Light and Darkness

Solemnity of the Epiphany

Opposites attract, and that’s rarely truer than when it comes to a juxtaposition. Juxtaposition means placing two things side by side so as to highlight their differences - day and night, light and darkness, beautiful and ugly. But juxtaposition is also used to present us with contrasting moral behaviour. Think of Cinderella—her goodness and moral virtue are all the clearer to readers because her wicked stepsisters are there for contrast. Or closer to home - think of the selfless members of the public who reached out to strangers during and in the aftermath of the floods, in contrast to the self-engrossed and narcissistic politicians who turned up days later just to get a selfie at the expense of someone else’s misery.

Today, we don’t have Cinderella and her stepsisters to serve as subjects for our discussion and comparison. Neither are we going to waste our time ranting about the gross inaptitude or negligence of the authorities to mobilise any rescue and salvage efforts. Instead, the Gospel story provides us with a contrast between the wisemen and king Herod, a contrast that perhaps encouraged tradition to turn the magi into kings, that they might stand beside Herod as marking a very different kind of king. Here we have two utterly different reactions to the new-born Jesus, the promised Messiah.

The magi, whom we can safely assume to be men of considerable wealth and status, go to extraordinary lengths, endured great pains and inconveniences, willingly made many sacrifices to find and see the Messiah. They leave behind their homes and its securities, and travel to a distant land; even risking the humiliation of seeking directions from a cynical Herod and his “expert” advisors. These foreigners finally get to see the Child. Take note that they do not ask favours or seek special privileges from the infant king, unlike our Lord’s future disciples. They are just content to meet the Lord and leave their treasures before Him without any fuss or fanfare.

Herod, by contrast, does not leave the comfort and security of his palace, even though Bethlehem is just a stone’s throw away from Jerusalem. As a king, he expects his subjects and his subordinates to make their way to see him. Visiting his subjects is just below him. In fact, he had little interest in the mysterious star that had appeared in the sky, or the rumour that the Messiah had actually come in the flesh. His entire way of life is secured against such bothersome events, and the last thing he wants to know is that a messenger from God, a potential rival, has been born in his neighbourhood, without his permission.

The contrast between the three kings and Herod, could not have been any more pronounced. This is the contrast between the search for God and that of power, between knowledge and ignorance, between worship and hostility, between faith and unbelief, between truth and hypocrisy. The wise men are in tune with what God is doing; Herod is clueless. The wise men are excited about these events and want to worship this newborn king. Herod can only see a threat to his authority. The wise men are empowered by their belief; Herod is blinded by his ambition and fear. And what makes this all the more fascinating is that the three kings are foreigners; non-Jews from a distant land. Herod is a Jew – raised in the faith that had talked for centuries about a promised messiah.

And it makes you wonder, as you read this story, if there’s a greater reason for it being here in the first place: more than just recounting history. It makes you wonder if this story is here to reveal to us two very different ways of seeing the world, and two very different ways of responding to light and darkness; these polar opposites, these symbols are about good and evil; but even more, they’re about hope and its polar opposite, fear.

Can you remember what the gospel described as Herod’s first reaction, when the wise men told him about the newborn king they had come to see? He was “perturbed,” a translation that could suggest that he was confused or unsettled. A better translation would be that he was “afraid”. Both hope and fear were present when our Lord was born; and both are still very much with us today. When we hear the patter of the first few drops of rain on our roof or begin to experience a scratchy throat or a runny nose; could these be signs of something worse to come? There is fear in our hearts even as we whisper our supplications to God. The light and the darkness are all around us, constantly clamouring for our attention. And usually, it seems, the darkness wins.

And then suddenly, in the midst of this never-ending, all-consuming darkness, something changes. The Prophet Isaiah in the first reading announces this:

“Arise, shine out, Jerusalem, for your light has come, the glory of the Lord is rising on you, though night still covers the earth and darkness the peoples. Above you the Lord now rises and above you his glory appears. The nations come to your light and kings to your dawning brightness. Lift up your eyes and look round: all are assembling and coming towards you, your sons from far away and your daughters being tenderly carried. At this sight you will grow radiant, your heart throbbing and full…”

Such powerful imagery. God’s people who lived in darkness will be able to see again because of this wonderful light – a light that gets a little brighter and a little brighter, until the light shines in full and you can see everything as it’s meant to be seen. And when this happens, this light does more than just show us what is there: it gives us hope. Such hope is not based on wishful thinking or false optimism that things will get better. It arises from knowing that the One whom the prophets had been waiting for, has finally arrived. So, our Epiphany juxtaposition actually draws our attention to the true star of this story - the One whom the wise men thought was the true infant king of the Jews and whom Herod believed to be his rival - but we Christians know Him as the Lord of Lords and King of Kings, Jesus Christ, the Son of God! It is He who truly is the One who is in control. He is the creator of the star which shows the way, He is the One who inspires the wise men to make this treacherous journey, and He is the One who reveals the coming of the Messiah in Scriptures. Herod is just a clueless petty ruler who is a pawn in God’s plan of salvation for His people.

So, in the harsh dark, as well as light of Epiphany, we see ourselves at our best and worst. We can either choose to imitate the three kings illuminated by God’s light; or be like Herod, imprisoned in the darkness. But more importantly, let us not lose sight of the true star of the story - our Lord Jesus Christ. Like the wisemen, let us offer Him our gifts of love, faith and hope, knowing that He has come to offer us something so much more valuable - the gift of His life and salvation. While other kings expect their subjects to die for them, our Lord and King has the distinction of coming to die for His subjects, for you and for me.

A Model of Holiness

Solemnity of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph

Whenever this feast comes around every year, I know a lot of people begin squirming in their seats. Any initial thoughts of the Holy Family hardly bring consolation. The discomfort arises from the perceived disparity between the perfection epitomised by the Holy Family and our own socially dysfunctional family units. It’s like living next door to the picture-perfect family. Close proximity is enough to make you feel ashamed of your own. In the face of such heavenly perfection, the condition of our families feels like human refuse. To even attempt to match up to their standards seems impossible. Fortunately, popular culture is less demanding.

Notice how Reality TV, movies and serials often showcase the weird and the dysfunctional. These shows have become so popular because they help us to laugh at the tragedy of dysfunctional behavioural patterns within our own homes and thus, depersonalise the experience. After watching some of the ridiculously outlandish lifestyles, we console ourselves by saying: “we’re not that bad after all.” But dysfunctional relationships are not just the subject of ridicule but have become normative. We live in a world where we try to come to terms with and even celebrate our limitations, our brokenness, our sinfulness, the painful realities that define both our individual and social lives. It is a world where the ‘good’, ‘the perfect,’ ‘the holy’, ‘the functional’, ‘the beautiful’ are just part of an unattainable Utopian dream.

