My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, when Jesus says, "You have learnt how it was said," he is making a clear reference to the Old Covenant, the Law of Moses. That Law gave the Jewish people their unique standing among all the nations of the world because God himself had given it to them - God's finger had inscribed the tablets of the law.

For 1500 years, Israel's prophets and rabbis had interpreted it, applied it to changing circumstances, and exhorted the people to live it out. But never in those fifteen centuries had a faithful Israelite ever claimed authority over it.

After all, the Law had come directly from the Lord, so who could possibly have authority over it? So, when Jesus says, "… but I say to you…" implying an addition to the Law, his listeners are faced with something entirely new, someone who claims authority over the Law of Moses. He is requiring of them a new allegiance and making way for a New Covenant. The Sermon on the Mount was revolutionary not only in its ideas, but in the claims of the Lord who gave it.

And this claim, this implicit claim to have authority over divine law and, therefore, to actually be divine, has consequences. It means that his commands demand obedience. In the ancient world, obedience to a ruler was a familiar concept. In today's world, dominated by political democracies, it has become less so.

In fact, today's critical, self-sufficient, democratic mindset (so useful for politics) can even seep into the Church (where it's much less useful). But the truth of Christ doesn't change with fashions and referendums. In our relationship with Jesus and his Church, humble obedience to legitimate authority is a virtue, not a vice.

Obedience, for us Christians, is a positive virtue, not a necessary evil. It is such a central aspect of human life and spiritual maturity, that it even makes its appearance in the Ten Commandments, God's own list of our most basic moral responsibilities.

The Fourth Commandment tells us: "Honour your father and mother." This commandment singles out the obedience that we owe to our parents, but it doesn't stop there. Parents are the first authority figures. God delegates to them his own authority so that they can raise children properly.

But all of human society is full of relationships of authority. Legitimate authority always requires our obedience, unless that authority is being abused and trying to lead us into sin.

Imagine if everyone tried to invent their own traffic laws, instead of following the laws instituted by the legitimate authority. There would be chaos on the streets and driving would be unsafe. With the Fourth Commandment, God is teaching us that we all need to live the virtue of obedience to legitimate authority, instead of the vice of self-centered rebellion and anarchy.

Here is how the Catechism explains this aspect of the Fourth Commandment. As we listen to it, let's reflect on how we are living it out: 2199 The fourth commandment is addressed expressly to children in their relationship to their father and mother, because this relationship is the most universal. It likewise concerns the ties of kinship between members of the extended family. It requires honour, affection, and gratitude toward elders and ancestors. Finally, it extends to the duties of pupils to teachers, employees to employers, subordinates to leaders, citizens to their country, and to those who administer or govern it.

This commandment includes and presupposes the duties of parents, instructors, teachers, leaders, magistrates, those who govern, all who exercise authority over others or over a community of persons.

Jesus is the Lord, and if we claim to be his followers, we need to treat him like that by living authentically the virtue of obedience. And if we do, we will give him more room to bless us.

The Fourth Commandment, in fact, is the first one that points this out. As the Catechism explains: 2200 Observing the fourth commandment brings its reward: "Honour your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land which the LORD your God gives you." Respecting this commandment provides, along with spiritual fruits, temporal fruits of peace and prosperity. Conversely, failure to observe it brings great harm to communities and to individuals.

As we continue with this Mass, let's renew our faith in Christ, the Lord, and let's ask him for the courage we need to obey whatever he commands. 

Mental Prayer

When we pray discursively, using our minds and imaginations to unite ourselves with God or to consider some divine mystery, we are doing mental prayer. Meditation is the most common form of mental prayer.

The Bible is a particularly rich source for meditation. We can ponder a passage of Scripture, reading it over, savoring its language and imagery, letting the Lord speak to us through the text. We can meditate on a scene from the life of Jesus, imagining the cure of the blind man for example, placing ourselves in the scene, taking the part of one of the characters in the story, seeing ourselves as the blind man, calling out to Jesus (or perhaps finding ourselves reluctant to approach him), feeling his touch, opening our eyes as for the firs time. When we meditate on the life of Jesus in the Gospels we allow its imagery and language gradually to become our own. More importantly, in making a kind of imaginative contact with the person of Jesus presented to us in the gospel mysteries, we discover the correspondence between his humanity and our own; Jesus becomes more real to us, and so we grow in love and appreciation of the Lord we cannot see.

