might find him to be rather passive and naïve in such a situation, but events were to prove his restraint fully justified. We might look to him as an example when we are tempted to jump in with both feet in accusing people when the evidence seems very strong. But we know from experience that quite often we are wrong. And in being wrong we have often been unjust, cruel and vindictive. And, even when we are right, vindictive revenge or using the full weight of the law is hardly the best way to solve a failed relationship or even a betrayal. When we take revenge, our ‘enemy’ may suffer, but very often so do we.

The other readings in today’s Mass are also linked with Joseph. The First Reading is taken from a prophetic statement made by the prophet Nathan to King David. God promises that David’s dynasty will succeed unlike that of his predecessor Saul:

I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come forth from your body, and I will establish his kingdom.

These words are spoken directly about David’s son, Solomon.

Nathan continues, speaking in God’s name:

I will be a father to him, and he shall be a son to me.

While Nathan’s prophecy speaks of Solomon, it is seen also as God speaking of Jesus. Jesus is a descendant of David through Joseph, who belonged to David’s line. The sentence, then, has a double meaning: God and Joseph will be father to the newborn child. And, of course, through Jesus, the promise that David’s dynasty will last forever finds fulfilment. The promise of an everlasting dynasty is a theme of many later prophecies, and this promise generated the hope of a Messiah who would deliver Israel.

The Second Reading from the Letter to the Romans is from a chapter which speaks of Abraham. The parallels with Joseph are again very strong. In this case, Paul’s emphasis is on Abraham’s faith. Abraham and his wife, Sarah, already in old age, still had no legitimate son. There was a son by a slave girl, Hagar, and he was called Ishmael. Yet God had told Abraham that his descendants would be as numerous as the sands on the seashore or as the stars in the sky. Given their age, the couple could have laughed at this promise. But Abraham continued to believe and to hope:

Hoping against hope, he believed that he would become “the father of many nations,” according to what was said, “So shall your descendants be.”

Paul emphasises that Abraham was rewarded, not because of his faithful observance of an external law, but because of his absolute trust in the word and the promise of God. In other words, it was not by his actions that he put God under an obligation to respond. God is never under such an obligation. Whatever we do for God is something that is owed to him anyway, and is done by the strength which he alone gives.

What God gives us when we are in a position of total trust is a free gift—grace (Greek, charis). And that gift is open to all who believe in him and:

…not only to the adherents of the law but also to those who share the faith of Abraham…

Abraham is seen as the “father of many nations”, Jews and Gentiles alike. God’s love and grace are not confined to a certain group or class of people.

Like Abraham, we are to put our faith and trust in the same God:

…who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.

Abraham and Sarah were, for all intents and purposes, ‘dead’ as far as child-bearing was concerned. Yet God brought new life to them by bringing into existence a son who, in the eyes of many, could not exist. Yet, still, Abraham:

Hoping against hope…believed that he would become “the father of many nations”…

These similarities with Joseph are striking. Joseph, too, was a “righteous man”, a ‘just’ man. He was a man of great faith. It required great faith to believe that the child Mary bore came from God and was not the result of a natural relationship. He was a man of great integrity, who faced the situation with a great deal of self-restraint and sensitivity to Mary. He was a man of great humility, keeping quietly to the background as the drama unfolds. Yet he played an important role as surrogate father, protecting his wife and her child. He was there at Bethlehem when the child was born. He brought mother and child into Egypt to escape the murderous threats of Herod. He looked after them in their home at Nazareth and accompanied them on their journeys to Jerusalem for the great feasts. How anxious he must have been with Mary when the boy disappeared in the big city of Jerusalem, packed with strangers for the Passover (see Luke’s Gospel for today).

In the Hebrew Testament there was another famous Joseph, the second youngest son of Jacob. He was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers and eventually became second in rank in the empire of the Pharaohs. And he, too, was the ‘go to’ guy, because when:

…all the land of Egypt was famished, the people cried to Pharaoh for bread. Pharaoh said to all the Egyptians, “Go to Joseph; what he says to you, do.” (Gen 41:55)

Let us go to St Joseph to intercede for us in our needs. He has been chosen as patron many times, including being patron of the Church and Patron Saint of the Society of Jesus.

