“Take up you Cross and Follow me”
A friend of mine was sitting in his back garden reading a newspaper when two gentlemen came in through the gate, they came up to him and asked ‘Have you found Jesus?’ to which he replied, having put down the paper, ‘Please don’t tell me he’s lost again.’
“Who do you say I am?” is a truly demanding question. It invites each one of us to look deep into our hearts and souls to find the answer. For many ‘enquirers’ the answer is often expressed in moments of revelation or in moments of conversion. Some times the experience is dramatic – sometimes it comes in the bits and pieces of every day.
For some of us there isn’t a moment in our lives when we weren’t conscious of Jesus in our lives. We simply imbibed him with our mother’s milk and have continued to grow in our awareness of who he is both for ourselves and the community of the Church. We have had to let go of childish and infantile ideas of Jesus as a sweet and cuddly toy, for instance.– letting of these false images may have been difficult and even caused pain. For me, at this moment, Jesus is the one who challenges the status quo and invites his followers to have the courage to grow in freedom – freedom to commit oneself to working for the good of others, working for Justice and peace and reconciliation.
Last Friday the final report on the terrible happenings which took place in Derry over 30 years ago, known as Bloody Sunday became public. 
It was a frightening indictment of the then ‘powers that be’ defending the status quo and falsifying evidence, casting the victims of official violence as perpetrators of violence rather than as the recipients of violence. I was deeply impressed by the Prime Minister’s whole hearted and unconditional acceptance of the report and expression of sorry for what happened in ‘our name’. I was even more impressed by a relative of one of the victims who said ‘We don’t want vengeance or anything like that – all we wanted was the clearing of the victim’s names and now we seek for reconciliation.’
There is someone who like Jesus in yesterdays Gospel learned to ‘pray alone in the midst of his disciples’ – who has learned to take up ‘his cross and follow Jesus’ – To follow Jesus not just to the place of the scull but to follow him through the cross echoing those incredible words of Jesus “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do”.
The richness and compassion of his response disturb me deeply. Despite my deep conviction of the significance of Jesus in my life - would I be capable of such a truly liberating act, if one of my family had been so unjustly treated for so long? I’d love to think that my answer would be ‘Yes’ but I can honestly say that I don’t know and can only hope that my ‘Yes’ would be unconditional. 
As I write this I am reminded of another friend of mine Johnny Leary, who sadly died of cancer. Johnny, whose eyes continued to sparkle through out a long term of illness, once again challenged me to the very core when we were having a conversation about the inevitability of what was going to happen. This is what he said, “It’s a real hard thing to begin to see your own body as your enemy. And you know that eventually you come to realize that you have to enter into relationship with the illness and the cancer inside you and in some way allow it to become your friend.” I stand in awe of such people for whom the ability to ‘take up the cross and follow me’ are times of liberation and true freedom.
A question for all who journey within the RCIA, in whatever role, is to try to share as honestly as we can our experience of answering the question; ‘Who do you say I am?’ and sharing how ‘taking up the cross’ has liberated each one of us. As the saying goes ‘Be not afraid.’
Entering the City Gates
“This week instead of reading the story of Palm Sunday - we will walk the journey” 
It was my first journey to Jerusalem during Holy Week. We set out and walked the road to Bethphage and joined the motley group of pilgrims, from all corners of the world, along with our Palestinian brothers and sisters from the local Christian communities. Waves of people, led by the Scouts from Bethlehem, moved across the Mount of Olives. A mighty procession, each group singing in their various languages hymns of praise. It was a day of great excitement full of rumors that the procession wouldn’t get permission to enter into the city. (This is the only time Palestinian and others are allowed to march into the old city of Jerusalem). We entered and gathered in the grounds outside the Patriarch’s house for Benediction of the True Cross. Then we went our way reflecting and meditating on what had taken place. Our Palestinian brothers as they returned to Bethlehem marched around the old city with fife and drum – the Church in Bethlehem has one of the largest Bagpipe bands outside of Scotland - It was a day to remember.
