Sermon for the Mass of the Oils 2003

I've been bishop of this diocese for nearly fifteen years now and it's almost thirty-eight years since I was ordained a priest.  It's been a wonderful grace for me, but it does not invest me – or any of us who are ordained - with privilege.  As priests we have a unique and special ministry in the Church - and it's a wonderful calling - but that doesn't make us any better than anyone else - more answerable, more responsible maybe, but not better. 

I feel sure that I echo the feelings of many of us here, who are ordained, when I say that I am constantly brought back to earth by those famous words of St Augustine.  He writes: "The Lord, as He thought fit and not according to my own merits, appointed me to this position…and I exhibit two clearly distinct features: firstly, that I am a Christian and secondly that I am a bishop for others. The fact that I am a Christian is for my benefit; that I am appointed bishop is for yours. With you I am a Christian and for you I am a bishop." 

We all begin our Christian lives at the same place – at the baptismal font.  For all of us too, our journey of faith through life comes to its end when we stand on the threshold of eternity at the moment of our dying. Then we pray that the anointing of the sick, which makes us one with Christ in his dying and rising, may strengthen us. 

But God's living and loving presence is with us throughout our lives. He chooses us and sends us out in the Spirit as His witnesses when we're confirmed. God nourishes us with the "daily bread" of the Eucharist. At different times, when we need that grace which deepens or restores us to communion with one another and with the Lord, He reconciles and forgives us. Some of us live for God, and for others, as dedicated single people in lay life. Others find their consecration in religious life, others, again, in marriage or in ministry through ordination.

 One of the beauties of today's Mass is that it brings together all those moments of life – those moments of special calling - which are made holy, as we bless and consecrate the visible elements over which the words of the Lord are spoken to make them Sacraments.  The water, the bread and the wine, the oil, the words – all these are invested with the power of the Lord to transform us, to bring us together, to make us into a community and to send us out to proclaim "the year of the Lord's favour." 

But there is another emphasis to this celebration, which is quite specific. It's an emphasis on ministry and it is a particular emphasis on those who, through the call they have received in baptism, have been further called to the ministry and service of the community in priesthood and the diaconate. To paraphrase St Augustine, "with you they are Christians, for you they are priests and deacons."

 Thankfully, in this country there isn't any longstanding tradition of anti-clericalism, however much we may be sometimes subjected to accusation or suspicion.  As clergy, we enjoy the love, affection and trust of the people we serve.  That's not particularly because of who we are, but because of what, for the most part, we unfailingly do.

 Let me share some images and words about a priest that I read recently because I found them very moving.

 "We come to a crematorium – and a woman, Myra Hindley, who committed grave sin – and a Catholic priest conducting her funeral.  What could he say? Nothing that would satisfy those who do not believe in redemption, remorse or forgiveness.  But he could speak of his Master – on whom he has modelled, however imperfectly, his life. The Master, who dined with sinners – to the consternation of the great and the good – the Master who touched the unclean and made them whole - the Master who raised those who had died to a second chance for living – the Master who forgave sin first and asked questions later.

 And so we come to the man – a Catholic priest at the foot of the coffin of one of the most notorious women of the 20^th century.  The media did not show itself in the best light – a pack of people preying on the worst. And, in the midst of it all, a few people, led by a priest, praying for the best – praying for healing for a very damaged soul, touched by evil, and praying for the healing of those kept in agony by memories gleefully resurrected by a secular press.

 The funeral of a despised woman – the bedside of someone dying a lingering death – the home of someone with no money on which to live – the cell of the unwelcome stranger to our country – the confessional in which, at last, someone is enabled to lay down the burden of years… These are lonely places into which angels, let alone the secular press, fear to tread. Yet it is the place to which the Master calls us to give the Good News of his love and favour.

 Yet few are called to witness to this place as publicly as the priest.  They identify themselves most evidently with the call laid on all of us to declare that, in the face of evil and pain, the ministry of Christ to his people is, at its simplest and most stark, to be in the darkest of places to witness to the light of an enduring and healing love."

 Dear friends, you are blessed in your priests because, again and again, they are the ones who lead us all into those darkest of places and publicly witness to Christ there. They do so, often with diffidence and sometimes with great fear, but they do so with the Lord and for the Lord and for us. Thank God for them and for the work they do because you can be justly proud of them.

Pray for us today as we pledge ourselves once again to the work of feeding and strengthening you with Word and Sacrament. Pray that we remain faithful to our calling and know that we seek to serve you, sisters and brothers in Christ, with all our heart and strength. Pray particularly that we may continue to find joy and fulfilment in the ministry of service to which the Lord has called us.