HOMILY FOR THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME YEAR B (1)
HOMILY FOR THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME YEAR B
HOMILY THEME: “THEY WERE ASTOUNDED AT HIS TEACHING, FOR HE TAUGHT THEM AS ONE HAVING AUTHORITY, AND NOT AS THE SCRIBES.” (Mark 1:22)
BY: Fr. Robert deLeon, CSC
Mark 1:21-28
Some years back I met Kim, a sparkling young woman who, in the course of conversation, shared with me her pain at her grandmother’s mortal illness. Kim and her grandmother were especially close, and now with death so near that bond was tightening. Kim was already grieving the anticipated loss, her frequent reports of visits confirming the approaching demise. Then the phone call came early one morning; Grandmother had died. Though I’d never met her, I felt that I’d known her for years through her granddaughter’s stories.
On a snowy, blustery January morning, we gathered at the church where the funeral would take place. Meeting new faces with a handshake, I found myself repeating a mantra, “I know Grandmother through Kim.” As the Mass began, a few of my own tears joined Kim’s when the music mingled with memories. Together we all sang: “Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand; I am tired, I am weak, I am worn; through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light; take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.” Yes, this was Grandmother’s faith speaking to us. And it was from this faith that Kim could laugh even amidst the tears as, delivering the eulogy, she related stories of Grandmother’s life. We gathered together, a whole church-full, in tribute to a long life of God- centered love.
When Grandmother’s funeral procession arrived at the cemetery with the day growing colder and windier, we climbed the hill to her waiting grave beside that of her predeceased husband. Huddling around the casket as if seeking a campfire’s warmth, we rushed through the prescribed prayers as ears, noses and fingertips numbed. With our concluding “Amen” a cloud of frosted breath, Grandmother’s final request was delivered by Kim. With all the solemnity she could muster as both tears and laughter struggled for the upper hand, Kim addressed us, “Would everyone now take one of Grandmother’s flowers and follow me.” Thirty of us each plucked a flower from the arrangements surrounding Grandmother’s casket and followed Kim through the snow as she approached a grave two rows away and placed her flower before a small headstone now almost hidden beneath a snowdrift. When all of us had done likewise in mysterious tribute to whomever was buried here, Kim’s explanation was accented with giggles. “Now that she’s dead, I can tell you that Grandmother was a thief. After Grandfather died, she’d come to the cemetery a few times each week and took flowers from this grave to put on Grandfather’s. Whoever is buried here always had fresh flowers, so Grandmother borrowed them. She made me promise that we’d square things up when she died.” Loud laughter our last frosted salute to Grandmother, we ran to the warmth of our waiting cars.
Life is the best teacher, and the lessons most ingrained in us are those learned from the example of others. In today’s Gospel passage, we hear that the disciples “Were astounded at Jesus’ teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.” (Mark 1:22) What so astounded the disciples was that Jesus actually lived what he taught. His words were not empty as were those of other religious leaders of the day.
Grandmother’s long life of deep faith was almost taken for granted, but when we entered the church for the last time in her company, it was she who sang to us of her heart’s deepest desire: “Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand, I am tired, I am weak, I am worn; through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light; take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.” Grandmother was home—soul in heaven, body on a hilltop, borrowed flowers returned, and a life-long lesson in faith passed on to a new generation.
