Homily for Fifth Sunday of Easter
The Irish Church has fifteen hundred years of tradition behind us. Each generation is born into a secure, venerable tradition. This is indeed a blessed beginning. Tradition, like age, has its own dignity. Sure of its step, it is impervious to fashion. We often hear it said that we walk in the footsteps of our ancestors; it is perhaps more accurate to say that we are carried along on their shoulders. As a mode of travel, this can be comfortable but undemanding. And it has its own hazards: the tradition that carries us may grow tired and weary; the believer who is being carried can grow passive and bored. Passivity and boredom are certainly part of the Irish Catholic experience today. But our second reading there assures us: 'You are a chosen race, a people set apart to sing the praises of God'. The Irish Catholic tradition seems to have too much caution and too little song. The bland leading the blind!
We barely recognise the young Church presented in that first reading. We see there all the characteristics of youth: enthusiasm, energy, rapid growth, clear motivation and a great deal of restlessness. But all is not sweetness and light. There is some tension too: the Greek party objected because their people were being neglected. The reaction of the community was generous and sensible. They sat down and took stock: 'It is not right for us to neglect the word of God so as to give out food'. The gospel must indeed be preached, but the practical works of mercy must be continued as well. There is a variety of needs, but there is also a variety of gifted helpers. As the names of the seven new helpers imply, they were all Greeks, members of the group that lodged the complaint originally. The Church leaders recognised that these people had valid grounds for complaint, and had a genuine contribution to make to the community. The early Church was more anxious to involve its members than to control them. There are many rooms in the Father's mansion, earthy no less than heavenly.
As an Irish Church - of teachers, sisters, brothers: priests, readers, leaders - we must recognise and mobilise our gifted servants. A wealth of energy and talent lies untapped. Our culture, the way we have been molded as a people, constricts us. We priests have been burdened by our people's expectations. And some of us rush with tasteless glee to embrace the burden. Admittedly, it simplifies things. But it leaves an awful lot of spectators at large. And the critical faculties of the spectator sharpen with practice. In time the spectator develops into an astute critic, a 'hurler on the ditch'. And we Irish are widely renowned for that craft. In fact our ditches are dangerously over-crowded. But the Greeks in that first reading were not satisfied to sit back and complain. They went straight to the leaders. They didn't simply demand action. They offered themselves as actors. When conducted in this way, criticism can be positive. Otherwise, it has all the attractions of scratching yourself: an enjoyable but ultimately futile exercise. But if a man likes scratching, he won't thank you for removing the itch !
The community depicted in our first reading knew Jesus in the flesh. Perhaps that accounts for their enthusiasm. But Jesus assures us in today's gospel: 'Whoever believes in me will perform even greater works than'. So faith, rather than an historical accident of birth, explains their energy and drive. We in the Irish Church could do with an infusion of their energy and vision. But we must first identify those negative elements within that sap our energy and cloud our vision. Otherwise, we are doomed to plod on as we are, our tradition impeding us as a millstone, rather than serving us as a precious cornerstone. It should serve all as a solid foundation; it is experienced by far too many as 'a stone to stumble over, a rock to bring men down'.