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Commentary on Ephesians 3:8-12; Psalm 88; John 10:11-16

The Gospel reading from John is, appropriately, Jesus’ description of himself as the “good shepherd”. In the verses which follow, he gives the qualities of a good shepherd. The first of these is that the good shepherd does not hesitate to give his life for his sheep, as indeed Jesus himself would do.

He compares the good shepherd to someone who is hired to look after someone else’s sheep. The moment danger appears, for instance, the sight of a wolf, and the hired man runs away abandoning the sheep to be seized and scattered by the wolf. The reason is that the hired man is only doing it for the money; he has no personal interest in the sheep.

The good shepherd is very different, however. First of all, although to others they all look alike, he knows each individual sheep and the sheep know their shepherd also. Jesus knows and his known by his sheep just he knows his Father and his Father knows him.

But Jesus goes further. He is not satisfied just with the flock he already has. There are other sheep which do not belong to his fold and he wants them to hear and recognise and follow his voice. Then, there will finally be just one Shepherd and one flock. This Jesus saying in other words that he is The Way. In him, through him and with him lie Truth and Goodness.

Ambrose certainly was just such an outstanding shepherd. At the request of the people of Milan, he gave up a prominent political career to be at the service of his people as their bishop. He left his family, gave away his property (except what was needed for his immediately family), adopted a simple lifestyle and devoted all his energies to the spiritual and material well-being of his flock, especially those in need. He even extended his pastoral concerns to the highest people in the land and did not fail to bring them in line with the requirements of the Gospel.

He also worked hard to bring unity to a Church torn apart by the heresy of Arianism, a heresy which affect the very leaders of the Church. He clearly had the prayer of Jesus in mind that “there be one flock and one shepherd”.

We pray today for good bishops and priests, who are good shepherds and pastors and also that one day:

…there will be one flock, one shepherd.

The First Reading from the Letter to the Ephesians has Paul speaking of his mission to the Gentiles, those outside the Jewish faith. He speaks of the gift God has given him to minister to the people:

…to bring to the gentiles the news of the boundless riches of Christ and to make everyone see what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God, who created all things…

This gift was shared by Ambrose, who was called from the world of secular administration to serve the Church and its mission.

The real nature of that message and especially the real nature of Jesus Christ in his relationship with the Father was a prime priority for Ambrose as he dealt with the beliefs of the Arians. In the spreading and sharing of that message, he is ready to meet any challenge. Again, Ambrose was indeed a good shepherd.

Let us, too, on the one hand constantly deepen our understanding of the central message of the Christian message and, on the other, incarnate it fully into our way of living and relating with others.

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Ambrose was born in 339 at Trier, son of the Pretorian Prefect of Gaul. There is a legend that, as a small child, a swarm of bees landed on his face as he lay in his cradle and left behind a drop of honey. His father took this as a sign of Ambrose’s future eloquence and honeyed tongue.

He studied Greek literature, law and rhetoric. About 372, he was made consular prefect of Liguria and Aemilia with headquarters in Milan, then, after Rome, the second capital of Italy. Ambrose soon made a name for himself as an excellent administrator.

At this time in the Church, there were deep divisions between the Arians, who denied the divinity of Christ, and those who affirmed it. In 374, Auxentius, the Arian bishop of Milan, died, and the Arians wanted one of their own as successor. Ambrose went personally to the cathedral, where the election would be held, in order to prevent a riot. During his speech, a voice, which many claimed was that of a small child, cried out: “Ambrose for bishop!” To his embarrassment, since he was not yet a Christian, the whole assembly took up the cry. In vain did he assert his ineligibility for the office.

Yet, within one week he was baptised and ordained bishop. Under the guidance of his tutor, Simplician, Ambrose began the study of the Scriptures and the writings of Origen and Basil. He would become an influential promoter of their thought in the Western church. As bishop, he immediately adopted an ascetic lifestyle, distributed his money to the poor, gave away all of his land, only making provision for his sister and entrusting his family to his brother.

He also encouraged monasticism, and recommended the Virgin Mary as a patron and model for religious sisters. His influence on the conversion of Augustine in 386 is well known.

Ambrose is said to have quickly brought Arianism to an end in Milan. For this, he used his knowledge of Greek (then rare in the West) to access Eastern theological writers, and used this knowledge in his preaching. His speaking ability greatly impressed Augustine.

As Milan was the administrative capital of the Empire in the west, he played an important role in political issues of the day, giving both advice and admonitions to various rulers. In 377, he wrote a work, On the Faith, for the young emperor Gratian to warn him against the Arian heresy, of which his uncle Valens was protector.

When Gratian was murdered, Ambrose persuaded the new emperor, Maximus, to be satisfied with a part of the empire and leave the rest for Valentinian II. He also managed to prevent a restoration of the cult of the goddess of Victory. He refused to allow a church in Milan to be used by Arians in the court, and was once put under siege with his people in another church for the same reason.