In contrast to the dysfunctional heroes of popular culture, the Church provides us with Mary and Joseph. But the idea of Mary and Joseph as models of parenthood, however, frightens many of us. We are inclined to just dismiss the possibility that our families can be like the Holy Family. They are spiritual giants compared to us. They make us uncomfortable with our mediocrity. Their sanctity seems to highlight our deficiencies. It is no wonder that many try to demythologise the story of the Holy Family, with the hope that by exposing their flaws, we can pull them down to our miserable level. And so liberal exegetes will try to make Joseph appear like a cuckold selfish old man who is only concerned with his good reputation; Mary, a victim of societal pressure, perhaps even a rape victim who hides behind the lie of a heavenly visitation and miraculous conception. In spite of our cynical disparagement of the two, we secretly ask ourselves: How could we ever come close to the sanctity and special position of Mary, the Mother of God, or to Joseph, the most self-less family guy?

So, what does Mary and Joseph offer us as a ‘realistic’ starting point for our family lives? The answer is simple – they offer us holiness - that holiness is attainable and within reach; Mary and Joseph teach us that family life begins with God. The Holy Family was not a perfect family, in the sense a family insulated from crisis or conflict or tragedy. The Gospels describe events that shattered their tranquility: The Flight into Egypt when they became refugees fleeing a murderous despot, the anguish of searching for a missing child in today’s passage, the death of Joseph leaving Mary a widow and Jesus an orphan, and finally the cruel and shameful death of Jesus. Apart from these crises, Jesus, Mary and Joseph would also have lived with the constant taunting and innuendos suggesting that Jesus was born out of wedlock. The Holy Family, therefore, would have experienced disappointments and tension just like any other family. But what sets them apart from other families, is their faith in God. They understood that a family is never truly a family unless God is at its centre. That is why we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Family, and not the Feast of the Perfect Family.

When we hear the story of the finding of Jesus in the Temple, there is much we can sympathise with Mary as a mother. We understand her anxiety and pain. Her Child has run off, and she doesn’t know where He is, for three days! Can you imagine the worst case scenarios going through their heads? Mary is freaking out. She wants to know why Jesus has put her through this: “My child, why have you done this to us? See how worried your father and I have been, looking for you.” But the answer Jesus gives puts things in their proper perspective. This is not just a revelation of Jesus’ identity and His mission. It is also a reminder to all families on what really matters. God is the beginning and the end of all things. Parents often forget this as they constantly fret and worry about their children’s welfare – will they be able to acquire a good education which guarantees them a successful job; will they find a good wife; will they be secure and happy for the rest of their lives? Jesus’ words to His mother set out the main priority and concern for every person. Jesus’ answer raises the eyes of our souls to see beyond the horizon of human existence. It invites us to see God and make Him our goal, our destination, and our fulfillment.

Today, many families are trying to address the dysfunctional patterns and dynamics that plague them: the verbal, physical and emotional abuse that members mete out to each other; the narcissistic personality disorders that result in self-centred behaviour; promiscuity, incest and adultery; the inability to set boundaries or respect them. They look for solutions in the form of family therapy, self-help books, or compensatory behaviour like pornography, adultery or substance abuse. And when all fails, divorce seems to be the only option. What many often fail to recognise is that dysfunctional behaviour is just another euphemism for sinfulness. If sin is the cause of jealousy, envy, strive, enmity, selfishness, unforgiveness in the family; then holiness must be its antidote. Holiness, life in union with Christ and with God, is the source of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience and forgiveness, everything we need, to make our families work.

So, do we need role models? We most certainly do! But not the kind who flaunts their pride and selfishness, the ones who make us feel comfortable with our limitations and shortfalls. We need role models that do not bring out the worst in us, but always the best. We need the kind who can inspire us to move beyond ourselves, to strive for higher things; the kind that will reveal to us all that is good, all that is true and all that is beautiful. Pope Emeritus Benedict in his first encyclical reminds us: “We must learn to believe first of all in the family, in authentic love, the kind that comes from God and unites us to him, the kind that therefore “makes us a ‘we’ which transcends our divisions and makes us one, until in the end God is ‘all in all’” (1 Cor 15:28)” (Deus Caritas Est, 18). Yes, we need a role model to show us that if our families are to grow and thrive, God must be “all in all.”

The Word Leapt down in Silence

Christmas Mass During the Day

Some would naively argue that the concept of the “Logos,” translated as “the Word” in St John’s lyrical prologue, was something radically new, an appropriation of a Greek philosophical concept. But in the Book of Wisdom in the Old Testament, we find not just a subtle and distant hint but a blaring proclamation of the movement of the Eternal Word:

“For while all things were in quiet silence, and the night was in the midst of her course, Thy almighty Word leapt down from Heaven from Thy royal throne, as a fierce conqueror into the midst of the land of destruction” (Wisdom 18:15).

As with most holidays, Christmas generally tends to be a noisy feast filled with strong, joyful carols proclaiming: “For Unto Us A Child Is Born,” “Joy to the World,” “Angels We Have Heard On High,” “Go Tell It On The Mountain,” etc. And this is all true, and very good, and very beautiful. But there is also a silence to be contemplated, a silence that is often missed and dismissed. The great things that God works within His creatures naturally happen in silence, in a divine movement that suppressed all speech. For what could we say? Thus, God’s heavenly secret is kept under the seal of silence unless He Himself opens the lips and makes the words come forth. And this is what happened as the Book of Wisdom said it would happen: “For while all things were in quiet silence, and the night was in the midst of her course, Thy almighty Word leapt down from Heaven from Thy royal throne.”

The Word Himself, God, the desire of all nations, “leapt down from heaven” in “quiet silence,” physically took on silence, becoming a new born human, an infant. And in the wonderful silence in the stable, Mary and Joseph looked at Jesus for the first time and contemplated the mystery of His birth in silence. Today, in the midst of our revelry and celebration, we are called to adopt an atmosphere of silence if we wish to grasp the mystery of His Incarnation and hear His gentle whispering.

When the Book of Wisdom tells us that the “… almighty Word leapt down from Heaven from (His) royal throne, as a fierce conqueror into the midst of the land of destruction,” the author was reflecting on the death of the Egyptian first-born at the time of the Exodus. The Almighty God reached down from heaven as He had promised to Moses and slew the first-born of the Egyptians so that all might know that the Hebrew people were His chosen.  God proved victorious and in so doing, through death gave life to His People. Now the Church takes that profound and inspired meditation on the victory of life over death and offers it to us as a reflexion on what Christ will do.  Once Christ is born, a life like no other has entered the world.  In this child, the Almighty Word that leapt down from Heaven, we encounter an unconquerable life, a life that is reminiscent of what went on before but surpasses it in power and fullness.  He came “so that they might have life and have it more abundantly” (John 10:10).

Although the Incarnation took place in silence and the divine movement often takes place in silence, there is also silence which is imposed by force and violence – a silence which seeks to silence God’s Word. St John tells us that “He (the Word made flesh) came to his own domain and his own people did not accept him.” It should come as no surprise, therefore, that Christmas, a reminder of the birth of the Son of God, must be removed from the public square and its message silence because the message of Christmas, one of life, threatens the prevalent culture of death.

The human race has always known violence to innocence, evidenced by the actions of Pharaoh and Herod and in the last century, Hitler and Stalin. While adults can make their voices heard in protest, the unborn, the sick and the elderly, are easy targets because of their natural silence, if no one speaks for them and on behalf of them. Today, that struggle manifests itself in new and frightening ways - with the proliferation of abortion mills and passing of legislation which legalises the murder of innocents, the sick and the elderly and which seeks to silence dissenting voices.  The violence has become customary, normalised, more imaginative and terrifying. 

