You will not be disappointed

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Expectations are hard to live up to. One moment you are feted as a hero, the next as a “zero,” a total let down, when you don’t meet up to the initial expectations of others. The tag line emerging from the latest addition to the Spider-Man franchise has this quote from MJ, the love interest of the current incarnation of the eponymous protagonist, “if you expect disappointment, then you can never really get disappointed.” Cynical sounding, but let’s be honest - it has a certain ring of truth to it. As the new Parish Priest, I seem to have adopted this cautious approach, fearing that my initial warm welcome would soon expire once parishioners realise that I’m not the solution to their problems nor hardly the “hero” they had been expecting. In fact, I may turn out to be their greatest fear and regret. Well, let’s see as the drama unfolds.

This was the fate of our Lord. Today’s episode shows that the judgment of public opinion at best is fickle, at worst tyrannical. This passage follows immediately from last week’s episode where our Lord, after reading the passage from the Book of Isaiah, was treated like the local hero. They marvelled at the wonderful things He said among them. They were beaming with pride as He was one of their own. He spoke with such eloquence and graciousness that this “won the approval of all.” He told them that the words of hope they treasured in the Scripture, were being fulfilled in their hearing. Everything was going well, until our Lord began to challenge their expectations, perception and belief system.

Our Lord takes up the attitude and role of a prophet and in so doing, begins to provoke His listeners. He ‘judgmentally’ tells His audience that His prophetic words will not be accepted or recognised “in his own country”, citing two examples of great prophets in the Old Testament who were also rejected by their own people. When the Lord shifted the tone of His sermon, the crowd’s response also moved from hospitality to hostility. We might well think the Lord was imprudent in the way He provoked His audience. It is always wise to look for allies rather than make enemies. Yet, later Christian teaching and preaching will imitate His method. The martyrs and confessors of the Church had to pay the price for it. One can tiptoe diplomatically around the sensitivities of others only for a short time before it leads to the point where one has to jump feet first into truth-telling.

This Gospel is like a microcosm of the whole story. How often this same pattern reoccurs in the life of Jesus – that people follow Him and then go off in a different direction when things don’t suit their agenda, when the Gospel He preaches is no longer “nice” but has a sharp painful sting to it with a big price tag. There is no problem when you tell people what they want to hear. The man whose message is ‘repent’ sets himself against his age, and will be battered mercilessly by the age whose moral tone he challenges. There is but one end for such a man…either rejection or death!

To be prophetic is to call sin, sin. It is to say, without apology or reservation, “The Lord says ...” and sometimes, He says things which are not very comforting or pleasing to the ear, especially when He is confronting our sinfulness. He did so, not because He was intentionally mean and wanted to hurt His listeners. Truth can often sound unmerciful, unkind and rather cold. But St Paul was right in the second reading. The prophet is motivated by love, never by spite. Love doesn’t seek to hide the truth. Love doesn’t lie. We often tell “white lies”, lies which are for the intention of keeping the peace and maintaining good relationships with others, not because we love that person but out of self-preservation.

Today’s Gospel also challenges my vocation as a priest. Being configured to Christ, which means, being called to become more and more like Christ, I find this aspect of my priestly ministry most demanding. As a human person, I would certainly wish to be liked or even loved by all. But a priest friend once told me that the job of a Parish Priest is not to be liked but to be hated. He means that if a priest is doing his job, and doing it right, there are bound to be people who would disagree with him or eventually hate him. Bishop Emeritus Anthony Selvanayagam once shared how the legendary late Monsignor Aloysius gave him this piece of advice, “A bishop must have the wisdom of Solomon, the patience of Job and the hide of a rhinoceros.” No wonder we have so few bishops and God forbid if any of us priest ever got chosen to be one.

The truth is that whether it be a bishop, a priest, or a parent, or just an ordinary Christian, our job is not to be popular. Our job is to be faithful and that’s the hardest part of our calling because being faithful earns you enemies. If you have no enemies, it means that you have no principles. My priest friend also gave me this quote which has been attributed to Winston Churchill, “You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life.” The litmus test of a true Christian is best measured not by how many bouquets that have been pinned on him, but rather by how many brickbats that have been pitched at him. Prophets have been on the receiving end of mud more than medals. Popularity has killed more prophets than persecution.

