Wait, Watch, Witness

First Sunday of Advent Year B

For the past few months, we have been constantly reminded by the public health authorities to practice three actions which should form the basis of a “new normal.” To help us remember they adopted a simple mnemonic: 3 W’s- Wear a mask, Wash your hands, Watch your distance.

Today, the readings also present us with a simple 3 action formula, not just for this season of Advent but for the entire season of our lives as we await the Advent of our Lord at the end of this age. Taking the cue from public health mnemonics, let’s consider them under our own set of 3 W’s: Wait, Watch and Witness.

Waiting is one of the principal movements of Advent. At every Mass, after praying the Lord’s Prayer, we hear “. . . as we await the blessed hope and the coming of our Saviour, Jesus Christ.” This prayer reminds us that during Advent, we wait in joy, in hope, and in anticipation for the wonderful event we are about to experience—the feast of Christmas, the coming of Christ into our lives in new ways, but also the return of Christ in glory at the end of time.

Isn’t it amazing that the Church has an entire season dedicated to fostering the virtue of waiting because she understands its essential value in our lives. Fasting is the necessary prelude to feasting; excellence is contingent on the readiness to sacrifice; enduring joy can only emerge after passing through the crucible of aches, trials and sometimes, great suffering. There are multiple examples taken from nature to back up this proposition. A tree does not just spring into existence without having to pass through various stages of growth, from seed to sapling, from the first leaf to sprouting branches, and finally producing its first flower from which the first fruit would emerge. Everything of value takes time and when it finally bears fruit, there is a realisation that it was worth the waiting. Unfortunately, waiting is not popular in today’s society which is driven by an obsessive attitude of instant-gratification. In an “instant” culture, waiting can seem unbearable, almost “hellish”. Waiting, therefore, requires a maturity that many of us do not possess. Children want instant gratification. Adults should learn to wait.

The Church’s liturgy helps us to understand that there is a sacred dimension to waiting. In Advent, the Church takes on a very counter-cultural stance. We don’t turn our days of waiting prematurely into the commercial Christmas that surrounds us. We take seriously the importance of learning the art of waiting in joyful hope, prayer and spiritual preparation. This waiting is far from empty. It fosters self-denial, a spirit of sacrifice, repentance, prayer and learning to trust in God’s providence. In this time of pandemic, Advent is the perfect season to assuage our fears and impatience. It teaches us to wait upon the Lord, for as the prophet Isaiah assures us “those who hope (wait upon) the Lord will regain their strength…” (Isaiah 40:31).

Advent is also a season of watching. In the gospel, our Lord calls us to sober watchfulness: “Be on your guard, stay awake.” This is what we hear in the First Advent Preface: “Now we watch for the day, hoping that the salvation promised us will be ours, when Christ our Lord will come again in his glory.” Watching is not just a major theme for Advent but also a major theme in scriptures. Our Lord frequently warns us to be alert and to watch, because we do not know when He will return. There is a double sense of His coming. At some unknown time, perhaps soon, He will return and we must be alert and watchful, our lamps burning, ready to give an account. But even more urgent is the fact that probably much sooner, He will call each of us to Himself as we pass over into eternity. We are then, in the words of Paul, to avoid the works of darkness and to watch and be sober (see 1 Thess 5:6 and Rom 13:11-14).

We watch for we know not the day and the hour of the Lord’s coming. We watch because we must be constantly on guard against temptation and sin. We watch in prayer, because prayer is the only antidote and defence we have against the power of Satan. To watch means to enter into the mystery of Christ’s passion and death. Notice that in the parable of our Lord, four specific times are mentioned: “evening, midnight, cockcrow and dawn.” These are the names used for the four “watches” between 6 pm and 6 am. Although, the Hebrew tradition counted three watches, the Romans divided their night into four segments. Interestingly, these four hours also correspond to the four hours of our Lord’s Passion, the evening of the Last Supper, the midnight at the Garden of Gethsemane, the cockcrow at the moment of Peter’s denial and the dawn of His trial and subsequently His resurrection. It is as if we are plunged into a long night that only breaks into dawn on Easter morning. We would have missed the most important event in human history and the climax of salvation history, if we fail to be watchful.

