A Feast of Ironies

Presentation of the Lord

This week, we take a break from our usual ordinary Sunday liturgy as we return to the splendour and brilliance of Christmas. It has been said that this Feast of the Presentation of the Lord is a little Christmas, because of its association with light. Yes, Christ, the “light to enlighten the Gentiles and the glory of Israel,” has come to fulfil the promise of His Father. The narrative of Christmas comes to a close as we ourselves see, the purpose of the Incarnation - the Divine Word coming into our midst from the glories of heaven – is to bring salvation to man. That this takes place in the temple is in itself a further sign: God continues to reveal Himself to man in divine worship. Worship is not just the act of man, but it is primarily the work of God! In our liturgy, God continues to sanctify us, He continues to save us.

Today’s Feast is known by several traditional titles: Candlemas, Presentation of the Lord, Purification of the Blessed Virgin of Mary. But I would personally like to offer another title: Feast of Ironies!

Here is the first irony. In our antinomian world, where so many Christians believe that they are no longer bound by the rigours of the law because of the grace and freedom that we have received from Christ, where breaking the law seems to be a good thing and keeping the law makes you rigid, it is good to remember that both Christ and the Blessed Virgin Mary came to the Temple in fulfilment of the law. Today’s feast actually commemorates two events prescribed by the Mosaic Law: the purification of Our Lady, and the redemption of her Son. The law also demanded a sacrifice. Here it is in the form of a pair of doves, which replaces the traditional sacrifice of a lamb because of the Holy Family’s poverty.

The futility of each of these actions makes them ironic. Firstly, there is futility in the ceremony of redeeming Christ. The offering of the firstborn son prescribed by the law in thanksgiving for the liberty of the Hebrew people did not apply to Christ, who had no need to be ransomed because He had no sin. Our Lord, who is the first born son of Mary, is also the only begotten Son of God. In fact, He had come to redeem the world by His sacrifice on the cross.

Secondly, our Lady was not bound to offer a sacrifice for her purification. According to Jewish law, the bleeding which a woman endured during childbirth renders her unclean. But Mary was free from every spot and stain of sin, and therefore had no need of purification because her spouse, the Holy Spirit, had preserved her from it.  Despite this, our Lady obeyed the law.

Thirdly, the offering of a dove instead of a lamb, is considered pittance by Jewish society and is the offering of the poor, had really no significant value. Here’s the irony. Something of greater value than a dove or a lamb was being offered here. Instead of a lamb, it is Christ Himself, the true Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world that is being offered.

Why would both the Blessed Virgin and Christ subject themselves to such ironical rituals? Well, the answer is simple – obedience. The Mother of God and God Himself bore the humiliation of obedience to the law, precisely to confirm its importance and fulfilment. It is by obedience to God, through law and by love, that we show most fully our desire to be united with Him.

It is such obedience that must be at the heart of worship. The humiliation and obedience of Christ and Our Lady by submitting to the Law, which clearly did not even bind them, reveals to us what is central in the holy sacrifice of the Mass. The Sacrifice of the Mass is not about ourselves, or about our own personal rights or opinions. But rather it is about God and what is due to Him. To “sacrifice” means to make sacred – to consecrate all that we are, all that we possess, our entire being, (which ultimately belongs to God) - to God. Such consecration can only take place when it is made on the foundation of willing obedience. The problem is that so many are tempted to make the Mass about themselves, about their likes and dislikes, thus leading to all forms of innovations and abuses. This is a qualified consecration, a limited and conditional sacrifice. Certainly not something which God deserves. In fact, God is often not the criterion for our actions. Rather, it is our own inflated egos and sense of self-importance that makes demands of Him and the Church.

It was the great liturgist, Romano Guardini, who reminds us, “The primary and exclusive aim of the liturgy is not the expression of the individual’s reverence and worship for God. It is not even concerned with the awakening, formation, and sanctification of the individual soul as such. Nor does the onus of liturgical action and prayer rest with the individual. It does not even rest with the collective groups, composed of numerous individuals, who periodically achieve a limited and intermittent unity in their capacity as the congregation of a church. The liturgical entity consists rather of the united body of the faithful as such-- the Church--a body which infinitely outnumbers the mere congregation. The liturgy is the Church’s public and lawful act of worship… In the liturgy God is to be honoured by the body of the faithful, and the latter is in its turn to derive sanctification from this act of worship. It is important that this objective nature of the liturgy should be fully understood. Here the Catholic conception of worship in common sharply differs from the Protestant, which is predominantly individualistic. The fact that the individual Catholic, by his absorption into the higher unity, finds liberty and discipline, originates in the twofold nature of man, who is both social and solitary.”