The prophet’s calling is lonely, sometimes discouraging and usually misunderstood. People will either run from a prophet or try to destroy him – only the remnant minority receives the prophet and his message with gladness. But remember this - the only reason a true prophet speaks is because he is compelled by God and moved by Love, a love that “takes no pleasure in other people’s sins but delights in the truth.” The prophet may not be perfect. He often isn’t. He too is broken by sin but he desires God’s people to experience God’s best and experience what he has experienced – forgiveness and mercy at the point of repentance. And if we doubt whether we would have the gumption or the “hide of a rhinoceros” to do the job, let us be reminded that we have something far greater – the promise of the Lord to make us into “a fortified city, a pillar of iron, and a wall of bronze to confront all.” Our Lord will not disappoint us, so it’s okay to have this high expectation of Him. He assures you: “They will fight against you but shall not overcome you, for I am with you to deliver you – it is the Lord who speaks!”

Handing down the faith

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

A good story or message deserves more than a single telling. St Luke recognises that others have beaten him to write “accounts of the events that have taken place,” specifically accounts surrounding the life and ministry of the Lord and that of the Church and her early mission. But these other accounts have not deterred him from writing a fresh account, not a fictional make-believe story, but one based on real events and real persons, stories and sayings handed down “by those who from the outset were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word.” He specifically addresses this account to Theophilus for an expressed reason, so that Theophilus “may learn how well founded the teaching is that [he has] received.” Some people may find it strange and even offensive that we are reading a private message from one person to another. But Theophilus, which means “lover of God,” could be a pseudonym addressed to every Christian. For is not every Christian meant to be a “lover of God”?

It is interesting that St Luke uses the Greek word “paredosan,” which comes from the root “paradosis” which is translated here as “handed down.” This is essentially what “tradition” is about - the handing down of the sayings and deeds of the Lord through the witness of the Apostles. Though hand-me-downs are often considered a humiliating badge of poverty, for Catholics the Sacred Tradition that has been faithfully handed down from the Apostles to our present age, are anything but a sign of our impoverishment. In fact, Sacred Tradition together with Sacred Scripture are the greatest treasures of our Church, treasures to be valued, flaunted and displayed for the world to see.

Again, another Greek word that is lost in translation when rendered in English is a word familiar to many of us - “Katechetes” - translated here simply as “teaching.” Sounds familiar? It should – we have the English word “catechesis.” And immediately the gospel takes a leap from the first chapter to the fourth chapter and presents our Lord as the Teacher par excellence. And what is interesting is that the example cited by St Luke is not some innovative new teaching, but our Lord reading from the scroll of the Book of Isaiah. Many would find it ironic that the Eternal Logos, the Word made Flesh, could have chosen to speak on any topic, and teaching something fresh, but instead He delves into the depths of the Old Testament and shows us that His revelation is in continuation to what has already been revealed to, and through the prophets. At the end of the reading, the Lord tells His audience that the text is being fulfilled even as they are listening to Him because He is the One whom the prophecy is pointing to.

For this reason, the first and most important thing that we must remember about handing on the faith is this: everything begins and ends with Jesus Christ. He is the source, the fulfilment and the ultimate climax of revelation, and by extension, of all catecheses. For us Catholics, the Word of God is not just a book to be kept on the shelf nor a text to be merely studied. The Word of God is first and foremost a person - Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh. Pope Francis said, “Christian doctrine is . . . living, is able to unsettle, is able to enliven. It has a face that is supple, a body that moves and develops, flesh that is tender: Christian doctrine is called Jesus Christ.”

For this reason, we cannot and we should not claim to be People of the Book but People of the Living Word of God. We do not worship a book. We worship the One who is the source of divine revelation, the record of which is found in a book we call the Bible but also preserved in the oral tradition of the Church. No one can really claim that they understand the nature of catechesis without realising that its form, its content, and its ultimate goal is Jesus Christ.

The word catechesis, in Greek—katékhéo—comes from the two words kata-ekheo. But kata-ekheo means to “echo down” or, you might say, to “echo precisely.” St. Paul and St. Luke used this word (see, e.g., Lk 1:4 and 1 Cor 14:19) to explain what we are doing when we teach the Christian faith. They are telling us that a catechist and his teaching are supposed to be an echo, a precise echo, of what has been given for instruction. If we are only an echo, then the original voice is someone else’s. The voice of the Master is supposed to resound in our teaching.