But our Lord shows us that life is ultimately victorious. Life conquers through its ability to empty itself out.  The power of the Christian faith manifests itself most especially in being what the world is not.  To arrogance it counters with humility.  To cynicism it reacts with innocence.  To deception it responds with truth.  To glamour it demonstrates with simplicity.  To death it responds with life.  To a cacophony of noise, it offers silence. Christian faith is simply the opposite of everything that the world would expect and want.  It offers “mud,” when the world would want “gold and silver.”  This is what Christmas is all about. Christmas bears a dangerous message which threatens our world and yet, it carries with it the only message which can save the world.

But there is great irony in the liturgy of the Church.  In celebrating a humble birth, we offer our best - we offer our “gold and silver”.  To the silent entry of the Word into our world, we offer our voices in songs of praise and wonderment. We enrich the liturgy with the best that we have to offer because the accoutrements of the rituals manifest the beauty of a world that is not ours and thrusts us forward and upward into an unimaginable beauty, a sign of a world to come. 

Today, we come to the manger offering our best only because we have acknowledged the worst in us: the noise we make in competition with God’s sublime Word; the “mud” we have covered ourselves in - our sins, our weaknesses and shortcomings.  We take courage also in knowing that the Word broke His silence and entered into the noisy madness of our world as He stepped into the “mud” of our fallen existence. Yes, the Eternal Word which leapt down from heaven from His royal throne, has stepped into the filthy “mud” in which we are mired. We were once formed from dust, but now our Lord gives us new life by remoulding the “mud” of our being into a new creation. There is every reason for us to break our silence today and announce: “Indeed, from His fullness we have, all of us, received – yes, grace in return for grace.”

Only one count mattered

Christmas Mass During the Night

St Luke has no intention of telling the story of Christmas as a work of fiction or fantasy. He intends to place the story of Christmas within human history. The context of the Christmas story, the reason why Joseph and Mary had to travel to Bethlehem was because of a census ordered by the Emperor Caesar Augustus over his whole realm. Some have questioned the historicity of this exercise but we are not going to go down this rabbit hole of historical accuracy. Now, I know that a census doesn’t sound very Christmas-y, but this particular census had profound implications on the birth of the Saviour King.

First, let us consider the reason for Caesar’s order. What would a census serve in ancient times? Certainly, data collection in those times would not be used for the purpose of procuring statistics as a basis of planning and analysis. A census in ancient times usually had a dual purpose - as a prelude to military conscription or taxation. The manner in which this census was conducted in this province under the governance of Quirinius, followed a local custom - everyone “went to his own town to be registered.” The “own town” was not the place where the person lived but the ancestral home of their tribe or clan. Since, Joseph was a descendant of David, he had to make the long track to Bethlehem, the City of David, with his betrothed.

Secondly, for the local Jews, this census was both a sign of their humiliating subjugation under Roman rule and a call back to another humiliating event in Israel’s history - David’s attempt to conduct a census of the people which ended in a disaster - a plague that nearly wiped out his people. God’s displeasure was displayed to its fullest measure. One may wonder why? David had earlier committed an egregious crime of stealing the wife of another man and orchestrating his murder. We can’t imagine how a census could come any way close to this hideous crime of adultery coupled with murder. So, what was the issue?

The problem of a census could be two-fold. It exposed David’s lack of faith and trust in the Lord. The Rabbi Eleazar taught: “Whoever counts Israel transgresses a prohibition, as it is said, ‘Yet the number of the children of Israel shall be as the sand of the sea, which cannot be measured.’” Implicit here is the idea that counting people—often done, directly or indirectly, for political purposes or military readiness—seeks to quantify by sight what God has promised by faith. Secondly, the census relied on the world’s standards of power and strength—that is, one gauges a nation’s strength through numbers and the size of its army rather than through the covenantal promise of God Himself.

But this census, instead of being a hindrance to the climax of salvation history, served to bring about its fulfilment. Our Lord’s birth was prophetically foretold in the Old Testament in this passage from Micah (5:2):

“But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times.”

According to St Matthew, this prophecy was used by the wise men to find Jesus. When the chief priests and teachers of the law gathered with King Herod and the magi from the east to discover where they might find “the king of the Jews,” they knew that the Messiah would come from Bethlehem. It was important, therefore, that our Lord Jesus be born in Bethlehem.

Thus, the census bringing Joseph and Mary to Bethlehem, and for our Lord to be born here, was no mere coincidence but an incredibly specific way for all of the prophecies to be fulfilled. The mighty Roman Empire, its taxation machine, and its sprawling governing power couldn’t care less about a poor couple in an outlying province. The authorities were only concerned with numbers - the more the better, the bigger the tax collection. They failed to recognise that only one single count mattered in their entire empire - the One who is counted as the Son of Mary but also the Son of God. No census would have been able to pick this up. Not then. Not now.

However, Caesar Augustus’s census was used by God for a far more important purpose than Caesar could ever know. God used the Roman census to fulfill the prophecy and point to the greatest ruler of all, the Messiah, the King of Kings. God’s prophecy would be fulfilled when two humble citizens simply obeyed the census of Caesar Augustus, but all, unbeknownst to them, were actually obeying God’s Will. That is the sovereign power that God alone has over human history.

Statistics have always fascinated us humans. Size of national populations and adherents of different religions, number of persons infected or who died from COVID 19. But as for us believers of the Good News of Jesus Christ, numbers are secondary. What should be our primary concern is that we have been adopted into an eternal family and given a new and lasting birth right. This is what we celebrate today - God became man so that men may become gods!

God does not need to conduct a census to keep track of this. That’s why we can have confidence in His Kingdom while living in the midst of broken ones. God’s Word and Gospel is a sure foundation of hope and direction for those living in a broken and hopeless world. This hope does not come from the temporary peace made by politicians, and God’s call to humbly submit to imperfect authorities is not an endorsement of them. No—our hope is in Jesus, the only eternal king. Turn from all lesser hopes and trust in Him, knowing that when you do, God has your name written down in His book of life, to be remembered for all eternity.

Jesus may have lived briefly as a citizen of Caesar’s kingdom but He is subject and slave to no one except His Heavenly Father. In fact, He came to establish God’s eternal Kingdom. The kingdom of Caesar Augustus has long lay in ruin, with most of its citizens completely forgotten, but the Kingdom of Jesus Christ is still very much alive, constantly recruiting a list of citizens across the world and throughout human history. Believe it or not, you are on that list! This is why you should rejoice when you hear the words of the angel who first announced this to humble shepherds: “Today in the town of David a saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.” And your response should simply echo the heavenly choir: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace to men who enjoy his favour.”

Encounter of Joy

Fourth Sunday of Advent Year C

On this last Sunday of Advent before Christmas, our gospel takes us to the scene of the last recorded appearance of Mary in the gospels before the birth of our Lord - the scene of the Visitation of our Lady to her cousin Elizabeth. The Visitation is one moment from the infancy narratives that can prepare us in a special way for the coming of our Lord this Christmas. It provides us with a snapshot of Mary as a loving servant who is familiar with the Scriptures, bubbling over with joy, and confident in the promises of her God.