He reminded Valentinian that the emperor was in the Church and not above or outside it. Soon afterwards, Valentinian fled for protection to Theodosius, the emperor of the East, who had defeated and killed Maximus, and in effect became the ruler of the West as well. Despite his enormous power, Ambrose did not hesitate in threatening Theodosius with excommunication following a notorious massacre in Thessalonica (in 390), when an estimated 7,000 men, women and children were slaughtered in reprisal for the killing of the Roman governor by rioters. Ambrose told Theodosius to imitate David in his repentance as he had imitated him in guilt. The emperor was readmitted to the Eucharist only after several months of penance.

Ambrose died on 4 April, 397, in his 58th year. He was succeeded as bishop of Milan by Simplician. Ambrose’s body may still be seen in the church of Santo Ambrogio in Milan, where it has been continuously venerated, along with the bodies identified in his time as being those of Saints Gervase and Protase.

Ambrose ranks with Augustine, Jerome, and Gregory the Great as one of the Latin Doctors of the Church. He succeeded as a theologian despite his training in law and his comparatively late study of Biblical and doctrinal subjects. His spiritual successor, Augustine, whose conversion was helped by Ambrose’s sermons, owes more to him than to any writer except Paul.

In art Ambrose is often shown in bishop’s vestments with the emblem of a scourge, symbolising the penance he imposed on the emperor, or else with a beehive because a swarm of bees, symbolizing his future eloquence, settled on him when he was a child.

Neither the present Ambrosian Rite nor the Ambrosian chant can be definitely traced to him, but he did teach his people to sing hymns, composed by himself. Some of these still survive in the Roman Breviary.

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Postscript:
There is an interesting story in Augustine’s Confessions about Ambrose:

“When [Ambrose] read, his eyes scanned the page and his heart sought out the meaning, but his voice was silent and his tongue was still. Anyone could approach him freely and guests were not commonly announced, so that often, when we came to visit him, we found him reading like this in silence, for he never read aloud.”

The striking point of this passage is that Augustine felt it worth mentioning that Ambrose could read silently, implying that hardly anyone else could do so at the time. It was felt that anything that was well written was intended to be read aloud in the ancient world. Ambrose surprised Augustine not by his ability to read silently, but by his habit of doing so.

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Commentary on Baruch 5:1-9; Philippians 1:4-6,8-11; Luke 3:1-6

There are many strange names in today’s Gospel. They are the names of people and places most of us have never heard of. Why does Luke mention these people and places? First of all, because he is simply following the custom of his day both for Jewish and Greek writing.

But more importantly, he is saying that the story of John the Baptist and of Jesus is really historical. This story really happened in this world at a particular time and a particular place. It is not a mere myth in the sense of a story which has meaning, but no basis in fact.

Luke is preparing us for the announcement of God coming among us as a human being. He is preparing the stage for this great drama and provides:

-the exact time this is going to happen;
-the political situation (Palestine was a colony of the Roman Empire);
-the religious situation (Annas and Caiaphas were high priests);
-the place (a small province in the eastern part of the Empire).

Any modern history of those times will corroborate the facts that Luke gives.

Not just a fable
The story about Jesus Christ which is about to unfold (and also the accompanying story of John the Baptist) is not just a tale like the many fables about the gods of Greece and Rome and Babylon.

Jesus was a real person. And this person was also a man, not a woman. (Jesus, as a historical human being, belonged to one identifiable gender and was not, as many mythical heroes were, androgynous.) He lived in a particular place and at a particular moment in history. The place can be pointed out to this day, and there are still people making it their home. The times in which he lived are well within the the bounds of recorded written history.

Jesus spoke a particular language, called Aramaic. And presumably he spoke it with the accent of the people of Galilee. He did not know English (a language which in its present form did not yet exist) and almost certainly would not have known any Latin. He probably knew Hebrew (he read the Scripture publicly in the synagogue—see Luke 4:16-17) and may have had some colloquial Greek, the lingua franca of the Eastern Mediterranean.

His face, eyes, teeth, mouth, colour of his hair and the sound of his voice (tenor or bass?) were all as distinctive and unique to him as they are to each one of us. Whether he looked anything like the traditional pictures by artists down the centuries is something we cannot be certain about, although in the Shroud of Turin he is represented as bearded and having long hair. Of course, the authenticity of the Shroud is still debated.

Nevertheless, despite being male, there is a universal quality in Jesus’ life and message which makes him relevant for peoples of all times and all places. That is what the ‘mystery’ of the Gospel is about. We should have no difficulty seeing Jesus represented as Chinese, Japanese, Filipino, Nigerian, or Jamaican. In Greek, the Creed does not say that the Son of God was made a man (vir, male), but homo, a human being, and inclusive of all genders and ethnic origins.

