Other Homilies
Homilies by Rev. Andrew Collis unless indicated otherwise.
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‘Lifting up and bringing down -
“It is the vulnerable who make the world safe for humanity,” says biblical scholar Brendan Byrne in conclusion to a three-
Jesus is teaching the twelve apostles in close proximity to a wider group of disciples, within earshot of the crowds from Judea, Jerusalem, Tyre and Sidon – the afflicted masses who have come to hear Jesus and be healed of their diseases.
(Dorothy has designed an apt table setting – religious or spiritual teaching with social concern. Public or liberation theology as opposed to sectarian or personal piety.)
This is Jesus whose own vulnerability is underlined in his birth in a manger, his yearning/learning as a youth, his temptation in the wilderness, the hostile response to his first-
Most commentaries point out that “blessed” means something like “happy” and that the Beatitudes, the Blessings, are a series of provocations, the sharpness of which centuries of familiarity have tended to soften. Jesus knows that what he is saying is absurd by standards of his day. His words – like Sister Corita’s artwork – deal in radical reversal. A world of winners and losers is turned upside down by way of hope and courage, by way of subversive wisdom.
The blessings and woes introduce a sermon on the cost of discipleship. Jesus will go on to speak about loving enemies, sharing possessions, loving the unlovable (unconditional or non-
(Similarly, Corita Kent’s artwork invites us to imagine the world, to see ourselves, as if from the “other side” (the heavenly side?) of reality. As if from the “underside” of history – an all-
This is a demanding vulnerability. It places a disciple alongside the one made poor: alongside the economically and socially poor, alongside the faithful who wait upon God (those like Simeon and Anna), alongside all those (right there in the crowds) with a deep longing that makes them vulnerable to need and despair, ridicule and abuse. “[A]ll whose emptiness and destitution provide scope for the generosity of God.”
Mary proclaimed it in her song. It is also the “good news for the poor” announced by Jesus – with reference to prophetic acts of indiscriminate love. God is this love on behalf of the oppressed. That’s why it’s better to be poor, hungry, weeping and reviled rather than rich, full, laughing and well-
Being vulnerable, then, gives scope to divine power – to lift up, to bring down, to make well. A vulnerable community (long-
When will God do this?
One answer is that God has already done this in Christ. God has made the world safe for sinners/oppressors by forgiving them (forgiving but not excusing them/us). God has made the world safe for the oppressed/afflicted by accompanying them, by healing and loving them, weeping and hoping with them. God has established a church as counter-
A fuller answer is that God continues to do this – at any moment God might do it again – by the insistent power of the Spirit. We are invited – called, provoked, nudged, inspired – into a sacred realm or reign – to be witnesses to the safety of God we ourselves may embody – in a community where justice, equality and compassion are new realities.
How do we do this?
Voluntary poverty of one kind or another has long been a way of closeness to God, as has radical service of one kind or another. The common thread is living with less so that all might have enough, rejecting an anxious pursuit of wealth, power and security, allowing God (through sacred text and sacrament) to inspire generosity and care. It is the vulnerable – strangers/outsiders/others with gifts of hope, courage and wisdom – who make the world safe for humanity.
Let us note in closing the image in verse 19 of Jesus from whom a healing power streams. It is, perhaps, the very power of the sermon itself: calling, provoking, nudging, inspiring …
It is blessed to be vulnerable – there is joy in it – for there one meets with strangers/outsiders/others – all of us afflicted and needy (as if in a mirror, as if on the other side, the underside or heavenly side). There, with open hands (empty, not grasping), we receive our new and truer selves – as in bread and wine. May it be so. Amen.