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Commentary on Isaiah 61:1-3; Matthew 25:31-40

The Gospel reading is from Matthew. It is from the part of this Gospel which deals with the end times (chapts 24-25). In chapter 25, there are the three great parables about being prepared for the day—after we have left this world—when we have to meet the Lord and give an account of our stewardship.

The first parable is that of the 10 bridesmaids, five of them sensible and five foolish. Because the groom was long in coming, the foolish young women did not have a enough oil and, when they went to get more, the groom arrived. The sensible bridesmaids entered the marriage hall with him while the others were shut out. They hear the terrible words:

Truly I tell you, I do not know you. (Matt 25:12)

The second parable is that of the talents. Three employees are given large sums of money (a talent was a huge amount) and told to trade with them until the master returns. Two of them do very well and double their capital—their master is very pleased. The third one, afraid of the consequences if he lost his capital, did nothing with it and, when the master returned, gave it back to him intact. The master was not at all pleased, and the man is severely reprimanded. The message is clear. The gifts that God has given us are to be used for the benefit of others.

The third parable (today’s Gospel) is the scene of the Last Judgement when all will be called to account for their service of the Lord. What is most striking about this passage is that there is absolutely no mention of the kinds of things that most of us Catholics think are important. No mention of religious duties, time given to prayer, attendance at Mass, celebration of the other sacraments. Not a word about the Ten Commandments. Not a word about killing, sexual misbehaviour, or stealing. People will be punished and banished not because of the bad things they have done, but because of the good things they did not do. “But I didn’t do anything bad!” will not help as an excuse.

And the only good things mentioned are loving and caring acts directed at people who are in need. The only people mentioned are the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick and those in prison (for whatever reason). “I was hungry…I was thirsty…I was naked…I was sick…I was in prison and you did nothing to help or comfort me. Go away from me forever! I do not recognise you!”

Of course, we were warned by Jesus. What is the mark of a good Christian? Matthew’s Gospel tells us:

…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)

And from John Gospel:

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. (John 13:34-35)

It is on these that we have to examine our consciences. It is on these that we will have to answer at the end of our lives. All the other ‘religious’ things we are told to observe have no value unless they are an expression of this agape-love.

The choice of gospel today is obviously inspired by the famous gesture of Martin when, as a soldier, he cut his cloak in half and gave one part to a near naked beggar. That night in a dream Jesus appeared to him, wearing the half-cloak. What Martin had done for the beggar, he had done for Jesus himself. And it is the same for every loving act we do, especially to a person in need.

The First Reading is from Isaiah. It is a magnificent passage which reflects wonderfully the life of Martin. It begins with words used by Jesus himself at the beginning of his public life and found in Luke’s Gospel. After his baptism and experience with the devil in the desert, Jesus went to the synagogue in his home town of Nazareth and, essentially, made what we would call today his ‘mission statement’:

The spirit of the Lord God is upon me because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn…

These words are echoed in today’s Gospel passage.

Later on in the passage from Isaiah, the Lord, speaking through his prophet, says:

For I, the Lord, love justice, I hate robbery and wrongdoing… (Is 61:8)

These words, which Jesus used to describe his mission and to indicate that the prophet’s words were being fulfilled in him, are also applicable to Martin the bishop and pastor.

And at the end, the prophet himself says:

I will greatly rejoice in the Lord; my whole being shall exult in my God, for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation; he has covered me with the robe of righteousness…
(Is 61:10)

Martin, as bishop was outstanding for his love and concern for the poor, for his personal austerity of life, for his integrity and deep spirituality. He is indeed a model for every bishop, for every priest and indeed for every Christian who is aware of their responsibility to share their God-given gifts with others.

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Martin, who became one of the most popular saints in medieval Europe, was born in 316 in Savaria, Pannonia (now Szombathely, Hungary). His father was a tribune (senior officer) in the Imperial Horse Guard, a unit of the Roman army. He was stationed at Ticimum, Cisalpine Gaul (now Pavia in Italy) and it was here that Martin grew up.

Already at an early age he had a desire to become a Christian, although it was still very much a minority religion in Europe, and began receiving instruction as a catechumen. At the age of 15, as the son of a senior officer, he was expected to join the cavalry and was stationed near Ambianensium civitas (now Amiens).

It is at this period of his life that occurred the event for which he is best known and which became a favourite subject for artists. On seeing an almost naked beggar at Amiens, he cut his own cloak in two and gave one part to the beggar. This act of charity was followed that night by a dream in which Christ appeared to him wearing the part of the cloak he had given away.