John the Baptist
Today’s Gospel, however, speaks of John the Baptist. He—an equally historical figure—was chosen to announce the coming of Jesus—the Messiah, the Christ, the Saviour King.

John calls out:

Prepare the way of the Lord;
make his paths straight.

John’s words are not only meant for the people he spoke to directly, they are equally meant for us. Luke’s Gospel tells us that John comes:

…proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins…

There are three words there which are closely linked: baptism, repentance, and forgiveness.

Baptism, of course, is not here the Sacrament of Baptism by which people are incorporated into the Christian community. But it was a sacramental or symbolic action through which people expressed by their immersion in the waters of the River Jordan their desire to have their evil past totally washed away.

This washing away would not be effected automatically or magically, but only by their repentance. In fact, the term Luke uses is “baptism of repentance” (Greek, baptisma metanoias). ‘Repentance’ is the common translation for the Greek word metanoia, which means not just sorrow for past sins, but a total and radical change of outlook in our relationship with God and other people—a genuine renewal and conversion of heart.

This metanoia or conversion in turn will bring about the forgiveness of sin. The word here for forgiveness is aphesis (Greek for a release, a letting go)—a liberation from the chains of sin and evil. Forgiveness is seen as the dropping off of heavy baggage or burdens (like the space capsule dropping off its booster tanks or stages and soaring off on its own into space). Forgiveness, too, involves a total reconciliation with our God and with all those whom we have hurt or with whom we have come in conflict. It is a healing, a making whole.

Preparing a way
This was how people were to ‘prepare a way for the Lord’. This was how, as Luke says, echoing the First Reading from the prophet Baruch and quoting the words of the prophet Isaiah:

Every valley shall be filled,
and every mountain and hill shall be made low
and the crooked shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth…

This was how each one was to have the personal experience in their own heart of the saving power of God.

This is also how we too are to open ourselves for that saving power. It will come through Jesus, who will heal the sick, help the weak, forgive the sinner, give hope to the hopeless, and give life, real life, to all who open their hearts to him.

This is what we are preparing to celebrate during this Advent time. After the coming of Jesus, the world will not be the same. Today we are still under the influence of that coming. Today, more than 2,000 years later, people still ask to be baptised and come under his influence. They wish to become his disciples, to walk his way and to experience in themselves the saving power of God.

Two responses
What is all this saying to us? There are two responses on our part. Our first response, each year as the Advent season comes round and we prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus, we need once more to hear the challenging call of John the Baptist to baptism, metanoia and forgiveness.

Although our own sacramental Baptism was something which may have taken place a long time ago, as an infant or as an adult, what happened then has constantly to be renewed. We need to re-affirm our commitment to the Christian community, the Body of Christ, through which we go to God and through which our God comes to us.

We need to open ourselves to further conversion, to an ever deeper change of heart, to a deeper listening to what Jesus is asking of us: “Lord, what do you want me to do, to be?” As well, we need, because of our commitment to the Body of Christ, to find total reconciliation with God and with all those people who come into our lives.

Our second response must be a realisation that our own role is not unlike that of John the Baptist. Like him, each one of us has a mission to communicate the Spirit of Christ and his message of hope, love, freedom and peace to others—to help people fill their valleys and make their rough paths smoother. Such a word of affirmation and encouragement can work wonders. When we have a naturally cheerful disposition, we can be a real witness of Christian joy.

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Today’s feast commemorates 10 saints and 18 blesseds, all Jesuits of England or Wales, who were martyred on their native soil between 1573 and 1679, a time of fierce persecution of the Catholic Church. Two of the best known in the group are Edmund Campion and Robert Southwell (whose feast is now celebrated on 21 Feb).

Edmund Campion was born in London, England, on 24 January, 1540, the son of a bookseller. His Catholic parents later became Protestant. Campion received his early education at Christ’s Hospital. As the best of London’s scholars, he was chosen to represent them in making a laudatory oration when Queen Mary visited the city. He won a scholarship to St John’s College in Oxford University, where he became a Junior Fellow in 1557. In 1564, on graduating, he took the Oath of Supremacy (recognising the queen as head of the English Church). When Sir Thomas White, the founder of the college, was buried in 1567, it was Campion who was asked to give the Latin oration.

Two years later he formally welcomed Queen Elizabeth to the university and she was very impressed by him. He was chosen to lead a public debate of scholars in the queen’s presence. By the time the queen left the university, Campion had the patronage of the powerful William Cecil and the Earl of Leicester (tipped to be the future husband of the young Queen). He was ordained a deacon in the Church of England, and people were even speaking of him as a future Archbishop of Canterbury in the Church of England, now cut off from Rome.