One very fruitful way of growing in prayer is to take each day a brief passage from a particular Gospel, not a whole chapter but one a miracle story, a teaching or saying-and using it for our prayer. Some people find it helpful to see the readings for the liturgy of the day, listed in any missalette, for their daily prayer. This has the advantage of uniting them in their prayer with the liturgy or of preparing them for the liturgy if they are able to participate in the Mass on a daily basis. Others find helpful using a book of brief meditations such as the classic Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis.

Other forms of mental or discursive prayer might include a meditative reading of Scripture, a spiritual reading, doing an examination of conscience or "consciousness examen"-which means looking for God's presence in the events of our daily lives-or keeping a personal journal in which we reflect on our prayer experience and our personal spiritual journey. Those who pray regularly often find that they are led gradually from discursive prayer to a simpler, more contemplative way of praying. 

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, in this Sunday First Reading, Sirach reminds us that our life, from here to eternity, is built on our choices. The Lord created us as free beings, but with freedom comes responsibility.

We always have to "own" what we have done and what we have failed to do, which is why we make a Penitential Act at the start of every celebration of the Eucharist. Sirach doesn't just remind us today that we're free to choose; he encourages us to make the right choices.

God's Commandments reflect God's wisdom, and that not only makes them good choices, but the best choices, even if sometimes in the uncertainty of faith we have to trust in God in making his choices our choices.

In the Second Reading, St. Paul reminds us that our choices shouldn't be done just out of obligation, but out of love. They have to be choices made from the heart, or they'll never achieve their full potential.

The world has a wisdom to it, but its surface has to be scratched to realize how superficial that wisdom can be. Sometimes scratching below the surface reveals "wisdom" to be folly.

The best attitude of a wise man is to acknowledge how much he doesn't know. That's what makes him always continue to seek wisdom. Wisdom is not just an accumulation of information; it is an insight into the big picture. God not only has the big picture, he "painted" it, and he unveils it little by little if we pay attention and seek to learn.

However, Paul gives us a shortcut to getting the big picture: love. We've been created by God out of love and all he wants in return is our love. He wants it, but love is incredible in that you can't make someone love you; it's the greatest and freest choice you can make. A hint of coercion and it's not love. Nobody who has chosen not to love is every truly happy.

Then, in the Gospel, Our Lord teaches us that all the commandments have a purpose and reflect a wisdom that can shape our lives for the better if we choose to observe them from the heart. In his discourse he is also calling out those who observe the commandments superficially and without heart.

God doesn't do anything pointless; everything is part of his loving plan for us. He hasn't come to simply discard the old covenant, the "law and the prophets," as never having had any purpose at all. Rather, he puts the old covenant's purpose into context. In his own words he did not come to abolish the law or the prophets, but to fulfil them.

A common recurring defense today for a watered down life ethic is, "hey, at least I'm not killing anybody." Our Lord reminds us that not killing anybody is good, but we have to go way beyond that if we don't want to be Pharisaical. When we can say, "hey, at least I don't hate anybody," we're getting closer to the mark. In a violent world maybe sometimes we look the other way in the face of a lack of kindness, but Our Lord today reminds us to go the distance and not only not kill anybody, but to actually be kind to everybody.

When tempers flare and rash words are said the best thing to do, as Our Lord teaches, is to try to make amends as soon as possible and simply apologize. If we live a life of cruel and cold justice, focusing especially on the justice due to us, we'll be in for a surprise when the eternal Judge brings us to "court" by the same harsh standards to which we held others. As Our Lord's prayer reminds us, "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."

Our Lord teaches us that chastity starts in the heart. The eyes are the windows to our soul, and if we start ogling and fantasizing a radical response is needed if we are to preserve our chastity and keep our hearts pure, since no one can intervene regarding the hidden desires of the heart except ourselves. Our Lord reminds us that making a promise or giving testimony is a powerful thing. The promises we make give witness to who we are, and the witness we give is a testimony to how seriously we take our promises.