This leads us to the third thing we must do – we are called to give witness. St Paul commends the Corinthians in the second reading because they were filled with enthusiasm, richly endowed with the Holy Spirit and “the witness to Christ has indeed been strong among” them as they awaited the return of the Lord. Advent may be a season of waiting but not idle waiting. Advent should always be an opportunity to shape our faith, inculcate patience in waiting, and sharpen our vigilance. It is anything but a season of stagnation and passivity. On the contrary, Advent is a season where Christians must go to work and much work has to be done before Christ returns.  We recall the parable of the talents where we are invited to imitate the example of the first two industrious servants and avoid the folly of the third servant who was idle. Likewise, Christians must take this opportunity between our Lord’s first coming and His second coming, to witness to God’s mercy and grace, and be committed to working for the salvation of souls.

The message of Advent challenges our impatience, and heals our frustration and anxiety. We’re called to wait with greater calmness, to watch with greater vigilance, to witness with greater resolve, and finally, to live with greater hope. So, we wait not like a lost ship at sea seeking a distant port, but as God’s people already comforted by the knowledge that we have a permanent and eternal home. We wait with not so much idly for a “second coming,” but for signs of the Risen Lord who is already in our midst and who calls us to cooperate in completing His work of salvation: “Wait with Hope! Watch with Vigilance! Witness with Courage!”

King, Shepherd and Judge

Solemnity of Christ the King

Acknowledging Christ as King of the Universe seems easy enough. But how is He a king? The readings today provide us with two additional concomitant images: this King of ours is also a Shepherd as well as a Judge.

Out of these three images, King, Shepherd and Judge, the one which least sits well with a modern audience would definitely be that of Christ as Judge. We have no issues acknowledging that Christ is Lord and King of our lives, nor would any reasonable person reject the image of a kind and loving shepherd who tenderly cares for his flock. But the notion of Christ being the Supreme Judge flies against our modern sensibilities which frowns on any attempt by individuals or institutions to pass moral judgment on others.

But there is a great deal of hypocrisy at work here. Notice that those who profess and say that they strive to make our society more open, inclusive and tolerant have no qualms coming up with an array of insults and labels for their perceived ideological enemies. It’s quite rich to profess that one is striving to be non-judgmental whilst labelling others as Pharisees, sexists, misogynists, homophobes, xenophobes, fascists etc. Seems like “rules for thee but not for me.” This is the very definition of unfairness and also the very reason why we need a fair, just and objective Judge who can defend the truth and expose the lies. Our society, no matter how enlightened it may claim to be, cannot be trusted to make that final judgment.

The parable of the sheep and the goats is wonderfully simple: there will be judgment for all; all of us will end up in one of two destinations: eternal life or eternal punishment. Here, we are presented with the Catholic teaching of the Last Things: death, judgment, heaven and hell. But the parable is not about what heaven or hell are like. What the parable seeks to set out are the grounds by which the determination of each person’s destination is achieved. So, the parable is about who gets to go there and on what basis. The criteria is determined by Christ our Judge.

It is vital to understand that in first century Palestine, sheep and goats were basically regarded as the same animal, and were not distinguishable, as they are now. In the account of the first Passover, the Passover lamb, could have actually been a goat. ‘Take a lamb from the sheep or the goats’, they are told. Sheep and goats would graze together, only to be separated at the end of their lives. This tells us that ultimately God makes distinctions that we do not, and when those distinctions are made, there will be an element of surprise. Likewise, in the parable, no-one knows whether they are a sheep or a goat, and only God can tell the difference and He will sort us out in the end, like a divine Hogwarts sorting hat.

Even more important in this parable is the rationale behind the Day of Judgement. The parable makes it clear: where you go when you die depends on how you have lived. And the good guys are those who have shown compassion and care for the weak and vulnerable. It doesn’t require knowledge in rocket science to understand the basis of judgment: if you cared for them you will be saved, if you didn’t, woe betide you.

So, this parable is meant to provide us with an important lesson that the Last Things are certain – death is certain, judgment is certain, both heaven and hell are certain – and we should orientate our lives and make the correct choices in line with the intended final outcome. The Church views this as a serious obligation on her part to teach this. The importance of this lesson is demonstrated best during the period of the mediaeval Western Church, when the emphasis at funerals was that of judgment. Hell and purgatory were very much in evidence in the liturgy. Funerals became a public event at which the Church attempted to instruct the people about the Last Things, and artists depicted the torments of the damned and the rewards of the faithful. Similarly, ‘mystery plays’ portrayed the souls of the damned being dragged into hell, or purgatory, and Dante emphasised this in his Divine Comedy, which actually, isn’t that funny.

