‘We shall not be going by O’Connell St.’ announced the driver of the bus.  I had just arrived in Dublin, Ireland.  It was May 19th!  To my surprise it was bright and sunny.  The city seemed busy with many shoppers!  I wondered why O’Connell St. was out of bounds for traffic.  I jumped off the bus and walked to the city centre.  To reward my long walk I decided a coffee was in order.

         Sipping my coffee I sat down at the nearest window seat and enjoyed the view.  I saw many policemen walk up and down the sidewalk.  Then I noticed a long flow of people walking through the city centre.  I was taken by the quietness.  One could hear a pin drop.  Some held hands together, more walked in dignified silence.  The faces I could see seemed solemn and reflective.  Some were crying.  Some seemed to carry each other.  A single banner led the march, its poignant words still remain with me, ‘child of our time we have robbed you of your cradle’.  I was deeply curious as to what was going on.  I walked out of the coffee shop and inquired.

         It turned out to be the survivors of child clerical abuse making a profound statement in the capital city, a serious gesture to be listed to by church and state.  The long march made its silent way to the government buildings.  There they were met by a government official who received their petition.  A short petition, but a very public one.  A cry to be listened to.

         They later had an audience with our president who supported them and listened to their terrible legacy of pain.

         I recall this historic event and historic it was because throughout the years of clerical abuse the Irish church failed to own the huge damage it had caused and the giant betrayal of trust and power.  It remained remote to the truth.  The powers that be remained silent to torment and pain inflicted on innocent victims who had no voice.  The church was afraid that if it owned up to this tragedy it would compromise the integrity of its leadership.  It was in complete denial.  It did not want to taint its image at any cost.  It did not want to lose face or give away its power.  By not acknowledging its flaws and betrayal it sent out a negative message:  that it did not care!

         My friends, it seems to me that today’s gospel speaks to the words, power, authority and service.  The exercise of authority touches everyone, not just the church and state.

         Jean Vanier, spiritual writer and pioneer of adult special needs communities, distinguishes between two kinds of authority:  an authority which imposes, dominates and controls and an authority which accompanies, listens, liberates, empowers, gives people confidence in themselves and calls them to be aware of their responsibilities.

         There is indeed a third authority I think, the one of powerless love, which waits, which holds, builds trust and that sometimes wait night and day in anguish.  Parents know this one ever so well as they wait in hope, walking the floor, for a lost child to come home once more.

         Jesus saw authority as an opportunity to serve.  He appealed, he invited, and he attracted but never forced a response.  He used his power to create, to heal, to enable and to redeem.

         In the washing of the feet Jesus upsets the status quo for all of us.  He promoted the wisdom of role reversal.

         Let the policeman be arrested, the priest sit in the pew, the teacher sit at the desk, the doctor sit in the waiting room, the boss get down into the trenches, the warder be locked up, the judge put in the dock, the president go to the front line, the abuser feel the pain of the abused.  It is only when we can imagine walking in the others’ shoes, feeling as they do, can we begin to be compassionate and understanding.

         I am glad to say the Irish church is now waking up to a grim reality.  Its leadership has acknowledged the sometimes unwise decisions taken in the past, and the grave wrong that has been done.  In really listening to the survivor’s horrific stories of betrayal, violence, of lost innocence, lost hope, and fragmented lives; somehow a new way forward emerged, one of humility, openness, forgiveness, reconciliation and compassion.

         Today, we are all called to examine closely our own definition of authority and how we exercise it.  Have I a lust for power to dominate others?  If so, this is an abuse of authority.  The lust for power is rooted not in strength but in weakness.  Only the weak measure their worth by whom they can dominate.  The essence of authority should be service.  To lead but not control, to free not to bind.  Service demands a willingness of heart and spirit.  Those entrusted with power ought to be people of hope and people of vision, community minded, caring, good hearted, just, merciful, wise, forgiving, tolerant and lenient.

         At the last supper, Jesus symbolically abolished the distance between the Master and the servant.  In Him the two became one!  Service may conjure up an image of movement and busyness; however, it can also be quiet and discreet as the poet Milton captures so well in one of his poems, ‘They also serve who only stand and wait’.

         Amen.

rjs