[This is the text of the homily I preached last weekend on the 22nd of July at the Cathedral in Juneau.]
When Jesus came ashore, he saw the large mass of people and had compassion on them because they were like sheep without a shepherd. Then he began to teach them many things.
As the Church across the country comes together this Sunday to meet the Lord in his Word and in his Body and Blood, we do so in the aftermath of the terrible events in Aurora, Colorado. We gather to pray here for the victims -- those who were killed and those who were wounded; for their families and friends; for the police and emergency responders, for the doctors and nurses; for the family of the perpetrator and for the disturbed young man who committed these evil and senseless acts.
We struggle to comprehend how such evil is possible and how to make sense of the chaos, disorder and bewilderment that affects all of us. Meditating on all that happened, I keep finding myself returning to the name of that stricken communityin Colorado: Aurora. Aurora is the Latin word for the dawn (from the name of the Roman goddess of the dawn.) For us as Christians, as believers, "aurora", the dawn, is central to our story, in the story of the resurrection. In the first centuries of the Church's history, believers would gather Saturday in vigil to pray through the night until dawn. As the sun was rising in the east, they would celebrate the Sunday eucharist, both in expectation of the coming of Christ at the end of time when all would be all in him, but also to celebrate his enduring presence in the midst of his pilgrim people.
It so happens that this year, July 22nd is the feast of St. Mary Magdalene. Because it is Sunday, we do not celebrate her feast today, but I propose that her witness might be a guide for us today as we seek to respond to this tragedy in the light of faith.
We should remember first of all that in the darkness of the early hours of Easter Sunday, the disciples of Jesus (including Mary Magdalene and the other women who had faithfully stood vigil at the cross) were grief stricken and confused. Jesus, in whome they had placed their faith and hope, their beloved teacher, friend and companion, was lying lifeless in the tomb near the place of his crucifixion. All their hopes, all their dreams, the faith itself, had died with Jesus.
They were sheep without a shepherd.
Somehow, Mary Magdalene overcame her hopelessness and grief and went to where he lay one more time with the intention of lovingly anointing his body with aromatic spices. It was there that she discovered the empty tomb. There she encountered the risen Jesus, the Good Shepherd, who looked upon her (and all sheep without a shepherd) with compassion and love. There, at the empty tomb, he spoke her name, "Mary" and she recognized him. Calling her by name, she sent him to the disciples as the first witness to his resurrection.
She became the herald of the saving message that is the essence of the Good News: that Christ is risen and has triumphed one and for all over the powers of sin and darkness, over the powers of evil and death. The Eastern Church gives her the title of "Apostle to the Apostles" in recognition that she was sent by Christ to announce the risen Lord to the Twelve who would carry that message to the ends of the earth, and eventually, through time to each one of us.
As members of the Body of Christ, as his disciples and witnesses to the saving power of God in Jesus, we are not sheep without a shepherd. The Good Shepherd is as present to us this day as he was to Mary Magdalen on the dawn of the first day of the week. Jesus has called each of us by name to be his disciples and the heralds of the Good News. We are not without a shepherd, but today's gospel and the events in Aurora invite us to be attentive to so many who truly are sheep without a shepherd, those who are confused and bewildered and those whose faith has been shaken. We must be attentive as well to all those who have lost hope altogether.
As a society, as a culture, we are sheep without a shepherd. There are many ways that that we could examine how as a culture we have gone astray, but I think that events like those in Aurora, are symptoms of a turning away from faith and hope in a loving God who knows us and cares about us. Living without God, without ultimate meaning and purpose, leads to a profound and suffocating nihilism, a despairing conviction that in the end, nothing truly matters and that there is no future worth contemplating, either in this world or in the next.
We are called by our baptism, called by name, to resist the despair, hopelessness and nihilism that has tragically blighted so much of our culture and society. We must work for a society and culture that values human dignity and promotes the common good, that does not rely on violence or glorify it, that is not enslaved to the selfish gratifications of greed, lust and the domination of others.
Where to begin? With ourselves, I think. We must ask Christ to root out the darkness of despair and hopelessness from our own hearts, which are the root causes of so much hatred, anger and violence in our world. We must pray for the grace to embody the beatitudes each day, so that mercy, purity of heart, an abiding desire to please God and above all, peacemaking, might lie at the heart of our imitation of Jesus.
We must never forget that Jesus calls on us to imitate him in his non-violence and his compassion and self-sacrificing love for others. It was Jesus, our Good Shepherd, who suffered and died forgiving his persecutors.
In this days, let our faithful, hopefilled, peaceful lives, in witness to our Good Shepherd, be the bright dawn of hope for all those who seek him.