Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C
Here is the irony of Asian parenting - Asians are fond of reminding their children to not brag about their accomplishments, and yet Asian parents love to brag about their children’s achievements, real or make believe. Perhaps, we think that we can be subtler in boasting about our children than in boasting about ourselves. And yet it is clear, that we hope to take the credit for our children’s accomplishments since the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
All this talk about bragging and boasting reminds me of an anecdotal story which I like to tell in the company of a good friend of mine, a Jesuit no less. According to the story, St Ignatius, the founder of the Society of Jesus, told his confreres that they should not try to compete or seek to emulate the charisms of other religious orders: “Let the Dominicans boast of their intellect and the Franciscans boast of their poverty. But let us Jesuits boast of our humility.” As proof of their humility, they are fond of saying: “To find a humble Jesuit is a rarity. To have a Jesuit Pope is an impossibility. But to find a humble Jesuit Pope, you require a MIRACLE!”
Despite the efforts of our parents, Paul tells us that there is, in fact, a condition under which we can brag (or boast): we can boast if we boast in the Lord. Boasting in the Lord is, on the one hand, quite the opposite of boasting in oneself. Instead of drawing attention to ourselves, we should draw attention to Christ. But boasting in the Lord is actually quite hard for us to do. It requires us to be in a state of humility in ourselves, but pride in Christ—a tension unnatural to us. In a social media and reality-TV obsessed society which encourages narcissism, hunger for affirmation and approval is paramount. For this reason, we generally do not boast in the Lord; rather, we boast in what we think we are, in what we think we have accomplished and finally, in what we think we possess.
Paul knew that Christ was not what most people wanted to hear. We want to morph Christ into one that is less poignant, less demanding, less holy, less God. In other words, we have our own ideas about what Christ should be. But God does not call us to boast in a Christ of our own making. Rather, the real Christ was the Christ that was crucified. In his letter to the Galatians, today’s second reading, Paul writes: “The only thing I can boast about is the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom the world is crucified to me, and I to the world.” Christ was crucified for our sins. This Christ is foolish and repugnant to the world because the world will not recognise its own sinfulness and that it was its sinfulness that nailed our Lord to the cross!
In today’s Gospel, Jesus sends out seventy-two of His disciples on mission and provides them with a list of instructions. He reminds them the task will be enormous, that “the harvest is rich but the labourers are few,” and that they should pray for more collaborators. Secondly, the mission will be dangerous as they will be sent like “lambs among wolves.” Thirdly, the Lord reminds them to travel light and make do with whatever they receive from those who show them hospitality. A heavy baggage implies a lack of trust in God’s providence. It is clear that the most important lesson that the Lord wanted to impress on His disciples was to depend on God’s providential care, rather than rely on their own devices, efforts and resources.
But unfortunately, the seventy-two seem to have missed this point when they returned from their successful mission. Instead of glorifying God and boasting in the Lord, they began to boast of what they thought were their own accomplishments. They acclaimed, “Even the devils submit to us when we use your name.” For them, this was the epitome of success. For this moment, they were invincible, indestructible. This was the ultimate trophy as a disciple, or at least they thought so. The Lord’s response to the enthusiasm and joy of the seventy-two is most interesting. He seeks to re-focus their joy and helps them put the whole matter in perspective. The seventy-two saw their success only in terms of their having authority over the demons, but the Lord saw the victory on a larger cosmic scale - Satan being defeated, and his power and authority as being overthrown. There is nothing to gloat or pride themselves about. Power over demons, as wonderful as it is as a harbinger of the Kingdom of God, is nothing compared to the immense privilege of being beneficiaries of God’s salvation wrought through the cross and sacrifice of Jesus. Our abilities, our deeds, our spiritual gifts gain us no standing with God. Rather, Jesus says, “Rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”
So, this is what the Lord Jesus would have you rejoice in. It is so easy to rejoice in success and brag about it. Our self-identity may become entangled with the fruitfulness of our ministry. And then the danger, of course, is that it is not God who is being worshiped. And when we begin to idolise success, we end up idolising ourselves. It’s fine that you can get things done for the Church. That’s great. But even greater, far greater, is what God has done for you through the sacrifice made by His Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ. This is something which we did not acquire through our own hard work or earn through merit. God did it for us. This is the real reason for rejoicing. And like St Paul, this is the only thing that is worth boasting about.
Boasting in the Lord becomes the real antidote for self-glorification. Don’t lose sight of the main thing. Your ticket to heaven is not based on how much you can do for Christ or for His Church. If you can do a lot, don’t get big-headed. If you can’t do very much anymore, don’t feel like you are unloved or not valued. If someone else seems to do more than you, you shouldn’t feel jealous or feel threatened. Nor when someone else doesn’t meet up to your standard of service, it doesn’t make him any less valuable a member of the Church. There’s no need to make comparisons or match each other in terms of commitment or service. You see, it’s not about how good a worker you are in the Lord’s vineyard. That’s not it. That’s secondary. The primary thing is that you are first and foremost a recipient of God’s unearned gratuity.
