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Commentary on Deuteronomy 6:2-6; Hebrews 7:23-28; Mark 12:28-34

We are approaching the end of the Church year. In the Gospels of these Sundays, we are looking at the final phase of Jesus’ life before his suffering, death and resurrection.

Last week we saw Jesus leaving Jericho on the last stage of his journey to Jerusalem. He healed the blind beggar, Bartimaeus, who, once he regained his sight, saw that the only thing he could do was to go with Jesus on that final journey.

Today’s story takes place in Jerusalem itself. The context of the story is important. “Sacrifice” is mentioned in both the Second Reading and the Gospel. There are clear links with the Temple, the Old Testament and Jewish Law.

A scribe approaches Jesus. He is an expert in interpreting the Law. There were more than 600 laws, too many for an ordinary person to grasp. He asks a question which was much-debated among scholars of the day: Of all these many laws, which was the most central, the most basic—the one that summed up all the others? Unlike other occasions, there seems to be no sense of hostility or of a trap being set here. The man just wants to know Jesus’ opinion as a rabbi and teacher.

Positive response
Note how Jesus receives the man. Usually scribes and Pharisees are presented as hostile to Jesus. It would be natural for Jesus to be on the defensive, to react negatively. But Jesus always takes the person as he or she is. He does not indulge in stereotyping about ‘typical scribes and Pharisees’ and tarring all with the same brush. We do this so easily with classes, races, age groups (teenagers, the elderly). We use so many labels. We even stereotype individuals we know before they have opened their mouths, based on our previous experience with them.

Jesus accepts and responds to this person here and now as he is. It is an example which we can all follow and which would save a lot of wear and tear in our relations with people, if we did so.

A new development
To answer the man’s question, Jesus quotes from the Jewish Scripture, i.e. the Old Testament. In answering the question, Jesus begins from where the man is, in an area which will be both familiar and acceptable to him. But he takes two distinct texts and puts them together as one. This is a significant development and one that is absolutely central to the Christian vision.

In today’s First Reading from Deuteronomy, one of the books of the Jewish law, we can see that one is urged to love God with all one’s energy and to:

…keep all his decrees and his commandments…

There is no mention here of the “neighbour”. That appears in a separate text in a different book of the law—the Book of Leviticus (19:18). The scribe is obviously pleased with the answer. And Jesus further adds that these two commands are far more important than any holocaust or sacrifice.

It is this dual approach which makes Jesus the perfect priest mentioned in the Second Reading. The priests of the Law were men subject to weakness—they were:

…many in number because they were prevented by death from continuing in office, but [Christ] holds his priesthood permanently because he continues forever.

Jesus is the ‘perfect’ Priest and now the only Priest, because he is absolutely perfect in his love for the Father and in his love for us.

Like Jesus, we cannot separate our love of God from loving all those around us. Sometimes we see our sins just as offences against God, even when action is directed against another person. We may go to ‘confession’, get forgiveness and feel the matter is finished. We go to God for forgiveness, when what is also needed is forgiveness from and reconciliation with the person we have hurt. If we cannot love the neighbour we can see, how can we love the God we cannot see? (See 1 John 4:20.)

And who is my neighbour? For the people in Jesus’ time, it was a fellow Jew. Others, even though physically near, were not. Following the teaching of Jesus, however, it is anyone—transcending all barriers and independent of like or dislike, approval or disapproval. Yet some of us can certainly sympathise with the complaint of the famous comic strip character, Charlie Brown, who said: “I love humanity; it’s people I can’t stand!”

Loving others, loving ourselves
We are to love our neighbour as we love ourselves. That sounds very demanding. Actually it is often part of the problem. Many, if not most of us, do not love ourselves very much. Many, perhaps most, would not like others to know us as we feel we really are.

We go to great lengths to hide our inadequacies and weaknesses. We spend a lot of money on houses, cars, clothes, jewellery, cosmetics, dining out and such material ‘images’—image is everything. We need status symbols to prove we are ‘someone’. Teenagers looking and sounding very “with-it”, but actually hiding behind currently fashionable clothes-styles, hairstyles, language, being ‘cool’, ‘hip’ or whatever word is in current use.

Very few people are really themselves in front of others. In computer jargon we say: “What you see is what you get”. In other words, what appears on the screen will also appear on a print-out. For people it should be: “What you see is what there is.”

This requires total self-acceptance (not the same as self-approval) and integrity—in other words, wholeness. Self-acceptance means that I fully acknowledge both my strengths and weaknesses, and that I am not ashamed of them and I don’t mind if other people know them. Such a person knows that the key to being loved is to have one’s real self accessible to others.

God, others, self – vs – self, others, God
Conventionally we say we should first love God. Then, for his sake, we love others. Lastly, the self should be denied and sacrifices should be made. We should not be self-ish, i.e. self-centred.

Actually it may surprise us to be told that we cannot not be self-centred. Everything we do is self-centred. We need to go the other way: learn to love and accept ourselves fully. Then, and only then, are we free to look out and reach out to others in love non self-consciously. When I have nothing to hide, it is easy to be myself. And, if others do not like what they see, that is their problem, not mine.

We will then discover that, when we have learnt to love genuinely and unconditionally, we will be loved in return—though not by all. We cannot be loved by all because there are people out there who are not able to love; it is not because there is anything wrong with me. To want to be loved by everyone is simply unattainable.

And when we know what really loving and being loved is (by direct experience), then, and perhaps only then, can we talk about really loving God. All this, says today’s Gospel, is more important than any ritual or sacrifice. It is no good being in church every hour of every day if I am not a loving person.

Discipleship
Jesus said the scribe was “not far from the kingdom of God” because he had touched on the essence of living—loving God and loving others as a single, but distinct reality. But he is not quite part of it yet. He was not yet, and apparently did not become, a full disciple of Jesus.