We've all experienced how unedifying it is when someone swears something to be true, promises to deliver on something, and then is revealed to have lied or fails to deliver, and not just because of circumstances beyond their control. When something is as simple as "Yes" or "No," as Our Lord teaches us today, there's no room for spin, for sophistry, for fine print, or for establishing little grey areas in our conscience instead of admitting we can or can't deliver on something or whether we know or don't know something.

Our Lord gives a laundry list of things the people of his day were using as collateral to show how serious they were about the oaths they made. He also puts his finger on the problem: that collateral is not theirs, nor is it under their control. It's not as common today, but when someone swears "on my life," or any other number of things or people, we are put on a guard, exactly because they are swearing on something over which they have no control or ownership and usually as a way of convincing others of their sincerity.

Spiritual writers speak of different kinds of private prayer: vocal and mental prayer, affective and discursive prayer, formal and spontaneous prayer, meditation, contemplation, and mystical prayer. But distinctions often break down as one type of prayer shades over into another. The vocal praying of the Rosary can easily lead to a contemplative centering of the person or to an imaginative meditation on the mysteries of the life of Jesus. A discursive meditation can simplify into contemplation, including the deep contemplation verging on what the tradition has called "infused" or "mystical" prayer. For the sake of clarity we will follow the traditional distinctions of vocal (oratio), mental (meditatio), and contemplative prayer (contemplatio), recognizing the limitations of the categories themselves.

Vocal Prayer

Vocal prayer is a way of addressing God using either formal as the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Glory to the Father, or simply sharing prayers with God the thoughts and concerns of our hearts in our own words. We should never think of such formal or conversational prayer as a kind of second-class prayer. Formal people want to pray but find themselves without the words to express their feelings, prayers can be a great help in those times when we particularly experience the emptiness we sometimes experience.

Praying to God conversationally can be a profound experience when we feel great interior joy or sorrow or struggle. We should be able to express ourselves freely to God when we are so moved. Both kinds of vocal prayer should be a part of our daily lives, just as sometimes we need to wait for the Lord in silence and expectation. What is important is that we pray honestly from the heart rather than trying to force something that doesn't truly express our inner feelings.

Some kinds of vocal prayer call not just on our minds and feelings but on our bodies and imaginations. The Rosary is an ancient method of prayer that combines simple prayers hallowed by the tradition with brief meditations on events in the life of Jesus and Our Lady. It is a kind of mantra prayer, quieting the mind and the imagination by fingering the beads and repeating over and over the simple words of the Hail Mary while focusing on the mystery the annunciation, the birth of Jesus, his crucifixion, the descent of the Holy Spirit, and so forth. The Stations of the Cross is another prayer that combines vocal prayer and meditation on the mysteries of Christ's passion with bodily movement, sometimes standing, sometimes kneeling, walking with Jesus from one scene to the next. 

My dear brothers and sisters, Jesus chose his words carefully – including the words we listened to in this Sunday Mass. They are part of his famous Sermon on the Mount, which is like a highlight film of all his sermons.

Christianity is not a message or revelation about a God who remains distant. God was near, not far and that we could open ourselves to God's presence. In Augustine's words, God is more intimate to me than I am to myself. God's self-revelation in the person of Jesus means that God is both the giver and the gift itself. In Jesus, who made us his brothers and sisters and poured out upon us his Spirit, we have been given a share in God's inner life as a Trinity of persons. Christian prayer is always Trinitarian; we pray to the Father in the Son through the Spirit. A great part of the mystery of the Trinity is precisely the mystery of our own share in the divine life. "Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him" (John 14:23).

One theme has unified all of Pope Benedict XVI's homilies and speeches since the publication of his last encyclical, "Saved by Hope."

He has been talking to us, his spiritual children in Christ, and also to the rest of the world, insistently about one thing: hope. Hope is a supernatural virtue. That means that when we were baptized, when God poured his grace into our soul, he also planted there the seed of hope.

And like all virtues, whether the seed takes root, grows, and bears fruit depends on us. Virtues are like talents: they are given to us in potential, and it is up to us to develop them, through disciplined practice.