The dream confirmed Martin in his Christian leanings and he was baptized at the age of 18. He served in the military for another two years until, just before a battle with the Gauls at Worms in 336, Martin determined that his faith was incompatible with war. He was quoted as saying:

I am a soldier of Christ. I cannot fight.

He was charged with cowardice and jailed, but in response to the charge, volunteered to go unarmed to the front line. Before his commanders could challenge his offer, the enemy sued for peace. There was no battle and Martin was discharged.

After this, Martin became a disciple of Hilary at Poitiers, was baptized, and, after Hilary had been sent into exile, travelled to Pannonia, Milan, and IlIyricum. When Hilary returned to Poitiers in 360, Martin rejoined him and became a solitary hermit in Liguge, on a piece of land given to him by Hilary. It was here that some disciples joined him and formed what was the first monastery in Gaul. Martin remained a pioneer of the monastic movement until he was made bishop of Tours in 372 by the popular demand of the clergy and the people.

Even as a bishop, he continued to lead the very austere life of a monk. At first, he lived in a cell near his cathedral church, but later in Marmoutier, a monastery of 80 monks he founded facing Tours from the opposite bank of the Loire River. He also established other monasteries which he saw as an effective means for one of his objectives, the conversion of rural areas. Prior to this, Christianity had been largely confined to urban areas (the Latin word paganus means a ‘rural person’). Martin demolished temples built to idols, cut down trees believed to be sacred, and visited the more remote areas of his diocese on foot, by donkey, or by boat. During his 25 years as bishop, he earned an increasing reputation in miraculously healing lepers and even of bringing a dead man back to life.

He was also know for his involvement in doctrinal disputes. His main targets were the followers of Priscillian, a Gnostic sect. Priscillian was condemned by the Synod of Bordeaux in 384, having been already condemned by Pope Damasus and St Ambrose. The sect appealed to the Emperor Maximus, but in the end they were convicted of sorcery, then a capital offence, by the emperor’s court at Trier in 386.

But Martin pleaded in Priscillian’s favour on the grounds that heretical teaching was a matter to be handled by the Church, and not by a secular court. Martin’s stand was not supported by many of his contemporaries. When Priscillian was put to death, the first time a person had been executed for heresy, his sect actually increased in numbers in Spain. It would continue to survive until about the 6th century.

As Martin he grew older and death was approaching, his people asked him not to leave them. As a response to their plea he prayed:

Lord, if your people still need me, I do not refuse the work; let your will be done.

He died at the age of 81 on 8 November, 397 at Candes, and was buried at Tours on 11 November.

His cult spread rapidly not only because of his reputation as a miracle-worker in life and after death, but also because of the Life of St Martin written by his friend Sulpicius Severus. This became one of the most popular books of the Middle Ages, comparable in influence with Athanasius’ Life of Antony, as a model for medieval hagiographers.

His cult in France is reflected in the 500 villages and 4,000 parish churches which are dedicated to him. His tomb became the principal place of pilgrimage for the Franks, and was a famous stopping-point for pilgrims on the road to Santiago de Compostela.

Outside of Gaul, churches were soon consecrated in his honour at Rome, Ravenna, and later Chioggia. Spain, Germany, and the Netherlands all revered him widely. In Britain, from early times, he was a patron of churches—the most ancient being Canterbury (under Augustine) and Whithorn (under Ninian). By 1800, 173 churches in Britain bore his name.

From the late 4th century to the late Middle Ages, much of Western Europe, including Britain, engaged in a period of fasting beginning on the day after St Martin’s Day, November 11. This fast period lasted 40 days, and was, therefore, called Quadragesima Sancti Martini (the forty days of St Martin). At St Martin’s eve and on the feast day, people ate and drank heartily for the last time before beginning the fast. This fasting time would later be called Advent by the Church.

In art, the most popular scene is that of dividing his cloak to clothe a beggar, but there are also innumerable other representations in illuminated books and in stained glass at Tours, Chartres, Beauvais, and Bourges (in France) and York, Chalgrave and Nassington (in England). His emblems are either a globe of fire over his head seen while he celebrated Mass, or (from the 15th century) a goose, whose migration often coincides with his feast. ‘St Martin’s Summer’ is a spell of fine weather which sometimes occurs around his feast.