It would be nice, too, to think that some of Jesus’ qualities came from Joseph as much as from Mary. So, on this his feast day, let us ask him to let us share in some of his outstanding virtues: in his faith, his refusal to make hasty judgements in a difficult situation, his integrity and goodness, his humility and modesty and in accepting with grace his supporting role in the Holy Family, in his care for the Church.

Let us conclude with the Opening Prayer from today’s Mass:

Father,
You entrusted our Saviour to the care of Saint Joseph.
By the help of his prayers,
may your Church continue to serve its Lord, Jesus Christ,
who lives and reigns for ever and ever. Amen

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Note: The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ—also known as Corpus Christi—is traditionally celebrated on the Thursday after Trinity Sunday. But in some countries and in some dioceses, it is celebrated on the following Sunday.

Commentary on Exodus 24:3-8; Hebrews 9:11-15; Mark 14:12-16,22-26

Today we celebrate one of the loveliest feasts of the year. Formerly, and in some places even today, this day is celebrated with a colourful procession of the Blessed Sacrament through the streets or at least through the grounds of the parish church. To do justice to today’s feast and the Scripture readings would require a lot more time and space than is available here. So, we will have to be satisfied with some general reflections.

The Mass or Eucharist is one of our most familiar Christian activities and yet it is often greatly misunderstood and its true richness not fully enjoyed or appreciated by many. A common, but terribly sad remark one hears, especially from the young, is that they find Mass ‘boring’. It has to be said that, judging from the way one sees Mass ‘celebrated’ (?) in many places, they cannot be blamed. Some older Catholics seem to expect Mass to be dull and see it is a meritorious act of self-sacrifice to be there faithfully week after week! But there are others—both priests and lay people—who find themselves being drawn more and more deeply into the mystery and meaning of the Eucharist.

Today, let us just touch on a few themes which are at the centre of the Eucharist’s meaning—those that can be found in this Mass’ three Scripture readings.

Covenant
The word “covenant” appears in all three readings. In the Hebrew (Old) Testament, God made a covenant or solemn pledge with his people on a number of occasions. He promised he would always be their God and they would be his people. The covenant was remembered and ratified by the sacrifices of animals and the pouring out of their blood. But Jesus mediated a new covenant in which there were significant differences. First, no longer was it necessary for the blood of bullocks and goats to flow. In one sacrificial act of his very self, Jesus’ own blood became the sign of the new covenant. Blood was poured out once and for all by the Lamb of God. Again, the covenant of the old dispensation was for one people (the Jews); the new covenant embraces the whole human race. These things we ought to remember as we celebrate the Eucharist.

Thanksgiving
Because of this, the Eucharist is primarily a time of thanksgiving. The very word ‘Eucharist’ comes from a Greek word (eucharistia) which means thanksgiving. How often do we really come to the Eucharist in this frame of mind? How often do we drag ourselves reluctantly to another ‘boring experience’ which, as Catholics, we are told we have to attend under pain of serious sin?

The prayers of the Eucharist, especially the central Eucharistic Prayer, remind us of the tremendous event of God coming to us in Jesus Christ, living and dying for our sake and leaving behind the gift of his community and a way of life to bring us happiness, freedom and peace.

But it is also a time to count the particular blessings that have come into our own lives—from the gift of life to the experiences that happened only yesterday or this morning.

Reconciliation
The Eucharist is also a time for reconciliation. Some have the mistaken idea that, unless they are in a state of moral perfection, they should not come to Mass or receive communion. Let’s face it, we—every single one of us—and that includes the priest on the altar, approach the Eucharist as sinners and because we are sinners. We think of the Sacrament of Reconciliation as a time to face our sinfulness, but that sacrament is primarily for those whose seriously unloving behaviour has cut them off from the Eucharistic table. Most of us most of the time are not in a terrible state but, if we are honest, we can recognise that our relationships with God and others are not anything like they should be.

The theme of reconciliation goes right through the Mass. It appears at the beginning in the penitential rite with a public profession of our sinfulness:

I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned in thought, word and deed, in what I have done [and often more seriously] in what I have failed to do…

We repeat these words so often we hardly realise we are making a public acknowledgement of our sinfulness. Let us really mean what we are saying.