Some people are gifted with a talent for music, but unless they study and practice, the talent will not reach its full potential. Some people are gifted with a talent for sports, but unless they study and practice, that talent cannot reach its full potential.

As Christians, we have all been gifted with the virtue of hope, along with faith and Christian love, or charity. But unless we put these virtues into action, they cannot reach their full potential, and if they don't reach their full potential, we will never really grow up as Christians.

Since the Pope has been speaking about this virtue so insistently, it would be good for us to give ourselves a check-up on it, to see why this virtue is so important, and how well-developed it is in our lives, and what we can do to make it grow.

The Beatitudes Tell Us What Hope Is

First, let's look at what hope really is. We have just listened to the beginning of Jesus' first homily. In those few verses, he sums up all his teaching on how to live life to the full. Each one of the eight Beatitudes is phrased in the same way, a very curious way.

First Jesus says, "Blessed are..." and then he names a specific type of suffering. The first thing to note in this construction is the word "Blessed". This is one of the most important words in the Bible. It is always used to refer to the fullness of life that comes only to those who follow God.

The Greek word used for it in the New Testament is "makarios" [mah- CAR-ee-ohss]. That word comes from the name of an island that the ancient Greeks considered to be a perfect paradise. The people who lived on that island were completely self-sufficient. They had no need to depend on outside sources for their prosperity, since the island was so perfectly situated and endowed.

And this is the impression that the word "blessed" should give us: the kind of happiness that is so strong and stable that not even the storms and sufferings of life in the world can shake it; the deep, interior sense of joy and meaning that we all long to experience, because we are made to experience.

But the amazing thing about these Beatitudes, the ones Jesus teaches, is where they say this perfect blessedness can be found. They say that we can experience it on earth - each time, Jesus says, "blessed ARE..."

But that experience can only come if our hearts are set on heaven, on Christ's Kingdom, on friendship with God. If we want anything else more than that - food, wealth, fame, comfort, power, praise - if we set our hearts on those things, we will not experience the blessedness that Christ wants to give us.

But as soon as we accept the hard reality that earth will never be heaven, that nothing on earth can fulfill our heart's desire completely, that we will always experience limitations like hunger, humiliation, sorrow, temptation, and injustice - in other words, as soon as we accept fully that this life is a journey to a fuller life, then we will begin to experience that fuller life, in part, even here and now, along the journey. And this is exactly what we mean by the Christian virtue of hope: the assurance that if we stay united to Christ here on earth, we will experience fulfillment, blessedness, more and more, until we are filled completely in heaven.

Why Hope Is Important

Now that we have a clearer idea of what Christian hope really is, we can understand how crucial it is for us to develop this virtue. Since all of us desire fulfillment more than we desire anything else - that's how God made us - if we aren't seeking it in the right place, we can't help seeking it in the wrong place.

But if we look for blessedness in the wrong place, are lives will fall apart, sooner or later. Hope is our compass: if we don't use it, we will get lost, fall off a cliff, get eaten by wild animals, or starve to death - spiritually speaking. Hope is our anchor: without it, we will be tossed into the rocks by life's storms and end up shipwrecked.

Hope is like magnetism. We are like a piece of metal, and the magnet is blessedness, which is God, the source of all blessings. When the piece of metal is far away from the magnet, it experiences only a slight pull, only a slight degree of blessedness. But the closer the piece of the metal comes to the magnet, the stronger the pull, the more intense the experience of blessedness. Finally, the metal is drawn into direct contact with the magnet - the perfection of blessedness, in heaven.

The better we know and follow Christ, our magnet, the more fully we experience life as he created it to be experienced. In his encyclical, Pope Benedict pointed out that sometimes we get too used to the fact that, as Christians, the mystery of human happiness has been revealed to us. He wrote, "We who have always lived with the Christian concept of God, and have grown accustomed to it, have almost ceased to notice that we possess the hope that ensues from a real encounter with this God" (Spe salvi, 3).

How to Grow in Hope

What can we do to grow in this life-changing virtue? The whole Bible is an answer to this question. All the teachings of the Church are an answer to this question. The entire life of a Christian is really an exercise of the virtue of hope. And the more we exercise it, the more it grows.