A real insight into the tensions within the land of Israel and Palestine: - The experience removed any romantic or pious imaginings of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. It reflected some of the dangers inherent in the time of Jesus when according to tradition he entered into the Temple Mount through the Golden Gate. To enter through the Golden Gate was a sign of enormous significance – a sign of leadership and power. ( Tradition has it that when Saladin, the great military leader who defeated the Crusaders entered the city he did so through the Golden Gate leading his horse with one of his servants mounted on the animal as a sign that he came in service and humility). Today the Golden Gate is sealed, closed and overlooked by soldiers as it still carries great symbolic significance – a place of richness and tension.
That Palm Sunday walk took place in 1979.
To day the journey is even more surrounded with tension and difficulty. A substantial wall separates much of Bethphage from the road across the Mount of Olives to Jerusalem and the walk of witness of the first Palm Sunday is even more fraught with difficulty.
Will it or won’t it be allowed to take place. By the time this is read we will know and we will have taken part in our own Palm Sunday walk of witness and been moved by its strength. However we won’t have the tension of entering the City Gates and the sense of foreboding that surrounds each walk in Jerusalem – yet as we enter this Week of Weeks the contrast between Palm and Passion is tangible indeed. We are moving into a downward journey, into the very depths of what it is to be in solidarity with all that is truly human. In solidarity with the best and the worst of us.
In Luke’s Gospel chapter 9 we are told that Jesus ‘set his face to go to Jerusalem’. There was no turning back – there he would face palm and passion and on Friday of the week of weeks on the Cross he would say those truly amazing words “Father forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” As we journey though this week in solidarity with our Elect who have ‘set their faces to the new Jerusalem’ may we do so in solidarity with our brothers and sisters both Christian, Jew and Moslem in the Holy Land and pray that we all may learn to forgive the wrongs done to one another ‘for we do not know what we are doing’.
Baptized into a Way of Life
Things happen when Jesus is ‘at prayer’. ‘At prayer’ for Jesus is definitely not about a cozy chat with the Father but about the possibility of being transformed in such a way as to be open to ‘not my will but yours be done’. This week we are invited to reflect on what it is to be baptized.
I have often wondered what it would be like to be baptized into the Church as an adult rather than as a baby. I have never regretted the fact that my parents and extended family following the long tradition of our Church had me baptized within weeks of being born. I have been fortunate indeed that my understanding of what it means to be baptized has grown and developed over the years. I now know, in a way that I never understood for many years, that I am continually called upon to be baptized rather than simply be a card holding member of the Church.
I was recently asked to officiate at the baptism of a family friend’s child. I was told that they wanted the baptism done by someone they knew and would like to have it done privately. I agreed, provided that they approached the parish priest, also a friend of mine, and got permission. After a little discussion it was agreed that baptisms really aren’t ‘private affairs’. In fact there were six baptisms that day. The service and the community gathered together proved very powerful indeed. I took the opportunity to point out that where the Church was concerned the most important thing the parents could do for their children was to love one another. And if they do that they would do something that no school, college or university could ever do. They would teach them the importance of fidelity, of learning to trust, of kindness, of the importance of forgiveness and generosity. In formal religious terms they would give them the gifts of faith, hope and charity. I also pointed out that if we had the eyes to see and the ears to hear then we would ‘see the heavens open, and see the Holy Spirit descend upon each one of the children and hear the voice from heaven say to each one “You are my daughter/son, beloved, my favour rests on you.”
It is easy to say these words it is another thing to allow them to shape your life. In the case of Jesus of Nazareth when he emerged from the baptism of John he began his public ministry how much more so when we emerge from the waters blessed by the fire of the Holy Spirit are we called to live in a more radical way. As I said at the beginning of this reflection it has taken me quite a number of years to come to some understanding of what it means to be baptized and to try to live as a baptized person.