Over the centuries, as human society claims to have become more enlightened, we have witnessed a movement away from this traditional image of the End Times. For example, our funerals have come to look more like extended eulogies, celebrating the life of the person, canonising the virtues of the deceased, rather than an occasion to intercede on behalf of a sinner, pleading with God to pardon his sins. By obscuring the judgment of the soul at his death, we have done so to our detriment and his. For when the spectre of a final judgment is obscured from our vision, the consequences are dire.

First, immorality and sin are normalised with no accountability to God.

Secondly, we attempt to find perfect solutions to every problem in this life because we have stopped believing that Christ is the Final Solution and His solution would only be made manifest at the Last Judgment.

Thirdly, we eventually grow desperate and fall into despair when we recognise the folly of our solutions and the continued prevalence of injustices in this world.

Finally, we neglect our duty to pray for the dead. We forget that the dead do not need our praises. They need our prayers.

As you can see, contemplating the Last Judgment is not all just dark and dreary and feeds on some morbid Catholic preoccupation with death and destruction. Contemplating the Last Things gives us a renewed ability to rely on the hope that there is a Final Solution and only in Christ will we find it. He offers us the hope of the resurrection.

For those who wonder whether it makes any difference to be good in this life or if our wicked deeds will have any consequences, be certain of this truth: the wicked “will go away to eternal punishment, and the virtuous to eternal life.” Ultimately the road of human life divides into two, one half splitting off towards a punishment that never ceases and the other towards an undying life and an unquenchable love with the Lord in His kingdom. This is no empty promise nor toothless warning. Let us not treat these words lightly because they were spoken by the One who is King of the Universe, the Shepherd who pastures His sheep, seeks out the lost, bandage the wounded, the Judge who will separate the sheep from the goats. If we are prepared to take His words seriously, we should therefore live accordingly.

The Master's Generosity

Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

This being the second last Sunday in Ordinary Time, we are treated to the longest parable in the Gospel of St Matthew. Trigger warning: a long gospel reading deserves a longer homily.

The plot line is familiar but its message is surprisingly more familiar. You would have heard it repeated over pulpits, in Sunday School classrooms, and homes. Its most common interpretation could be summed up simply as “use it or lose it”. In other words, a person’s gifts, abilities, and talents are to be used or that person will suffer their loss. If this is the point of the story, the message should simply be one which calls us to work harder, apply our talents and resources in a more productive way to produce a better outcome.

But if the gospel is to be considered in the context of the other readings for this Sunday, you would realise that this story is so much more than a lesson in capitalism or a motivational anecdote meant to stir us to use our personal talents. By the way, the word “talent” used here has nothing to do with a person’s personal endowment and ability. It’s used as a measure, in this case, a measure of money. So, what is the context of the parable? Our Lord was responding to His disciples’ questions concerning the timing of the destruction of the temple, the sign of His return, and the end of the age. The parable is about the Last Judgment!

In the context of His Second Coming, Our Lord is teaching His listeners to be prepared for His return. The heart and the point of this parable, that all too often is overlooked, is that preparation must be made for His return by first responding to Him by faith. The reason, as the second reading tells us, is that “the Day of the Lord is going to come like a thief in the night.” Because the time and day of the coming of the Lord is unpredictable, we must always be prepared.

Outward actions are used in this parable as mere reflexion of the faith (or the lack of faith) of the three servants. This faith is not some vague, ethereal religious notion focused on some intangible God. Instead, this faith rests upon the very person, character, integrity, and words of the Lord Jesus Christ. And just like other teachings of our Lord in the Gospel of St Matthew, faith expresses itself in action. Mere platitudes, like calling out “Lord, Lord” would be insufficient. A man of faith must put his faith into action, just like a man who must build his house on a solid foundation of good works rather than empty words which shift like sand.

After depositing different sums of money with his three servants “each in proportion to his own ability,” the master in the story leaves for a faraway country. The parable records no instructions from the master to his servants, yet there is a clear implication that along with the money, the master also transferred responsibility to them.