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Commentary on Wisdom 6:1-11

Today we enter a part of the book which deals with Solomon and his quest for wisdom. As mentioned, the author, as a literary device (quite common in his day), presents his work as that of King Solomon, the son of David, who had died centuries previously.

Unlike the beginning of Monday’s reading where the author seemed to be addressing kings and rulers, but was in fact speaking to his fellow-Jews in Alexandria, today the words are addressed to kings with warnings on how to fulfil their responsibilities. It is a warning that their power is not something to be taken for granted or sought for its own sake. He speaks to those:

…who rule over multitudes and boast of many nations.

It was an age of empires, with one succeeding the other as each one toppled.

Of course, we need to remember that what applies to them also applies to all who are in positions of authority and responsibility over others, even if on a much lower scale.

Rulers need to remember that all power emanates from God:

For your dominion was given you from the Lord and your sovereignty from the Most High…

The doctrine of the divine origin of power had already been variously asserted in Scripture with regard to Israel’s kings. Here the author extends its application to include all rulers whatsoever, believing or non-believing. However great the trappings with which they are surrounded, they are merely ‘servants’ of God’s overall sovereignty. It is God who will look closely at everything they do and analyse their secret intentions and in the end pass judgement on their record.

Many, he implies, abused their power (and many still do) and will face severe punishment. It will be too bad for them, as servants of the King of kings, if they have not ruled with justice or followed the law—whether that is the Mosaic law or any legal code which is based on the natural law recognised by all and interpreted by conscience. As Paul comments in his Letter to the Romans:

When gentiles, who do not possess the law, by nature do what the law requires, these, though not having the law, are a law to themselves. (Rom 2:14)

It is the part of his Letter where he asserts that the Gentiles, even though deprived of the guidance of the Jewish Law, have enough evidence from the world around them to make sound moral judgements.

Kings and leaders who do not follow the will of God by observing enacted laws of their peoples will have a swift and terrible judgement. In the Old Testament, even people like Moses, King David and King Hezekiah met with severe punishment. Moses was not allowed to bring his people into the Promised Land. David saw his son and heir killed by his own soldiers. Hezekiah would have all his royal property take off to Babylon.

The higher a person’s rank, the greater their responsibility and thus the greater the punishment when they step out of line:

…he will come upon you terribly and swiftly, because severe judgment falls on those in high places.

As the Gospel says:

From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required… (Luke 12:48)

The resources of the rulers are greater, so their responsibility is greater and hence their accountability is all the more.

However, those at the bottom of the social ladder will be treated more tolerantly. They (the poor) will be pardoned “out of mercy” partly because of ignorance, illiteracy and perhaps oppressive conditions which might drive them to desperate measures to survive. If they stole something, it was probably because they had nothing to eat for themselves and their family. When kings steal, they reduce others to poverty.

And God is in awe of no king, however powerful, however extensive the territories over which he rules. He is the Maker of all—great and small alike and has equal power over all of them. Hence, “a strict inquiry is in store for the mighty.”

Concluding on a more positive note, rulers are encouraged to “learn wisdom” so that they may not fall into error. Wisdom, not power and wealth, is the most precious thing they can have. Solomon was praised by God for asking for wisdom rather than for power, wealth or the destruction of his enemies:

For they will be made holy who observe holy things in holiness…

That is, those who faithfully obey the will of God will be recognised as ‘holy ones’ at the judgement. This applies to king and commoner alike. True wisdom, true insight into the meaning of life and into the relationships that govern the interactions of people is what will keep them on the paths of goodness and justice. If only they will listen to what the author has to say about Wisdom, they will learn what they need most to know as just rulers.

Almost all of us are in some way in positions of some authority, or positions of responsibility often involving other people. It is important for us to realise that authority does not give us the right to claim special privileges over others, still less to abuse or manipulate people for our own ends.

On the contrary it imposes on us a serious responsibility to empower others, to help them generate their potential to the fullest. The higher our position of authority, the greater is the need for us to be at the disposal of those committed to our charge. The higher we are, the more we need to serve. Like Jesus, we are all called to serve and not to be served.

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Commentary on Luke 17:11-19

This story of Jesus’ compassion is unique to Luke. We are told that Jesus was travelling on the borders of Galilee, the northern province of Palestine, and Samaria, which lies between Galilee and the southern province of Judea. Jesus is making for the Jordan valley on his way south to Jericho, one of his last stops before reaching his final destination in Jerusalem.