To be baptized either as a adult or as a young person of suitable age certainly offers richer possibilities than being baptized as a child. As the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults reminds us – ‘The Adult is the Norm’. While the ‘normal’ is the child – the ‘Norm’ is the adult. I love the moment when the adult is baptized – it is a definitely a threshold moment. It both confirms and deepens the faith already present in the life of the person. It is obvious that the person being baptized is not just becoming a member of a club but entering a living community of faith. I love the ceremony of clothing the adult with a white garment as a sign of that new life. Each year in the parishes in which I served, to welcome the Elect, the custom grew that all who attended the Easter Vigil would consciously wear something white to indicate putting on Christ. Those who had previously being received into the Church came wearing the white garment that had been out over their shoulders during their reception.
While ‘at prayer’ in Luke’s Gospel Jesus reveals to us something of the mystery of the Trinity and offers a profound reminder that we are all baptized into the love of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
- Take time this week and over the coming weeks to reflect on the challenge to live as one baptized into the love of God.
- Reflect on what it is to be plunged into the waters of life rather than standing on the shore and dipping one’s toes into the shallows.
- Ponder on the difference between saying prayers and being ‘at prayer’
Reflections on All Saints Day
There appears to be overwhelming evidence that we share a common 
ancestry with the animal world and that our remote roots go back quite literally millions of years. This is the 150th anniversary of the voyage of the Beagle. The insights of Charles Darwin have coloured our view of ourselves and our world. We hold in our hands the incredible variety and beauty of creation along with the cold restlessness of ‘survival of the fittest’. A restlessness endlessly challenged by the human experience of compassion and mercy.
The readings of the Eucharist for the feast of All Saints remind us that we are not just the accidents of an evolutionary process but are touched by something of the divine – we are in the words of St John “already the children of God but what we are to be in the future has not yet been revealed”. We are still growing - one could say evolving, into a new creation.
The quality of that ‘new creation’ is found most profoundly in the person of Jesus of Nazareth – in whose life we discover the limitless riches of what it is to be a compassionate, merciful, forgiving, generous human being and the price that is paid for living such a life, challenging as it does the power structures of the ‘survival of the fittest’ mind set of our world.
The feast of All Saints is a celebration of the countless people whose lives have been touched by the example of Jesus of Nazareth. Not just the obvious St Francis’s or St Therese’s of our tradition but the so called ordinary people who have touched the lives of others by their compassion and generosity of spirit. Murmur name upon name of those who have graced your life and you will begin to move into the mystery of this feast and discover that you are literally standing on holy ground.
In the Celtic Tradition of these Islands this time of year is called Samhain. It marks a significant divide in the year’s cycle – a movement into the dark but creative time of the seasons of the year. It was known as a ‘thin time’ – a time when it was possible for movement to take place between the Two Worlds of the Celtic Imagination. It was a time of creativity and mystery, not without the possibility of discomfort and danger. The ‘trick or treat’ celebrations of Halloween with the emphasis on ghosts, witches and all things that go bump in the night are a pale reflection and mere shadow of this ancient tradition. The feasts of All Saints and All Souls are more than likely a Christianisation of that tradition. Reminding us that to live as followers of Jesus is to live in ‘thin times’ – to live as beatitude people
- To be on the side with those who have no status
- To grieve in solidarity with those who have lost their identity
- To be open to the possibility of God’s action in our world
- To hunger for justice and peace
- To be merciful in all cases without exception
- To live in integrity and truth
- To actively pursue the cause of true peace (Shalom)
- To be open to the possibility of rejection without bitterness
The poet Brendan Kennelly in the poem “The Good” reminds us that..
“The good are vulnerable
As any bird in flight,
They do not think of safety,
Are blind to possible extinction
And when most vulnerable
Are most themselves.”
He concludes the poem with these two lines
“I think that I know one or two
Among my friends”
The first reading of the Mass for All Saints is an affirmation that far from there being only ‘one or two’ the numbers are impossible to count of those who have born witness to the life and teaching of Jesus. The question for each one of us is:
“Can I add my name to the list?”
You Can’t Be Serious!
Over the past couple of Sundays the foot stamping antics of the bold John McEnroe questioning the referee decisions at Wembley seem very appropriate. It is easy to imagine Peter and the other disciples talking among themselves saying “He can’t be serious?”