The scene also provides us with the prophetic words and action of both Elizabeth and the unborn child within her womb. Even here, John the Baptist, still a foetus, displays his prophetic skills as the precursor of the Messiah. It is here, and not at the river Jordan, where our Lord and the Baptist first meets. But lastly, the real protagonist of this story remains quiet and hidden. Like John, our Lord Jesus also remains nestled in the womb of His mother. No one would have even noticed His presence without the revelation and prompting of the Spirit who alerted John, who in turn alerted his mother with a joyful kick in the womb.

John, the child in Elizabeth’s womb, could not contain his joy and leapt, danced, rejoiced at the approach of Jesus. I think it is fair to say that few of us react with such poignant and uncontainable joy when we come close to our Lord. Christmas has this alluring power over us, both old and young. It is capable of igniting this childlike joy and sense of wonderment in us, as we long to peek into the crèche on Christmas night to catch a glimpse of the new born child.

But there is something of Christmas even now, in fact every day. In every Catholic church, there present is Jesus Christ – in His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity. Fully, truly, really, and substantially present. This is no mere symbol, nor even some manner of imperfect presence. Far too often we are guilty of falling scandalously short of appropriate reverence for the Eucharist. Let us pray that we will experience the same excitement as did John in his mother’s womb. We should be leaping and dancing with joy as we come into the presence of our Lord.

In fact, we should be exclaiming with Elizabeth and asking ourselves this question: “Why should I be honoured to be given such a great privilege to visit our Lord?” Just like Elizabeth, we cannot remain silent observers here, nor treat this moment as something common and ordinary. We need to listen to Elizabeth if we wish to have a proper perspective of Christmas. She alone, inspired by the Holy Spirit, makes a declaration of faith which becomes an essential component of the “Hail Mary” – “Blessed are thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus”. Her words become the foundation of our Christian faith regarding the true nature of Christ and what we celebrate at Christmas. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches: “Called in the Gospels “the mother of Jesus” Mary is acclaimed by Elizabeth, at the prompting of the Spirit and even before the birth of her son, as “the mother of my Lord.” In fact, the One whom she conceived as man by the Holy Spirit, who truly became her Son according to the flesh, was none other than the Father’s eternal Son, the second person of the Holy Trinity. Hence the Church confesses that Mary is truly “Mother of God” (Theotokos).” (CCC 495)

And finally, we have Mary, “the mother of my Lord.” Mary’s spirit dances in anticipation of the Lord. Having received glad tidings from the angel about the Son she would bear for God, for the salvation of humanity, she travels “quickly” to Elizabeth and upon arriving, bursts into a joyful song of praise. It is unfortunate that we do not get to hear her song of praise, the Magnificat, as this is the climax of this episode of the Visitation. Her ‘bubbling over’, mimics the joy of Heaven. There’s no room for anything but praise and thanksgiving. It overwhelms, overflows, “overshadows” — a word we also hear at the Annunciation.

Mary, our Blessed Mother, is the perfect example of devotion to Jesus, of reverence for His Holy Presence. She leads the Church to keep vigil at the crèche, awaiting the birth of her Son. Consider the words of Saint Teresa of Calcutta: “In the mystery of the Annunciation and the Visitation, Mary is the very model of the life we should lead. First of all, she welcomed Jesus in her existence; then, she shared what she had received. Every time we receive Holy Communion, Jesus the Word becomes flesh in our life – gift of God who is at one and the same time beautiful, kind, unique. Thus, the first Eucharist was such: Mary’s offering of her Son in her, in whom he had set up the first altar. Mary, the only one who could affirm with absolute confidence, “this is my body”, from that first moment offered her own body, her strength, all her being, to form the Body of Christ.”

Amidst the flurry of shopping, visiting, and end-of-year work activities that will surely fill our Advent calendars this season, take a few minutes each day to encounter God, who often chooses to be hidden only to reveal Himself when you willingly spend time with Him in prayer, especially before the Blessed Sacrament. If you longed for the experience to spend time before the manger on that first Christmas night, know that each time you spend time before the Blessed Sacrament in the tabernacle is no lesser experience. If you struggle with prayer and don’t know what to say, dig deep into Scriptures like Mary, and pray the Magnificat with her. Let your soul proclaim the greatness of the Lord this Advent and beyond, through joy, Scripture, and loving service.

What must we do?

Third Sunday of Advent Year C

St John the Baptist was truly an enigmatic figure of his time, as he remains one today. An ascetic who lived away from the company of friends and society out in the wilderness, who dressed strangely and survived on a stranger diet in the manner of a lunatic, performing ablutions which were usually done on initiates into the Jewish faith or priests before they performed the Temple sacrifices, and finally calling his audience, even those who considered themselves pious and righteous, to repentance. Despite his strange appearance and his sober message, there was something intriguing about him which drew crowds to him like a rock star and celebrity, and he did all this without having any miracle recorded in his name.

Last week, we were already introduced to the Baptist as the son of Zechariah who lived out in the wilderness and “went through the whole Jordan district proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” St Luke describes him as the fulfilment of Isaiah’s prophecy concerning the voice in the wilderness calling all to prepare the way of the Lord. In today’s gospel, he is in the wilderness again excoriating the crowds who came seeking baptism and repentance and deliverance. “Who warned you …?,” John wants to know. "Who told you to come out here? What did you think you would find?" Who the crowds find is a fiery prophet of God, preaching judgment upon the injustice that permeates this world.

If you pay attention to the thread of gospel readings for Advent, you would soon realise that John is an irritant fixture of this season. He appears in all three lectionary cycles. He is like apple is to apple pie, and cheese is to cheesecake. The Church places him here for a distinct purpose - not just because he is a precursor to the Messiah, whose birth we will welcome at Christmas but because of his message which is needed in every age.

We need a John the Baptist who will speak prophetically and clearly in the wilderness. We need a John the Baptist who will warn us that judgment is at hand. We need a John the Baptist who will tell us what we need to hear, and not just tell us what we want to hear. We need a John the Baptist who will name the sins that pervade our lives and the injustices that structure our broken world. But we also need a John the Baptist who will point us to the path God has set before us.

In today’s passage, three groups come before him with the same question: “what must we do?” John provides each with a customised answer.

The first group are identified as “all the people.” The crowds wonder how they should respond to John’s prophetic condemnations. He tells them to love their neighbours. To share what extra they have with another and to give to those who lack even the most basic necessities. Nothing outlandishly radical. He is merely calling them to ordinary acts of grace and charity.

Next comes the deplorable tax collectors who ask the same question. What must we do? We might expect John to instruct these agents of the Roman colonial power to get new jobs helping those in need, to stop serving their imperial masters and repay those they previously had taken advantage of. No, instead, John calls them to be good tax collectors, to collect only that which is required of them. Once again, he calls them to ordinary acts of grace and charity.

Finally, the soldiers come along to ask the same question. What must we do? We might expect John to instruct these soldiers to lay aside their instruments of violence and embrace a way of peace. Instead, John tells them not to use their position of power to steal life or livelihood from anyone. Be good soldiers, he demands of them. He does not call them to do anything extraordinary or radical, but merely to ordinary acts of grace and charity.

