St George's Cathedral, Southwark
Thursday, 10th June 2010

© Mazur/catholicchurch.org.uk
A few weeks ago I was watching a rugby match back in Cardiff
and the performance of one particular player kept me on the edge
of my seat. He was incredibly agile, remarkably quick on his feet
and ran rings round the opposing players, and I said to myself,
“That lad's playing like a man inspired.” It’s a remark I’m sure
we have all made at some time or other, either about a sportsman
or woman, a brilliant musician, an actor or someone who has given
a rousing speech. In those contexts we use the word inspired
rather loosely to mean that we think the person concerned has had
a sudden rush of adrenalin or an unexpected and quite remarkable
insight.
But a great achievement or performance doesn’t come out of the
blue. The brilliant sportsman has trained and practised hour after
hour, week after week, away from the public gaze. So it is with
the musician or actor or public speaker. Their “inspired”
performance is in fact the fruit of long, dedicated and patient
hard work. So it was with Christ when he first spoke in public to
the people of his own town. He had spent years in silent and
prayerful preparation for this moment which began his public
ministry. It was certainly inspired, and the people were
astonished, but what he said was not what the people wanted to
hear. Luke tells us that a little later on, when they had absorbed
what he had said, the people flew into a rage, threw him out of
the town and took him to the top of the mountain in order to throw
him down.
There are those in our own times who would like to see people of
faith thrown down too. We are living at a moment in our history
when our society is marked by deep struggles about its identity,
values and purpose. It’s a society in which religion and religious
faith are increasingly under attack from the philosophers and the
“worldly wise” of our times. Religious faith, and all that flows
from it, is all too often perceived at best to be simply a legally
permissible but private eccentricity; allowable only behind closed
doors, but not in any way to be given expression in public life,
the workplace or in the field of education. The historic, present,
and future value of religion to the secular and spiritual life of
the country has come under increasing criticism, and is often
summarily dismissed as irrelevant and even dangerous. At the
extreme, there are those who represent an aggressive secularism or
an anti-theism, which asserts a vision of a secular society
completely free of religion and its influence.
In the words of the Jesuit theologian, Fr. James Hanvey: “Part of
this approach is to construct a version of religion, especially
Catholicism, that not only makes it strange to the secular mind
but presents it as a threat. . . Religion in general, but the
Church in particular, comes to stand for all the deepest fears and
demons of a liberal secularism: it is prejudiced, oppressive,
irrational, authoritarian, and capable of inspiring fanatical
violence and abusing power.”
However, the reality is that the Church is not a threat to the
legitimate independence and proper role of the secular State. The
ambition of the Church is to see every person flourish and achieve
his or her full potential, irrespective of race, religion, colour
or creed. And, in the light of the Gospel, she has a clear vision
of what religion and faith can offer to a confused and fragmented
society and world. The Church, and by Church I mean all the
baptised, by virtue of her God-given mission, must be passionately
engaged in expressing that vision, because she wants humanity to
succeed, not fail. That mission is to shed the light of Christ in
the world of our times and to bring people to the knowledge of the
truth - the truth of what it means to be human, the truth about
the purpose of human life, the truth of God’s unconditional love
for everyone without exception. That was the mission of Christ;
that is the mission he passed on to all of us, when we received
the Holy Spirit in the sacraments of Baptism and Confirmation.
Sadly, for many people today that light of Christ which should
shine out so clearly in the Church has been dimmed, particularly
by the revelation of the terrible wrong which has been done by
priests who have abused innocent children, and who have felt a
deep-rooted sense of betrayal and violation by priests whom they
trusted. The humiliation and shame of this wicked and scandalous
behaviour has touched every member of Christ’s body, the Church;
the innocent as well as the guilty. As St. Paul says in his Letter
to the Romans, “If one part of the body is hurt, all parts are
hurt with it.” The wounds in Christ’s body bleed for the innocent
victims, for the sins committed by some priests, and for the
failures and errors of judgement of some Bishops.
These revelations are a stark reminder of the truth that the
Church is a Church of saints and sinners, constantly in need of
redemption and reformation. Yet we know it is also true that in
spite of the weakness and failures of individuals, and at times
the institution of the Church, it is within the Church that the
risen Christ continues his redeeming work through the presence and
power of the Holy Spirit. That surely is the reason we rejoice in
being members of the Church, imperfect though she is; not because
we have any exaggerated claim to personal holiness, nor because we
hold to a false optimism that we shall achieve perfection through
our own efforts. But because we understand and readily acknowledge
that we are all sinners, in need of the redeeming grace of Christ
won for us in the Paschal Mystery of his passion, death and
resurrection, and available to us through the mystery of the
Church.
Yet in difficult times, we, like the disciples during Christ’s
Passion, can be tempted to run away and hide, rather than
courageously face up to the challenge of renewal and purification.
We can too easily become disheartened and discouraged, or even
feel completely overwhelmed. Our faith can be shaken, our energy
diminished and our zeal in proclaiming the Gospel can begin to
fade. The Apostles who were so close to Christ sometimes
experienced these feelings when faced with adversity, as they did
when they thought their boat was sinking and the good Lord was
soundly asleep in the stern. “We are going down!”, they said. They
were convinced that Jesus didn’t know what was happening to them
or that he didn’t care. But Jesus calmed the storm and rebuked
them. “Why are you so frightened? How is it you have no faith?”
I have no doubt that the faith of the Church is alive and active
today. It is manifested in the lives of so many good and holy
laypeople, in the vibrant life of our parishes and religious
communities, and in the dedicated and selfless ministry of our
priests and deacons. It is being fulfilled day by day in the work
of our Catholic schools and colleges, organisations such as CAFOD,
the Justice and Peace Networks, the groups and agencies which
support marriage and family life, and the different caring
agencies and individuals in our dioceses who serve the poor,
prisoners, refugees and asylum seekers and who care for the
elderly and the sick. In these and in many other ways in the
everyday life of the Church we see the working out of Christ’s
mission “to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty
to captives and to the blind new sight, to set the downtrodden
free and proclaim the Lord’s year of favour.”
So I simply want to say to you today, “Be of good heart!” Never
forget the words of the Lord, “I am with you until the end of
time.” I suggest to you that our prayer each day should be, “Open
my ears that I may hear. Open my eyes that I may see. Open my
heart to receive your transforming and purifying Spirit.” The
fruit of that co-operation with the Spirit, and with one another,
will be that we are gradually transformed into the “light of the
world, “the salt of the earth.” In that process of renewal in the
whole Church, called for by Pope Benedict, we have much hard work
to do. With the empowering grace of the Holy Spirit, I firmly
believe that work will bear fruit, fruit that will last, if all we
do is rooted in the prayer of Christ himself: “Father, let your
will be done, not mine.”