What makes such a disciple? Jesus says:

By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. (John 13:35)

Or are you a disciple because you never miss Mass, or you have special devotion to Our Lady? No, it is none of these by itself. What is essential and sufficient is to love God in loving others and to love others in loving God. One might ask, is that it? Yes, that’s it.

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Alfonso Rodríguez was born in Segovia, Spain on 25 July, 1533. He was the son of a wool merchant who failed in his business and which he handed over to his son who was still a young man of 23. At the age of 26, Alfonso married Maria Suarez. Five years later, his wife and two of his three children had died. When his third child also died, he developed a desire to enter religious life. He had met some of the first Jesuits to come to Spain, including (Saint) Peter Faber, but his lack of education was a major obstacle to his joining the Society. His penitential practices had also undermined his health. Eventually, on 31 January, 1571 at the age of 38, he was accepted into the Jesuit novitiate as a brother.

After just six months, he was assigned to the College of Montesion in Palma de Mallorca, where he served as porter or doorkeeper until the end of his life 46 years later. Over this long period he exerted an extraordinary spiritual influence, not only on his community, but on the students and all those who came to the porter’s lodge for advice and direction.

He was already 72, when a young Jesuit, (Saint) Peter Claver, came to the college, filled with a desire to do something for God but uncertain how to do so. The two became friends and often discussed prayer and the spiritual life. The elderly Brother mentor encouraged the student to go to the American missions. Peter would become famous as the apostle to the thousands of slaves brought over from Africa and who landed in Cartagena.

Alfonso practised very severe penances and suffered sometimes from scruples. His obedience was total, and at all times he was steeped in prayer. He left behind quite an amount of writing, some of it simply notes from spiritual talks given to the community. He had no intention of making them public, and some were written in obedience to superiors.

He died on 31 October, 1617 aged 84 at Palma, Mallorca, and was declared Venerable in 1626. In 1633, he was chosen by the Council General of Majorca as one of the special patrons of the city and island.

In 1760, Pope Clement XIII decreed that “the virtues of the Venerable Alfonso were proved to be of a heroic degree”, but the expulsion of the Jesuits from Spain in 1773, and their suppression, delayed his beatification until 1825. He was canonised by Pope Leo XIII on 6 September, 1887. His remains are enshrined at Majorca.

Alfonso is remembered for his fidelity, kindness, spiritual struggles, and widespread influence as a counsellor to the students and others who sought his advice. He is featured in a poem by the Jesuit poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins, who recalled his outstanding holiness in a singularly unspectacular and humdrum life:

Yet God (that hews mountain and continent Earth, all, out; who, with trickling increment,
Veins violets and tall trees makes more and more)
Could crowd career with conquest while there went
Those years and years by of world without event
That in Majorca Alfonso watched the door.

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Dominic Collins was born 1566 in the seaport town of Youghal, in County Cork, Ireland. His family was well established and respected and both his father and brother were mayors of Youghal. It was in the time of Queen Elizabeth, and Anglicanism was the official religion. During her rule, Irish Catholics were subjected to persecution from time to time.

Although the situation was not yet critical in Youghal, Dominic felt that he did not have much of a future in the town. Like many others, he decided to leave Ireland and make a better life in Europe. So at the age of twenty, Collins arrived in France. He had dreams of joining the cavalry, but for that he needed a horse, so he work for some time in various hostelries in Brittany (north-west France). Eventually, he was enlisted in the army of the Duke of Mercoeus, who was a member of the Catholic League fighting against the Protestant Huguenots in Brittany. Dominic had a distinguished military career lasting nine years. He was promoted to captain of the cavalry and later military governor when he managed to recover land from the Huguenots.

Although he had a good pension following his service to the King of Spain, he began to realise that being a soldier was not the future he wanted. In the Lent of 1598, he met an Irish Jesuit, Thomas White, who introduced him to the Jesuit superiors in Salamanca, Spain, after learning of Dominic’s desire to do something better with his life. Although he was now 32 years old, the Jesuit provincial thought it was wise to delay his entrance, perhaps to test the strength of his vocation. There were doubts too as to whether he was sufficiently educated to become a priest, but Dominic was willing to be a Jesuit brother. He entered the Jesuit novitiate in Santiago de Compostela in northern Spain in December, 1598, and took his first vows in February, 1601.

Seven months later, Brother Dominic Collins was assigned as companion and assistant to Fr James Archer, an Irish Jesuit who was being sent by the king as chaplain to a Spanish expedition to assist Catholics in Ireland. The two Jesuits sailed in September, 1601, on different vessels which became separated during a storm. When Brother Collins finally reached Ireland in December, the English army had laid siege to the port town. The Irish attacked at dawn on Christmas Eve, but were defeated. Brother Collins was reunited with Fr Archer in February, 1602, and together the two Jesuits proceeded to Dunboy Castle, which the Irish had recently regained.

Some months later Brother Collins found himself besieged inside Dunboy Castle with 143 defenders (Fr Archer had left for Spain to persuade the king to send reinforcements). With the 6-June landing of a huge English force, Dunboy Castle fortifications began to crumble under the heavy bombardment. Many of the Irish defenders were killed and the Castle surrendered. With the exception of Dominic Collins and two others, all the remaining 77 defenders were executed in the castle yard.

Dominic was later imprisoned in Cork and, despite several offers to spare his life if he would divulge information about Catholics, and to renounce his vocation as a Jesuit and join the established Church, he flatly refused. He also rejected the offer of an honorable position in the English army and Protestant offers of ecclesiastical preferment if he would renounce his Catholic faith. Even his own relatives tried persuading him to renounce the faith publicly while inwardly remaining faithful to Catholicism—but this he would not do.