Just as he entered a village he was met by ten lepers (it does not specify whether they were men or women). As lepers they were not allowed to come in close proximity with other people. This was because it was (rightly) known that the condition could be transmitted to others by physical contact—though we know now it needed to be fairly prolonged contact. (Remember how the famous Fr Damien, the Apostle to the Lepers, eventually contracted the disease through his ministering to a colony of lepers on the island of Molokai in Hawaii.)

Because of their dreaded disease, such people were outcasts, condemned to live their lives on the fringes of society. The tragedy is that, given the limited medical knowledge of the times, many such people were almost certainly not suffering from leprosy at all, but from some other non-contagious, perhaps chronic skin disease.

So, calling Jesus from a safe distance, they cried out:

Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!

Jesus simply told them to go and show themselves to the priests. And, while they were on their way, they were all cured. Presumably they continued on their way to see the priests who would give them an official declaration of being ‘clean’ so that they could once again legitimately return to life in society. A major element of their healing was their re-integration into society.

Just one of the cured lepers then came back to Jesus “praising God with a loud voice”, and in deep gratitude fell at the feet of Jesus:

And he was a Samaritan.

These words are loaded with meaning, for it is presumed that the rest were Jews. In the first place, Jews and Samaritans could not stand each other, and the Jews tended to look down on the Samaritans as ungodly and unclean. But in the misfortune of their leprosy, these Jews and Samaritans, rejected by both their own peoples, found common support in each other’s company.

But now that they are cured, only one of them comes to say thanks and he is still—in the eyes of the Jews—an outcast. Jesus, looking around at the Jews in his company, expresses surprise:

Were not ten made clean? So where are the other nine?

The only one to come back and give thanks was a despised foreigner.

This unexpected action is also reflected in another of Luke’s stories, which we reflected on earlier, that of the so-called ‘good Samaritan’. Today, in this Gospel reading is another good Samaritan. And, of course, there is a third—the Samaritan woman who is featured prominently in John’s Gospel (John 4:4-42).

To the man in today’s Gospel, Jesus says:

Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.

That “get up” or ‘rise up’, which Jesus often uses with those he heals, has echoes of resurrection and entry into new life—a life of wholeness brought about by the man’s trust in Jesus and his acknowledgment of the source of his healing.

In the context of Luke’s Gospel, the story prepares us for developments in the growth of the early Church, described in Luke’s Acts of the Apostles. This is because, as the early Christians (all of them Jews) flee from persecution in Jerusalem, the people of Samaria are among the first to accept Jesus as Lord and to become followers of the gospel. On the other hand, many of the Jews in Jerusalem remained closed to Jesus’ message and call.

We, too, must never give in to a temptation to exclude any people as possible followers of Christ. We must be ready to reach out to all, even the most unlikely. None must be treated as outsiders or untouchables, even those who show themselves extremely hostile to the gospel.

And while there may not be any real lepers in our own society, today is an occasion for us to reflect on who could be regarded as lepers, outsiders, outcasts and untouchables among us at the present time. I might also consider whether I personally treat any person as an outsider in my home, in my work or in other places where I meet people. Such exclusion is totally contrary to what we celebrate in the Eucharist.

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Commentary on Luke 17:7-10

Today we have another warning from Luke (and one which is only found in his Gospel) about complacency. As we read this parable we must be careful—as with many of the others—not to confuse matters by dragging in issues which are anachronistic. Jesus asks:

Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’.

Would we invite him to sit down, have his supper and take a good rest?

Would you not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me; put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink’?

Would we even express gratitude to a servant who was only doing what was expected of him?

Here, let us temporarily put aside our current understanding of workers’ rights, democracy and the evils and long-lasting repercussions of slavery of every kind. No one in Jesus’ time, either an employer or a slave, would have thought for a moment of questioning what he is saying. At the same time, we might remember Jesus saying that watchful servants will be welcomed by their master who will make them sit down and will wait personally on them (see Luke 12:37), and that Jesus washed his disciples’ feet as an example of service.

What we are dealing with here is our relationship with God. The point Jesus is making is that God need never be grateful to us for anything we do for him. No matter how much we do for him, we can never put him in our debt. Everything we give to God (or to God through others) is simply giving back to him a small portion of what he has already given us. It is well said in Preface IV for Weekday Masses:

You have no need of our praise, yet our desire to thank you is itself your gift. Our prayer of thanksgiving adds nothing to your greatness, but makes us grow in your grace.