Yet, the more Campion studied to be an Anglican priest, the more convinced he became that truth was with the Catholic Church. In 1569, he moved to Dublin, Ireland, in the hope of finding a less hostile environment. He helped found a university (later Trinity College) and wrote a History of Ireland, later incorporated in much altered form in Holinshed’s Chronicle (1587). But Dublin showed an anti-Catholic bias that brought him back to London.

In June 1571, he left England for Douai in Belgium. Here the recently established English College was training seminarians to work in England. He rejoined the Catholic Church and was ordained subdeacon in 1573. In the same year he went to Rome with the intention of joining the Jesuits and, within a month, was accepted. As the Jesuits had not yet an English Province, he joined the Austrian Province and went to Prague and Brno for his novitiate. After taking his first vows and being ordained priest in 1578, he remained in Prague expecting to spend the rest of his life there. He impressed people with his powers of oratory.

The situation changed radically when the Jesuit Superior General decided to set up a Jesuit mission in England. At the suggestion of Dr (later Cardinal) Allen, Edmund Campion and Robert Persons were chosen. Campion set out from Rome in 1580, visited Charles Borromeo at Milan, and successfully landed at Dover disguised as a jewel merchant.

During a short stay in London, Campion wrote his famous manifesto which came to be known as Campion’s Brag. He described his mission as one:

…of free cost to preach the Gospel, to minister the Sacraments, to instruct the simple, to reform sinners, to confute errors; in brief to cry alarm spiritual against foul vice and proud ignorance, wherewith many of my dear countrymen are abused.

Widely distributed, it became a rallying point for Catholics. Campion now kept constantly on the move in different parts of England, not staying more than one or two nights in any place preaching, hearing confessions and celebrating Mass. A book addressed to the academic world, entitled Rationes decem (“Ten Reasons”), to prove the truth of Catholicism and the falsity of Protestantism, was printed by the end of June 1581. Many of the 400 copies printed were left on the benches of Oxford’s University Church of St Mary (a church later made famous by another convert, Cardinal Newman).

In July of that year, he left London and stayed with a family in Berkshire. Unfortunately a professional priest-hunter was in the congregation pretending to be Catholic. But when the authorities came back to arrest him they could not find him.

After another search, they found Campion with two other priests in a hiding hole in the house. On 22 July, they were taken to the Tower of London. Campion’s cell was so small he could neither stand nor lie down. Even Queen Elizabeth wanted to save him, and he was summoned into her presence. In spite of great promises of high position if he defected, he declined and was returned to the Tower. A few days later he was put on the rack.

Four discussions with Anglican theologians got nowhere and it was finally decided he should be executed. As being a Catholic priest was not enough to justify the death penalty, Campion and the other priests were charged with a conspiracy against the queen by exhorting foreigners to invade the country. During their trial Campion told the court:

In condemning us you condemn all your own ancestors, all the ancient bishops and kings, all that was once the glory of England. . . posterity’s judgment is not liable to corruption as that of those who are now going to sentence us to death.

They were found guilty of high treason and condemned to be hanged, drawn and quartered. The full sentence passed upon those convicted of high treason up to 1870 was as follows:

That you be drawn on a hurdle to the place of execution where you shall be hanged by the neck and being (still) alive cut down, your privy members shall be cut off and your bowels taken out and burned before you, your head severed from your body and your body divided into four quarters to be disposed of at the King’s pleasure.

On hearing the verdict, the priests sang the Te Deum.

Campion, with Alexander Briant and Ralph Sherwin, a diocesan priest, were dragged through the streets of London. On reaching the place of execution at Tyburn, Campion’s cart was driven from under him leaving him hanging. While still alive, he was cut down, his heart and intestines removed and then his body cut up. The date was 1 December, 1581, and Campion was 41 years old.

As one commentator has said:

By his death was lost a brilliant thinker and literary stylist comparable to any in the Elizabethan age, one who might have contributed no less effectively to his cause by the spoken and written word than by heroic suffering.

He was canonised by Pope Paul VI in 1970 as one of the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales.

These martyrs are revered for their fidelity to the Catholic Church and their zeal in working for their fellow persecuted Catholics.

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Commentary on Romans 10:9-18; Matthew 4:18-22

The Gospel reading is Matthew’s account of the calling of the first four disciples. Jesus says to them:

Follow me, and I will make you fishers of people.

And they drop everything and go after him. They leave behind all their security and means of livelihood, and even their family.

They follow Jesus in complete trust, unaware of where he is going or what will happen to them. Following Jesus is a liberating experience. To be a Christian is to be free—let us never forget that.

Yet, the story is more symbolic than actual because we know that later they would return to their boats and their fishing and their family. Very early on, Peter got Jesus to cure his mother-in-law of a fever. What is most important is not just the external acts, but the inner attitude, to be able to use things freely and not to be dependent or clinging.