So, what might John the Baptist say to us today? What would he say to us if we approach him with this question: “what must we do?”

On this Third Sunday of Advent, we can imagine John using the words of Saint Paul in the second reading, “I want you to be happy, always happy in the Lord,” or its other translation found in the entrance antiphon, which has given this Sunday its Latin name, Gaudete Sunday - “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say Rejoice.” You may protest that joy doesn’t seem to be one of the vibes that you are getting from this man who lived an austere life in the wilderness and who sternly calls us to repentance.

Believe it or not, John the Baptist is the patron saint of spiritual joy.  After all, at the presence of Jesus and Mary at the scene of Mary’s visitation to her cousin Elizabeth, he leapt for joy in his mother’s womb (Lk. 1:44).  And we are told that he is the friend of the bridegroom who rejoices to hear the bridegroom’s voice (Jn. 3:29-30).

Such joy arose from John’s humility who did not see our Lord as a rival or a competitor. Many, especially among the religious elite, felt threatened by Jesus’ popularity.  But John actually encouraged his disciples to leave him, and follow the Lamb of God.  When people came, ready to honour John as the messiah, he set them straight.  He was not the star of the show, only the best supporting actor.  He stressed that he was not even fit or worthy to occupy the position of a foot slave to remove the sandals of his master. Even his coveted baptism by water would be inferior to the Messiah’s baptism of fire and the Holy Spirit. John makes it clear that he was not the Word Incarnate, only the voice who announces the word. Our Lord Jesus was the one to watch.  John may have been centre-stage for a while, but now that the star had shown up, he knew it was time for him to slip quietly off to the dressing room.

Perhaps here is where we need John the Baptist most. He might turn to us and call us to ordinary acts of grace and charity. He might call us to give what we have. He might call us to stay at our jobs and do them well. He might call us to the radical idea that seemingly ordinary lives can be imbued with the extraordinary spirit of God to transform the world. But ultimately, John is calling us to be convincing witnesses of joy because we have been touched by the Messiah.

During this Christmas season, we expect to enjoy with the family and friends times of conviviality and joy. Such expectations have been shattered this year. We could throw our hands up in despair. We could lament over a shattered world. We could grieve those we have lost, the dreams that have been shattered. We could continue to take the necessary precautions to keep our loved ones and us safe. Yes, we should do all these things. And as we do all these things, we should also live ordinary lives infused by the extraordinary call to love God and love neighbour and be joyful witnesses of the gospel. In a bleak world filled with discontent and weighed down by failure and discouragement, let us show that it is possible with God’s Grace to rejoice always, especially knowing that “indeed, the Lord is near.” Such joy can be contagious.

The Second Eve

Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception 2021

What do Eve and Mary have in common? Both are mothers, mothers of the whole human race. If Eve is the mother of fallen humanity, Mary is the mother of redeemed humanity. Typology is a common feature found in scriptures which helps us see the link between the Old Testament and the New - figures and events in the Old Testament prefigure those found in the New. In the case of Eve and Mary, it is one of a negative typology. Mary is what Eve wasn’t. St Jerome famously taught that if death came through Eve, life came through Mary. Mary's obedience untied the knot of Eve's disobedience.

Similarly, the first reading and the gospel chosen for this Mass also draw upon these parallels. The parallels are obvious: both Eve and Mary were women, both were virgins, both were approached by angels who promised them something glorious should they cooperate with their respective propositions, both stood at the dawn of creation (Christ’s work was a “new creation”). The contrasts, too, are obvious: In the one case, disobedience of God brought misery, while in the other, obedience brought about happiness; the first one was all-too-eager to hear what the evil spirit was suggesting, while the second was “troubled” at the angel’s wondrous greeting; the first accepted the angelic proposal even though it contradicted God’s Word, while the second tested the message by its fidelity to God’s word.

But the readings go beyond just highlighting parallels and contrasting the two figures. We see in the gospel, the story of the Annunciation reversing the effect and the consequence of the temptation of the first Eve in the Book of Genesis. In the Garden, Eve believed the lies of a fallen angel, disobeyed God and so became the cause of Adam's Fall. At the Annunciation, Mary believed the words spoken by a holy angel, obeyed God and so became the Mother of the One who would save us from Adam's Fall! Mary's obedience reversed Eve's disobedience; thus Mary is the New Eve for the New Creation in Christ.

But perhaps the most important parallel which highlights the nature of today’s feast is the place of sin in God’s plan of salvation. There is no place for sin, full stop. God created the first man and woman in a state of sinlessness and it is only through their disobedience that sin entered into the world. Now in the work of redemption, in the work of re-creation that is to be wrought by His Son, God had to begin with a similar and yet far superior state of sinlessness. Jesus, the Sinless One, the unblemished Lamb of God, had to be brought into this world and assume human nature and flesh, from one who was similarly preserved from sin, the Blessed Virgin Mary.

The Son’s unique and irreplaceable role in God’s plan of salvation is intertwined with that of Mary, His mother. For failure to recognise the role of the Virgin Mary, as part of the salvific plan of the Heavenly Father to bring us our Redeemer, would be to reject the obvious - to insinuate that the Son had no mother; that the angel sent by the Father did not come to ask for her free consent; and that she did not morally and physically cooperate to give to the Saviour the instrument of salvation, His human nature.

In the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, we see the fulfilment of the proto evangelium (the first gospel) which we heard in the first reading, that the offspring of the woman will crush the head of the serpent’s offspring. Eve’s moral failure will be undone by God’s victory through Mary, the Second Eve, and her Son. The Immaculate Conception is really the supreme manifestation of God's prevenient, unmerited mercy. After all, the Virgin Mary did not "merit" her Immaculate Conception. Nor could she ask for it. It was something done in her and for her, by the Father of Mercy, and solely on the basis of the foreseen merits of His Incarnate Son, Jesus Christ. By God's prevenient grace, therefore, she was made the masterpiece of the Father's mercy. And in the fullness of time, this special grace enabled her to receive our Saviour into the world.

This is what we celebrate today - the wondrous, the incomparable, the boundless mercy of God. The Feast of the Immaculate Conception is first and foremost a feast of His mercy, shown to Mary, and through Mary to the world. We are children of Eve by the order of nature, a nature scarred by Original Sin. But by the order of grace and God’s mercy, we are now Children of Mary, redeemed, restored, recreated - called to a life of holiness instead of sin, called to be children of God instead of the world, called to be Saints instead of remaining perpetually sinners. In our Lady, we are reminded that we are not irredeemably cursed by sin or the Fall, but we have been incontrovertibly redeemed by the mercy of God.

A voice calls out in the wilderness

Second Sunday of Advent Year C

Pope St Paul VI famously wrote: “The history of salvation is being accomplished in the midst of the history of the world." This is what we see in today’s gospel passage - the convergence between human history and salvation history - between man as a subject of time and God who is Master of time.

St Luke provides us with a list of historical and political luminaries at that material point in time, teasing the reader to think that he is about to provide us with another account of world history. But then the evangelist swiftly shifts our attention to a seeming nobody “John son of Zechariah”, whose ministry and teaching now provides us with the foundation for the climax of salvation history - the coming of the Messiah.