We exercise hope when we follow the commandments: as Zephaniah says in the First Reading: "They shall do no wrong and speak no lies." This exercises hope because it usually involves renouncing a desire for gratification now in order to continue forward on the path that leads to true gratification later, the path of following Christ.

Sometimes telling a lie, cooking the account books, or covering up a dishonest deed would seem to be a shortcut to blessedness. But the virtue of hope shouts in our conscience: "Blessedness comes from closeness to God, not from earthly goods." When we listen to that voice, doing the right thing even when it hurts, we are exercising hope.

We also exercise hope when we take our spiritual life seriously. Again the Prophet Zephaniah puts it well: "Seek the Lord... seek justice, seek humility." When we try to learn to pray better, to study our faith, to live the sacraments more and more deeply - all of this exercises the virtue of hope, because it takes effort, and the results don't always come right away; it's a long-term investment.

Today the Church has reminded us of one of the most precious gifts we received at our baptism: the virtue of hope. When Jesus comes to us again in Holy Communion, he will nourish that virtue, as sunlight nourishes a garden. When he does, let's talk to him about what we can do this week, on our part, to help that virtue grow, to tend to the garden of our soul.

Because, as Pope Benedict wrote: "...the present, even if it is arduous, can be lived and accepted if it leads towards a goal, if we can be sure of this goal, and if this goal is great enough to justify the effort of the journey" (Spe salvi, 1) 

In addition to serving as a vehicle for the prayer of beings composed of body and spirit, the postures and gestures in which we engage at Mass have another very important function. The Church sees in these common postures and gestures both a symbol of the unity of those who have come together to worship and a means of fostering that unity. We are not free to change these postures to suit our own individual piety, for the Church makes it clear that our unity of posture and gesture is an expression of our participation in the one Body formed by the baptized with Christ, our head. When we stand, kneel, sit, bow and sign ourselves in common action, we given unambiguous witness that we are indeed the Body of Christ, united in heart, mind and spirit. Each posture we assume at Mass underlines and reinforces the meaning of the action in which we are taking part at that moment in our worship.

The arrest of St John the Baptist, mentioned at the beginning of this Gospel passage, was a moment of transition for Jesus. Before that point, Jesus had begun gathering his Apostles and preaching, but only on a part-time basis.

As long as John continued preaching and baptizing, Jesus stayed in the wings. But when John was arrested, that was the sign. The last prophet had been silenced, and the moment had come for Jesus, the Messiah whom all the prophets had announced, to take center stage.

St Matthew tells us that when that moment came, Jesus moved to Capernaum [cup-HER-knee-uhm], a more cosmopolitan city than his small hometown of Nazareth.

And then he called his first Apostles. Peter, Andrew, James, and John had all met Jesus before, when they were still disciples of John the Baptist. They had spent time with Jesus. They had seen him perform the miracle at Cana, turning water into wine at the wedding feast. They had started to get to know him - the Gospel of John tells us that they had even come to believe that he was the Messiah.

But that's not enough for Jesus. Jesus has more to show them, and more for them to do. So at this crucial moment, when he is ready to begin his full-time ministry, Jesus goes out to these fishermen as they ply their trade on the Sea of Galilee, calls them by name, and invites them to help build his Kingdom. Jesus didn't start his mission alone, and he doesn't continue it alone.

He established his Church and began his work of salvation with the help of these chosen apostles, and today he continues his work in the same way, calling normal fishermen, folks like you and me, to become his apostles.

Interrupting Our Daily Routine

It is interesting to notice exactly how Jesus issues this invitation. The Apostles are on the lake, fishing - in the middle of their work, their business. Jesus comes to meet them there. He walks out to the lakeshore. He enters into their environment. He walks into their everyday lives.

Up until this point his only contact with them had been in extraordinary circumstances - festal gatherings and holidays. But now he comes right into the warp and woof of their daily lives. He could have dropped by their houses after work. He could have spoken to them after Saturday services in the synagogue. He could have met them in town on one of their days off. That would have been easier on them - less of an interruption, less of an inconvenience.

But he doesn't. He wants to be part of their lives. He doesn't want to be on the fringe - he wants to be involved.