He was finally condemned to death and on 31 October, 1602, he was taken to Youghal, his hometown and hanged. Before climbing the scaffold, he spoke to the crowd in Irish and English, saying he was happy to die for his faith. He was so cheerful that an English officer remarked, “He is going to his death as eagerly as I would go to a banquet”. Brother Collins overheard him and replied, “For this cause I would be willing to die not one, but a thousand deaths.”

Brother Dominic Collins, together with sixteen other martyrs of Ireland (who died between 1579 and 1654), was beatified by Pope John Paul II on September 27, 1992.

Blessed Dominic is remembered for his constancy in the faith. Though freedom and advancement were set before him, he:

…endured the cross, disregarding its shame… (Heb 12:2)

Dominic’s martyrdom is commemorated in a carving at St Colman’s Cathedral in Cobh, County Cork.

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Commentary on Ephesians 2:19-22; Psalm 18; Luke 6:12-19

The Gospel reading from Luke describes Jesus choosing his twelve Apostles. As happens regularly in Luke, Jesus is shown praying before any major action or decision. Luke tells us that Jesus went out to the mountain to pray, and spent the whole night in communion with his Father.

Luke speaks of “the mountain”, although we do not know which one it is. But in the Scriptures, generally mountains are holy places where one can more easily commune with God. Famous mountains in the Scripture are Mount Sinai, where Moses spoke face to face with God; Mount Carmel, associated with the prophet Elijah; and Mount Zion, where the Temple of Jerusalem was situated. There is also the Mount of the Transfiguration, although again it is not certain which mountain is being referred to.

Then at daybreak Jesus called all his disciples together, and from among them chose twelve to be his Apostles. The names are then given and they include “Simon called the Zealot” and “Judas [or Jude] son of James”, the two Apostles we commemorate today.

What is the difference between ‘disciple’ and ‘apostle’? Are the terms interchangeable? Not really. Every ‘apostle’ is a ‘disciple’ but not every one of Jesus’ ‘disciples’ was formally called an ‘apostle’.

The word ‘disciple’ comes from the Latin verb discere, which means ‘to learn’. A ‘disciple’ then is someone who learns from a master and tries to follow in his footsteps. The word ‘apostle’ comes from the Greek verb apostello, of which the noun is apostolos. This signifies someone who is sent out on a mission bringing an important message from someone in authority, an ambassador or an envoy.

Jesus had many disciples, but just 12 of them were chosen to pass on his teaching after he had left them. They, in turn, would appoint others with the same mandate. Today, it is our bishops who have that mandate.

However, we might also say that every single baptised person is really called to be both a disciple of Jesus and an apostle, charged with passing on the Gospel message. Every single one of Jesus’ followers was called to be the ‘salt of the earth’ and the ‘light of the world’ and to behave in such a way that people would be led to God.

In the First Reading, from the Letter to the Ephesians, Paul (the supposed author of this letter) is speaking to Gentiles who have become Christians. So he tells them:

…you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God…

‘Saints’ (hagioi) means ‘people set apart, people who are different’. ‘Saints’ is a term used by Paul to speak of members of the Christian communities. Here he is saying that the baptised Gentiles now belong fully to that family.

Paul also sees the Church as a building whose foundation is composed of the Apostles and the prophets, with Christ himself as the headstone. The whole structure then becomes a “holy temple in the Lord”. This is the Temple of the New Testament, replacing that of the Old Testament in Jerusalem (although when the Letter was written that Temple was still in existence).

So, as Paul will say elsewhere, the Temple of the New Covenant is built not only with bricks and mortar and confined to one place, but also consists of people. Wherever there is a Christian community, the Risen Christ is present there:

…in him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord, in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.

So, it is not the church building which makes us holy, rather it is we who make the church building holy by our presence in it.

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Apart from their names in the Gospel, there is very little we know definitely about the two Apostles, Simon and Jude. Simon is called either the Canaanite or the Zealot (Matt 10:4, Mark 3:18, Luke 6:15, Acts 1:13) by the evangelists. To distinguish him from Simon Peter, he is called Kananaios (‘Kananites’ in Matthew and Mark) and Zelotes (Zealot, in Luke and in Acts). Both titles come from the Hebrew qana, which means ‘the zealous one’, but some, like St Jerome, misread it as a reference to the town of Cana or to the region of Canaan. This led to a story that at the wedding feast at Cana (John 2:1-12) Simon was the bridegroom!

The preferred reading in all the texts now is ‘Zealot’. Zealot may indicate his membership in a strict Jewish sect. There was a party called Zealots famous in the war of the Jews against their Roman occupiers. They killed many of the nobility and filled the Temple with blood and brought ruin on their people. But there is no clear evidence they existed in Jesus’ lifetime.

This verse from the Gospel of Mark (6:3) also refers to a Judas and Simon:

Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?

But the New Testament does not relate this Simon to any of the Apostles.

After Pentecost, Simon, like several other Apostles, is not heard of again in the New Testament. However, there is an abundance of legends about his subsequent life and final martyrdom. One eastern source gives Edessa in Mesopotamia as the place where he died, but a western tradition (represented by the Roman Missal and the Martyrology) affirms that he first preached in Egypt.

He then joined his fellow Apostle Jude, who was in Mesopotamia, and they both went east to Persia. Here they were martyred at Sufian (or at Siani). In one story, their throats were cut and in another Simon was sawn in two, like the prophet Isaiah. This tradition dates from the 6th century, 300-400 years after the Apostle’s death, but devotion to him goes back much further.

There is even a tradition that Simon got as far as Britain, perhaps Glastonbury, and was martyred in Lincolnshire. In art Simon is usually symbolised with a boat or a falchion (an axe-like sword), allegedly the weapon by which heathen priests cut him down.