So, do not boast about how much you’ve done, or what you’ve accomplished or what you now possess, but rather, the only thing you should “boast about is the cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom the world is crucified to me, and I to the world.” Rejoice because your sins have been forgiven by the atoning sacrifice of Christ on the cross. Rejoice because you are chosen by God for Eternal Life! Rejoice because you are now the children of God through faith and the power of baptism! My Jesuit friend once shared with me this piece of timeless wisdom, “The saints laugh not because life is good or pleasurable. Despite life being grim, they laugh because they know that whatever the outcome of this life, they have found their purpose, they have a direction, they have a destination: Jesus Christ.” They rejoice because they know that their “names are written in heaven”!
Thirteenth Ordinary Sunday Year C
One of the preliminary questions posed during the rite of marriage is this: “Are you ready, freely and without reservation, to give yourselves to each other in marriage?” The couples usually have no problems answering this question in the affirmative, but I doubt whether they fully understand the enormity of the demand made of them – that this irrevocable promise is unconditional (without reservation). I think the best analogy which could be used to stress the weight of this promise is to liken it to the couple volunteering to join a cruise on the Titanic. There’s no turning back. There are no life boats. There is no emergency reset button. You either sink, swim or drown together. That’s what it means to have no reservations, no regrets!
Most people would consider this example as hyperbole. No one really expects you to ‘burn your bridges.’ In fact, "not burning your bridges!" is often a piece of advice given to people who are going through major changes and significant moves in their life. Caution demands a tentative commitment - we need to have an ‘insurance policy’, a ‘Plan B’, just in case things don’t work out. It’s playing it safe and having a fallback. And that is often good advice when it comes to most matters. Whether you’re talking about employment, family, or money, the old adage applies. Don’t burn all your bridges. Keep your options open.
But, conventional wisdom is turned on its head when it comes to Christian discipleship. Those who are called by God, are often asked to burn their bridges. They are not called to do the safe thing; they are called to do the risky thing. There is no retreat. It’s taking the “leap of faith.” Following Jesus is like skydiving. Once you make the jump, you are totally committed! Those who are called by God are not called to do the easy, safe thing. They are called to burn their bridges. They are called to board the Titanic with their Master whom they have decided to follow. And it won’t sound as nice as Celine Dion’s classic song: “My heart will go on!”
And sometimes that feels more like judgment than Salvation. The first reading is about the call of Elisha to succeed Elijah as God’s prophet. God told Elijah to anoint Elisha as the next prophet of Israel. So Elijah found Elisha in the field, ploughing. Elijah then placed his cloak upon Elisha as a symbol that God had chosen Elisha to be Elijah’s successor. Elisha knew exactly what this meant. It meant that he would have to leave his job, his family and his friends to follow Elijah. And so, Elisha asked if he could perform a symbolic action of cutting off his connexion to the past by bidding farewell to his parents. Elijah agreed. But, Elisha did more than just say goodbye to his family. He had a barbeque for the whole community. He slaughters his oxen and uses his plough to fuel the fire. The cost of discipleship was high for Elisha. This was not just a meal. It was a symbolic way of accepting God’s call. He literally burned his bridges; he burned his only means of making a living in order to move on to a new way of life. It was a costly and risky thing to do. There is no going back for Elisha.
If you believe that this demand made of Elisha was severe, wait till you hear what the Lord does in today’s Gospel. A far greater demand is made for those who wish to be Christ’s followers – they have to risk homelessness and be deprived of family support. Our Lord had earlier outlined the meaning of discipleship. If anyone wanted to follow Jesus on the Way, our Lord wanted to make the consequences clear. They would have to take up their cross. They would have to share the sacrifice as well as the glory. Discipleship has a high price tag. When the disciples of Jesus take up the mantle of faith, they also take up a cross. The cross and the resurrection are always within the vision of Jesus. He knows what He faces, and He knows that anyone who goes with Him, must be totally committed. They too must be prepared to face the same odds. He will be rejected and His followers will be rejected as well. There is a foreshadowing of this rejection in today’s Gospel – Jesus is rejected by the Samaritans, as He will be rejected by the chief priests, the elders and religious leaders at Jerusalem.
It is not only the fear of what lies ahead that serves as an obstacle to us following Christ. The Gospel now focuses on what lies in the past, that hinders us from making this radical step of committing to discipleship. It boils down to the question: what are you prepared to give up? Is it our time, our income, our security? Is it our fear of commitment? Is it our fear of rejection by others or objection from our loved ones? The call of God overwhelms and overshadows everything else in the lives of Christian disciples. God’s call takes precedence not only over the worst things in our life but also, it takes precedence over even the best things in our life. Even life’s most important duties are nullified by the call to follow Christ.
Most of us dread that moment. We think that it would be better to have a faith that does not require so much of us. We think that it would be better to have a faith that allows us to remain comfortably entrenched in our old way of life. We would prefer a soft version of the Gospel. The Lord tells us this is not possible. He says that if we put our hand to the plough and then look back, we are not fit for the kingdom of God. When one is ploughing, it is always important to keep a fixed point that is far ahead of you in your sight. In this way, you are able to plough a straight furrow. The words of Jesus are another way of saying that disciples must always keep their eyes fixed on Him. As Pope Benedict reminded us in his first encyclical, God is Love, "Being Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction.” Jesus is our new horizon, our destination.