The reason why St Luke weaves both threads into his narrative is to show us that the story of salvation history does not take place in a vacuum, as something totally separated from human history, but as Pope St Paul VI asserts: “the history of salvation is being accomplished in the midst of the history of the world.” God who is not bound by time and space chooses to enter our time and space at this very moment and in this very spot – the unnamed wilderness in an insignificant part of the Roman empire, away from the centres of power and influence.

But the mention of these historical political figures also wishes to establish a context for St John’s preaching and ministry, which will subsequently lead to that of Jesus. This opening verse sets the scene for a world that has gone awry, a world where God’s people live as a conquered people in their own land, and where those in power would crucify the One God sent to save the world. The first verse sets forth a world ruled from Rome and rife with sin. In this world gone wrong, the Word of God came not to any of these political figures who often claim divine election to support their claim for legitimacy and authority, but to John the Baptist who “went through the whole Jordan district proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” Notice that John was not calling for a political revolution or instigating his followers to start an insurrection. What was far more needed was a spiritual revolution.

We often blame our politicians for the problems we face in our country. We blame our parents for the influence they had in our upbringing. We blame the school system for the defective education that we have received. And finally, we blame the Church for her sanctimonious values and her penchant for making us feel guilty. But the real problem often evades us, especially when we can’t put our finger on it. Our world is falling apart and we cannot repair it until we honestly acknowledge the problem. The fact of the matter is that the root cause of the problems in our world is sin. Sin is spoken of in Genesis chapter 4 as something that is crouching at our door, desiring to consume us, and we are told that we must rule over it. Instead, we have allowed sin to rule over us.

And so, the ministry of calling God's people to repent is at the very heart of John the Baptist's ministry. And he called on the people not to give just lip repentance, but to give life repentance: to show the evidence of real gospel repentance by the way they lived - nothing short of a massive spiritual re-engineering and death-construction.

St Luke tells the reader that the ministry of St John calling the people to repentance is a fulfilment of the prophecy of Isaiah. Isaiah’s prophecy has in mind, building up a great road for the arrival of a majestic king. The idea is to fill in the holes and knock down the hills that are in the way. The idea is taken from the practice of eastern monarchs, who, whenever they entered upon an expedition, or took a journey through a desert country, sent harbingers before them, to prepare all things for their passage; and pioneers to open the passes, to level the ways, and to remove all impediments. The returning victorious King deserves a smooth highway, not some dirt road cutting through treacherous terrain.

The idea of preparing the way of the LORD is, therefore, a word picture, because the real preparation must take place in our hearts. Building a road is very much like the preparation God must do in our hearts. To flatten mountains and fill in valleys, is no easy task. Likewise, to remove the obstacles of sin from our hearts is not something which demands little effort on our part. Both enterprises are costly, both come at great effort, they both must deal with many different problems and environments, and they both take an expert engineer to clear the path of obstacles. God is that expert engineer whom you must allow into your heart.

What a contrast this vision of the construction of a great highway is to the voice of John the Baptist crying in the wilderness who announces its coming fulfilment. What a contrast it is to that scene of a helpless infant lying in a manger which is the focus of the great feast we prepare to celebrate during this Advent season. Other political rulers and celebrities of our modern times may occupy the front covers and headlines of our news, and yet we know that it is not them but that helpless infant, whose John’s voice heralds, is the salvation of God which all men shall see, the One in whom this prophecy is fulfilled.

Stay awake, Pray always and Stand confidently

First Sunday of Advent Year C

I know it’s Advent and you would be expecting me to say something about the spirit of this season, but the terse three-part command issued by the Lord at the end of the gospel draws us back to the evening of Holy Thursday, to the scene of our Lord and His disciples gathered together in the Garden of Gethsemane. This threefold command almost seems reminiscent of what the Lord had expected from His disciples.

In that Garden, our Lord asked His disciples to “stay here and watch with Me”, but when He returned, He found them asleep and caution them “Watch and pray, lest you enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Matthew 26:41).  Earlier, He had taught them: “Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before others, I will disown before my Father in heaven.” And yet at the end, one of His disciples would betray Him, another deny Him while others fled instead of choosing to “stand with confidence before the Son of Man.”

On all three accounts, the disciples had failed. Nothing we do can change that. No one can re-write history. There is no turning back the clock. What is more important is that we should know where we are going and that will affect the choices we make. The disciples eventually redeemed themselves or to be exact, they were redeemed by the Lord.

Likewise, the season of Advent provides us with a similar opportunity to redeem ourselves by preparing ourselves for the Lord’s coming - will we succeed where the disciples failed? Will we be able to stay awake, praying at all times for our survival and salvation and finally, stand confidently with Christ if we find ourselves on the hot seat?

If you are nervous and uncertain as to whether you are able to withstand the test and pass where the disciples had failed, you have every reason to do so. Listening to our Lord’s ominous warning, it would appear that there is plenty to be anxious about. “There will be signs in the sun and moon and stars; on earth nations in agony, bewildered by the clamour of the ocean and its waves; men dying of fear as they await what menaces the world, for the powers of heaven will be shaken.” When you begin to examine each of the items on this list, however, you would soon realise that this is not just something that will happen in the future; these things are happening to people right now. Instead of just being crippled by fear, our Lord tells us that the true object of our focus should be Him: “Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory.” Troubles coming our way is certain. But our Saviour’s coming “with power and great glory”, that too is most certain.

This is what Advent should mean for us. It is a time for us to be filled with new hope, new courage without putting on blinders and pretending that the mess we see in the world is not real. We are not asked to ignore or deny the reality of suffering, evil or death. In fact, we are asked to affirm these things while also recognising that there is something here far greater than suffering, evil and death. Therefore, Advent is a time for us to be reassured that the darkness that overshadows the present moment, whether from sin, sickness, poverty, sorrow, weakness or failure, will be dissipated and driven away by the Sun of Justice, the Word-Made-Flesh.

Advent is not a season of false hope. We are not getting ready for some improbable, imagined event that exists only in fantasy. Our hope is based on the assurance that our God is coming. He has, in fact, already come among us in our own flesh. He has already loved us beyond death, has overcome sin and evil, and has seeded us with the hope of Eternal Life. And that is why our Lord can say this to us with such confidence: “When these things begin to take place, stand erect, hold your heads high, because your liberation is near at hand.”

Advent days are not to be wasted in spiritual idleness, in distracting ourselves with busy activity nor in fruitless worrying. We should use these advent days to stir up this hope in a fearful world, to cultivate that seed of hope to full bloom. We know that the Lord has come... we are certain that the Lord will come. And for us, that does not mean waiting in fear and dread for doomsday. We do believe in the Second Coming of Jesus and that is why we should stand erect, hold our heads high, because our liberation is near at hand.

We are not spending four weeks just to welcome again the "baby Jesus". We are trying to drive away the shadows of sin and despair, so that we can open our hearts and minds and lives to the overpowering light of the incarnate Son of God made man. We want to use this sacred time to deepen our understanding of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. We need to realise again how fully He has entered into the very fabric of our lives. We want to allow Him to transform every facet of our human existence, so that in all things we think, speak, choose and act, as redeemed children of God. Our coming Christmas celebration has to include all of this. So, if you’ve drawn up a bucket list of things-to-do before Christmas, don’t forget the following, place it at the top of your list:

“Stay awake, praying at all times for the strength to survive all that is going to happen, and to stand with confidence before the Son of Man.”