Jude is called “Judas, son of James” by Luke in his Gospel (Luke 6:16) and in Acts (1:13). He is called “Judas (not Iscariot)” in John’s Gospel (John 14:22). He is commonly identified with Thaddaeus, who appears in the list of Apostles in Matthew and Mark, but where there is no mention of Jude. He is also believed to be the author of the Letter in the New Testament bearing his name.

As with Simon, nothing certain is known of his life after Pentecost, but again there are many legends. As mentioned, a Western tradition says that he joined up with Simon to preach the Gospel in Persia, where he, too, died a martyr’s death.

In more modern times, Jude has acquired the reputation as the ‘Apostle of the impossible’, as attested by expressions of gratitude in Catholic devotional periodicals. The origin of this devotion is said to be that no one would pray to him because his name was so like that of the traitor Judas Iscariot. Only people who had tried every other option would in desperation turn to him!

The relics of Simon and Jude are believed to have been brought to St Peter’s in Rome in the 7th-8th century. Rheims and Toulouse also claim to have relics.

In art, Jude’s usual emblem is a club, the instrument of his death. Otherwise, he holds a ship, while Simon holds a fish. This is perhaps because, as a cousin of the Zebedee brothers, he was also a fisherman.

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Commentary on Jeremiah 31:7-9, Hebrews 5:1-6, Mark 10:46-52

Today’s Gospel reading is much more than a simple miracle story. Most importantly, it is seen as the fulfilling of the joyful prophecy of Jeremiah which forms our First Reading. This is a prophecy of the return of the exiled Jews from Babylon back to their homeland. (Despite his reputation, not everything Jeremiah wrote was gloomy!) The reading is a hymn of praise and rejoicing because of what God is going to do for his people.

In part the prophet says:

I am going to bring them from the land of the north
and gather them from the farthest parts of the earth,
among them the blind and the lame…
I will let them walk by brooks of water,
in a straight path where they shall not stumble…

Thus, the stage is set for the scene from today’s Gospel.

End of a teaching section
Today’s Gospel passage is actually the last miracle story in Mark. It comes at the end of a long section where Jesus is forming his disciples. This section begins (in Mark 7:31-37) with the healing of a “deaf man who had an impediment in his speech”. By his being healed, he is being taught how to hear and how to speak. These were the necessary abilities of the Christian disciple—both to hear and understand the Word of God and to share the message with others.

Later (in Mark 8:22-26), there is the ‘two-stage’ healing of a blind man. This story clearly symbolises the gradual opening of the disciples’ eyes as to the true identity and mission of Jesus. And the whole section ends with the healing of another blind man which we have just heard. This is not merely coincidence.

Near to Jerusalem
Jesus with his disciples and a large crowd is seen leaving Jericho; he is now very near to Jerusalem. In fact, Jericho, which lies to the north-east, is on the way to Jerusalem. This has great significance for the story to follow.

A blind beggar, only known by his father’s name: Bar (‘son of’) Timaeus, is sitting beside the road. He hears all the commotion, is told that Jesus is passing by, and begins to call out:

Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!

What does he want? Money? Healing? Probably, at this point, he is thinking of just his own personal needs. He must have heard stories about Jesus as a marvellous healer.

However, the people around tell him to be quiet. After all, he’s only a poor beggar. He should not disturb an important person like Jesus. In our life, many people, things and concerns can prevent us coming to Jesus. How often have we had ‘no time’ for Mass, prayer or getting involved in Church activities? But worse, how often have we blocked someone else from approaching Jesus? This might have been a child, a searching colleague or friend, or a son or daughter who wants to give their life in service of others rather than a money-making ‘career’.

Bartimaeus will not be put off so easily. He really wants to get Jesus’ attention. He continues to call out even more loudly:

Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!

Jesus, we should remember, tells us to keep on asking.

Jesus hears and Jesus stops. If the man had not kept calling, Jesus might have continued on his journey. How many times during our day does Jesus pass by and we fail to recognise him and fail to call him? The problem is that too often we have fixed ideas as to where we are likely to see him or the forms under which he will appear. It is easy to find him in the tabernacle, but less easy in a person we do not like. But he can come in any form and in any person or situation, even the most unlikely. The person screaming obscenities at me may well be Jesus challenging me to give a Christian response.

Call him
In response, Jesus says:

Call him here.

Notice that Jesus does not go to the man. Nor does he call him directly. The people—those who just now were stopping Bartimaeus and telling him to shut up—are now giving him encouragement.

That is how we come to know Jesus too. People call us to him or introduce him to us. So many people, things and events lead us to Jesus: parents, family, friends, teachers, sermons, retreats, books, sharings, TV programmes, movies and perhaps even this website. Pause now and say thanks to all those people who brought us to Jesus. At the same time, there are people waiting to hear Jesus’ call—through us. They may be people in our family, our workplace, on the street—how often do we share our faith? How many people even know we are committed Christians? A private Christian is actually a contradiction in terms.

The people, who were just telling the man to ‘shut up’, now say:

Take heart; get up, he is calling you.

These were wonderful words from ordinary people. There are three elements here:

1. Encouragement from others;
2. “Get up” (Resurrection): The man is being called to new life, not just a physical standing up;
3. “He is calling you”: These lovely words are addressed to us too every single day.

How foolish Bartimaeus would have been if he had stopped shouting because of the crowd’s opposition! Public opinion is very fickle.

Approaching Jesus
Bartimaeus now jumps up, throws off his cloak. For a beggar, his cloak was also his sleeping garment and his only possession. Even this he now gets rid of. Very likely, he now approaches Jesus stark naked—with nothing except himself.