He deals with us the same way. He is always coming out to meet us, walking along the shore of our lives. He is always thinking of us, watching us, and calling out to us through the Church and through our conscience - regardless of convenience.

He wants us to follow him more closely today than yesterday, more passionately tomorrow than today. We just need to listen, to pay attention, and when necessary, to leave behind our nets, our relationships, our boats - anything that hinders us from hearing and heeding the call of our Lord.

How overjoyed Jesus must have been when he saw these men, who had everything to lose, put it all on the line for him! How it must have thrilled his heart to find friends and followers who were willing to trust him completely!

How and Why to Respond to Christ's Call

Jesus doesn't work alone. He calls us to work with him. We respond to that call by following his commandments and obeying the teachings of his Church. We respond by keeping our prayer life in shape and embracing the sacraments.

We respond by looking for opportunities to draw others closer to Christ through our courageous but respectful words and through our tireless example of humility, faith, and selfless concern for our neighbor. We respond by listening for the small inspirations the Holy Spirit sends us each day - inspirations that almost always lead us out of our comfort zones for the sake of our neighbor.

Jesus calls, and we must respond, leaving behind the boat that we love and the nets that we depend on. It is not always easy to respond to Christ's call. Life is already hard. When he asks more of us, our first reaction is usually to hesitate, or even to rebel.

That's when we have to remember why Jesus keeps calling us. It's because he loves us. It's because he wants us to be with him. It's because he knows that only he can fill our hearts with the meaning and purpose we yearn for. Jesus does not call us for selfish reasons - he can't be selfish. He calls us for our sake, and when we respond, he always stays right there at our side.

He will remind us of this today during Mass. It's only because he has called us to be his followers that we will have this remarkable opportunity to receive God himself at Holy Communion.

When we do, let's thank him for not giving up on us, for continuing to call us - and let's promise him that this week we will listen with extra attention. 

Humans are creatures that consist of a body as well as a spirit so that our prayers are not confined to our minds, hearts and voices, but are also expressed by our bodies as well. When our body participates in our prayer, we pray with our whole person. As embodied spirits, this engagement of our entire being in prayer helps us to pray with greater attention.

During Mass we assume different postures: standing, kneeling, sitting, and we are also invited to make a variety of gestures. These postures and gestures are not merely ceremonial. They have profound meaning and, when done with understanding, can enhance our personal participation in Mass. In fact, these actions are the way in which we engage our bodies in the prayer that is the Mass. Each posture we assume at Mass underlines and reinforces the meaning of the action in which we are taking part at that moment in our worship.

Kneeling is one of the most distinctive physical gestures of prayer during the celebration of Mass. In fact, for many centuries the lay faithful of the Roman Rite would kneel for almost the entire duration of Mass. Why is that?

While it's true that standing during prayer was a common posture of the early Christians (and is currently maintained by many Eastern Christians during the Divine Liturgy), kneeling was also part of early Christian tradition. Ratzinger claimed that, "Kneeling does not come from any culture — it comes from the Bible and its knowledge of God." In particular, "Saint Luke, who in his whole work (both the Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles) is in a special way the theologian of kneeling prayer, tells us that Jesus prayed on His knees. This prayer, the prayer by which Jesus enters into His Passion, is an example for us."

Additionally, kneeling is typically seen in the Gospels as a way to express supplication and adoration. Often in the New Testament kneeling is preceded by an act of faith, "I do believe, Lord," and completed by an act of adoration at the majesty of God (cf. John 9:35-38).

Elsewhere, like in many of the healing narratives, the person is presented kneeling in supplication, asking to be healed. For these reasons the Roman Rite instructs the faithful to kneel during Mass specifically when Jesus is made present on the altar.

This physical posture is meant to express a spiritual attitude of adoration before the triune God, truly and substantially present in the Holy Eucharist. It is an act of humility, recognizing our own littleness before the Creator of the world. The act of kneeling prepares our hearts to receive God within our souls, striking down our pride with a physical reminder of what our soul should be like spiritually. In this way, kneeling in the context of the Roman liturgy is directly tied to Jesus' presence in the Eucharist. Kneeling during Mass is an ancient posture, one that expresses a deep spiritual truth that is connected to the Real Presence of Jesus on the altar.