“How could He possibly mean that the whole adventure will end in total failure? – on a Cross! Surely not!”
“And what does he mean by saying we must become like a stateless child, one who has no say and that’s the way to leadership!”
“And we must work with others who are outside our group and not shut them up!”
He can’t be serious – but maybe He is.
A number of years ago with a small group we visited the Basilica of St Francis in Assisi – it was a most moving occasion. What stayed with me, however, aren’t the beautiful frescos by Giotto or even the image of Francis himself but the question put to us by the American Friar who led us around the building. “Before we begin, can I ask you; “Are you here as tourists or pilgrims?” Rather shame faced we replied “Pilgrims”. Then he said “Great – I will try to bring you into something of the experience of Francis.”
The question has continued to haunt me. Am I a tourist or a pilgrim? – The tourist goes on a journey and tries to capture the moment taking the photo before even looking at the scene, trying to capture the moment - a journey of refreshment and hopefully excitement but essentially the tourist doesn’t change. The adventure just adds to his or her levels of experience and possible knowledge. The Pilgrim on the other hand sets out on a journey where hopefully he or she will experience change, possibly radical change, and come back seeing with different eyes, becoming, in the words of St Paul, a new creation.
These past few weeks are definitely an invitation by the Man Himself to get off the tourist journey into becoming an Adult Christian and move away from a rather shallow discipleship – away from the pick and mix of many a market based media approach to spirituality with instant formation and preference. The invitation is to step into deeper waters, to reflect and grapple with the riddles and ambiguities of the Man from Galilee – a task not just for one or two evenings but for years to come.
How is it possible to die and rise again – to be open to complete failure– and make that a creative way of life?
If we are caught up in the language and behaviour of “Who is the greatest?” what hope is there for true peace?
The great Mohammed Ali, used the phrase “I am the Greatest” not simply as a sign of personal vanity but as a profound challenge to the prejudices and bigotry of his own nation at a time when black people were very definitely second class citizens. Is it possible to use the language of dying and rising, becoming like a child, working with those outside of our group, beyond the pale, in a similar imaginative way?
The challenge to catechists, inquirers and catechumens is to allow the gospels of these weeks to find a deep home within and to resist the temptation to water down these radical sayings of Jesus and like the disciples to hide behind: “We don’t understand what he’s saying and we’re afraid to ask”. Or like the disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane to simply run away.
Surely! He can’t be serious?
YES – AMEN
Tomorrow is the 16th June. In Dublin it is a special day. The 16th June is known as Bloomsday – the story of one day in the life of the characters in James Joyce’s amazing novel Ulysses along with a celebration of the city of Dublin itself. The book opens with one of the characters, stately plumb Buck Mulligan, climbing a tower with his dressing gown , ungirdled and sustained behind him by the mild morning air holding aloft his shaving bowl and intoning “Introibo ad altare Dei”.
It is to say the least a slightly irreverent opening as the action of the ‘stately plump’ figure and his action mirrors the action of the priest, as he would have celebrated the Mass of the Tridintine Rite, holding the host aloft with the altar server holding the priestly vestments behind him. And, of course, the words ‘Introibo ad altare Dei’ were the introductory Latin words of the Mass, as it was celebrated, when the book was written. However, apart from the irreverence perhaps a deeper message is being offered to us!
In the old rite when the priest and the server entered into the sanctuary of the church to celebrate Mass – the gates were closed. Symbolically the priest was entering into the presence of God where only the ‘holy’ could enter. The rest were present, looking on from a distance, often with heads bowed. Behind the altar rails was where God was to be found. In Joyce’s novel the ‘altar of God’ is not enclosed but out in the open air. The altar of God is found in the strange, imaginative, complex, even seedy lives both of the characters and city. In the course of one day, a day which takes over 930 pages to describe, the final word to all the complexity, richness and imaginative lives of the characters and city is YES. Yes to life. Yes to the altar of our lives. It is such a great word – Yes. In the words of the poet Brendan Kennelly
“I am always beginning to appreciate
The agony from which it is born.