In John’s Gospel, it is significant that Andrew is called directly by Jesus while Peter is called by Andrew, who brings him to Jesus. It often happens that a ‘lesser’ person can be instrumental in calling someone who will do great work for God. Who, for instance, were the people that were influential turning points in the life of someone like, say, St Teresa of Calcutta (Mother Teresa)? Without these key influences, what would they have become? Who brought me to where I am now? And who have I brought to Christ?

The same idea is found in the First Reading from the Letter to the Romans. Paul emphasises the need for the Gospel to be proclaimed. People cannot believe if they have never heard; they will never hear, if there is no proclamation; and there will be no proclamation unless people are sent out.

Each one of us, through our Baptism, has received a calling to go out and bring Christ into other people’s lives. We can ask Andrew to help us in following Jesus freely and unconditionally, and in learning how to share our faith effectively with those around us.

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Andrew was the son of Jonas, the brother of Simon Peter, and a fisherman by trade. The brothers seem to have come from Bethsaida, although at the beginning of Jesus’ public life they are in Capernaum.

From John’s Gospel (John 1:40) we know that Andrew was a disciple of John the Baptist before becoming a disciple of Jesus and one of the Twelve. As a result of Andrew’s first encounter with Jesus, he came to realise that Jesus was the Messiah. He then went to tell his brother Simon, whom he brought to Jesus.

He is called in the Eastern Church Protokletos, meaning the ‘first called’, because his calling is the first mentioned in the Gospel narrative. The name ‘Andrew’ (from the Greek andreia, meaning ‘manliness’) seems to have been common among Jews from the 2nd century onward. His Aramaic name is not known.

In all the Gospel lists of the Apostles, as well as in the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 1:13), his name is listed among the first four. In John’s Gospel, he is specifically mentioned for his involvement in the feeding of the 5,000 (John 6:8-9). Also in John’s Gospel, we see him with Philip in the episode of the Greeks who wanted to see Jesus (John 12:20-26). He appears along side Peter, James and John with Jesus in Jerusalem, shortly before the Passion, when Jesus predicts the destruction of the city (Mark 13:3-4). Beyond these, there is no strictly historical record of his activities.

It is not certain where he preached the Gospel, where he died, or where he was buried. Eusebius quotes Origen as saying Andrew preached in Asia Minor and in Scythia, along the Black Sea as far as the River Volga and Kiev. Thus, he became a patron saint of Romania and Russia. He was believed to have founded the See of Byzantium (later Constantinople) in AD 38, and installed Stachys as bishop. This diocese would later develop into the great Patriarchate of Constantinople. Andrew is recognized as its patron saint.

Andrew is said to have died by crucifixion at Patras, Achaia in southern Greece. While early tradition shows him bound, not nailed, to a cross like that of Jesus, a later tradition was that he was crucified on an X-shaped cross, which came to be known as the Cross of St Andrew. This was done at his own request as he felt not worthy to be crucified on a cross like his Lord’s. His supposed relics were said to have been brought from Patras to Constantinople. This was as a counterpoint to the (more solid) claim of Rome to have the relics of Peter and Paul. He also became patron of Patras, the scene of his death.

In another tradition, after the fall of Constantinople in 1204, the Crusaders took Andrew’s body to Amalfi in Italy, and it was given by the tyrant Thomas Palaeologus to the pope in 1461. It was considered one of the most treasured relics in St Peter’s until it was returned to Patras by Pope Paul VI. It is now kept there in the Church of St Andrew in a special shrine.

Andrew’s cult in the western Church was also widespread. From the 6th century, his feast was celebrated everywhere, and there were churches dedicated to him in Italy, France and Anglo-Saxon England.

The inevitable legends also tell of his relics being brought from Constantinople by Regulus (Rule) to the Pictish king Oengus mac Fergusa (729-761) in Scotland in the 8th century. The only historical person with this name was Regulus (Riagail or Rule), an Irish monk expelled from Ireland together with Saint Columba, but his dates do not tally with the story. Regulus built a church in Fife in what is now known as St Andrews—the site of Scotland’s oldest university and the ‘holy’ shrine of golf. But, long before that, it became a centre for preaching the Gospel and later a place of pilgrimage. It was this story, which exists in several versions, which led to Andrew’ being chosen as the Principal Patron of Scotland from the 8th century.

Apart from Patras, claimed relics of Andrew are kept in the Duomo di Sant’Andrea in Amalfi, Italy, St Mary’s Cathedral in Edinburgh, Scotland and in the Church of St Andrew and St Albert in Warsaw, Poland, as well as small relics in other places.

In the oldest representations, Andrew is shown with a normal Latin cross. The X-shaped cross we now call ‘St Andrew’s Cross’ was associated with him from the 10th century and became common in the 14th. It is represented on the flag of Scotland and is also incorporated into the flag of the United Kingdom (the ‘Union Jack’). His other symbol is, naturally, a fishing net.