This is so humbling for a teacher of the faith. I constantly have to tell myself, “I’m not the real teacher here. Jesus is,” and I have to let the words of John the Baptist be a mantra on my lips: “He must increase. I must decrease” (Jn 3:30). Some of the great thinkers of the patristic era, like Augustine, took this so seriously that they claimed we could not learn anything, except through the illumination of our minds by the light of Christ. But what we can say for sure is that, in catechesis, we are attempting to communicate something that surpasses what the human mind could know by its own efforts. And, if that is the case, then we should take Jesus seriously when He says, “You have One Teacher,” (Mt 23:8), and we should make His words our own when He claims, “My teaching is not mine but his who sent me” (Jn 7:16).

In the 4th century, St John Chrysostom, reflected upon this echoing nature of teaching the faith, wrote that this teaching is not just an echo of the Master, but this teaching is supposed to resound within the heart of our hearers, so much so, that you can see it bear fruit in their lives. St. John Paul II, puts it like this: “Catechesis takes the seed of faith sown by evangelisation and nourishes it so that the “whole of a person’s humanity is impregnated by that word”; it continues to nourish that seed until Christ is born again in that person’s flesh, that he or she might learn to “think like Him, to judge like Him, to act in conformity with His commandments”.” So, my dear parents, catechists and RCIA facilitators, always remember that your job is to echo our Lord. Our Catholic faith is one of imitation, not of innovation - we are called to imitate the Lord in word and deed, not to replace Him with our own ideas, words or deeds. Let Him be the Teacher, the content, and the end of your labours. Catechesis will always begin and end with Him, and He will be the entire way through.

Finally, catechesis is impossible without the Church, without the community. The second reading tells us that though there may be a variety of gifts and ministries, there is only one Body. That is why in today’s Mass we celebrate the commissioning of our catechists - parents, Sunday School teachers and RCIA facilitators - within the context of the Church - the Church carrying on the mission of Christ, sends out disciples who seek to make disciples of others.

Think of this: the task of a catechist is an impossible one, when left to our own powers. We are powerless to convert hearts, and to make the Word of God grow inside of people. We can only plant and water, but He must give the increase (1 Cor 3:6). Conversion is the work of the Holy Spirit. Unless we are anointed and commissioned by the Lord through His Church, our work will be in vain. This should drive us to constantly come back to the only place where we can find refuge and solace for such an arduous task: Holy Mother Church and her bridegroom, the Blessed Lord Jesus Christ.

Our Dowry is Eternal Life

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Although Year C should take us through the Gospel of St Luke, our lectionary this Sunday provides us with this passage from the Fourth Gospel - the Wedding at Cana. The liturgy still wishes to unravel the mystery of Christ’s manifestation in the world during Epiphany.

If you imagine that Epiphany is like a triptych, a three-panelled screen, today we are invited to look at the final panel of the three events that comprise the Feast of the Epiphany: the coming of the Magi, the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan, and the marriage feast of Cana. In speaking of these three events, St Peter Chrysologus explains the rationale of divine pedagogy: “the great events we celebrate today disclose and reveal in different ways the fact that God himself took a human body. Mortal man, enshrouded always in darkness, must not be left in ignorance, and so be deprived of what he can understand and retain only by grace. In choosing to be born for us, God chose to be known by us.”

The marriage feast of Cana is the piece that brings all the rest of the Christmas celebrations to its final completion. The Divine Light that drenched us on Christmas night, and which we have been gradually adjusting to, now reveals the whole panorama of the divine plan of salvation. The first miracle is not just a magical performance in which our Lord changes water into wine. His actions point to something so much more profound - it points to our transformation. The human condition, with its brokenness and sinfulness, is wiped out in the divine transformation of human nature.

To understand the significance of this event, let us look at the first two panels to see how these two other events manifest to us the significance of the Incarnation. First, the Feast of the Epiphany focused on the coming of the Magi, the symbol of seekers of all time, finding the truth they sought in a most unlikely place. The Magi represent the call of the whole human race to faith, in the infinite mercy of God expressed in the Word made flesh in its most fragile form.

Secondly, the baptism of the Lord in the Jordan is the symbol of purification. He Himself did not need the purification but by uniting Himself with human nature and submitting to John's baptism of repentance, our Lord revealed that God is in total solidarity with the human condition just as it is. In other words, Christ is with us in our tragedies, in our sorrows, in our joys, and in our sinfulness to heal all our wounds through the process of the spiritual journey: through the sacraments and the divine therapy of prayerful contemplation.

