Homily for the Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

As I was trying to relax a bit, towards the end of my Christmas break, I came across an article on the hit television show from PBS’s Masterpiece Classics: Downton Abbey.  Since then, I must confess I’ve been hooked, and I am now entirely caught up on the first season, and am anxiously awaiting the newest episodes of the second season.

For those who don’t know, the show is set in the nineteen-teens and profiles the Earl and Countess of Grantham and their family, and the staff of servants that work on the titular estate.  Thus far, the plotlines have centered on the intrigue of a succession crisis, on any number of romantic relationships, and on the societal upheavals caused by the First World War.

But perhaps the most basic elements propelling the drama are the porous boundaries between the British upper and lower classes, the interwoven hierarchies of upstairs and downstairs, and the various characters’ attempts to navigate and manipulate those relationships of power and authority for their own benefit.

Upstairs, the Earl of Grantham is a kind and generous husband, father, and employer.  He is always motivated by a desire to do the good and by his conviction that he is merely a steward of the estate and title he holds, protecting and preserving it for his heir – whoever that will prove to be.  But he also often finds himself at odds with his mother, the opinionated and outspoken Dowager Countess, who asserts her power by meddling behind the scenes.

Downstairs, Mr. Carson, the butler, and Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper, have authority over all the other staff members.  Though strict and demanding, they are ultimately motivated by a high standard of excellence and by loyalty to the family they serve.  More times than not, they end up serving as surrogate parents for their younger charges.  But then there is also Thomas the footman and O’Brien the maid who are incessantly plotting to manipulate their employers and supervisors, undermine their coworkers, and obtain favors and authority for themselves.

Bottom line, the stories of Downton Abbey revolve around the different ways people wield authority when they are in charge, and react to it when they are not – how and why people seek to obtain authority and power, and what they use it for once they have it.

In many ways, today’s Gospel speaks to us about much the same thing.  St. Mark records that the residents of Capernaum “were astonished at Jesus’ teaching . . . for He taught as one having authority and not as the scribes.”

The people in today’s Gospel would have been accustomed to hearing the preaching and teaching of the scribes and rabbis, who did indeed have real authority in Jewish society.  These listeners would also have heard any number of itinerant preachers, like Jesus, as they made their way through Capernaum.  They may even have gone out into the desert to hear John the Baptist preach his message of repentance.

And yet these people notice something crucially different about the teaching of Jesus of Nazareth.  They are attracted to Jesus because “He taught as one having authority and not as the scribes.”

Just what is the nature of Jesus’ teaching and the quality of His authority that makes it so noticeably different from that of the scribes?  On a less theological level, we could similarly ask, what are the essential traits of the characters that Downton Abbey viewers either love, or love to hate?

Well, if we think about it for a moment we have all known teachers, bosses, police officers, coaches, sadly even priests and religious, who don’t carry authority well.  Insecure in who they are, their authority and power rest solely in their title or office and they seem to use these things solely for their own benefit.

As a result, they wield authority like a weapon, lest anyone sense their vulnerability. They are quick tempered and difficult to please and as a result are feared by many. They insist on the black and white of the rules and are always suspicious that others are attempting to undermine their authority.

Or, on the other hand, they might quickly cede the authority of their office to others, lest something be expected of them personally.  In these instances they are incapable of making decisions themselves and are desperate to be everyone’s “friend,” instead of their teacher, coach, boss, or parent.

Perhaps, if we’re honest with ourselves we might even recognize in these descriptions some patterns of leadership or parenting that we, too, fall into from time to time.

But, you and I have also known teachers and bosses, coaches and priests who do carry authority well.  Graced with good self-knowledge, they’re comfortable in their own skin and confident in the role they have been given.  Everyone knows that they are in charge and yet everyone feels encouraged and supported as well, because these leaders understand authority and power to be a call to service of others.

Their authority comes from within, from who they are, not just from any title they have been given, or degree they have earned.

Friends, this is the crucial difference in Jesus’ teaching that the people in today’s Gospel immediately perceive.  The scribes have based their authority and teaching on their learning, or on their title and position. And they use their power for their own gain. 

But Jesus always uses His authority as a means of loving service.  Jesus’ authority and teaching come not from a title or position, but from within Himself, from the nature of who He is.

And who is He?  At the very beginning of his public ministry Jesus spent forty days in the desert reflecting on the words He heard boom from heaven the day John baptized Him in the River Jordan: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”

Jesus’ awareness that He was the beloved Son of God was what defined everything else about Him – everything else He said, and everything else He did.  His truest identity as the beloved Son of God was the source of the authority and power that the people experienced in His teaching.

To make just this point, in today’s Gospel, Mark interrupts his synagogue scene to record another event, which gives the answer to the people’s question about the nature of Jesus’ teaching.  A man possessed by an “unclean spirit” is brought forward and the demon, recognizing who Jesus is, says: “I know who you are, the Holy One of God.”

Brothers and sisters, by Baptism we have come to share in Jesus’ relationship with the Father.  But we need to come to know the deepest reality of our identity.  We need to drown out the many contrary voices within ourselves, and around us, and concentrate solely on the divine voice that calls us beloved.

When we don’t concentrate on that central reality of who we are, we get ourselves into all sorts of trouble.  We search desperately for the contentment that only living as God’s beloved can truly bring.  We try to fill the hole that’s left behind with all sorts of other things: drugs and alcohol, sex, possessions and …. power.

But, increasingly cut off from our true selves, we become internally divided, like the possessed person in today’s Gospel.  Notice the demon says, “What have you to do with us?”

And so in today’s second reading, St. Paul says to the Corinthians, and to us: “I should like you to be free of anxieties,” and adhere to the Lord “without distractions” … without being divided.

Friends, we certainly cannot expect that we will be able to exercise leadership or authority of any kind in an appropriate way, if we are anxious or internally divided. 

If we want to be better supervisors or employers, better teachers or parents – if we want to be more like the heroes of Downton Abbey and less like the villains – or most directly to the point, if we want to have true self-confidence and exercise authority gracefully – then like Christ Himself, we must ground our identity in our relationship with the Father, and then see that everything we say, and everything we do, comes out of that awareness that we are the beloved children of God.