Our first parents were ashamed of their nakedness after sinning and they hid from God. Jesus, who died naked on the cross, overturns the shame which sin brought. Bartimaeus comes to Jesus, naked and without shame.

In an old rite of Baptism, too, which was the sign of commitment to Jesus, the catechumen threw off his or her old clothes and stepped naked into the baptismal pool, coming out on the other side to be clothed in a white garment, symbolising a share in the new life of Jesus. So Bartimaeus comes to Jesus with confidence (Greek, pistis), in freedom, and with nothing. Compare this with the well-dressed rich man who could not follow Jesus because he identified his ‘wealth’ with his money.

What do you want
Now, face to face with Jesus, Bartimaeus is asked:

What do you want me to do for you?

Here we have Jesus the High Priest described in the Second Reading from the Hebrews. Someone who, in sharing our human nature, has a deep understanding of our needs:

Every high priest chosen from among mortals is put in charge of things pertaining to God on their behalf, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins.

And so Jesus asks the blind beggar, “What do you want me to do for you” In last week’s Gospel, Jesus asked exactly the same question of the Apostles James and John. Their answer was essentially: ‘Give us the two top spots in the Kingdom of your glory’. In reply they were told very clearly they would get only what they deserved. They also got some firm teaching about serving others and not looking for privileges.

In answer to the same question, Bartimaeus gives a very different answer:

My teacher, let me see again.

In the context of this story he is asking for much more than physical sight. His prayer is one we all need to make continually.

The secret of life is to be able to see—to see life’s real meaning and direction, to be people of vision, to know where God is to be found, where real truth and goodness and beauty are to be found. It is a prayer that is certain to be answered as it was here. Says Jesus:

Go; your faith has made you well.

His faith—his trust in Jesus—has saved Bartimaeus, healed him, made him whole, and:

Immediately he regained his sight.

Seeing becomes following
Then what did the man do? He did the only thing a person of vision could do, he:

…followed [Jesus] on the way.

At the beginning of the story we saw a blind beggar sitting beside the road. This is the person who has not yet met Jesus (even if baptised). He is blind, an impoverished beggar (though perhaps materially wealthy), not moving and off the real track of life.

At the end of the story, we have a man who can see, has vision, who knows very clearly where he is going and where he should be going. No longer is he a beggar, but greatly enriched by that vision. No longer is he sitting passively waiting to get or receive, but now actively walking with Jesus. No longer is he beside the road, but now on the road, on the Way. Jesus is the Way; Jesus is Truth and Life. And this road, as we saw, leads to Jerusalem, that is, to suffering, death and resurrection.

Epilogue and summary
This story is an epilogue to the long preceding teaching passage and a summary of all that has gone before in this part of Mark’s Gospel. It is also a summary of the Christian’s life and pilgrimage.

On our own we are blind and poor with nothing to our name. As Christians, we have our eyes opened to the meaning of life. We are to undergo a radical conversion experience which gives new direction to all we are and do. We are ready to walk with Jesus on the way to Jerusalem with clear vision and with true freedom.

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The first Jesuit missionaries arrived in Quebec in 1625. At first, they worked among French settlers and traders and also evangelised the native peoples in the vicinity. They soon expanded their missionary work to the Huron tribes about 1,200 km west of Quebec and about 160 km north of present-day Toronto. They visited the scattered tribal villages and were hospitably received by the families among whom they lived. But then the Iroquois, enemies of the Hurons, began attacking supply routes between the mission station and Quebec. It was during these hostilities that eight French missionaries (six of them Jesuits) were martyred between 1642 and 1649 by members of the Mohawk and Iroquois tribes.

René Goupil was born at Saint-Martin in Anjou, Maine-et-Loire in the north-west of France, on 13 May, 1608. At the age of 31, he joined the Jesuits as a Brother, but had to leave because of deafness. He arrived in North America in 1640 and offered his services to the Jesuits there. He was put in charge of the sick, and in 1642 was assigned to the hospital at the Sainte-Marie Mission Centre. On 2 August, 1642, while on his way there with Isaac Jogues, they were attacked by Iroquois. Both were captured and, after being tortured, were made slaves. One day, after giving a blessing to a child, René was tomahawked to death. He died on 29 September, 1642. He is the patron saint of anaesthetists.

Isaac Jogues was born in 1607 at Orleans in France, entered the Society of Jesus in 1624, and received his formation at La Fleche. In 1636, eleven years after Jean de Brébeuf, he was sent to New France. His mission to preach among the Mohawk tribes brought him as far east as Lake Superior. In 1642, Jogues set out from Quebec on a special mission of mercy to the Hurons, who were suffering from famine and disease. The expedition achieved its aim, but on the way back it was ambushed by the Iroquois. Jogues and his companion, René Goupil, were beaten with knotted sticks, their hair, beards, and nails were torn out and their fingers crushed. Jogues survived this experience, but was kept as a slave until, with Dutch help from Fort Orange, he managed to escape and return to France. In 1644, he returned to the mission and worked near Montreal. He was sent on a peace mission to the Iroquois at Ossernenon (now Auriesville, NY), the place where he had been formerly captured. Before returning to Montreal, he left a box of religious objects behind him. However, these objects were believed by the Indians to be the cause of crop failure and sickness which followed soon after Jogues’ departure. The Bear clan of the Mohawks invited him back to a meal, but then killed him with tomahawks. His head was cut off and set up on a pole. This took place on 18 October, 1646.

John de LaLande, a layman, was born in Dieppe, Normandy on an unknown date. At the age of 19, he offered his services as a layman to the Jesuit mission in New France (now Canada). In 1646, he was a member of a party led by Isaac Jogues as an envoy to the Mohawks in order to maintain peace between the tribes. However, as mentioned, the Mohawks’ superstitions angered them and Jogues and his party were seized and brought back to Ossernenon. At first, the moderate Turtle and Wolf clans ordered them to be released, but the more militant Bear clan killed both Jogues and Lalande. Lalande, having witnessed the death of his companion, was martyred one day later on 19 October, 1646.