God can never be in our debt. He can never be under any obligation to us. Perhaps that is what some of the Pharisees thought. They believed that, because they kept the Law perfectly, God owed them salvation. We see that in the scene of the Pharisee and the tax collector praying in the Temple, where the Pharisee’s prayer gives the impression that God should be deeply grateful to have, among so many negligent people, such a good person as himself.

We can do the same thing ourselves when, for instance, we think that by saying certain prayers or performing certain acts (like novenas, indulgences and pilgrimages), God should jump to attention and do what we are telling him to do or give us what we are asking for.

All our living out of the gospel is not a compliment paid to God. On the contrary, we can never be grateful enough to him for showing us the way to truth, love, freedom and happiness which Jesus taught us, and for giving us the grace to walk in his Way. With God, all our giving is only an imperfect and partial giving back.

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Commentary on Wisdom 2:23—3:9

Here is a lovely and magnificent passage which is often read during requiem Masses and which we also read on November 2, All Souls Day. It speaks about death and immortality and is full of hope:

…God created us for incorruption and made us in the image of his own eternity…

God says in the opening chapter of the Book of Genesis:

Let us make humans in our image, according to our likeness… (Gen 1:26)

In Genesis, the meaning was primarily that humanity was given responsibility to manage the rest of creation and to live in truth and love. But in our present reading, the emphasis is on God’s eternal nature which God intended to share with all human beings.

That immortality was called into question by death which came into the world “through an adversary’s [Satan] envy”, as if to say, that our First Parents were tempted to sin because of Satan’s envy at their sharing in God’s immortality, something he himself had forfeited by his disobedience (see Rev 12:9 and 20:2). All those who submit themselves to Satan’s deceitful guidance will meet the same fate:

You are from your father the devil, and you choose to do your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning and does not stand in the truth because there is no truth in him… (John 8:44)

The ‘death’ that Satan brings here is primarily spiritual death, the eternal alienation from God, of which physical death is one of its consequences.

But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment will ever touch them.

By contrast, the fate of the ‘upright’, those who are fully conformed in every way to the will of God, are under his special protection and “no torment will ever touch them”.

In practice, when people die—even good people—it does not, on the surface, look like that:

In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died, and their departure was thought to be a disaster and their going from us to be their destruction…

Even when good and saintly people leave us, it is regarded as a tragedy and a blow not only to us, but to them. We ask: “What did they do to be taken away like this?”

But where the truly good are concerned, the reality is quite different. In fact, in death:

…they are at peace.

It is not only that all negative elements have been removed from their life, but that they are in a state of security and total happiness under the protection of, and in intimacy with God. As the Third Eucharistic Prayer reads in speaking of the dead:

There we hope to share in your glory when every tear will be wiped away. On that day we shall see you, our God, as you are.

Their death seemed like a form of punishment, the denial of the gift of life, but in fact:

…their hope is full of immortality.

For a Christian, faith is coupled with hope, a confident hope of being one day reunited forever with Christ our Lord. That hope is for immortality (in the Greek, athanasia).

Strangely, this is the first appearance of the term athanasia in this late book of the Old Testament. For the Greeks, it was a familiar term meaning either a remembrance that would never die, or immortality of the soul. Here it is clearly used in the second sense and, more specifically, speaks of a blessed immortality in close companionship with God as the reward for a life of uprightness—a life lived according to God’s will. This was the hope of the Psalmist who could not reconcile himself to losing his friendship with God through death:

Therefore my heart is glad, and my soul rejoices;
my body also rests secure.
For you do not give me up to Sheol
or let your faithful one see the Pit. (Ps 16:9-10)

In Old Testament times, the fate of all was to be confined forever to this nether world, called Sheol. The author of Wisdom has a much more hope-filled attitude which makes the Psalmist’s prayer a reality for all the upright.

In fact, for the upright, the pain of death is only a slight tap on the wrist, compared to the blessings that are in store on the far side:

…because God tested them and found them worthy of himself…

Sorrow and pain are the ways in which God tests and purifies the upright:

…for the Lord disciplines those whom he loves and chastises every child whom he accepts. (Heb 12:6)

…like gold in the furnace he tried them, and like a sacrificial burnt offering he accepted them.

One can understand how those who do evil come upon bad times. It is more difficult to understand why the good should suffer. But as the writer says, suffering in the case of the good has a purifying effect. The image is that of the holocaust, in which the victim is completely consumed by fire. Similarly, by being put in fire, all impurities are removed from newly mined gold. Even Jesus himself, the very Son of God, was so tested and so entered his glory.