As the time for communion approaches, we say the Lord’s Prayer and, among other things, ask to be:

…forgiven our sins, as we forgive those who have offended us.

And immediately afterwards and before we share in the Body and Blood of the Lord, we are asked to wish peace and reconciliation to all around us. If we cannot do this, what is the meaning of our breaking the bread of Christ’s Body together? Jesus said:

So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. (Matt 5:23-24)

Last of all, just as we are about to approach the altar, each of us acknowledges our unworthiness saying:

Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.

Bread and wine
At the heart of the Eucharist, of course, is the bread and wine. They seem paltry gifts compared to the offerings of animals and fruits that the people of the Old Testament offered. Yet, in these gifts, too, there is a deep symbolism. And this symbolism extends to the offerings both before and after their transformation into the Body and Blood of the Lord.

As the gifts are set aside during the ‘offertory’*, the priest speaks of the bread and wine as:

…gifts of the earth and the work of human hands.

Some useful time could be spent on reflecting about the origins, the process of manufacture and the means of transport and communication that brings this small piece of bread and these drops of wine into my hands.

Only God knows how many people have been involved in making this small host available to me. People of real flesh and blood, people with their own families, dreams and hopes, people of different race, colour religion, culture…all are working for me. The fact that I do not know them, nor they me, does not change things.

And, if that is true of this small, seemingly insignificant host, what of the hundreds and thousands of objects—from food to furniture—which help to support me in life and of which this host and this wine are representative signs? There is much room here for wonder and deep gratitude.

And after the consecration, the offerings and the labours of these people for me become transformed into the Body and Blood of my Lord. As I am united with him, I am united with them, too. It makes all the wars and divisions and class distinctions, all the poverty, exploitation and greed among peoples seem so obscene.

Which Body?
And what is this Body of Christ which the bread has now become? Are we talking of that body which died on the Cross? Not exactly…we are talking of the Body of Christ now, the Body of Christ which Paul speaks about in his letters. The Risen Body of which Jesus is the Head and we, his disciples, the members.

In this consecrated bread, both Jesus and we are present. “Take and eat…this is my body” is an invitation to eat that Body of Christ of which we too are members. Thus, eating means total union with one another! So when the priest or communion minister says to me “The Body of Christ”, I answer “Amen”, meaning “Yes!”, although perhaps not being fully aware that all those around me sharing in this bread are part of that Body too. We are “eating” each other! We can see now why there is no room for the person who is full of hate at this table, or for the person who does not believe what is going on.

Now we see the need for reconciliation and an external sharing of peace:

For all who eat and drink without discerning the body eat and drink judgment against themselves. (1 Cor 11:29)

To worship the Body in the host and not to respect the Body in another person is to live a lie and make a mockery of the Eucharist.

‘Receiving Communion’ is not a personal, private experience; it is primarily a sharing. Our use of small, disc-like hosts has obscured the breaking, sharing and eating from one single loaf, which again Paul speaks about, and which symbolises the one community, the one fellowship.

This is why the Eucharist, which we often approach in such a blase fashion, has really frightening implications, until we also remember that it is a sacrament not for the perfect, but for sinners. The Eucharist is therefore a measure of where a community stands. A truly living Christian community cannot have a bad Eucharist. A dead community cannot produce a living Eucharist. People who come to Mass wondering only what they are going to get, are inevitably going to be disappointed. When the Eucharist is dull and boring, it is not the Eucharist which is at fault, but we who come together to “celebrate” it. Unless we come in a spirit of mutual giving and sharing, the whole experience fragments and becomes empty, meaningless and, inevitably, boring.

Without the Eucharist, all Christian living dies and without Christian living, the Eucharist dies. The celebration of the Body and Blood of the Lord is in our own hands. It is what we make it just as, properly celebrated, it makes us.

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*Some liturgical scholars would replace the term ‘Offertory’ with ‘Preparation of the Gifts.’ As they point out, the Great Offering is that which Jesus makes of himself to the Father in the Consecration:

This is my body…This is my blood…

But the term ‘Offertory’ is here to stay for the present, and can be rightly understood as the way the congregation participates in a small way in the Great Offering of Jesus.

