Homily for 5th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2017

THE FIFTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME
The ancient philosopher, Aristotle, wrote somewhere that of all the five senses we possess,
sight is the most valued. It is through the gift of being able to see – the gift to those of us who
can see, that is – that we understand most about the world around us. Human beings are
creatures who want to see and understand. That is why phrases like “I see” can refer to both
physical sight and to understanding something. Other phrases like “it finally dawned on me”
use the imagery of light to indicate understanding something. When cartoon characters like
Tom the Cat (out of Tom and Jerry) or Wile E. Coyote (out of Roadrunner and Coyote) have
one of their bright ideas, it’s often represented by a light bulb appearing above their heads
and being switched on. As a child, I had huge sympathy for both of these characters, wanting
Tom to get the better of Jerry (and preferably eat him) and Coyote to get the better of
Roadrunner and push him off a cliff or drop a huge boulder on him for a change.
Unfortunately the light bulbs didn’t come on often enough and, thus, Tom and Coyote were
always the victims. Their respective plights have undoubtedly scarred me for life and turned
me into the natural pessimist I shall be until my dying day!
The 20th Century biblical scholar, Rudolf Bultmann, was so taken by the light bulb and
declared it to be such a powerful thing that he believed that thousands of years of Jewish and
Christian imagery had been made redundant by it. For all his charming enthusiasm about
modern technology, Bultmann was clearly wrong, and this weekend’s readings at Mass serve
to show that the imagery of light and understanding are still alive and relevant for today’s
world.
In the first reading, the prophet Isaiah reminds the people that if they act justly then their
light will shine like the dawn, their integrity will go before them and the glory of the Lord
behind them. He was actually speaking about the pillar of fire by night and the pillar of cloud
by day which was the presence of the Lord as He accompanied the children of Israel on their
journey through the desert from their bondage in Egypt to the Promised Land. This “glory of
the Lord” shines throughout the Old Testament and it is finally, and fully, revealed in the
glorious light of the resurrection of Jesus. Hence, in his description of the heavenly Jerusalem,
the writer of the Book of the Apocalypse says:
“I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God almighty and the Lamb. The city
had no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gave it light, and its lamp was
the Lamb. The nations will walk by its light and, to it, the kings of the earth will bring their
treasure. During the day its gates will never be shut, and there will be no night there.”
In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus links the visibility of a city perched upon a hilltop with the
light required to illuminate a room. The inference is that He Himself is that city and that light,
as the Book of the Apocalypse states. Indeed it is not unreasonable to suppose that the writer
of the Book of the Apocalypse was inspired by the teachings of Jesus.
There is an invitation in the scripture readings for this particular Sunday that we should be
illuminated ourselves. It is not without significance that one of the earliest names for Baptism
was “pho-tis-mos” which means “illumination”. The baptised were seen as those who had
been enlightened. Their eyes had been opened so that they could see with the light of Christ.
It all sounds terribly romantic but what it meant, in essence, was that the grace they had
received at the font, as they were immersed in the baptismal waters, was the gift of faith.
And, by faith, our intellect (our means of understanding) is strengthened and raised up to
participate “in God’s understanding of Himself” (to quote the late and great Father Herbert
McCabe, of the Order of Preachers). This is a mind-blowing gift. Whether we are physically
sighted or not, whether we are academically gifted or not, what the gift of faith does is to
help us see and grasp supernatural realities. We are able to recognise, as never before, the
presence and activity of almighty God, both around us and within us. And this should ignite
within us a deep and fervent desire for that faith to grow – to be nourished by God’s holy
Word and by His Sacraments (which means, first and foremost, being present at Mass each
Sunday), for it to be sustained by regular prayer and for it to find practical expression in the
corporal and spiritual works of mercy which were at the very forefront of our minds this time
last year during the Year of Mercy which Pope Francis invited the whole Church to observe.
Of course, faith is always God’s gift and the giving of it is always God’s initiative, but our task
as its recipients is to seriously invest it and, if can do that, it becomes an integral part of who
and what we are and it automatically transforms us into the faithful witnesses that, through
our Baptism, God intends us to be.
The imagery of light, understanding and vision, which we find in this weekend’s readings is
intended to help us understand the transforming power which the gift of faith possesses – a
transforming power which is already at work in our own lives. The Church teaches us, as Jesus
Himself did, that faith will eventually give way to sight, but the “illumination” which faith
brings to us is not something sudden and blinding and reserved until the end of time when
we finally see God’s face. Rather, it is something which dawns upon us very gradually, day by
day, enabling our eyes to slowly but surely adjust to what they see. As St Paul put it so
beautifully in his First Letter to the Corinthians:
“For now we see as through a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, then I
shall understand fully even as I have been fully understood.”
When the young John Henry Newman was becalmed on board a ship off the coast of Sardinia
in 1833, he was moved to write a poem which we now sing as a beautiful and well-loved
hymn. Perhaps we can make that hymn our prayer on this Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time.
Lead, kindly light, amid th’encircling gloom,
Lead thou me on;
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead thou me on.
Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.