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Commentary on Jeremiah 33:14-16; 1 Thessalonians 3:12—4:2; Luke 21:25-28,34-36

Happy New Year to everybody! Perhaps you think I am getting confused. This is not January 1 nor is it the lunar new year or the beginning of the Muslim year. Yet it is the beginning of a new year, the beginning of another Church year.

Last week we celebrated the Feast of Christ the King and the last Sunday of the outgoing Church year. Today is the First Sunday in Advent and the beginning of a new Church year. It is also the beginning of a new cycle of prayers and Scripture readings, Cycle C. So, Happy New Year to you all!

Why are these four weeks before Christmas called ‘Advent’? The term comes from a Latin word (adventus) meaning ‘coming’ or ‘arrival’. We immediately think it refers to the coming of Jesus at Christmastime and that is correct. But it is not the whole story. In fact, we can speak of three ‘comings’ of the Lord and all are referred to in the Scripture readings today.

Three ‘comings’
The First Reading from the prophet Jeremiah refers prophetically to the coming of Jesus, our King and Saviour:

I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David, and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.

That is the coming of the Child Jesus in Bethlehem, which we anticipate and prepare for in these four weeks. That is what we may call the First Coming.

The Gospel speaks in ominous terms of the end of the world and what we refer to as the Second Coming of Jesus at the end of time:

Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory.

However, there is still a third coming which forms an important and indispensable link between the First and Second Comings. That is what is spoken about in the Second Reading. It is the welcoming of Jesus into our lives in the here and now. This is something which takes place every day. By it we both acknowledge the First Coming of Jesus in Bethlehem and prepare for the Second Coming at an unknown future date.

Why the end at the beginning?
It may seem strange to start the beginning of the Church year by speaking about the end of the world. Should we not rather be speaking about creation—or at least about the beginnings of Christianity and the moment of Incarnation?

Our life in this world is a kind of journey or pilgrimage. In the Scripture and in life generally, the beginnings and the past in one sense are not so important. These are happenings which have already taken place and there is nothing we can do to change them now. However, they have an importance in that they deeply influence what we are now—in both good and less good ways.

What is more important is that we should know where we are going and where our destination is. Why is that? Baseball immortal Yogi Berra put it rather well when he said:

“You got to be very careful if you don’t know where you’re going, because you might not get there.”

When we decide where we want to go, it will influence what we do, and it will guide our choices. If I decide I want to be an engineer or an architect, then I have to take certain steps and make certain decisions. If, on the other hand, I decide to be a monk or a hermit, then I will have to make quite different decisions and choices. I will not be looking back at where I came from, but forward to where I am going.

Facing realities
The readings of today’s Mass urge us to face the realities of life. Many people want to enjoy their life, but one of two things happens. Either they spend years of toil and energy trying to set up a situation where they can ‘enjoy’, but never actually reach their goal, or they ‘enjoy’ by actually escaping from the day to day realities through indulging in alcohol, gambling, drugs, sex, material indulgence or any combination of these. People, as the Gospel says, are coarsened:

…with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life.

Many of these cares are, if people could only realise it, of their own making.

What is our greatest enemy? Is it not having enough money? Is it people we see threatening our livelihood, rivals in work or business? No, in reality, our greatest enemies are fear and anxiety, especially about the future. Many of our choices and decisions are made because of these fears and anxiety.

Reading the Gospel, one would think we have more than enough to worry and be anxious about:

…on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.

This is not just the future—these things are happening to people right now.

Stand erect
And yet, the Gospel says the reaction of the Christian disciple should not be one of fear:

…when these things [the signs of the end times] begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.

It all depends on one’s priorities and attachments. If I am principally concerned about the value of my house, my job, my investments and such, then I have good reason indeed to be anxious when “that day” comes.

A great deal of our fear stems from our wanting to manipulate the future and the world in which we live, and realising that it is a very difficult thing to do. It is also a very unrealistic approach. It makes far more sense to come to terms with the realities which face us, and find our happiness in those realities. There are some things, obviously, that we can change—if change is necessary, then we should change them. There are many other things we cannot possibly change. The only choice is to accept them and live within the parameters they set for us. Wisdom, as they say, consists in knowing which is which. It is also a great source for peace of mind.

Living with uncertainties
When we take a bus or train we know our destination and we know, more or less, how much time we need to get there. But on the bus of life, we also need to know our real destination and not just one we dream about. Unlike riding on a bus or train, we do not know how much time we have for the journey. For some it may be very long (90 plus years). For others it may be much shorter (30, 20, 10 years or even only a few months or weeks). Actually, the length of the journey is not important although we worry about it a lot. What is important is what we do during the journey.

