Homily for the Vigil Mass of the Twelfth Sunday of Ordinary Time
Readings for Year A: Jeremiah 20:10-13; Psalm 68; Romans 5:12-15; Matthew 10:26-33
Do you remember what it was like back in March, before we all went into lockdown? People in powerful positions were saying that the coronavirus was fake news, that it was less harmful than the usual annual flu outbreak, that life should carry on as usual…
I remember feeling distinctly anxious. Should I be buying a mask? Should I tell the staff in my curia to work from home? All sorts of questions were buzzing around in my head and as news started coming in about people dying in the UK I began to realise that I was way out of my depth, having to make decisions in a high stakes game of Russian roulette, but with insufficient information on which to base those decisions. It was vertiginous.
How different it all seems now that we know quite a lot about Covid, now that we’ve lived through a serious outbreak, now that we’ve experienced for ourselves what it’s like to live through a pandemic of this sort. We are already into a new phase. And we know that as time goes on and a post-Covid phase opens up, people will forget about those febrile days and the concerns which obsessed us and filled our every waking moment. They will enjoy the space and time to reflect on this experience in peace and see these events with serenity and poise.
All crises come in phases. There’s a before, an after and several stages of “during”. The Jesus-crisis was no exception. It’s easy to forget that fact, to imagine that the contemporaries of Christ had an experience of Him largely similar to the one we have today.
But that is far from being the case. Following Jesus as he walked the roads of Palestine was very different to following Him today. It was fraught, like being caught up in a great crisis without time to think properly. If you read the Gospel texts carefully, you can see that the lives of Jesus’ followers were dominated by three questions: Who is this man Jesus? How is his movement going to play out? And what decision should I make – to follow or to leave?
That last question must have been terrifying – because if Jesus had been sent by God then to do anything other than accept his authority and to follow him would be dangerous. And if He was not, if He was a fraudster or a deceiver, or even, as some suggested, in league with the devil, then to follow him would surely lead to disaster, both with the civil authorities and with God. You can’t sit on the fence in a situation like that. You are forced to decide.
But here’s the thing: all the information the disciples had was subject to the usual ambiguities of human society: opinion, prejudice, political propaganda, opportunism and all the rest. It was a Kafkaesque situation, the stakes far higher than the ones we have had to face in the pre-Covid frenzy. You can see why Jesus ended up relying so much on people’s trust – what we have come to call ‘faith’.
It’s to that deeply uncomfortable experience that the Lord speaks in today’s Gospel. And his repeated injunction at a time of terror and confusion is “Do not be afraid!” Words of comfort and reassurance that must have brought much-needed peace to the minds of his followers, scared out of their wits at the risk they were taking by joining his movement, having no idea where it would take them.
One of the most mysterious things that Jesus says in the Gospel of St John is that until He leaves, the Holy Spirit will not be able to come. I read that statement as His recognition of the fact that atmosphere of crisis cannot go on indefinitely. It is only when His own story is complete and that He has disappeared from the scene that His community of followers can take the time and space to try and make sense of it all, and to receive the fruits we associate with the Holy Spirit: discernment, sanctification, wisdom, growth in faith, hope and love, and so on.
It is clear from Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel passage, too, that there is a before and an after to the crisis-time of his earthly ministry. While He is there, the disciples can only get hints, covered truths, whispered messages, dark murmurings. But there will be a time in which all will be made clear, when the truth will be seen in all its dimensions. That would come after His Passion and Resurrection, events which brought closure to the gaping questions which no-one could answer confidently in his lifetime:
Who was Jesus? In the resurrection it became clear that He had been the agent of God all along and soon Christians would listen again to all He had taught and come to understand His divine Sonship.
How is all this going to end? Complicated. Neither royal triumph nor ignominious defeat, but a sort of ‘both-and’ which no-one saw coming. And the arrival of this strange new community called the Church.
That is pretty much the situation which you and I inherit. The question of Jesus no longer forces us to make a decision based on insufficient information. For us, the doubts and struggles have a different character. But when we take on the joys and responsibilities of Christian faith, we know the parameters of what we are letting ourselves in for.
So what remains of this Gospel message that can still speak to us so long after that time of crisis has passed? I think it’s the way the Lord ministers so generously, so encouragingly to people in the midst of their fears and struggles. To a group of weak people tempted to desert him, He could so easily have admonished or cajoled, tried to manipulate or moralise at them. He might have folded his arms and said: “time to make your mind up; you’re grown-ups, you’re on your own!” It’s true, He can’t make the decision for them. But instead of all that, He offers words of tenderness and comfort and solidarity. “I know what you are going through. Don’t worry. You matter infinitely to God, He is not about to punish you for getting it wrong. If you take my side in public then I will take yours.”
Solidarity-with-us in the risks we take for Him is, I have learned, the very essence of who Jesus is. He always meets us when we take a chance on God. I’ve got a feeling that the era that is opening up for us now is one in which His people will need to take all sorts of risks, and we’ll often be wondering if the Lord will be there to catch us if we fall. How important it will be then to hear his voice:
“Every hair on your head has been counted. There is no need to be afraid.”
Fr Damian Howard SJ