Clues from here and there
Suggest such agony is hard to bear
But is the shaping God
Of the word that we
Sometimes hear, and struggle to be.”
Both James Joyce and Brendan Kennelly are, knowingly or unknowingly, reflecting the most profound insights of St Paul who, writing to the church in Corinth, has much to say about Yes. “For the Son of God, Jesus Christ, whom we proclaimed among you, Silvanus and Timothy and I, was not “Yes and No”; but in him it is always “Yes”. For in him every one of God’s promises is a “Yes.” For this reason it is through him that we say the “Amen” to the glory of God.” (2 Corinthians 1:19-20). Learning that God’s word to us is “Yes” and that that “Yes” finds its fullest expression in the person of Jesus of Nazareth is not necessarily easy. Yet it lies at the heart of the celebration of the feast of Corpus Christi, which we celebrated yesterday. When we are offered communion during the Eucharist, the Priest or Minister of the Eucharist holds out the host and says “The Body of Christ” and we answer “Amen” – What we are saying is “Yes! – this is the body of Christ” But we are also saying “Yes – ‘I am’ the body of Christ and ‘we are’ the body of Christ.’
YES – AMEN – let us go into the altar of God – the God of our lives
Easter Sunday – A Reflection
Easter1988 I had the privilege of being present at the Holy Fire Ceremonies at the Holy Sepulchre Church in Jerusalem. The ceremony of the Holy Fire belongs to the Orthodox Churches. As a member of the
Western Roman Tradition it was necessary for me to be in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre from early morning. After the celebration of our Eucharist I managed to stay by going up the stairway onto the roof of the building. I stayed there along with an Israeli soldier until the ceremonies were about to begin in the early afternoon. (This could not happen to-day)
Watching the process down below was fascinating. Each time one of the Patriarchs of the Coptic or Armenian Churches arrived the doors were opened followed by a great rush to get into the Church before the doors were closed again. Eventually the Patriarch of the Greek Orthodox Church arrived and the doors were opened and closed for the last time before the ceremony began.
I came down to find the church packed with people. There was a real sense of carnival singing, dancing, drum-beating. Each one present carrying bunches of candles, often in carrier bags to be brought back home and distributed to friends and neighbours alike. When the official chant began a deep silence descended on the crowd. The Patriarchs entered the Tomb and the door of the tomb was closed. Everyone stretched out their hands, full of candles, towards the tomb of Christ. The silence was pregnant with expectation and profoundly moving – one of those extended moments which lasted, in reality for three or four minutes, but stretched into eternity and like Jacob’s ladder of old moved between heaven and earth. Then the door of the tomb opened and the Greek Patriarch emerged with a lighted torch and the words CHRIST IS RISEN. Words taken up by the whole group shouting Christ is Risen. The light passed to runners who circled the church three times, everyone trying to stop them to have their own candles lit – and within moments the interior of the church which was in darkness became bright with the light of Christ. Eventually the doors of the Holy Sepulchre were opened and the light entered the square. The shout went up even higher ‘Christ is Risen’. (The light from the tomb is flown in a protected container to Athens where the paschal fire there is lit from the fire in Jerusalem).
The following thought hit me: ‘If the fire from the tomb had been blown out by some freak occurrence– some people would literally have died.’ The whole experience was so powerful. And I instantly regretted our more prosaic approach to the world of symbol- take it or leave it. That evening I joined our own Easter Vigil celebrations at St Anne’s Church. The Paschal Fire was lit overlooking the pool of Beth-zatha where Jesus had healed the man waiting thirty-eight years to be put into the waters. The setting was and is elemental. That night there was a fairly strong breeze and the Paschal Candle was blown out three times before we reached the doors of St Anne’s Church. Each time it was just lit again and we all smiled. It was a beautiful ceremony yet unlike the afternoon celebration I had no sense of our lives depending on it. The thought I came away with, which still haunts me, is the need to develop a deeper sense of the power of symbol in our lives and liturgy. I hope that for all of us who have taken part in the Easter Vigil and Mass the experience may echo that of the poet Elizabeth Jennings.