At the moment of his baptism, Jesus began his public ministry. From then on, he no longer spent his days in the carpenter shop in Nazareth, as he had for the first thirty years of his life.

Now he sets off on the next stage of his mission. The prophecy from Isaiah, which we heard in the First Reading, summarizes this mission with a very interesting word: "servant."

Isaiah writes that God says to the Messiah, "You are my servant." The Hebrew word translated servant is "ebed", which literally means "slave." In the Old Testament it was often used in the context of "slave of the King." Moses, when addressing Yahweh, called himself, "your slave" as a way to express his humility in God's presence. The Psalms also describe King David with this term, as a title of honour. Yahweh calls him "my servant whom I have chosen." The prophets are also referred to as Yahweh's special, honoured "servants."

But in the passage from Isaiah, the term is not used to refer to just another prophet or king. Rather, it refers to the Messiah, the unique servant who will "restore Israel" and be a "light to the nations," bringing God's salvation "to the ends of the earth."

This term has much to teach us. It tells us much about Christ, but it also tells us much about ourselves.

Christ the Servant

By using this term to refer to the Messiah, Scripture teaches us two things about Jesus.

First of all, he had a unique relationship with God. The "slave of the king" was the one, in Old Testament times, who had special access to the king. He was the one who the king depended on, who advised the king, who the king confided in. He was like the prime minister, the viceroy, the chief of staff. No one else had direct access to the throne - they all had to go through the king's special servant. Moses went up the mountain and into the tent of God's presence, but everyone else waited outside.

Just so, Jesus' relationship to the Father is unique. This is why John the Baptist, whom Jesus himself later called the greatest of all prophets, says that Jesus is "a man who ranks before me, because he existed before me." Jesus Christ was not just a smart, enlightened man who stumbled across some wisdom and became a famous teacher.

Jesus is not just another Socrates. He is the Eternal Son of God made man, the Saviour, the one Mediator between God and man. Here we see Christ's glory. Here we see why St Paul's favourite title for Jesus is "Lord," a word reserved for God alone in the Old Testament.

And yet, at the same time, he is the servant of his Father. He has come to earth to do his Father's will. He has received a mission from his Father, and he is responsible for carrying it out. Here we see Christ's humility. Later in John's Gospel Jesus says that "my food is to do the will of the one who sent me, to accomplish the task he has given me" (John 4:34).

So Christ occupies both a place of supernatural honour, and also a place of complete dependence on his Father. That is what the term "servant" teaches us about Christ.

Christians - Other Christs

But at the same time, every Christian is another Christ. When we were baptized, we received the same Holy Spirit that came upon him at his baptism, and God's grace flowed into our souls, and we became sons with the Son, children of God - not just symbolically, but really.

So we too occupy a double place in the history of salvation. Each one of us is a slave of the king, an intimate companion and collaborator with the Lord. We have direct access to the heavenly throne - access unique to a king's son or daughter. Our true dignity comes from this sharing in the divine nature - not from our intelligence or athleticism or good-looks, but from each one of us having been adopted by God and brought into his intimate circle of friends and collaborators.

But this also means that we, like Christ, have a mission on this earth. We too are called to do God's will, to fulfil his plan for our lives. And that plan consists of continuing Christ's own work, restoring this fallen world, one heart at a time, bringing the salvation of God to the "ends of the earth."

As Christians, we are noble and honoured way beyond anything we can imagine, but we are also dependent - we are "slaves of the King," servants of Yahweh. Like Paul, we can say that we have been "called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God" - an apostle, a messenger, an ambassador of Jesus Christ to this world full of darkness and sin.

Conclusion: Heeding the Call

This is who we are. This is who we are called to become more fully. Today, when Jesus renews this call and gives us his own life through Holy Communion, let's renew our commitment to this mission.

And this week, in our words, example, and decisions, let's strive to be worthy brothers and sisters of our Saviour Jesus Christ, worthy slaves of the King, willing to give up even our very lives in order to love God with all our hearts and to love our neighbours as ourselves.