Anthony Daniel was born in Dieppe, Normandy on 27 May, 1601. He gave up law studies to enter the Society of Jesus at Rouen. He studied Theology at Clermont College in Paris and was ordained in 1631. He felt attracted to do missionary work among the Huron people in New France. He became fluent in the local language and looked forward to forming future catechists among the Hurons who would in turn pass on the faith to their people. In the summer of 1649, the Iroquois made a sudden attack on the mission. The children and women went for cover while Daniel rushed to the cabins of the sick and dying to baptize as many as he could. The Hurons ran to the church as the best place for them to die. Daniel ordered the Iroquois not to enter the church. Though amazed at the priest’s courage, they shot a volley of arrows at him, killing him. They then set fire to the church and tossed Daniel’s body into the flames. He was martyred on 4 July, 1648, at the age of 48.

John de Brébeuf was born in Normandy, France, in 1593 and entered the Society of Jesus (Jesuits) at Rouen in 1617. He suffered so much from the effects of tuberculosis that he could neither study nor do the usual teaching. Nevertheless in 1625, he offered himself for the North American mission among the native peoples and was accepted. He also found himself working among the Hurons. At first he made slow headway, but then found the work very rewarding from about 1633 until his death. At the request of the Hurons, he began to live among them, sometimes on his own and sometimes with a fellow Jesuit, preaching and catechising them in their own language. The main obstacles he met were deep superstition, physical violence and even cannibalism. But another serious factor was that Brébeuf and his fellow missionaries, however committed they were, belonged to a much resented, conquering people.

Nevertheless, Brébeuf set up schools and in one year baptised over 200 catechumens. On one occasion he was condemned to die, but spoke so eloquently about the afterlife that the execution was not carried out. In 1649, the Iroquois, who were bitter enemies of the Hurons, attacked the village where Brébeuf and his companion Gabriel Lalemant were. The two Jesuits were captured, their bodies mutilated, tortured, burnt, and eventually eaten. It was 16 March, 1649. It is said that the Iroquois ate the hearts of the two priests in order to have a share of their extraordinary courage in facing death. But the horrific way in which they met their death has few equals in the stories of martyrdom.

Gabriel Lalemant was born on 3 October, 1610, the son of a lawyer in the judicial court (Parlement) of Paris, and at the age of 20, he joined the Society of Jesus in 1630. In 1632, he took a special vow to work as a missionary. He nevertheless spent 14 years in France before going to North America. He taught at the Collège in Moulins (1632 to 1635), studied theology at Bourges (1635-1639), and then was attached to three different Jesuit institutions (1639-46) before arriving in Quebec on 20 September, 1646. Little is known about his stay in Quebec, but in September 1648, he arrived at the Sainte-Marie-des-Hurons Mission and, because he learnt the language so quickly, in February 1649, was sent to the Saint-Louis Mission. On 16 March, 1649, a war-party of 1,000 Iroquois overran the small town of Saint-Ignace and captured it with little opposition. The invaders then went on to the nearby Saint-Louis Mission, where the Hurons put up strong resistance. Eventually the Iroquois prevailed. Gabriel and de Brébeuf were there and, though urged to escape, refused. As soon as they were captured they were stripped of their clothes, their nails were torn out, and they were taken to the little town of Saint-Ignace (now in the county of Simcoe, Ontario). Brébeuf died on the afternoon of 16 March, at four in the afternoon. Lalande’s torture began on the evening of 16 March and continued to the next morning. He was killed by a hatchet blow to the head and his whole body was burned. His body, buried together with Brébeuf’s under the chapel of the Sainte-Marie residence, was moved to Quebec in 1650.

Charles Garnier was born in Paris on May 25, 1606. He came from the same parish as another of his fellow martyrs, Gabriel Lalemant. Charles came from an aristocratic family and his father was an under-secretary of King Henry III and was later put in charge of the Normandy treasury. His mother, from a noble Orleans family, died soon after he was born. He studied at the Jesuit Clermont College, and entered the Society of Jesus on 26 September, 1624. After his first vows, he returned to Clermont as a Prefect while studying rhetoric and philosophy. After teaching for two years in the College of Eu, he returned again to Clermont for his theology studies. He was ordained a priest in 1635. He was now keen to join the Jesuit mission in New France. His superiors approved, but insisted that he get the consent of his father, who was strongly opposed because of the great dangers. This delayed his departure for one year. Charles finally set out and arrived at Quebec on 11 June, 1636. On 12 August, he arrived among the Hurons and received a warm welcome. His first year coincided with a dangerous crisis. Both the natives and the missionaries came down with smallpox, but the blame was put on the missionaries (who may indeed have unwittingly have been carriers) and their lives could have been in serious danger. However, the crisis passed. Charles would spend the rest of his life as a missionary among the Hurons, without once returning to Quebec. The Hurons gave him the nickname “Ouracha” or “Rainmaker”, because a long drought ended soon after his arrival. He was greatly influenced by fellow missionary Jean de Brébeuf, and was known as the ‘lamb’ to Brébeuf’s ‘lion’. When Brébeuf was killed in March 1649, Garnier knew that he too could die soon.

On 7 December of the same year, the Iroquois arrived at the gates of the village, creating terror among the people as the invaders acted with inconceivable cruelty to women and children alike. Charles was the only missionary there at the time. He told the people:

We are facing death. Pray to God and take flight by any possible avenue of escape. Cherish your faith for the rest of your life and may death find you thinking of God.