In the time of their visitation they will shine forth and will run like sparks through the stubble.

‘Visitation’ here expresses God’s loving judgement on those who have been faithful to him (but note that later in Wisdom, the same term is used for the punishment of the wicked at God’s final judgement).

The image of sparks running through the stubble, left over after the cutting of the grain, is used in many biblical passages and symbolises the effects of God’s avenging anger or of Israel’s revenge on its enemies. Here it is used slightly differently, perhaps to mean the participation of the glorified upright in the elimination of evil, preceding the establishing of the Kingdom of God, of which they are striking evidence. And so:

They will govern nations and rule over peoples, and the Lord will reign over them forever.

Obviously, they will judge the nations not on the same level as God. But their very uprightness will stand in sharp contrast with those who did not follow God’s will in their lives.

And finally:

Those who trust in him will understand truth…

Those who fully committed themselves in faith and trust to God’s will in their lives will, after death, know that they were indeed walking the way of truth, the way of integrity and wholeness which they have now achieved. They will also:

…abide with him in love because grace and mercy are upon his holy ones, and he watches over his elect.

A life of faith in Christ and his Way is not possible without also being a life of love—love for God, love for others, love for oneself. In death they will truly know and be totally taken up into the God who is Love. This is Heaven!

It is for us, then, to ready ourselves so that our death too will simply be the gateway to perfect happiness and union with God. We make ready for that time by each day seeking and finding God in every person and in every experience.

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Commentary on Sirach 39:6-10; Matthew 16:13-19

The Gospel reading is the famous passage (Matthew’s version) of the meeting between Jesus and his disciples when, through Peter, they acknowledge the identity of Jesus. We are told that they were in the region of Caesarea Philippi. It is perhaps significant that this region is on the eastern side of the Jordan River, to the east of Galilee and in the tetrarchy of Philip, a son of Herod the Great. As such, it was a region with a mixed population of Jews and Gentiles, whose communities would both be beneficiaries of the message to come.

Jesus asks his disciples:

Who do people say that the Son of Man is?

They replied by giving the prevailing opinions among the population. Jesus was John the Baptist, come back to life (John had been executed by Herod not long before) or Elijah (who was expected to return to earth just before the coming of the Messiah) or that he was Jeremiah or some other prophet.

But Jesus then turns to them and asks:

But who do you say that I am?

Simon Peter, speaking for all of them, says:

You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.

This is a very striking statement. Not only does Peter assert that Jesus is the long-expected Messiah (in Greek, Christos), but he also in effect announces the Jesus’ divine nature—Son of the Living God.

It is an awesome moment in Jesus’ relations with his disciples and they must have been shaken to the core. What thoughts must have been going through their minds at that moment? Jesus was the Messiah! What did that mean for them? As members of his inner circle, they have suddenly become very important and uniquely privileged people. Though, that will not last for long when they hear soon after what Jesus has to say next about himself and about them.

Before that, however, Jesus has words of praise for Peter. The confession he has just made did not come from himself, but is God the Father speaking through him. And then he goes on to give Peter his solemn commission as the leader of the Christian community when Jesus has left them. He is the Rock on which the community will be built. To whom will be entrusted:

…the keys of the kingdom of heaven…

In other words, as one entrusted with the message of Jesus, he will be responsible for the passing on of all that is necessary to get under way the building of the Kingdom of Heaven (i.e. the Kingdom of God) on earth and to reach out to the whole world.

To him will be given the authority to speak and act in the name of Christ the Lord:

…whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven [i.e. by God], and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.

The choice of this passage fits perfectly with the pope we are remembering today. Leo was one of the first popes to emphasise the unique role of the Bishop of Rome, as the centre for the faith of the whole Church. It is the role of the Bishop of Rome to be the faithful depository of the teaching of Christ, and it is this which gives the Catholic Church its unity and stability. It is the role of the papacy, not to tell the Church what to believe, but rather to tell it what it does believe. We speak today of papal infallibility, but that infallibility is rooted in the infallibility that belongs to the Church in its entirety.

The First Reading from the Book of Sirach (Ecclesiasticus) is a passage in praise of a person of true wisdom. The care of such a person, says the writer, is to seek the Lord his Maker—to open his lips in prayer, to ask pardon for his sins.

On the one hand, he will be filled with the spirit of understanding and in turn will pour forth his words of wisdom. Many, too, will praise his understanding and his fame will last indefinitely:

Their memory will not disappear, and their names will live through all generations. Nations will speak of their wisdom, and the congregation will proclaim their praise.