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Commentary on Mark 8:14-21

Yesterday we saw the blindness of the Pharisees in asking Jesus to give some sign of his authority from God.  Today we see the blindness of Jesus’ own disciples.  This, of course, is pointing to our blindness in not recognising the clear presence of God in our own lives.

The disciples are travelling across the lake in the boat.  They had forgotten to bring food with them and there was only one loaf between them all.  As they cross the lake, Jesus is talking to them saying:

Watch out—beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod.

For the Jews, yeast was a corrupting agent because it caused fermentation.  That was why at the Pasch they ate unleavened, incorrupt bread.  And Paul tells the Corinthians:

Clean out the old yeast so that you may be a new batch of dough, as you really are unleavened. (1 Cor 5:7)

Jesus is telling his disciples to avoid two opposing kinds of corruption: that of the Pharisees, which is based on narrow-minded and intolerant legalism, and that of Herod, which is based on amoral and hedonistic pleasure-seeking.

However, the disciples are not really listening to their Master.  They latch on to the word “yeast” and link it with their present obsession—not enough bread.  Their lunch is the only thing on their minds.  Jesus, of course, knows what is going on in their minds.

He scolds them:

Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes and fail to see? Do you have ears and fail to hear? And do you not remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?

They answer, “Twelve”, and Jesus says:

And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?

And they responded, “Seven”.

Then Jesus said to them:

Do you not yet understand?

Five loaves for 5,000 with 12 baskets over, seven loaves for 4,000 with seven baskets over, and they, a mere dozen people, are worried about being short of food when Jesus is with them?

Mark tends to be very hard on the disciples.  They cannot see, they cannot hear, and they fail to understand what is happening before their very eyes.  But they are learning gradually, as we shall see. 

Of course, Mark is firing his shots not just at the disciples, but at you and me.  How much faith do we have in God’s care for us?  Can we hear? Can we see?  Are we also without understanding?

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Commentary on 2 Timothy 1:1-8 or Titus 1:1-5

Note: When the Memorial to Saints Timothy and Titus falls on a weekday, the First Reading must be taken from the Memorial Readings in lieu of the First Reading for Ordinary Time.

Today there is a choice of First Readings: the first is from the Second Letter to Timothy and the other from the Letter to Titus.

These two letters are purported to come from the hand of Paul, but recent studies suggest that they are from a later hand, although they surely reflect Paul’s thoughts and feelings.

In the passage from the Letter to Timothy, Paul expresses his deep affection for Timothy, his companion on many missions, and a strong desire to see him. He thanks God for Timothy’s faith, which he owes to his Jewish mother Eunice and grandmother Lois. At the same time, he reminds Timothy of the gift he received when Paul laid his hands on him. That gift, says Paul, was not one of timidity but one of power, love and self-control, bringing with it the courage of witnessing to the Gospel even when, as in Paul’s case, it involved persecution and suffering. Like Paul, Timothy was to rely:

…on the power of God, who saved us and called us with a holy calling.

In the alternative reading from the Letter to Titus, Paul reminds his fellow missionary of the duties of an apostolic person. It is:

…to further the faith of God’s elect and their knowledge of the truth that leads to godliness…

In the case of Titus, Paul reminds him that he has been sent to Crete to set up the Christian communities in each town, appointing an elder or presbyter as a leader in each one. Titus’ role was one of episcopus or ‘overseer’, to coordinate the Christian witness of these communities, making of them a community of communities, united with Christ and with each other.

In a way that is highly relevant for Church life today, the both readings suggest the dynamic and essentially apostolic nature of Christian witness, and how it is to be exercised in a community setting.

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The commentaries written by Fr Frank Doyle SJ about feast days in Living Space are a wonderfully rich resource for us all. Sadly, Fr Doyle did not write a commentary for every feast day and unfortunately we do not have any commentary for today’s celebration.