He blessed them and then went to see what help he could give to others. It was while doing all this that he met his death. One bullet pierced his chest and another his thigh. Even then he tried to give help to other victims. He then received two blows from a hatchet, one on each temple. His body was then stripped and left naked on the ground. It was found later, hardly recognisable, covered with blood and ashes from a fire. He was buried by his Christians converts where the church had been.

Noel Chabanel was born in Saugues, Auvergne in the south of France, on 2 February, 1613 and entered the Society of Jesus at Toulouse when he was 17. Following his studies, he was a teacher of rhetoric at a number of Jesuit colleges and was highly respected both for his goodness and learning. Fired with a strong desire to serve in the North American mission, he was sent to New France in 1643, at the age of 30. After studying the Algonquin language, he was sent to the Jesuit mission centre at Sainte-Marie and stayed there until his death. His early enthusiasm quickly faded. Unlike his companions, he found it very difficult to adapt to the Huron way of life, nor could he ever learn the local language. The very sight of them, their food, indeed everything about them, he found difficult to take. Moreover he was tested by a spiritual dryness during the whole of his stay in Canada. Life on the mission was, for him, an unbroken chain of disappointments, which he called a “bloodless martyrdom”. Yet, in order to bind himself more inviolably to the work which his nature abhorred, he made a solemn vow, in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, to remain till death in this mission—promise he more than kept.

After the deaths of John de Brébeuf and Charles Garnier, Noel Chabanel was immediately recalled to the Sainte-Marie mission station. He had already started on his way back with a number of Christian Hurons when they heard the shouts of the Iroquois returning from Saint-Jean. Noel urged his companions to escape, but he himself was too exhausted to keep up with them. His fate was at first unclear, but a Huron apostate eventually admitted killing Noel out of hatred for the Christian faith. He met his death on 8 December, 1649. Given his difficulty in living the missionary life, his martyrdom only increases the heroism of his death. He was only 36 years old.

These eight martyrs were canonised in 1930 by Pope Pius XI and their memorial was extended world-wide in 1969 as proto-martyrs of North America. All worked tirelessly to bring the indigenous peoples of those regions to the Catholic faith. They are greatly revered because they sowed the seed for the first beginnings of the faith in North America not only by their preaching of God’s word, but also by the shedding of their blood.

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Commentary on Isaiah 53:10-11; Hebrews 4:14-16; Mark 10:35-45

Often, it is said, when looking for a job, it is not what you know, but whom you know that counts most—’connections’—with people in the right places. Today we see two brothers, who belong to the innermost circle of Jesus’ disciples, trying to take advantage of their ‘connections’.

Their opening gambit seems a quite modest request:

Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.

As a question, it is an opening for which we probably have fallen many times: “Could you do something for me?” Jesus is not so easily duped. He counters with another question:

What is it you want me to do for you?

We should remember this question because it is going to come up again in next Sunday’s Mass.

But it is also a question we should hear Jesus asking us now. Let us give the answer today and see whether we might change it in the light of next Sunday’s Gospel. Our answer to the question should be very fundamental. In other words, it should go to the very root of what we want out of life.

If we just say things like money or winning a lottery, having good health, getting a good job, being successful and so forth, we will still have to say ‘Why?’ or ‘For what reason?’ I am asking for these things. In life, what do I really want? Happiness, security, peace—or something else?

Are you really with me?
How did the two brothers answer the question? They had heard Jesus speaking of suffering, death and new life. They had recognised Jesus as the Messiah-King of Israel and heard him refer often to “his Kingdom”. So they boldly asked, “Give us the two top places in your Kingdom.” Jesus says to them:

You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?

Jesus here was speaking of his passion and death. Glibly, they respond with a “No problem!”

No understanding
It is clear they had no understanding of how this King would triumph by emptying himself to the lowest human level and only then entering his Kingdom. This is what Isaiah speaks about in today’s First Reading. He speaks of God’s crushing the Suffering Servant (Jesus) with suffering as the way for him to have many heirs and live a long life:

The righteous one, my servant, shall make many righteous,
and he shall bear their iniquities.

That is the way they would have to go. They would have to drink the cup to its bitter dregs and be baptised, immersed and submerged in the total self-giving of their Master. And indeed, as Jesus said, they would do this. James would be one of the young Church’s earliest martyrs. They would sit with Jesus in glory. But they would do this by going with him all the way, and not through any back-door deals.

Leading by service
Understandably, when the other 10 heard about this, they were very angry. It was not because they disagreed, but because they felt cheated. These two had gone behind their backs and pulled a ‘fast one’. Yet, their understanding of Jesus was not one whit better.

So now Jesus brings them all together and tells them his view of greatness and success in life. There is only one way to greatness and it is his way. It does not consist of sitting on thrones, living in fine houses, driving luxury cars, belonging to exclusive clubs, eating in fine restaurants, having holidays in exotic places—the things our media portray every week.

Greatness consists not in what we have, or in what we can get from others, but in what we can give of ourselves to others. The Second Reading from the letter to the Hebrews tells us today that in Jesus we have a “great” high priest. When is Jesus our great high priest? When he is in a temple built with exotic marble and wearing vestments made of costly cloth and precious stones and people bowing down before him? No, he is our great high priest when he, the priest and victim, hangs stark naked on the altar of the cross while the crowds mock and jeer below.

In our more recent times, St Teresa of Calcutta (Mother Teresa) is an outstanding example of what Jesus was teaching his disciples. Why did she get a state funeral? Surely it was in recognition of her greatness and also something she would have never dreamt of, nor in fact, wanted. Her greatness was in the giving of her whole self to the very ‘lowest’, treating them as brothers and sisters and living close to them and like them. And the people of India recognised her for that.