This ultimately is the example offered to us by the Lord and Our Lady on this Feast Day. Both were absorbed into a “higher unity,” that they were willing to put aside their privileges and rights, and obey this limited law for the single purpose of worshipping God and offering Him worthy sacrifice, which they alone could offer in perfection, because one was the Sinless One, and the other immaculately conceived by virtue of the merits of the former.

But then, it is not enough that our sacrifice, our divine worship, be based on obedience. To worship is our duty as much as it is our joy. It stems not just from the law, but also from love. Worship must be the response of one who is obedient to the law, but it must also be what we desire freely to do even if such laws did not exist. For Love is the most perfect law. It does not compel but attracts. In fact, it compels by attraction. Our obedience to the law is not opposed to our ability to love. Rather, our love is revealed through our respect and fulfilment of the law and through our freedom, channeled into the worship and adoration of God.

We are often surrounded by those who shirk the responsibilities and obligations of the law; who see them as a barrier to freedom in Christ; a stumbling-block to the love that flows to us from the Lord’s own heart. To fulfil the law, by its very nature, requires sacrifice; it requires an act of the will that demonstrates love. Yet that is why the fulfilment of the law, and the offering of ourselves in obedience of it, is at the heart of the Christian life and Christian worship. Law is nothing without love. Love is nothing without obedience; without the rigours that keep that love pure. Let this be the characteristic of our life; a witness to the perfect obedience and perfect love of Christ for our salvation, and a light to enlighten the Gentiles, and to be the glory of His people.

Joy is Hidden in Sorrow

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The 13^th century Persian mystic Rumi wrote: “The most secure place to hide a treasure of gold is some desolate, unnoticed place. Why would anyone hide treasure in plain sight? And so it is said: ‘Joy is hidden in sorrow.’”  I would like to add: life is hidden in death, wealth in poverty, relief and liberation in suffering. This is the wisdom of the Beatitudes – “a treasure of gold” hidden in the darkest and bleakest of human experience.

The word “beatitude” comes from the Latin beatitudo, meaning “blessedness.” The main translation in use at Mass (from the Jerusalem Bible version) has replaced “blessed”, a rich and weighty word, with this possibly misleading word, “happy”'. Why do I say that this could be misleading? Basically, because of the danger that we may come to think that the way the Christian religion makes us happy is something like giving us an emotional “high” through the use of drugs or alcohol, or through entertainment and pleasure, or by fulfilling all our wants and desires – making us popular, powerful and rich. But even a passing glance at the Beatitudes makes it clear they're hardly anything but fun and happiness-invoking. Instead, these sayings are disturbing, threatening, and downright unpleasant. The Beatitudes predict that if we are to discover true happiness at all it has to be by way of a list of obviously unpleasant scenarios: poverty, tears, hunger, and even persecution. Hardly any cause for revelry. It is hard for anyone to understand how one can rejoice and be happy when oppressed, cursed and persecuted. It seems that all suffering leads naturally only to sorrow.

Understanding the context of these sayings may help throw light on the mystery of the text.  The Beatitudes placed at the beginning of His monumental Sermon on the Mount is a statement of the essence of discipleship. In other words, it is directed specifically to those who are ready not only to listen to Christ but to accompany Him. It is the key to understanding how a follower of Christ can imitate Christ. Here, our Lord presents a programme of discipleship, a standard of virtue that no ordinary person could understand, unless that person wishes to imitate Christ in both His mission and His destiny. For it is Christ who has become poor for our sake, who weeps over Jerusalem and our bondage to sin, who suffers violence for righteousness sake and when persecuted, remained meek and gentle. He is the One who hungers and thirst for God’s Justice and who reveals God’s mercy on earth. In a way, Christ is telling us, “If you wish to be my follower, if you wish to be like me, then live the beatitudes!”

And why should we imitate Christ in the Beatitudes? This is because the Beatitudes are stacked up like a ladder to heaven. Christ has forged a golden chain for us to reach heaven. It starts with the fact that the poor in spirit, the man of humility, will mourn for his sins and in this way will become meek, righteous and merciful. And the merciful is bound to become pure in heart. The pure in heart will be a peacemaker. And he who has attained all this will be ready for danger, and will not be afraid of calumny and countless tribulations. Readiness and fearlessness will be the crowning virtues that bring, according to Jesus Christ, joy and happiness.

The reason why we find these sayings paradoxical is because there is clear contradiction between the priorities and values of the world, and the values of the Kingdom which our Lord embodies. Let’s be honest. What is it that most of us are really looking for in life? We're looking for happiness, for security, for peace. But where are we looking for these things? We desperately try to protect ourselves by collecting more and more possessions, having to have bigger and better locks on the door, putting in alarm systems. We are constantly armouring ourselves against each other – increasing the sense of separation – by having more possessions, more control, feeling more self-importance with our college degrees. We expect more respect, and we demand immediate solutions; it is a culture of instantaneous gratification. So we're constantly on the verge of being disappointed – if our computer seizes up, if we don't make that business deal, or if we don't get that promotion at work. But aren’t we just chasing shadows?