On a bus or train, you have people who chat, some who are studying the horse-racing or sports pages of the paper, and others apparently doing nothing or day dreaming. For many, the journey is only an unavoidable means to get to their destination and has no value in itself. Yet there are others who are fully aware of what is going on as they ride. They are aware of their surroundings and the people around them. They are aware of their surroundings, of the people around them. They may admire the beauty of a morning sky or the loveliness of trees or buildings they pass on their way. The journey and the destination are part of one reality. The going is as important as the arriving and one contributes to the other.*

Awareness
In the journey of life, today’s Mass suggests our approach should be similar. If we want to celebrate the First Coming of Jesus and prepare for his Second Coming, then the way to do it is to be aware of his coming into every moment of every day.

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*The Scripture for today tells us that on the bus of life we should:

• Be ready to get off the bus at any point, that is, be ready to meet the Lord whenever he calls us to himself, whether that be in the very near future or many years away. The important thing is: Be prepared.
• Do not be afraid, and do not worry. Fear, worry and anxiety do not solve any problems. Fear, worry and anxiety are about things which do not yet exist—and might never exist as we imagine them. As Jesuit Fr Tony de Mello used to say: “Why worry? If you worry, you will die; if you don’t worry, you will die. So why worry?”
• Improve our relations with the people around us. A good life consists not so much in the kind of work we do or how ‘successful’ we are, but how we have related with other people—with family, other relatives, friends, colleagues and total strangers.
Boo

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Commentary on Luke 21:34-36

Our final reading from Luke (and this Church year) continues the messages of warning that he has been giving during the week. The warning is not to become immersed in a life of self-centred indulgence and hedonism, nor to be overcome by many worries and anxieties. It is these two things which can dominate the lives of so many: a combination of escapism from what is difficult, and a running to activities where happiness is confused with pleasure.

“That day” is going to close in “like a trap”—quickly and without previous warning:

For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth.

Of course, for every single one of us, “that day” is the day on which we will be called individually to face our Lord and Creator.

One might ask, what do we do while we are waiting for the rest of the world to join us? Perhaps we should remember that ‘on the other side’ it is an eternal ‘now’, with no past or future. It is like going to the hub of a wheel from any part of the rim. All converge together in the same place.

So we are warned to be permanently on the watch—to pray constantly for the strength to avoid what is bad for us, and to be able to stand secure when we come face to face with the Son of Man. In some ways, the demands are very simple, although we find them difficult at times, i.e. showing our fidelity to God by a loving concern for the well-being of every other person, especially those most in need.

Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me. (Matt 25:40)

Whatever the circumstances of our life, we look forward in confidence to the ultimate victory of God, of Jesus and of the Kingdom. As has been said here more than once, the best preparation for that unpredictable moment of leaving this world is to live as fully as we can in the presence of our always-present God. Let us seek him, find him and respond to him in every single person and in every single experience of our daily lives. We pray:

O Lord, grant that all my thoughts, intentions, actions and responses may be directed solely to your love and service this day and every day. Amen

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Commentary on Daniel 7:15-27

Our last reading from the book of Daniel is an interpretation of the vision that we read yesterday. Daniel says that he is deeply troubled and alarmed by the visions he has had of the four beasts and the “human being” (also translated as ‘son of man’). So he “approached one of the attendants” for an explanation. “One of the attendants” must refer to one of the thousands of angels serving at the throne of the “Ancient One”.

Daniel then receives an explanation of what he has seen. The four beasts represent four kings who will emerge. But those who receive real power are the “holy ones of the Most High”, namely, God’s holy people. It is they who will receive true kingship, which will last forever.

Daniel then asks about the fourth beast, who is different from all the others with iron teeth and bronze claws, and who ate its victims before crushing them and trampling on their remains. In yesterday’s reading we saw that this fourth beast represented the kingdom of Macedonia with King Philip, followed by his famous son, Alexander the Great, who swept away all before him and reached as far as India with his armies.

Daniel also asks about the ten horns on the fourth beast’s head, which we saw represented the 10 kingdoms which emerged after Alexander’s death, and also about the extra horn which sprouted and displaced three of the original horns. This extra horn we saw represents the Seleucid King Antiochus IV, who wiped out his rivals on the way to power.

Daniel asks why this horn has eyes and a mouth full of arrogance and looks more impressive than its counterparts. This is the horn which is making war on the “holy ones”, in other words, the Jewish people. He is proving to be the stronger until the Ancient One comes and passes judgement in favour of the “holy ones”, when the time comes for them to assume kingship.

In response to Daniel’s questions, the angel (in the name of God) replies:

As for the fourth beast,
there shall be a fourth kingdom on earth
that shall be different from all the other kingdoms;
it shall devour the whole earth
and trample it down and break it to pieces.