“And in the cold night underneath the stars
I felt something like love and nothing of fear
For here was the holy ground and rising day
And it was right to be there.” (Elizabeth Jennings – Easter Vigil and Mass)
Be Alert
BE ALERT
I love the Church’s new year – In this year of Mark the season of Advent begins with the imperative to ‘Be on your guard’, ‘Stay awake’, ‘Be alert’ ‘Don’t be caught asleep’. There is a great urgency in the language, there is no time for sitting back and taking ones time, considering all the options and then coming to a reasonable decision. Now is the time for action.
Wow! It sounds like the Governments response to the Credit Crunch. The difference being that our Government’s urgency is based on the belief that we are all consumers and that our whole economic viability depends on us becoming successful consumers. We kind of sleepwalked into the Credit Crunch by being encouraged to live way beyond our means. Now we are encouraged to become more alert consumers, spending with a purpose to kick start the economy. A pragmatic solution designed to bring about a brighter economic future.
Surely the Advent directives don’t belong to the same pragmatic camp. They certainly challenge us to:
BE ALERT
STAY AWAKE
BE ON OUR GUARD
To what purpose?
Getting ready for Christmas! Granted not the consumer Christmas symbolized by Santa, who year by year has a go at elbowing the infant child out of the crib, but for the celebration of the amazing truth that ‘God loved us so much that he sent his son, born of a woman, born under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children. And because you are children, God has sent his Spirit into our hearts, crying “Abba Father!” So you are no longer a slave but a child, and if a child then also an heir, through God.’ (Galatians 4:4-7) The great truth is that we already are the children of God, we already have the Spirit of God deep within us, enabling us to address God as “Abba! Father!” We are already heirs – the problem is that we sometimes miss this reality and live as if these great truths weren’t true.
Advent is a time not so much of preparing for Christmas but of longing. A deep longing that we might become what we already are – children of God. Those of us who were fortunate enough to hear the vision of Dr Martin Luther King whose dream of a future where children of different religions and different colour would walk hand in hand had our imaginations captured. We knew that when he spoke of climbing the mountain and looking into the valley and seeing the future – he was speaking of the present and calling on his community and society to change. It was an Advent speech inviting all to be alert, to stay awake and not to be found asleep – the future calling to action in the present.
The prayers used in the celebration of the Rite of Welcome or the Order of the Catechumenate are profoundly Advent prayers:- particularly the signing of the senses where past present and future come together in a great embrace.
“Receive the sign of the cross on your ears,
that you may hear the voice of the Lord.”
“Receive the sign of the cross on your lips.
That you may respond to the word of God” etc etc
Each prayer is an invitation to Be Alert, Be Awake, Be on your Guard. Be Advent people – don’t miss the moment.
Don’t Cling
St Paul’s letter to the Phillippians is one of the most disconcerting of all his letters. Talking to a community obviously at odds with one another and pleading from the heart for them to overcome their differences so that they might live more authentically the Christian life.
I love this reading because it is a great reminder that the chances are that their probably never was a community which totally lived the Christian life. This is true both then and now and that we are always in the process of becoming rather than in a state of having arrived. It also acts as a reminder, not to spend time dwelling on the faults and failings of any particular parish community but at the same time to avoid the danger of presenting any given community as the ideal.
At one time I spent a great amount of time visiting schools. I loved the fact that on a regular basis many of the teachers would voice their reflections on the difficulties they experienced yet when we met together as a staff suddenly the school was without fault. The danger of being without fault is, of course, that there is no place to go and nothing to learn.
This danger can also be found in an RCIA Group which can run the risk of acute disappointment when feet of clay are discovered in the community into which the enquirers have been received. St Paul acts as a fantastic reminder that we are always part of a community struggling to become a community. The second reading for the 26th week of Ordinary Time is worth taking time over:
- Reading quietly,
- Hearing it read by different voices,
- Listening to the words or phrases which struck each person in the group,
- Hearing it again,
- Asking what it says to us now, what’s it inviting us to do.