But this is not to say that we should have nothing to do with material things, possessions and financial security. We need material support, food, clothing, medicines; we need shelter and protection, a place to rest; we also need warmth, friendship. There's a lot that we need to make this journey. But because of our attachment to things, and our efforts to fill and fulfill ourselves through them, we find a residue of hunger, of disappointment, because we are looking in the wrong places. As much as we believe that these things will give us “happiness”, they won’t.

But here in the Beatitudes, Christ is offering us another way of looking at these things without being enslaved to them. In fact, true freedom comes from embracing the Beatitudes. When you possess nothing, you do not need to suffer the fear or anxiety of losing anything. That is why the key to understanding the Beatitudes is Love, or to be exact, the price we are willing to pay for love. The Beatitudes are about the things that love will suffer, they are about what love will willingly endure, the things that love will find itself able to give, and to find satisfaction and even delight in giving. At the end of the day in order to love deeply, there are things we must be willing to forgo because we have found a greater treasure in the things we have grown to love. Only by sacrificing ourselves will we find ourselves in the fullness of life lived for God and for others. And to find ourselves in God and in others, we must lose our own selves.

The teaching of Christ, then, puts a literally infinite demand on us. We can't say, ‘No more’ or ‘That's it’. The Christian faith is a hard way. Following Christ is going to be costly. Ultimately, it means the way of the Cross. Any Christian religion or preacher that promises us a bed of roses, an easy life, success, prosperity and material abundance in this life is a counterfeit. Our Lord wants the whole of us and not just a part of us. Our Lord has the right to make an infinite demand on us, because He has given us an equally infinite grace not only to help us but also to raise us up to share in the divine life.

The Beatitudes provide us with a clear reminder that the Lord overcame the world by treading the path of persecution by His enemies, whilst remaining humble, meek, and gentle. It is important to understand that tribulations are necessary because there is no other way for us to imitate Christ and be freed from sin. In suffering, we become aware of our own weaknesses, helplessness and impoverishment, and, humbled in prayer and contrition before God, we receive divine help and joy in the Lord.

The Beatitudes of Christ shows that the blessing of sorrow, lies in the consolation we receive from God. Sorrow strips off beloved possessions—but reveals the treasures of the love of God. Just like the clouds that gather in the sky with ominous threatening; but they pass, and leave their rich treasure of rain. Then the flowers are more fragrant, the grass is greener, and all living things are lovelier. In the same way, we finally can discover that God has hidden His greatest treasures in the bleakest and gloomiest of experiences. Joy is hidden in sorrow, life in death, wealth in poverty, and glory in humiliation.  Whether the world will believe it or not, whether the wise can explain it or not, the Christian’s sole desire should only be the Cross; and for those who are willing to walk the path of the Beatitudes, they will find in it a joy so hidden, a sweetness so heavenly, and a happiness so exquisite, that all can proclaim with Saint Francis of Assisi that perfect beatitude consists in suffering for the Blessed Christ. 

Light shines brightest in the darkest nights

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The darkness seems to be a scary place. Whether we like to admit a true fear or not, there are things that are scary about the dark: we can’t see where we are going, and we can’t identify hazards that might be surrounding us. Darkness feels empty. But the truth is that just because we can’t see what’s in a dark place, it doesn’t mean that there is nothing there. Darkness does not necessarily mean absence, and it certainly does not mean the absence of God. In fact, Saint John of the Cross would tell us that God is more certainly present in the darkness of our experiences, to the point that he could even call it “holy darkness”, “holy night.”  Darkness is a part of life, a backdrop for the stars at night, the space between what you know. Darkness has a way of reminding you of the light you’ve been given on all those other days. You have to know the darkness before you can truly appreciate the light. Isn’t it true that it is often on the darkest nights, that we can see the brightest stars?

But there is also a darkness that comes with defeat, failure, oppression, isolation and sin. It is a darkness that is no friend to the light. In fact, it is the darkness that tries to exclude all light. And here, more than ever, we long for the liberation of the light.

How comforting, then, that in our scripture readings today, God’s only begotten Son, our Saviour, is described as that great light in the darkness. Matthew's account of the beginning of Jesus' preaching proclaims that a new age has dawned when the light of salvation is manifest to the whole world. Our Lord is the light that came to illuminate the way for those who couldn’t see where they were going. That’s us. We were all living in the darkness of sin, unable to see our way out, unable to find the path to eternal life, unable to even see the dangers that are all around us. We were not just living in physical darkness and ignorance, but we were living in the land of the shadow of death. In other words, we were on the path to eternal damnation, the place of eternal pitch-black darkness. This is much more serious than feeling a little lost in a dark house, or worrying about imaginary monsters hiding under our beds or wondering whether we’d be able to keep our jobs.