Just like the bridegroom who was late in last week’s parable of the ten bridesmaids, the master’s return in today’s story is delayed. Once again, we see the distinction made between the sensible servants and the foolish one. The first two servants take their responsibilities seriously, invest the money that had been entrusted to them, because they know that they would have to give an account to their master upon his return. They were the ones who had chosen to remain vigilant, to “stay awake.” But the third servant was negligent and instead of confessing his mistake, he shows further insolence by accusing his master of being a harsh man. The one who is being judged turns on his judge and accuses him of being unjust. That’s irony for you.

This is the pivot of the story. The servant returns the one talent to his master with an interesting indictment. He accuses his master of being a hard man, one who reaps where he did not sow. The servant is accusing his master of being an exploiter of other people’s labour. The servant then gives the excuse that, motivated by fear of his master’s wrath, he hid the talent.

The master does not defend himself, but rather answers the indictment with a staggering counter indictment. He accuses the servant of being wicked and slothful. Certainly, being lazy is an understandable accusation. But in his own words, the servant also admits that he failed to do anything with the money given to him because he was fearful. He was afraid of failure. He was afraid of the judgment of his master. But was fear the real reason or just an excuse?

Notice that the master does not accuse him of being fearful but accuses him of being “wicked.” This seems strange and disconnected with the other accusation of him being lazy or the servant’s excuse of being fearful. But the master’s accusation exposes the real reason for the servant’s inaction. Fear was not the true motivation of the wicked servant but was merely the excuse he used. Contempt for the master was the servant’s true motivation. This accusation provides us with the key to understand it. The parable is no longer a story about self-effort, but rather a story about the motivation of the servant’s heart.

In stark contrast to the other two servants who recognised the master’s generosity, the wicked and lazy servant could only see the negative side of his master’s character and maligned him as being a “hard man”, reaping where he did not sow. His phenomenal lack of gratitude, his resentful skewed vision of reality, his fear of failure, his reluctance to take responsibility for his own laziness would condemn him. They are clear incriminating proof of his lack of faith in the Master. Because of this, he could never share in his master’s happiness.

With this pivot in the story, we realise the focus on the story is not the various responses of the servants but rather the master’s true intention as shown in his commendation of the first two servants by inviting them to “come and join in the master’s happiness.” The great prize of the parable is relationship, to be in the presence of the master, or Christ Himself, and to share in His joy. Thus, the focus of the commendation to the faithful servants reveals the master’s desire to bring his servants into a new relationship with him. Those who were once called servants would now enter into his joy. This is what God wants of each of us. He wants us to be with Him in paradise forever. This is how salvation looks like. On the other hand, the servant who found no joy in the master’s presence and actions, endured it grudgingly, and treated his master with contempt, would receive his just reward: he will never share in the master’s happiness. For the third servant, being in his master’s presence does not bring happiness. On the contrary, the experience is excruciating. This is how hell looks like.

What about us? The Lord has given us the supreme gift of His grace, an invitation to salvation, to share in His happiness. We are left with an option. Do we accept the invitation and respond to it with grateful hearts, or do we reject the invitation to share in our Lord’s happiness by our contempt for Him? To those who demonstrated faithfulness, more will be given in the form of grace and a closer relationship to the Lord. But for the one who has no faith, who does not appreciate the gifts of grace and salvation, will lose everything, including a share in the master’s happiness. We can either show gratitude or contempt for God’s gifts; have a share in the promise of salvation, or lose it altogether by our contempt.

Be Wise and Stay Awake

Thirty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

As we approach the close of the liturgical year, our readings begin to take on an Advent-like theme: watchful vigilance in preparation for the Lord’s Coming. That is why the Lord closes with this warning, “So stay awake, because you do not know either the day or the hour.”

What does it mean to stay awake? Our Lord cannot be intending this to be taken literally to suggest that Christians should be perpetual insomniacs. For those who have had the experience of keeping vigil to watch over a loved one who is sick, or to view your favourite football team play in the wee hours of the morning or to catch the final results of an election, despite our best efforts to keep alert, sleep still overtakes us. We fall asleep out of exhaustion but also out of disappointment. We fall asleep because we have lost hope to hold out a little longer.

Today’s parable describes the sleepiness that spreads through the community that tires of waiting for the Bridegroom. It should be a night of celebration and joy because the bridegroom is finally returning. But instead, the night becomes frustrating because he is late in coming, just like us when things don’t happen as we had hoped – when God doesn’t work according to our schedule and our Lord does not arrive when we want Him to. This was the experience of the early Christians in Thessalonica to whom St Paul addressed in his letter. St Paul wanted to assure them that the coming of the Lord was certain, and no one would miss out on it.