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Robert Southwell was born at Horsham St Faith in Norfolk, England in 1561, the son of Sir Robert Southwell. Robert at first resisted the pressures to join the Church of England but later conformed. In May 1576, he enrolled in the English College at Douai, Flanders and later studied in Paris where he met the Jesuit Thomas Darbyshire. He expressed a desire to join the Society of Jesus (Jesuits) at the age of 17, but was considered too young. Then, not unlike Stanislaus Kostka, he walked all the way to Rome and was accepted in 1578. He was made Prefect of Studies at the English College in Rome and ordained priest in 1584.

He was then assigned to the mission in England and left Rome on 8 May, 1586, with Fr Henry Garnet. To avoid capture, they landed on a secluded stretch of the English coast. Southwell was assigned to work in and about London. He spent his seven years there first with the Vaux family, and then with Anne Dacres, Countess of Arundel, whose husband Sir Philip Howard was imprisoned in the Tower for his fidelity to the Catholic faith. Southwell’s ministry involved visiting prison and helping priests who had recently arrived in England. When Henry Garnet came to London, Southwell was able to visit places outside London. He worked with Garnet on a secret press that issued catechisms and religious books.

After six fruitful years, Southwell was finally betrayed. Anne Bellamy, a Catholic, had been put in prison for refusing to attend a Protestant service. There she was made pregnant by the notorious priest-hunter, Richard Topcliffe. He promised to marry her if she would cooperate in setting a trap for Southwell. Southwell was caught and arrested at Uxenden in Middlesex. Topcliffe regarded Southwell as his greatest catch. In Topcliffe’s house next to the Gatehouse Prison, Southwell was subjected to several days of extreme torture but refused to reveal the names of Catholics or priests after 13 periods of torture. Finally, he was thrown among poor prisoners in Newgate Prison. His father was allowed to visit him and was horrified at the sight of his son. He asked Queen Elizabeth to treat him as a gentleman – release him or execute him. Southwell was moved to better conditions in the Tower, but denied visitors. Here he spent two and half years, and expressed his deepest feelings in writings that were later published as St Peter’s Complaint.

He was finally brought to trial on 20 February, 1595 at Westminster Hall. He admitted being a Catholic priest, but denied the charges of plots against the queen. Found guilty of high treason by a packed jury, he was executed the very next day.

On the three-hour journey to Tyburn he was dragged through the streets. And, because the hanging noose was not properly tied, he did not die when the cart was pulled away from under him. The hangman mercifully hung on to his feet to end the agony. The he was beheaded and quartered. He died on 21 February, 1595, at 34 years of age.

The event shocked both the royal court and the country. Like his fellow-Jesuit Edmund Campion (whose feast is celebrated on 1 Dec), he had a particularly keen intelligence and sensitive personality. He was a distinguished writer both of prose and lyric poetry. His most famous works include: An Epistle of Comfort (letters addressed to Philip Howard), An Humble Supplication to Her Majestie (an exposure of the Babington Plot), Mary Magdalen’s Funeral Tears (1594), A short Rule of Good Life (published posthumously in 1598) and A Fourfold Meditation (1606). His best known poems are The Burning Babe and St. Peter’s Complaint (a long narrative of the Life of Christ). Works which feature in any serious anthology of English literature.

A portrait in crayon, based on a lost oil painting, survives at the Jesuit Stonyhurst College in Lancashire. He was canonized by Pope Paul VI in 1970 as one of the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales.

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Commentary on Philippians 2:5-11

Yesterday we saw Paul urging the Philippians to greater unity and he gave them some motivating reasons to help bring it about.  Today he gives what is the strongest motivation of all: the example shown by Jesus.

Paul begins by asking that the Philippians make their own, or assimilate into the very core of their being, the thinking patterns of Jesus himself:

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus…

Paul then goes on to explain this pattern of thinking.  It is a call, not just to model oneself on the moral behaviour of the historical Jesus, but on the entire Christ event as is depicted in the beautiful hymn that follows.  The same relationships should exist among the Philippians as they have with Jesus Christ, that is, they are to love and serve each other as they love and serve Christ.  There can be no separation of these two realities.

This comes in the form of a hymn.  It is not certain whether this was an already existing hymn which Paul borrowed or whether he composed it partially or in full himself.  Clearly, it expresses exactly what Paul wants to say.