Where did this story begin? Where can one find this source of light? One would imagine the holy city of Jerusalem where the Temple of the Lord is located. Yet, Saint Matthew tells us that the fulfilment of Isaiah’s prophecy begins elsewhere, “Land of Zebulun! Land of Naphtali! Way of the sea on the far side of Jordan, Galilee of the nations.” Yes, the light would come to the religiously insignificant, spiritual backwater of Galilee in the North. To the Judaeans, with their zeal for the law, their obsession with purity and their expectation that God’s salvation would arrive in their land, Galilee was a spiritually dark, half-Gentile region. Despite the apparent obscurity of this place, in contrast to the capital and temple city of Jerusalem, Saint Matthew understands Jesus' Galilean ministry as the ultimate fulfillment of Isaiah's ancient prophecy. In Isaiah’s vision, hope comes to the hopeless, light comes to those in darkness, to those at the back of beyond. You need to know the darkness before you can truly appreciate the light. Jerusalem, with its glorious Temple and the purity of its rituals and sacrifices, had too much light of its own to appreciate the great light that was dawning in that age. Only those who lived in the darkness of Galilee, could appreciate the brilliance of this light.

What is the effect of seeing and encountering that light? Well, the gospel tale of Christ calling the first disciples demonstrates this most vividly. The dawning light is quite infectious – it has a way of causing those who live in darkness to catch fire. Jesus is the light. He brings light wherever He goes. He chases away darkness wherever He goes. Those touched by His light become light. And so, we see how our Lord calls His first disciples and they follow Him without delay. He takes ordinary men and promises to transform these fishermen to fishers of men. The Apostles are not the only ones who are commissioned to proclaim the beauties and glories of the One who brought us out of darkness into the marvels of His light. Everyone who has been given eyes to see God’s glory, everyone who has been released from the bondage of sinful darkness, everyone who is bound to Christ by His supreme beauty and value is commissioned, as Saint Paul tells us in the second reading, “to preach the Good News and not to preach that in the terms of philosophy in which the crucified Christ cannot be expressed.” The light seeks to open the eyes of the heart to see and savour the beauty of Christ as our supreme treasure.

In other words, when the first disciples turned from darkness to the light, they cast aside all their worldly treasures and securities, they did not just turn to the light and find the light boring, or that they would turn to the Lord and find Him unsatisfying. If the light is boring and Christ is unsatisfying, you haven’t turned. The very turning to the light and the very turning to Christ means turning to the light as what it is: bright and beautiful and compelling and ravishing and satisfying. It means turning to Christ as who He is: your exceeding joy and your supreme treasure. This is what Saint Paul was describing when he said, “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (Philippians 3:8).

But we are not just called to become individual beacons; we are called into a community of lights for though our individual tiny flames may have little effect of illuminating the dark, the collective brightness of our lights will dispel the darkest gloom of the night. That is why Saint Paul in the second reading reminds the Corinthians of the utmost importance of securing the unity within the Church. Factions, divisions, quarrelling and hostility within the members of the Body of Christ will ultimately dim the light of the Church and compromise her ability to witness to Christ. But banded together in unity, the Church becomes a bright beacon in the world enveloped by the darkness of moral confusion and sin. She truly becomes a sacramental sign of the Kingdom of God in the world.

The secular world, despite its rejection of Christianity and being enamoured by the darkness, still has that same hope and anxiety for a Saviour.  The problem is that the secular culture looks for fulfillment in sports, pleasure, money, and power.  Sadly, a secular version of the Messiah misses His essence; it molds Him into our image and likeness, rather than recreating us in His. Jesus alone is the Light of Life – the Living Light. He is the only One who can effectively deal with any darkness in your life. Christianity proclaims: the long-awaited one is Jesus! He is the One True Light. Do not seek elsewhere.  Everything we want is realised in Him.

We don’t need to live with the rose-coloured glasses of worldly optimism, pretending that things are better in this world than they really are. Life isn’t about denying that there is darkness, but rather about finding light in the midst of darkness. We are children of God in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation. We see great darkness around us in the celebration of sectarian hostility, racial prejudice, rampant divorce, broken families, moral relativism, secularism, gender confusion, sexual sin and abortion. It would be easy to think that the darkness will overwhelm us. But if we have responded to the Lord’s call to follow Him, we will shine like lights even now, as we hold fast to the Word of life. So, whenever the darkness feels very real and overpowering, remember that Jesus Christ, the light of the world remains on the throne of Heaven, seated at God’s right hand. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not –will not – and will never - overcome it.