There are many great and holy theologians (one thinks of Thomas Aquinas or Augustine) of whom this could be said, but it certainly applies as well to Leo. His statement on the theology of the Incarnation places him among the greatest of theologians. He was also a great and effective pope, giving great leadership to the Church, and perhaps for the first time, giving the papacy a distinctive and necessary role it has had ever since.

Let us pray that the Church may always be led by the kind of pope who provides the inspiration and leadership and unifying influence that it always needs.

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Leo was probably born in Rome of Tuscan parentage, but of his early life there is no record. Under Popes Celestine I and Sixtus III, he had at least the rank of deacon, sufficiently important for him to correspond with Cyril of Alexandria, and also to have a treatise of John Cassian on the Incarnation to be dedicated to him. Perhaps most significant was his being chosen by the emperor to settle the dispute between Aëtius and Albinus, the two highest officials in Gaul. Their feud threatened the safety of Gaul from attack by the northern European tribes.

During Leo’s absence from Rome, Pope Sixtus III died on 11 August, 440, and Leo was unanimously elected by the people to succeed him. It was a post he would hold with great distinction for 20 years.

His term of office was significant for a number of reasons. His statement of the doctrine of the Incarnation of Christ, acclaimed at the Council of Chalcedon in 451, is regarded as a high point of Christian Church history. He also acted vigorously to free Rome from the power of the tribes invading from northern Europe, as well as restoring both the spiritual and material damage they caused.

Both his writings and his actions revealed a deep conviction that the doctrinal primacy of Rome was God-given and based on the Scriptures. In fact, throughout his reign he strengthened and increased the influence and prestige of the papacy.

His 143 surviving letters reveal a similar concern for the Church in Spain, Gaul, and Africa. He also had to deal firmly with the resurgence of Manichaeism, Priscillianism and Pelagianism in different places. There were times when he had to reaffirm an ancient tradition by which a bishop had the right to appeal to Rome. For instance, he found that Hilary as an archbishop had exceeded his power over a fellow-bishop and overruled his decisions. He was always conscious of the power of Peter invested in him as Bishop of Rome.

In 452, Attila the Hun and his army laid siege to Milan and terrorised the citizens by their violence. When Attila moved on against Rome, he was met by Leo who persuaded him to accept tribute rather than attack the city. Later, Leo tried the same methods in approaching the Vandal Genseric, but he was less cooperative. Even so, Leo’s influence was such as to make the Vandals stop short at looting the city and refrain from murdering its people and setting it on fire. However, while many prisoners were taken off to Africa, some church treasures were given back. Leo then sent priests and alms to the captives in Africa and in Sicily.

His greatest achievement was the acceptance of his dogmatic statement on the Incarnation of Christ at the Council of Chalcedon. He expressed with great clarity the doctrine that Jesus Christ is one Person, the Divine Word, in whom the two natures, human and divine, are permanently united without confusion or mixture. When the council heard this document read by Leo’s legates, they cried out:

Peter has spoken through Leo!

It would become, from then on, the official teaching of the Christian Church.

However, the same council raised the status of the see of Constantinople and, in spite of the legates’ protests, made it a patriarchate, mainly for political reasons. Here, as with the fall of Rome to the barbarians, Leo’s success was mixed with failure. He died on 10 November, 461 and was buried at St Peter’s in Rome.

Leo’s personality has been described as one of indomitable energy, magnanimity, consistency, and devotion to duty. His principal writings to survive are 96 sermons and letters. He was declared a Doctor of the Church in 1754.

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Commentary on Colossians 1:9-14

Paul continues from yesterday’s reading his words of praise and encouragement for the Christians of Colossae. Moved by Epaphras’ account, Paul has prayed fervently for the Colossians that their response to the gospel may bring the fullest knowledge of God’s will, “in all spiritual wisdom and understanding”. He expects a mutual interaction between their life according to the gospel and this knowledge, which will reveal the power of God’s presence among them, strengthen them in courage and calm determination, and result in their grateful love of the Father for his saving gifts. For the Father conquers the power of evil over men by offering them the power of his Son, who is his love in person and has already forgiven their sins.

Following on what Paul has heard from Epaphras about the strong faith of the Colossians, he makes a beautiful prayer on their behalf. It is laid out here in a way that will make it easier for us to see its contents. It is a prayer that we can make for ourselves and for other people. Let us hear Paul saying this prayer for each one of us:

…we have not ceased praying for you and asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of God’s will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so that you may walk worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, as you bear fruit in every good work and as you grow in the knowledge of God. May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, so that you may have all endurance and patience, joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.