Compared to the other dynasties, the short reign of Alexander was extraordinary (he died in his 30s) in conquering territories from Macedonia to Egypt, from Syria to India.

As already explained, the ten horns are the ten kingdoms which emerged (not necessarily at the same time) after the death of Alexander when the territories he conquered were divided among his leading generals. But after them, comes another, who is different from them, and who seizes power by ousting three other claimants to the throne. This, of course, is Antiochus IV Epiphanes, the scourge of the Jews, and who is the real focus of interest in all these stories in Daniel. He is the king we saw last week in the readings from Maccabees.

He shall speak words against the Most High,
shall wear out the holy ones of the Most High…

He is the one who planned to “attempt to change the ritual calendar and the law”. In other words, he tried to ban the Jewish Sabbath and feast-days and to get Jews to abandon the Law and follow the king’s hellenising policies, which they regarded as idolatrous.

And so, says the angel to Daniel:

The holy ones of the Most High…shall be given into his power for a time, two times, and half a time.

This strange expression is not as obscure as it sounds. The word ‘time’ here represents one year. Hence, when added up, we get three and a half years, which corresponds to the length of the persecution the Jews experienced under Antiochus. As ‘seven’ is a perfect number in Scripture, half of that implies great imperfection. The Book of Revelation calculates the same period as 42 months of 30 days each, totalling 1,260 days (Rev 11:2-3). However, in Revelation it is persecution in the Roman Empire which is being spoken about. In all these texts, as throughout Daniel, the figure stands for a period of distress allowed by God for a limited time after which there will be relief for the faithful.

Finally, comes the message of hope:

Then the court shall sit in judgment,
and his dominion shall be taken away,
to be consumed and totally destroyed.

This is the court mentioned yesterday over which the Ancient One presides in majesty. Then he, that is, Antiochus, will be stripped of his royal authority and reduced to nothing.

Then the:

…kingship and dominion
and the greatness of the kingdoms under the whole heaven
shall be given to the people of the holy ones of the Most High; their kingdom shall be an everlasting kingdom,
and all dominions shall serve and obey them.*

Considering that these words were written in the midst of persecution and before the successful revolt of the Maccabees, they represent a great spirit of hope and confidence in the outcome and in God’s protection. Nor were they to be disappointed. Antiochus did indeed fall.

Later Jesus will come and inaugurate the Kingdom which begins with him and will last forever. This is a Kingdom of which we, too, sincerely hope to be a part. This messianic vision was one which the author never saw or realised himself. We now have our Messiah-King in Jesus Christ. He is the “Son of Man” who now sits at the right hand of the “Ancient One”, the Father. And, as the reading predicts, we share in Christ’s kingship. Through our baptism we become, with Christ and in Christ—Priest, Prophet and King.

They are three titles which we must take seriously and which we must realise are to become active in the lives of every single Christian. Because, as has been said here more than once before, the guarantee of our future is how we perform in the present, how we respond to the call of our King. And that is the principal lesson as we arrive at this, the end of our liturgical year.

So it is on that confident note of hope and expectancy, which we know to have been fulfilled in the person of Jesus, that we come to the end of our Scripture readings for the year.
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*Parenthetically, the Aramaic version of the Book of Daniel ends here. The remainder of the book from chapter 8 to the end was written in Greek.

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Commentary on Luke 21:29-33

Today Jesus continues his admonitions about readiness for the future. The key is to watch out for the telling signs.

Just as with the fig tree (or any tree), the emerging buds of green indicate that summer is on the way. When the things Jesus has been mentioning are seen to happen, terrible as some of them seem to be, they are in fact the sign of a ‘summer’ where:

…the Kingdom of God is near.

On other occasions, Jesus had said that the Kingdom was already present, but the Kingdom can be seen in different ways. The Kingdom is present wherever the values of the gospel are being lived, but it will not be fully realised until the very end when all are gathered in Him:

Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place.

When Jesus says that “this generation” will not have passed away until all this takes place, it is not to say that Jesus’ final coming will happen in the lifetime of his hearers (as some imagined), but rather that, with his own suffering and death, the new and eternal dispensation which he inaugurates with the Kingdom will be under way. Ironically, the fulfilment of Jesus’ prophecy is set in motion by the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple. It initiates a new presence of God in the world, a presence in “spirit and in truth”. However, Jesus’ words could also mean that the Jewish people (here referred to as “this generation”) will continue to exist till the end of time, to the final coming of Jesus.

Lastly, the world in which we live will one day disappear, but the words of Jesus, words of Truth and Life, will be forever valid because they represent a vision of life and those timeless values which we understand as emanating from God, and to which every single human being is innately called.

As we come to the end of the Church year, it is a time for us to make our decision whether we want to belong to the Kingdom that Jesus is inaugurating, and not only to belong, but also to make its spread our life’s work. Then, no matter when he comes to call us, we will be ready.