Homily from Fr Michael Holman SJ for Maundy Thursday

On Sunday, 28 February in the town of Myitkyina, in Kachin state in the north of Myanmar near its border with China, Sister Ann Rose Ny Tawng watched as the armed Burmese police confronted a crowd of pro-democracy demonstrators.

A video of what happened next went viral. The 45-year-old nun, dressed in a simple habit, walked slowly towards the police, got down on her knees and with arms outstretched pleaded for mercy, begging them to shoot her rather than the protesters.

Some days later, she did the same again, this time accompanied by three other sisters and the local bishop. “The police were chasing to arrest children”, she explained, “and I was worried for the children”. “I can’t stand and watch without doing something, seeing what is happening before my eyes while Myanmar is groaning”.

“If I, then, the Lord and Master, have washed your feet you should wash each other’s feet”.

What happened in those days in Myitkyina reminded some of Pope Francis and of how, on his visit to South Sudan two years ago, despite his sciatica, he had got down on his knees and knelt before the heads of the warring factions and had pleaded for them to stop the killing. Commenting on what Sr Ann Rose had done, the Pope said he too would kneel in the streets of Myanmar and say, “End the violence!”. “Let dialogue prevail, violence solves nothing”.

“I have given you an example that you may copy what I have done for you”.

In a recent book, “Let us Dream”, written with Austen Ivereigh, his biographer, Pope Francis speaks about what he calls “overflow” moments. Such moments are a gift from God. As I understand them, they are moments when God bursts into human history with an event which breaks the banks that confine our ways of thinking, prompting a transformation, a new creativity. We see differently what he had thought we knew: people change. Typically, God bursts in when we are especially needy, our own weakness all too apparent.

It is the very heart of God, the Pope says, that overflows at such moments, just as it did when a family disaster was averted and Jesus turned all that water into wine; when the father rushed out down the road to give a hug to his prodigal son; when the wedding host went out into the highways and byways and fields to invite all and sundry to enjoy the feast; when Jesus fed the hungry multitude with five loaves and twelve fish and twelve baskets full were left over; when the nets broke with all those fish after a night of trawling when nothing had been caught; when Jesus, with the tension rising all around him, he removed his outer garment and washed the feet of each of his disciples, including the one who would betray him; and when he took bread and wine and said, “This is my body broken for you, this is the cup of my blood poured out for you”.

These past twelve months have been unspeakably difficult, full of tragedy, far too much of it. Tonight, we remember, as we have done through the year, those who have died and those who mourn them; those who are sick; and the good people who care for them; and those too anxious for words as we gave into an uncertain economic future. We do not only need to read the Gospels to learn of Jesus’ passion and death, he has been suffering and dying in his people all around us.

But neither do we need to search history, or travel thousands of miles to the East, to search for “overflow” moments, to encounter God bursting into history. Time and again, our brothers and sisters have been kneeling and washing the feet of their brothers and sisters. This evening, still in the midst of tragedy, we can remember these moments and be encouraged.

“A new commandment I give to you, love one another as I have loved you”.

A friend of mine described how working in an ICU he had seen nurses holding iPads so that desperately sick patients could see and speak to their loved ones. How many of us stood for months on Thursday evenings at 8.00pm to applaud our health, care and other key workers. Two weeks or so ago, the Guardian newspaper calculated that more that 12,400,000 people in the UK had volunteered to help the needy. Scientists have researched the vaccines and, miraculously, one pharmaceutical company will take no profit from it. As we all know, a man who, approaching his 100th birthday in Marston Moretaine in Bedfordshire, walked up and down his garden and in the process collected more than £30 million for health charities, has become the symbol of these times. And one of my own favourite examples: a group of care workers in the North East explain on the TV news about a year ago that they had decided to stay overnight in the home for weeks. “It’s hard on our families, but we want to keep the residents we love safe”.

“Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est”. “Where true love is dwelling, God is dwelling there”.

Yes, this evening and tomorrow and over the Easter weekend, we can all be grateful that, in the midst of tragedy, the very heart of God has been overflowing. There is some way to go, but we can hope that a transformation is coming about, that as a people we are becoming more caring, more loving, more aware of and bothering more about our neighbours and more aware of and willing to reach out to the neediest, those far and near.

May the mysteries at the heart of Jesus life, his washing the feet of his disciples; the bread that is his body and the wine that is his blood, broken and poured out in love for others, become, more and more, the mysteries at the centre of our lives as well such that he lives in us and we live in him. “As often as you do this, do it in memory of me”.

Fr Michael Holman SJ