Lastly, we come to this passage and St John takes the trouble to tell us that this wedding took place on “the third day.” The weddings in Palestine took three days. No wonder the wine ran out. Can you imagine preparing an unending supply of wine for this sustained period of celebration? But there is something about the number three which should trigger our sacramental imagination, especially if you have a keen eye for Christian symbolism. In fact, in a sermon of Faustus of Riez, the symbolism is explained beautifully: 

“What wedding can this be but the joyful marriage of man’s salvation, a marriage celebrated by confessing the Trinity or by faith in the resurrection. That is why the marriage took place “on the third day,” a reference to the sacred mysteries which this number symbolises.”

Faustus continues to read into the allegorical symbolism of the wedding: 

“Like a bridegroom coming from his marriage chamber our God descended to earth in His incarnation, in order to be united to His Church which was to be formed of the pagan nations. To her He gave a pledge and a dowry: a pledge when God was united to man; a dowry when He was sacrificed for man’s salvation. The pledge is our present redemption; the dowry, eternal life.” 

Faustus continues: “To those who see only with the outward eye, all these events at Cana are strange and wonderful; to those who understand, they are also signs. For, if we look closely, the very water tells us of our rebirth in baptism. One thing is turned into another from within, and in a hidden way a lesser creature is changed into a greater. All this points to the hidden reality of our second birth. There water was suddenly changed; later it will cause a change in man.”

Human nature is to be transformed into what wine symbolises - namely, the Spirit. Notice that the miracle does not annihilate but transforms the water. The wine is not something entirely new; it is a transformation of what was there before. Similarly, our human nature, our personal history, and our self-identity are not annihilated but transformed. Man is not dehumanised by this change but rather his humanity is elevated. St Ireanaeus, who is commonly misquoted, reminds us of this truth that “the glory of God gives life; those who see God receive life.”

The Blessed Virgin Mary alone notices that the wine has run out and so she intervenes by bringing this matter to her Son and subsequently tells the steward to follow His instructions. Mary’s faith is an embodiment of the new wine that does not run dry despite encountering an obstacle. Upon following her advice and the instruction of the Lord, the steward exclaims after tasting the water now changed into wine: “People generally serve the best wine first, and keep the cheaper sort till the guests have had plenty to drink; but you have kept the best wine till now.” The new wine which our Lord provides will never run out. It is a new creation. The old creation, with its burden of sin is erased, and the new creation, the action of the Spirit, is now available. In partaking of this new wine, we have become a new creation. Having become one with us in our fallen human nature, our Lord transforms our fallen nature into His divinity.

This is what the liturgy proclaims in this feast. We come to this wedding as guests but penetrated by grace, we leave as brides. We come as paupers but we leave incredibly enriched. What the wedding feast at Cana prefigured, every Eucharist now makes into reality. As St Peter Chrysologus tells us: “Today Christ works the first of his signs from heaven by turning water into wine. But water has still to be changed into the sacrament of his blood, so that Christ may offer spiritual drink from the chalice of his body, to fulfill the psalmist’s prophecy: How excellent is my chalice, warming my spirit.” In a short while, we will receive our Lord in Holy Communion. Having savoured all the best vintages of life, we can boldly declare that the Eucharist is the “best wine” kept till now. Though other joys may run out one day, the Lord’s grace will always overflow with ever renewing abundance!

Liquid Tomb and Font of Life

Feast of the Baptism of the Lord

The muddy yet calm waters of the river Jordan would have posed little threat to the crowds which gathered there to listen to this prophetic figure, with some acceding to be baptised by him after listening to his message of repentance. The contrast of this rustic scene dominated by water, with what many experienced a few weeks ago is stark. A week before Christmas, torrential downpours resulted in unprecedented floods leaving a massive trail of destruction, over 70 thousand persons displaced and casualties. The floods did not just destroy the personal belongings of the victims and deprived them of their homes and livelihood, but also cut them off from basic necessities like food and electricity, and ironically, a clean supply of water.

Water is arguably the most important natural resource in the entire world. All life depends on it. On the other hand, water may be a terrifying life changing force when it comes in the form of hurricanes, floods or tsunamis. Because of its universal nature, it is not surprising that water plays a central role in the Bible as well.

The story of creation in the Book of Genesis is preceded by an editorial note on how the pre-creation cosmos was covered by a watery chaos. One of God’s primary works in creation was to set boundaries and limit the destructive power of water. It is not surprising that man’s rebellion against God’s authority by sinning would be reflected in the great deluge that would destroy the entire world. The floods are just a natural outcome of man seeking to go beyond the limits and boundaries set by God. In contrast to this chaotic and destructive side of water, the Book of Exodus gives us that foundational story of the liberation of the Hebrews from slavery in Egypt, when they crossed the Red Sea. The waters, although proving destructive to the Egyptians, also served to be the instrument of salvation for those favoured by God as they embarked on their journey to freedom and a new-found covenantal identity with God.