We need to remember she was doing this long before British author Malcolm Muggeridge wrote his book about her (Something Beautiful for God) and made her famous throughout the world. Her greatness was not in her fame or even in her reputation for holiness; it was because of her spirit of service to those most neglected and in need.

Mother Teresa was a great missionary bringing the Gospel message of service to the very poorest. She was an Albanian who became a missionary in India. But she and her sisters went on missionary work in New York and Los Angeles, in London and even Rome. A missionary in Rome? Yes, there too—missionary work goes in all directions.

Like James and John and the other disciples, like Mother Teresa and many others, we are all called to be missionaries, most of us right where we are. To be good missionaries we have to hear Jesus’ words about where real greatness lies. It is a message that is not always easy to hear in a society like ours.

We are all called to be not only disciples and followers, but also apostles and missionaries. We cannot live our Christian faith fully unless we are sharing it and witnessing to it in our daily lives.

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Commentary on Philippians 3:17 – 4:1; Psalm 33; John 12:24-26

The Gospel reading comes from John. In verses immediately preceding our reading, we are told that among those who were going up to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover were “some Greeks”, referring to Gentile converts to Judaism. They approached the Apostle Philip (whose name was Greek) and said they wanted to “see Jesus”. Philip in turn went to tell his fellow-Apostle Andrew (another Greek name) and together they went to Jesus with the request.

Jesus gave them a very enigmatic answer:

…unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain, but if it dies it bears much fruit.

Jesus goes on to clarify somewhat his meaning:

Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

The meaning is clear enough for us now. The Greeks had asked to ‘see’ Jesus. Presumably that is all they wanted—to lay their eyes on the man about whom they probably had heard so much. For Jesus, though, it is not enough just to see him externally. To ‘see Jesus’ is to know and understand and totally accept his Way. And Jesus is a person who is ready to set aside his present life in this world for a life that will never end.

Jesus then goes on to say:

Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.

In other words, the followers of Jesus must be ready to offer up their lives too. Is this what the Greeks mean in wanting to ‘see’ Jesus?

Ignatius, for his part, shared totally the mind of Jesus and did not hesitate to sacrifice his life in this world for a better one. He, too, compared himself to a grain of wheat, which would be ground by the teeth of wild beasts so that he might become the pure bread of Christ.

The First Reading is from the Letter of Paul to the Philippians. Part of this passage is also used on the Feast of the Sacred Heart. Paul prays, that for the Philippians, Christ may live in them through faith and that an outreaching love (agape) be the foundation of their life.

Only then will they be able to have:

…the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. (Eph 3:18-19)

With that love, we can never go wrong. For as is said, “Wherever there is love (agape), God is there”. Or, in the words of St Augustine, “Love (agape) and do what you like.”

It was this unconditional, outreaching love that governed the life of Ignatius. And one can hear him speaking to us in the words of Paul:

I, therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called… (Eph 4:1)

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Ignatius is believed to have been born about the year 35 AD and to have come from Syria. Nothing is known of his early life and career except that he became the third Bishop of Antioch in Syria about the year 69 (only about 40 years after the death of Jesus), and he is believed to have been a student of the Apostle John. He is said to have become bishop after St Peter and St Evodius (who died about the year 67). Eusebius, in his history of the Church, records that Ignatius succeeded Evodius. Theodoret even suggests that Peter appointed Ignatius bishop.

What we do know about Ignatius begins with his final journey from Antioch to Rome, which he made as a prisoner condemned to death for being a Christian during the persecution of the Emperor Trajan. In a letter to the Christians at Rome he wrote:

From Syria even to Rome I fight with wild beasts, by land and sea, by night and by day, being bound amidst ten leopards, even a company of soldiers, who only grow worse when they are kindly treated.

Altogether on this journey, he wrote seven letters, which give us important insights into the theology of the Churches in the period immediately following the Apostolic Church period. They speak of ‘ecclesiology’ (the nature of the Church), the Sacraments (which were still developing) and the role of the bishops (roles that were also being developed). Four of these letters were written at Smyrna, where he had been received with great honour by Polycarp and many other Christians. These letters were addressed to the church communities at Ephesus, Magnesia, Tralles, and Rome. At Troas he wrote the remaining three letters to Polycarp and to the church communities at Philadelphia and Smyrna.

The letters reveal and affirm strongly Ignatius’ devotion to Christ and his belief in the Divinity and Resurrection from the dead. They also urge unity in the communities in and through the celebration of the Eucharist and its chosen presider, the local bishop. Ignatius speaks of the Church at Rome as being founded by Peter and Paul and hence deserving of special reverence. He calls himself both a disciple and a ‘bearer of God’ (theophoros), so convinced was he of Christ’s presence in him and whom he longed to meet after his death.

In Rome, he was sentenced to die in the Colosseum. The Roman authorities hoped to make an example of him and thus discourage Christianity from spreading. Instead, his journey to Rome gave him the opportunity to meet with and instruct Christians along the way through his letters to the local churches and to Polycarp.

Describing himself as the “wheat of Christ”, he was thrown to the lions in the Roman Colosseum and died almost at once. This happened between the years 107-110.

His letters, originally in Greek, were soon translated into Latin and other Eastern languages. Along with Clement of Rome and Polycarp of Smyrna, Ignatius is one of the chief Apostolic Fathers, early Christian authors who reportedly knew the Apostles personally. He is also responsible for the first known use of the Greek word katholikos, meaning “universal”, to describe the Church.

His most famous saying is contained in the letter he wrote to the Church at Rome:

I am writing to all the Churches and I enjoin all that I am dying willingly for God’s sake, if only you do not prevent it. I beg you, do not do me an untimely kindness. Allow me to be eaten by the beasts, which are my way of reaching to God. I am God’s wheat, and I am to be ground by the teeth of wild beasts, so that I may become the pure bread of Christ.