This is a prayer we should take line by line, stopping at any word or phrase which we find particularly meaningful or relevant to our own life and pausing there for a while—or even make that word or phrase the subject of our whole prayer.

Let’s think about some of the lines in the prayer:

…we have not ceased praying for you and asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of God’s will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding

Scriptural knowledge is not merely the possession of facts or knowing a lot about the Bible. Rather, knowledge and wisdom in the Bible are concerned with the inner meaning of every passage and how it touches on living a Christ-filled life.

May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, so that you may have all endurance and patience, joyfully giving thanks to the Father…

This is the lot of God’s holy people (the hagioi)—what all holy people are to inherit, i.e. the ‘salvation’ that originally had been thought of as a bequest made exclusively to the Chosen People of Israel.

Now, with the coming of Jesus, non-Jews are called to share in:

…the inheritance of the saints in the light.

This symbolises holiness, truth, love, glory and life. Accordingly, God, Christ and the Christian are all characterised by light. The “kingdom of light” is the opposite of the “dominion of darkness”. ‘Kingdom’ does not here refer to a territory, but to the authority, rule or sovereign power of a king (Greek, basileia—meaning ‘reign’ or ‘kingship’). Here it means that the Christian is no longer under the dominion of evil (darkness), but under the loving rule of God’s Son.

To be in the ‘Kingdom’ is to be closely united to God in being the kind of person he wants to us to be, and to be in cooperative union with others who are also that kind of person. What more could we ask for than a full knowledge of God’s will and to be filled with wisdom and spiritual insight? It is a prayer we need to make in some form every day of our lives. Only then may we:

…walk worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him.

Let us then today thank God for all that he has done for us through Jesus Christ and the Christian community to which we belong. Let us pray that we grow in knowledge and wisdom and insight so that we may love and serve him more and more.

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Commentary on Sirach 26:1-4,13-16; Luke 7:11-17

The Gospel reading is really symbolic. It tells the story of a widow in the city of Nain, which was probably a few kilometres south of Nazareth in Galilee. She had lost her only son, and hence the only means of her support. Widows and orphans—women who have lost their husbands and children without parents—were regarded as the most unfortunate in the society of Jesus’ day. Without any form of social welfare they had no means of support and were looked on with a certain pity and contempt. They were seen as of no use to anyone either as future wives or as husbands. And widows could be quite young, as there were many ways in which a relatively young husband could meet his death.

In the Gospel, the woman’s plight was desperate. She had lost her husband and now had lost her son as well. As she brought her son for burial she was accompanied by a large group of people. They were sympathetic, but there was not much they could do to help.

However, when Jesus saw her he was filled with compassion and told her not to weep. He stepped forward, touched the bier on which the man lay and the carriers stopped. Speaking to him, Jesus said:

Young man, I say to you, rise!

Immediately the man rose up and began speaking with his mother.

Realising they were in the presence of someone with very special powers, the crowd was filled with fear and they cried:

A great prophet has risen among us!…God has visited his people!

Doubtless they were remembering the occasion when the prophet Elijah brought back to life the only son of widow in Zarephath (1 Kings 17:8-24). In this case, however, the resuscitation was brought about simply by a word. Not surprisingly, the event was being talked about even in the southern province of Judea and the surrounding region.

The story reflects the plight of Monica, who had lost her son to paganism and immorality. As a devout Christian herself, he might as well have died. But then, due to her incessant prayer, he came back to the faith of his mother. In time, he would become one of the greatest writers and saints in the history of the Church.

Many devout parents today have to suffer in seeing their children abandon the faith of the family. Like Monica, they need to keep praying that their children will find their way back to a life of faith and love.

The First Reading, from the Book of Sirach (also called Ecclesiasticus), is a description of the good wife and mother and reflects the relationship which Monica had with a dominant husband. Such a wife brings joy to her husband and is a blessing from God:

Whether rich or poor, his heart is content,
and at all times his face is cheerful.

Such a wife is gracious, thoughtful, her restrained speech is a gift from the Lord as is her modesty and sexual fidelity:

Like the sun rising in the heights of the Lord,
so is the beauty of a good wife in her well-ordered home.

In a world where women had a very secondary role, such words are high praise. Monica is indeed a worthy patron of wives and mothers.