The hymn is in a number of parts, each one highlighting a stage in the ‘mystery’ that is Christ for us:

• divine pre-existence
• the kenosis or self-emptying of the incarnation
• further kenosis in death
• glorification in resurrection and ascension
• adoration by the whole universe or cosmos
• the new title of ‘Lord’

As stated in the Jerusalem Bible:

“This hymn is concerned solely with the historical Christ in whose personality godhead and manhood are not divided; Paul nowhere divorces the humanity and divinity of Jesus, though he does distinguish his various stages of existence.”

Next Paul affirms that Christ had all the attributes of God himself and is fully God, who always was and always will be:

Christ Jesus, who, though he existed in the form of God…

Yet Jesus did not cling—hold on tenaciously—to that “equality with God” with all its status and privileges.  This does not mean that he renounced in any way his divine nature; that would be impossible.  But, in contrast to Adam who was seduced into wanting to be ‘like God’, he let go of all the honours and reverence that were his inherent right. Instead, Jesus:

…emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
assuming human likeness.

He took on the the human condition which we all share.  He became a slave (Greek, doulos) although he was Lord (Greek, kyrios).  There is probably a reference here to the Suffering Servant we read of in Isaiah (52:13—53:12), parts of which we read during the Good Friday liturgy.

Above all, Jesus lived in total submission to his Father, saying during his agony in the garden:

…yet not my will but yours be done.

In the words of John’s Gospel, “Jesus hid himself” (John 8:59). He hid his true Self by assuming human nature and:

…has been tested as we are, yet [is] without sin. (Heb 4:15)

Or, as the hymn today puts it, he assumed “human likeness”. This ‘emptying’ in Greek is kenosis, the word often used in commentaries for what Jesus did for us.

The glory which was his by nature and by right could now not be seen (except in the momentary breakthrough of the Transfiguration).  He was seen as just a man, a human being. He shared all our limitations, like us in all things except sin.

That said, we have to be careful to keep a balance in our understanding—Jesus was truly God, but he was also truly and in the fullest sense, a human being (Greek, anthropos homo) and a male human being (Greek, aner vir) at that.  Even today, one hears Christians understating Jesus’ humanity, as if it was only an external veneer.  It was a real man who suffered and died on the cross; anything less diminishes the full meaning of the Incarnation and the witness of God’s love which the Passion is.

But Jesus was not just incarnate as a human being.  Even in human terms, he further:

…emptied himself…he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross.

Here is the ultimate submission and obedience to the Father’s will: the surrender of his life.  And it is the ultimate in self-emptying.  There was hardly anything more degrading and humiliating than crucifixion.  The crucified person was a convicted criminal and put to death by a method of appalling cruelty in full view of the public. He was left hanging naked, stripped of every vestige of human dignity.  This was the degree of degradation that Jesus accepted in order to show the depth of God’s love for us sinners. (And for us, there is no shame in Jesus’ nakedness. It is a sign of his total innocence. It is a reversal of the situation of our First Parents, when, after their sin, their nakedness became a badge of shame and guilt.)

If his death on the cross had been the end, Paul says:

…then our proclamation is in vain and your faith is in vain.
(1 Cor 15:14)

But, Paul says:

Therefore God exalted him even more highly
and gave him the name
that is above every other name…

“Exalted” in the original Greek means “raised him high” through his resurrection and ascension. The Risen Jesus’ “name that is above every other name” means that he is now addressed as “Lord”—the name that belongs to him as the Son of God, sharing the very nature of his Father.  It is a name which puts him above all other created beings, including angels and archangels.

Across the whole universe:

…every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth…

Bending the knee expresses even greater submission than standing in the presence of a greater person.

And finally, the hymn says:

…every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

This is the very essence of our Christian belief: Jesus is Lord, sharing in the very nature of God.  By calling Jesus Lord, we give glory to God the Father.

This hymn is one of the crucial passages in Paul’s letters and indeed in the whole New Testament.  It goes right to the heart of what God has done for us through Jesus Christ.  As Paul states at the beginning, it expresses the very mind of Christ, and until we have fully assimilated that “mind” into our own way of seeing our lives, we are not yet fully his disciples. We, too, have to learn how to empty ourselves and surrender ourselves totally into the hands of Jesus and the Father.

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