The juxtaposition of these two experiences of water, reminds us that water can be both life-giving and destructive. And there is no better place to find these two elements together than in the Sacrament of Baptism. This was excellently expounded by Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI in the first volume of his monumental work, Jesus of Nazareth: 

“On the one hand, immersion into the waters is a symbol of death, which recalls the death symbolism of the annihilating, destructive power of the ocean flood. The ancient mind perceived the ocean as a permanent threat to the cosmos, to the earth; it was the primeval flood that might submerge all life . . . But the flowing waters of the river are above all a symbol of life.” 

Just like water can be both life-giving and death-dealing, baptism has a similar effect on us - it kills original sin and it gives us new life – life of being adopted sons and daughters of God.

But here also lies the problem with Christ seeking baptism. If Christ is the truly sinless One, if He is the Son of God, He is in no need of baptism because He has no need for repentance nor adoption. But the Lord chose to submit Himself to John’s baptism as an expression of His fundamental submission to the Will of the Father and His complete identification with sinners. By submersion in the waters of the Jordan, our Lord publicly associates Himself with those who need repentance and forgiveness, although He has no need of it in actuality. He is already embracing the enormous weight of humanity’s sinfulness, just as He will do again in a definitive and final way on the cross. The mysterious events at the Jordan River already foreshadow the saving acts of Christ’s death and resurrection. The submersion of Jesus in the baptismal waters of the Jordan River prefigures His death on the Cross.

Pope Benedict notes that the icons of the Eastern Church visualise this intrinsic connexion between the Baptism of the Lord and the Paschal Mystery by depicting the waters of the Jordan “as a liquid tomb having the form of a dark cavern, which is in turn the iconographic sign of Hades, the underworld, or hell.” Just as the Lord descends into the swirling waters of death at His baptism, He goes down to the netherworld after His crucifixion to rescue the souls of lost humanity.

In this downward descent, this complete identification with sinners, we grasp the radical humility of our Lord Jesus Christ. He is the One who empties Himself, not clinging to His equality with God but becoming a slave for the sake of our salvation. God could have saved us in any manner that He chose, but He seems to embrace the most difficult and arduous way — the path of Incarnation and accompaniment.

Christianity is the only world religion that believes the omnipotent and mysterious God humbled Himself to become one of His own creatures, embracing the fullness of our humanity in order to redeem us from inside our own nature and condition. The Church has never gotten over the wonder of this divine condescension. We celebrate the Word made flesh, not only in the glory of Christmas, but in the fullness of the liturgy, prayer and moral life of the Christian tradition.

Drawing profound parallels between the Lord’s baptism and our own, we can see that, just as the Lord Jesus is revealed as the Beloved Son at the Jordan, so, too, we receive a new identity in baptism, as adopted children of the Father. Jesus Christ freely shares His very nature with us through the transforming waters of baptism. At the moment of our spiritual rebirth in the font, the Father beholds us with delight, exclaiming, “You are my Son, You are my daughter, the Beloved; my favour rests on you.” Christianity first and foremost, is about whom we have become in Christ, before it is about what we do or how we act.

Just as our common baptism draws us into the very life of being sons and daughters of God, our ordination as priests draws us into the Paschal experience of Christ. We too are called to experience death and new life each day. And this is what Fr Dominic and I must do tomorrow. We are called to die to our attachments to the parish we’ve called home these past few years, so that we may experience a rebirth in the new parishes where we will be posted this coming Monday. As you await your new pastors, I can’t help but see the parallel with today’s Gospel passage which began with this observation by the evangelist: “a feeling of expectancy had grown among the people.” As John the Baptist’s ministry ends with his arrest and Christ is thrust to the fore, both of us too must also take our leave, as your new pastors take up responsibilities of shepherding, sanctifying and teaching the flock that has been entrusted to them. Never forget this - the priest, the figurehead who stands in persona Christi (in the person of Christ), may change but it is the same Christ who remains, for He is the same, yesterday, today and forever. He should be your real focus because He is the One whom the Heavenly Father speaks these words: “You are my Son, the Beloved; my favour rests on you.” Turn to Him in prayer, in hope and in trust, and you will not go astray!