To know that He is Lord

Solemnity of Christ the King 2021

As we come to the end of a second year of this pandemic, two years marked by lockdowns, social-economic upheaval, rising unemployment, businesses closed, disruption of our sacramental lives and all our plans, deaths of friends and loved ones, we look back and come to realise how fragile our lives have really been. These disruptions have cascaded in ways that seem novel and imaginatively overwhelming. All of a sudden, we see before us something we have perhaps talked about before, but never really faced personally. Suddenly we must “stay home,” keep a safe distance from others, turn to ourselves. And we are, surprisingly, afraid!

One reason why this has been a major crisis in so many lives is because we have been living in a bubble, believing that everything is under our control. Both medical and technological advancements have given us a false sense of security - we are enveloped by a delusional sense of impregnability and immortality. We are so cut off from our past that we have forgotten that our experience is not unique. Many in previous generations took for granted—in ways that are unthinkable to us—that life was not predictable, diseases, the inability to travel, death at an early age or in infancy—were a part of life. We have largely forgotten this until this pandemic hit us with a harsh reality check.

Many believe that this crisis has shaken our faith in God because it has disturbed our assumptions about God’s benign supervision and His ability to control suffering. But I choose to see it differently. I believe that it is this false faith we have in ourselves and in the infallibility of science which has been shaken. If this crisis has done anything, it has drawn us back to acknowledge once again, the utmost sovereignty of God over the universe. He alone is God, not man.

COVID-19 calls us to learn again from our forbearers, who looked to Scripture’s descriptions of God’s agency in times of disaster as a compass for their own times. Modern man only attempts to demythologise these stories and provide them with a plausible rational explanation devoid of God’s agency. One obvious place to turn, is to the story of the plagues visited upon Pharaoh and Egypt, at the time of the Hebrews’ deliverance from slavery. One can note a key difference between Moses and Pharaoh. Moses recognises God in extraordinary events. Pharaoh does not. Despite experiencing one remarkable plague after another, Pharaoh refuses to believe. His failure to do so because he thought of himself as the true ruler, the true king of his empire. God describes the purpose of the ten plagues clearly: they are not punishment. They are an invitation to know God: “The Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord, when I stretch out my hand against Egypt and bring the Israelites out from among them” (Exodus 9:15-16).

Likewise, this pandemic has also provided us with an opportunity to know and acknowledge the sovereignty of God. Though, it often doesn’t feel this way, this pandemic has been a reminder that we are first and foremost recipients—and not the creators—of all that is good in our lives. We are not in control and there is some sense of relief in knowing that. Could you imagine the total mess we are capable of making if we were really in-charge of the universe and all that happens therein? Many dictators have attempted to assert this, only to leave millions of people dead and a trail of destruction in their path, in seeking to create a utopia of their own design. As we work for the Kingdom, we are not building a utopia here on earth. Our duty is not to bring the Kingdom into existence, nor is the Kingdom something we build ourselves. The Kingdom is brought and built by the King – our duty is to serve the King.

Who is that King that we serve? I believe you know the answer. Our Lord Jesus Christ is our King and yet, He tells Pontius Pilate in today’s gospel: “Mine is not a kingdom of this world.” Why is our Lord’s Kingdom different?  Our Lord is not just highlighting the difference between His kingship and that of worldly models, but also suggesting that His kingship will appear differently in this world and in the age to come.

We must distinguish between the Kingdom of Christ on this earth and that which He exercises in eternity. In Heaven, His reign is one of glory and sovereignty. Here, in time, it is mysterious, humble and hidden. Although appearances may seem misleading, Jesus, is in fact, the Supreme Lord of every single thing in the universe, including the sub microscopic virus. This is what the Second Vatican Council declared, “here on earth the kingdom is mysteriously present; when the Lord comes, it will enter into its perfection” (Gaudium et Spes 39). This is what He meant when He said that His Kingdom is not of this world.

Times like this remind us that we are still fragile mortals living in a fallen world, under the ancient curse upon creation and that the Kingdom of God in its fullness is still the future. When the city of Rome burned from foreign invasion in 410 AD, St Augustine penned the City of God from his diocese in North Africa to assure that, while earthly hopes are being shaken and shattered, the eternal promises of God's Kingdom for the future, remain certain.

Times like this are also opportunities for the Church on earth to show what she truly believes, by exhibiting an unshakable faith and hope in her Sovereign King, while continuing to do good in love toward one another. In dark times, especially, be on the lookout and watch for extraordinary rays of light, faith, hope, and love. We might not all be called to the frontlines of caring for the sick, but there are other ways we can show loving concern and compassion toward others during this time of crisis, and certainly, our response through this disruption will reflect where we place our hopes, and the strength of our faith, before a watching world. The Church will come through this, as it has in times past, though not without scars, but then that too was how our Lord appeared to His disciples after His resurrection – scars, wounds and all. Likewise, the scars of the Church are not proof of her defeat, but evidence of her Divine Spouse’s victory over sin and death.

Death will be replaced with life

Thirty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Apocalyptic texts, such as what we’ve just heard in the gospel and the first reading, can be fodder for much fanciful speculation regarding the end times. Even though apocalyptic writings often end in an assuring promise of hope, the triumph of God and the vindication of the righteous who remain faithful in spite of tribulations, it is more common to find people focusing on the frightening cataclysmic images associated with the end times, whilst ignoring the second part.

And then there is the issue of interpretation of these mysteriously cryptic texts. Our Lord seems to contradict Himself in the second half of the gospel passage. On the one hand, He seems to argue that the end times would be discernible from the cataclysmic signs and He likens this to how one can discern the seasons by looking at the life cycle of a fig tree. On the other hand, He is telling His disciples that any speculation on when the end times is going to take place would be futile: “But as for that day or hour, nobody knows it, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son; no one but the Father.” How do we reconcile both these sayings? Well, it depends on what the Lord meant by end times.

On the one level, the end times which our Lord is speaking about will take place in the first generation of the Church. Our Lord is referring to the fall of the Temple in Jerusalem. For the Jews, the Temple was a microcosm of the universe as seen in the constellations and heavenly bodies embroidered on the Temple veil and the light of the sun, the moon and the five known planets are symbolised by the seven lights of the menorah candle stand. The words of our Lord are fulfilled, both at His death when the sun was darkened and the Temple veil was torn into two, and also in the year 70 AD when the Temple was destroyed by the Romans who invaded Judea to quell a local rebellion. If we take this understanding of the end times, then our Lord was speaking the truth when He said, “I tell you solemnly, before this generation has passed away all these things will have taken place.”

But the intentional ambivalence of the words of our Lord could be pointing to another time - to a distant unknown future - to the end of the world. The chaos described here is an undoing of God’s work of creation. Whether His words were pointing to the past or to a future event, the various levels of meaning are not meant to be contradictory but closely interconnected. The end-time tribulations begin in our Lord’s own passion and the subsequent destruction of the Temple, which signal the end of the age of the old covenant and ultimately, the end of the universe that will follow the final upheavals at the close of history. So, the end times does not solely refer to some indeterminate event in the future but to an event that has already occurred and which is in the process of reaching its final conclusion. If you are looking to uncover the secrets of the end times, look no further - We are living in the end times! We have been living the end times for the past 2000 years!