Coming back to the parable. Notice that all ten bridesmaids got drowsy and fell asleep, the foolish as well as the sensible. For a parable which ends with our Lord’s exhortation to stay awake, it would seem strange that all ten bridesmaids slept on the job. It is as if to say that falling asleep is inevitable, a fact of life. It is not avoiding sleep that differentiates the wise from the foolish. So what sets the sensible apart from the foolish?

The difference is in the extra supply of oil the sensible ones brought and the lack of preparation on the part of the foolish ones who did not expect that they had to wait long. By preparing themselves, the five sensible bridesmaids are allowed to join the groom and enter into the wedding feast. But what about the foolish bridesmaids? Why are they judged harshly? The problem of the foolish virgins is not sleepiness but something more fundamental. They were simply unprepared for the long haul. The shutting of the door is an indication of final judgment: there is no longer any way for them to get into the kingdom once the window of opportunity closes. This is an ominous reminder that life is decisive. On this side of death, we are given countless opportunities to repent, amend our ways, change the direction of our lives. But at death, the deal is done. At death, we can no longer rectify the mistakes of the past. We would have to live for eternity with the consequences of our life’s decisions.

It doesn’t take a genius to make out the symbolism of the various characters in the parable. The bridegroom is Jesus, the bride is the Church and the ten bridesmaids are representing the Christian members of the Church. But what about the oil? It is interesting to note that in Greek, the word for “oil” is a play on the word for “mercy.” Oil is what the Good Samaritan uses to heal the wounds of the man who was robbed by brigands. Oil was also used by Mary to anoint and consecrate our Lord, in preparation for His death and burial. St Augustine tells us that the oil represents “good work”. This explains the reason why the sensible bridesmaids could not share their extra oil with the foolish ones since good works are personal to each of us. We cannot be taking credit for someone else’s good works.

When this parable is read in the light of the entire gospel of St Matthew, the correspondence between the oil, light and good works becomes apparent. For example, in the Sermon on the Mount, our Lord compares good deeds to the light of a lamp that must “shine before others” (5:16). Later in the sermon, our Lord speaks about Christians who say, “Lord, Lord,” but who fails to do the will of the Father (7:21). Light is also mentioned in the first reading taken from the Book of Wisdom. It describes “wisdom is bright, and does not grow dim. By those who love her she is readily seen, and found by those who look for her.” The wisdom spoken of here is not just scientific or philosophical knowledge acquired by study and learning. Rather, it is the reflexion of God’s own Wisdom, the Wisdom by which God creates the world and guides humanity. So, a wise man is one who knows and does the will of God.

The parable thus urges the disciples to persevere in good works in accordance with God’s will. It is one thing to make a strong start in the Christian life, to believe in Jesus, commit oneself to a life of repentance, and to carry a torch for Christ, as did all ten bridesmaids. But this commitment must be sustained over time. There is a danger that any of us can grow tired of doing good. One’s enthusiasm for works of righteousness can run out. Disappointment can set in and we grow spiritually lazy.

That’s when the extra oil is necessary for the long run. The Christian journey is not a 100-metre dash. It’s a 1,000 km marathon. Sustaining our faith with prayer and the sacraments, persevering in spite of the odds, refuelling our fervour for Christ, are the things needed to get us past the finishing line. Only those who do so will be recognised by the bridegroom and welcomed into the nuptial celebration of the kingdom.

At the end of the day, the call to “stay awake” is not so much a call to wakefulness, to fight sleep, but rather a call to spiritual vigilance. One makes oneself ready for the Lord’s arrival by dutiful fulfilment of responsibilities. Failure to exercise diligence is dangerous in the spiritual life. The Christian life requires a life-long commitment and not just sporadic shows of piety. After all, no one knows the day or the hour when the bridegroom will come. But we can be certain of this: The night cannot last forever; the Bridegroom will return. Do not put your lamps away in a closet but have them on hand and lit. Prepare for that extra supply of oil because you can never have “too much” of it. Never tire to do good, even if the world says that it’s foolish and pointless to do so. “So stay awake, because you do not know either the day or the hour.”