A whole session could easily be spent letting these words speak:- Words which have come down to us from the first century of the Christian Church and are alive today as when they were written.
Recently I came across a reflection on the power of memory. It pointed out that there are two kinds of memory. Nostalgic Memory which usually confirms where we are and acts like a pat on the back and Dangerous Memory which acts as a critique of where we are and invites change and growth. St Paul’s letter is dangerous memory, particularly when he invites us to take on the mind of Christ Jesus. What kind of a mind is that? Well its one that has the capacity of letting go, of not clinging to power, to hurt, to revenge, to getting one’s own back, to have the capacity to identify with those on the bottom rung of the ladder. The image given is that of the cross.
I know that had I been on the receiving end of torture which led to the cross, I’d be with the two thieves shouting abuse at all in sundry and wanting those who had hurt me to at the very least suffer the same pains as I had suffered, especially being innocent. But that was not the way of Jesus the Christ instead of vengeance, forgiveness, compassion and mercy. “Father forgive them”. Blaming nobody holding all until all are changed.
No wonder we are in the business of helping enquirers and ourselves to continue to grow into the mind of Christ rather than thinking that we have arrived.
Who do you say that I Am?
Caesarea Philippi is situated at the foot hills of Mt Hermon on the borders between Jordan and Israel. It is an extraordinary place. The waters of the river Dan, one of the sources of the river Jordan, flow out of the base of the mountain, ice cold and fresh. Carved into the side of the mountain are the remains of the cave dedicated to the god Pan to whom the area was originally dedicated. The generative powers of the gushing waters were taken as signs of the fertile qualities of this god of nature, still captured in its current name of Banyas. It is a truly significant place. During the lifetime of Jesus of Nazareth it was the site of the capital of the region ruled by Herod the Great's son Philip. It was he who dedicated Paneas (Town of Pan) to Caesar.
It is little wonder that one of the key questions of Matthew's Gospel , "Who do you say the Son of Man is?"(the gospel for the coming Sunday) is set in this part of ancient Israel. The area was redolent with answers of all kinds. The area spoke of the awesome power both of the fertility god of nature and the might of ancient Rome and it's Emperor. Powers rarely questioned. Where we're concerned the context for the question put by Jesus appears to be very different, no longer do we believe in the god Pan and the power of ancient Rome has passed away. However the realities which they represent are very much present in our culture and society. We are surrounded by all kinds of offers "guaranteed to give us life in abundance", not gushing from the foot of Mt Hermon but flowing out at us in a constant stream of images and adverts: -coming from the various forms of media, offering a plethora of alternative possibilities of life style to one and all. Total freedom of choice: ‘after all it's your life, do with it what you will'. As for Caesar and his military power, he has simply changed his clothes. He now wears a collar and tie or a free flowing garb. The approach of Pax Romana (Pax Britannica or Pax Americana), which maintains peace through the use or threat of violence has more adherents than the more vulnerable approach of Pax Christi. The world of Caesar hasn't quite passed away.
The question put by Jesus is a real question but it is not a request for a definition of belief, a catechism answer, no matter how accurate that answer might be. It is an invitation to answer from the depth of our own relationship with the person of Jesus. I love the story told by Anthony De Mello where he imagines a conversation between Jesus and a Christian:
| "Jesus: | And you, who do you say I am? |
| Christian: | You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God. |
| Jesus: | Well and truly answered. But how unfortunate you are that you learnt this from mortal man. It has not yet been revealed to by my heavenly Father. |
| Christian: | True, Lord. I have been cheated. Somebody gave me all the answers before your Heavenly Father could speak. I marvel at your own wisdom that you said nothing to Simon yourself, but waited for your Father to speak first." |
The whole process of the RCIA at its heart is a journey of formation rather than of information. Sadly in many cases we give in to the danger of overloading the information to the detriment of the formation. Next Sunday's Gospel gives us time to pause whether we are continuing to journey each week with an enquiry group or a catechumenal group or taking the time out to prepare for a new start after the holidays. The question still remains in our complex world: "Who do YOU say the Son of man is?"