It is one thing to know that our Lord’s prophecy had been fulfilled in events of the past - His passion and the Temple’s destruction - but what about the future? How would we know that the final outcome of all the turbulence and chaos will end in our Lord’s victory and the salvation of His followers? We can. The veracity of our Lord’s prediction is supported both by what we have witnessed in the past as a fulfilment of His prophetic words but it is also backed up by this claim: “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.”

Accepting that the Lord’s words, His promises is eternally true, that He will never renege on them, is no great issue here. But what does He mean by saying that “heaven and earth will pass away”? What could He mean that “heaven,” which everyone knows is supposed to be eternal, will also pass away? If we want to get an answer, we must certainly look to the last book of the Bible – the Apocalypse.

But before we look at how things will end, we would have to look at how it began. The Book of Genesis paints a picture of how heaven is wedded to earth in the earthly Paradise of Eden, where man dwelt in harmony with God and the whole of creation. This is the old “heaven and earth.” But because of man’s sin, this earthly paradise has passed away, the earth is cut off from the full life of heaven. Throughout history, man has attempted to restore this earthly paradise but have repeatedly failed because only God alone can heal the rift. And He has done so through His only begotten Son, “for God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in Him, and through Him to reconcile to Himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through His blood, shed on the cross” (Col 1:19-20)

And the new creation is here, taking a form which we least expect, Jesus Christ. He is both the author and the fulfilment of the new earth and new heaven. In the last book of the Bible, the Apocalypse, we are granted a vision of how the story of salvation ends - with the emergence of a “new heaven and a new earth.” St John using symbolic language, speaks of how a river which flows from the throne of God and of the Lamb, will water and nourish this new garden-like paradise. It's an all-new Garden of Eden, where the tree of life (and not just a fig tree) is made accessible to man again. It is not a 'return back' to the garden; it's a step forward into a new Jerusalem, a great city representing the marriage of heaven and earth. In this city, there is no need for a Temple because God dwells among His people and the Lamb will be the Temple.

Although, we struggle with our present trials and endure the suffering that comes with a chaotic world caused by our sinfulness, we must always hold firm to the hope of the story of the Bible: God’s domain and our domain will one day be completely united. All things will be made new. “The learned will shine as brightly as the vault of heaven, and those who have instructed many in virtue, as bright as stars for all eternity.” Death will be replaced with life. The whole earth will be a recreation of the garden, and the glory of the temple will cover the whole earth. Every nation will be blessed through the power of the resurrected Jesus, and God’s own personal presence will permeate every square inch of the new creation. We can be certain of this promise because though the old heaven and earth may pass away, but our Lord’s words will never pass away because He always keeps His promises.

Giving till it hurts

Thirty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Today we are given two examples of remarkable generosity - the sort that really hurts. We have one story in the first reading where God commanded a widow to give her last bit of food to a prophet, and another story in the gospel, where Our Lord after having rebuked the teachers of the law for devouring widows’ houses, points to a widow’s giving at the Temple as exemplary. In both cases, these two women risked starvation and losing their entire livelihood in giving and sharing - one for a stranger whom she treated as an intimate neighbour and another to God.

In a way, both these women epitomise the two-fold commandment of love which we heard last Sunday. In fact, some ancient commentators have seen the two mites offered by the widow in the gospel as a symbol of the two-fold Great Commandment of love.

But both these stories are not just amazing stories meant to inspire us to be more generous and to give more, and I can assure you that I have absolutely no issue with this message. Instead, both stories are pointing to something greater and beyond themselves. They both point to God’s magnanimous giving, ultimately seen in the willing sacrifice of His Son’s life on the cross. The stories of these two widows serve as actual living witnesses to the Lord’s death and resurrection, which is more apparent in the first story, where we see the generous widow’s dead son being miraculously raised to life.

The story of the widow’s mite in the gospel could be considered from three different angles.

First, from the angle of the Temple. The meagre contribution of this woman would have little value since those two small coins would have made little difference to the financial upkeep of the religious establishment. It’s the kind of loose change that one will have little hesitation to drop in the coin box set aside for tips. The unloading of a few extra coins would outweigh the inconvenience of keeping them. The Temple authorities would not have missed their absence.

The second perspective would be to compare the woman’s contribution with the other donors. St Mark tells us that other rich people are also making offerings at this time. As their substantial contributions are dropped into the metallic trumpet-like receptacles, it would have been both a sight to behold, as well as produce a sound that would have warmed the cockles of the hearts of those in charge of the Temples. They would be thanking God for these generous donations! What would the tiny chink of the widow’s two miserable coins matter in comparison with these generous donations.

But the last and most important perspective of considering this story, is from the angle of Christ and God. Those two metal flakes would have little value from the perspective of the Temple authorities or in comparison to the other large donations, but to our Lord, it mattered most. Because the true value of a gift depends on its cost to the giver. Her gift may be small, but to her, it could possibly cost her her life. That is why our Lord was quick to say, “I tell you solemnly, this poor widow has put more in than all who have contributed to the treasury; for they have all put in money they had over, but she from the little she had has put in everything she possessed, all she had to live on.”

We begin to see how the generosity of this widow in the gospel matches the generosity of the widow of Zarapeth. Both had given up what little they “had to live on.” Their giving would have not just have cost them their livelihood but more radically, their lives.

If this story merely focuses on the generosity of our giving, the demands made on this poor woman would certainly be scandalous and unjust. Aren’t we suppose to help the poor instead of demanding such sacrifices from the poor? So, merely focusing on generous giving cannot be the sole purpose of these stories. Our Lord is not justifying nor is He giving approval to an exploitive system which robs the poor, the widows and orphans. This would be the main criticism of many, who view any efforts by the Church to do fund-raising, as a violation of the principles of social justice and reduces the Church to a money-making enterprise. We must remember that when the widow gives, her giving is ultimately to God Himself, who has given everything to her. She never once complained about her gift giving but rather, it is the rich who often use the excuse of the poor to complain about giving. Remember Judas Iscariot, who complained about how Mary of Bethany wasted expensive oil on the Lord.

These women never counted nor begrudged the amount they gave because they were truly grateful for what they had received from God. Their generous giving was merely a reflexion of their gratitude. In this way, the widow in the gospel (just as the widow in the first reading) is a type, who points to the extravagant giving of our Lord, He gave up everything, including His own life, and held nothing back. Was His sacrifice and death unjust? Most certainly by any standards. But when done willingly and lovingly, it restored justice to our world.

The offering to the Temple will soon cease with its destruction. But the Lord will build a new temple in His body, that will minister to the broken, the neglected, the sinners and the poor. He will lay down His life for this widow (and for all of us) in a way that far exceeds her or anyone else’s faithful giving. In doing so, this widow will have a new husband—Christ Himself—and her humble gift of two miserable coins will be reciprocated with the greatest gift of all - the eternal life of her Divine Spouse, who will not allow her to be exploited by those who would wish to swallow her property because He is the One who will never leave her nor forsake her, nor will death ever separate them.