Homily for St. Cecilia’s Abbey, Ryde, Sunday 8C, 27 February 2022: Luke 6:39-45

Today’s Gospel passage comes towards the end of the Sermon on the Plain, according to St. Luke. Up to this point our Lord has been setting out his programme for radical Gospel living. It all sounds very beautiful, but also definitely counter-intuitional, or hard to understand, or just plain crazy.

He began: Happy, or blessed, are you who are poor; blessed are you who weep; blessed are you when men hate you... And then: Woe to you who are rich; Woe to you who laugh... He went on: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you... To him who strikes you on one cheek, offer the other also... Lend, expecting nothing in return... Do not judge, do not condemn, forgive...

To all these apparently paradoxical sayings are attached assurances or promises. Yours is the Kingdom of God; you shall laugh; your reward is great in heaven; you will be sons of the most High; you will not be condemned; gifts will be given to you in full measure: pressed down, shaken together and running over.

Anyone listening for the first time will rightly ask: should we, or can we trust this? What authority does this man have to give this teaching, and to make these promises?

In today’s Gospel Jesus seems to pick up these questions, and to throw them back at us. After emphasising the abundance of the reward for those who hear his words and do them, he rather abruptly changes tack and asks: Can one blind man guide another? Surely both will fall into a pit?

In its context, this little parable must refer in the first place to himself. Its clear implication is: if Jesus were just one more teacher, one more blind man vainly attempting to lead other blind men, then indeed we’d all land up together in a pit. But he isn’t, and we won’t. Jesus is the Messiah, appointed by God with divine authority both to teach and to lead. No: more than that! He himself is God Incarnate. His words then are a revelation from heaven. They are filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. He speaks not as one who is blind, or deranged, or deluded, but as Incarnate Wisdom. He sees all things with perfect clarity, since his vision has never been darkened or compromised by sin. He knows infallibly where he comes from, and where he is going to. His mission is to lead all who will follow him to salvation, to God, to life. His teaching is true, and his promises can be relied on.

The disciple, he says, is not superior to his teacher, but everyone when he is fully taught will be like his teacher. So: Jesus will ask nothing of his disciples that he has not already exemplified in his own life. Our business then is not so much to follow a new and ever more difficult set of moral laws, but simply to be united with Jesus. Sharing his life, by the power of the Spirit, we are to share also his goodness, his patience, his loving kindness, his love for God and for neighbour. Then we will be ready also to share his suffering, and finally his death. Having done that, Jesus promises to give us a share also in his victory, in his resurrection from the dead, in his divine and eternal Sonship of God.

Why do you observe the splinter in your brother’s eye, and never notice the plank that is in your own eye?

You disciples of mine, you Christians, you excellent and virtuous people: you’ve understood all this very well, and are putting it into practice with determination, and real heroism. You’re living clean, wholesome, good lives. You are generous, patient, peaceful, loving. But you see each day what your neighbours are like. Just look at them! Pagans, every one! Worshippers of idols: greedy, selfish, violent, dishonest; addicted to every sort of immorality. Does this mean you can now think of yourselves as superior to them, better than them, no longer having anything in common with them? Please don’t ever think such a thought! Never forget that you too are sinners; redeemed by my blood; radically dependent for all your hope on divine mercy; never entirely safe, while life lasts, from going astray and falling back into your former bad ways. Looking down on your neighbour as if from a position of moral superiority is then utterly ridiculous. In fact it’s just funny, like someone wandering around with a great plank stuck in his eye, proclaiming to everyone his marvellous clear sight.

A tree is known by its fruits, says Jesus. When trying to discern whether or not to trust me, or my disciples, look at the fruit we bear. What fruit? Let us set aside, for now, the bad example of those who say they follow me but actually do not. But for those who are ready to see, the good fruits are manifest, and all around. Lives transformed for the better, and out of all recognition. Sheer human goodness, beyond what would have seemed possible. People from utterly different backgrounds and cultures, living together in loving unity. Holiness of life; living communion with God; manifestations of spiritual gifts, not excluding miracles. And issuing from people’s mouths: wisdom, truth, love, the praise of God, intercession; music that is redolent of heaven. There are other fruits of course, without number. But finally: sinners become Saints; death defeated; a world renewed; the way to heaven opened wide; fellowship with the Angels; a share in God’s own blessed and eternal life.