by Paul O'Reilly, SJ
Pentecost, or Whit Sunday, celebrates the descent of the Holy Spirit
on the apostles and their subsequent transformation from frightened
private and cowardly men The Church was born through the agency of
the third person of the Trinity. The major feasts of the church's
year alert us to the many ways in which God above all through his
divine son has cared for us in creating, redeeming us and making us
holy.
At Pentecost, so we are told, the Spirit of God came down upon the
apostles as tongues of fire, inspiring them and inflaming them to go
from being a bunch of frightened uneducated uninspired and
uninspiring private and cowardly men and become eloquent and
courageous messengers of the gospel who went out from that upper
room and gave their lives in the foundation in memory of Christ of
the Christian Church - the largest single human organization there
has ever been.
That we believe is the same Spirit which enlightens, inspires and
inflames our own lives in continuing fidelity to Christ. Well, if
so, where is it? Or is it true that two thousands years of Christian
institutional living has dimmed the light, cooled the fire and
almost extinguished the inspiration?
In my own order, the Jesuits, one of our shrines is the house in
where Ignatius lived and died. It is an inspiring place of holiness.
At the top of the staircase, there is a statue of Ignatius, hand
raised and pointing his men out to inspire the world with the gospel
of Christ. The inscription in Latin on the base reads 'Ite,
inflammate omnia' -- "Go, inflame the world." And, thoughtfully,
beside the statue, someone has fixed a large fire extinguisher!
So, has the Spirit been entirely extinguished by the institutional
weight of the hierarchical Church and the evil elf Insavedi. Or is
it still burning visibly in the hearts and lives of Christians?
You would expect me to say 'Yes'.
And so I do.
But where?
Well, let me suggest a few places.
About 20 years ago, there was a
terrible famine in East Africa. I'm sure you remember it. When
television pictures were shown around the world of thousands of sick
and starving men, women and children crowded into refugee camps,
there was a global public outcry that, in this day and age, the
rest of the world could permit over a million people to starve to
death. Many people said: "somebody should do something." A very few
said: "I must do something." Mount Street Jesuit Centre,
One of those few was a failed alcoholic drug-addicted Irish former
punk-rock singer. His name is of course Bob Geldof and his band, the
"Boomtown Rats" had not had a success for many years. But he decided
that he needed to do something. So he did the only thing that he
really knew how to do. He set up a rock concert. He rang up all his
friends in the music business and badgered them into taking part. He
called it "Band-Aid" partly because it was what a group of bands
were doing to help the problem - partly because he knew that the
famine was so great and terrible that what he was doing was like
sticking a small bandage over an enormous wound. But he was
determined to do the little he could.
Immediately he ran into opposition. People doubted him - his sanity,
his sobriety, his financial management - but, more than anything
else, they doubted his motives. Why was he doing this?
Was he just trying to get his hands on a lot of money?
Was he simply trying to get publicity for himself?
Was he trying to restart his career as a pop star?
And people were very suspicious and reluctant to help.
Then, on Irish television, they asked a bishop about it. The bishop
said this: "I have no idea what Bob Geldof's motives are and I shall
never know them. They are the secrets of his heart and they are
between him and his Maker. All I know is that, for whatever reason,
he is doing a good thing and I will support him."
I think there is an important truth in that. Whatever people do, we
can always second guess their motives. No matter how good any action
may be, a negative mind can always find a negative motive for it. A
little cynicism can make tabloid journalists of us all. But in truth
the only motives we will ever know for sure are our own - and often
they are hard enough to be honest about. And one good test of them
is whether or not they have compassion --? whether or not they have
the capacity to feel someone else's pain. Hear that part again:
"But a Samaritan traveler who came upon him was moved with
compassion when he saw him."
Because compassion is the difference between the Samaritan, the
priest and the Levite. It is the difference between "somebody must
do something" and "I must do something".
So Jesus tells us not to worry about why the Samaritan did what he
did. Just "go and do the same yourself."
Let us stand and profess our Faith in God who touches the hearts of
all of us with compassion.
114 Mount Street,
London SW1K 3AH.
ENGLAND.
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