And like Him we are encouraged to look beyond the shame and frustration of the moment, to the eternal hope of the Resurrection and Salvation. Remember the road to Jerusalem is not only about a crucifixion but also a resurrection. That was true for Jesus, and it is true for us as well.
The call of discipleship is often stark, demanding, and uncomfortable. Going with Jesus on the road to Jerusalem is always dangerous. Going with Jesus will change us and change is always painful and frightening. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German Lutheran theologian who gave up a safe asylum to teach in New York in order to return to his homeland to be imprisoned and executed once said, that when Jesus calls us to follow Him, what He's really saying is "come and die". And yet, despite the challenge, it is a journey worth taking. St Paul reminds us in his letter to the Galatians, that the call of Jesus is a call to liberty – Jesus by calling us to “come and die”, means to set us free from the “yoke of slavery” to sin, to liberate us from our addictive ‘self-indulgence.’ It is only through the long and difficult personal struggle to follow Jesus that we learn this paradoxical truth: “For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake, that man will save it.” To follow Jesus means that we have to burn our bridges – no turning back, no turning back.
Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ
The readings for this feast are interesting. Our story of the Eucharist reaches back in time to the earliest point in Salvation History, bearing historical and spiritual resonance with Christ.
The first reading introduces us to an enigmatic figure, whose background and role in the storyline of Genesis remain obscure but who is mentioned again, but this time with greater elaboration, in the New Testament letter to the Hebrews. Although Melchizedek may not be a major figure in Scripture, he’s an important one, so important that he would fuel the imagination of the author of Hebrews and inspire him to make this connexion with Jesus. Hebrews, more than any other book in the bible, tells us that Melchizedek is a key forerunner to Jesus, and his story in Genesis helps us to understand what our Lord was doing when He instituted the Eucharist at the Last Supper.
After Abram (later renamed “Abraham”) had rescued his nephew Lot from a bloody battle with pagan kings, Melchizedek immediately showed up in the story, seemingly out of nowhere. His name, as we are rightly told by the author of Hebrews, means King of Righteousness. He is also described as the King of Salem (many scholars take this to be an ancient name of Jerusalem), the King of Peace. Both titles could easily be ascribed to Jesus, thus reinforcing the link. But perhaps, the most significant connexion with Christ is not to be seen in these titles nor in Melchizedek’s mysterious origins, but in the action of this Old Testament figure.
Melchizedek, after he is summarily introduced, brings out bread and wine. Why did he bring out bread and wine? Was he just being hospitable to his guest, Abram? Was he planning a picnic? The text doesn’t explicitly tell us, but it does give us a clue. Right after it mentions the bread and wine, the text tells us that Melchizedek was a priest. This is very telling. He is the first person in the Bible, to be referred to as a priest. It suggests that the bread and wine were somehow linked to his priesthood, so he did not bring them out just because he thought Abram might have been hungry. Rather, he brought them out because he was a priest, and since priests are by definition people who offer sacrifice, he must have offered them to God as a sacrifice. This interpretation is supported by his next action as a priest - he offers a benediction to Abram.
In response, Abram gives Melchizedek a tithe, a tenth of all the spoils of war, a practice that would be continued by all the tribes of Israel, as they paid an annual tithe to the tribe of Levi, the priestly tribe, as compensation for their full-time priestly services. The author of Hebrew even makes this audacious claim that Levi paid these tithes through Abraham, indicating the superiority of the priesthood of Melchizedek over that of Levi’s. This mysterious figure then disappears, after having appeared mysteriously as a brief interlude to Abram’s story. He or at least his name, reappears again in the only other passage in the Old Testament, a key verse from the Psalms (which appears as an antiphon which is sung immediately after a priest has been ordained): “You are a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.” (Psalm 110:4) In its original context, this Psalm referred to the royal descendants of King David who ruled over the Israelites, but the New Testament applies it to Jesus (Hebrews 7:17).
We can already see the strong Eucharistic overtones in this passage, the offering of bread and wine being only the most obvious. But all of this was merely a shadowy anticipation of what Christ would accomplish. It was only a partial picture. God is not done in history until He is with us, until He is one of us, until the true King and Priest “after the order of Melchizedek” arrives to offer sacrifice, not just ordinary bread and wine, for us, the true children of Abraham.
Next, let us consider today’s Gospel - the miracle of the multiplication of loaves and fishes. Only one miracle of Jesus is recorded in all four Gospels and it is this. We might find it strange that on the Feast of Corpus Christi, instead of giving us an account of the Last Supper where the Eucharist was instituted, the Gospel focuses on this miracle. Despite modern popular explanations given to this story, it must be reiterated that this is a miracle of multiplication and not a “miracle” of sharing. Modernists want always to reduce the supernatural to the natural. Hence, they say that this event was really about how people spontaneously started to share the food they had, but hadn’t told anyone about.
But no matter how spectacular this miracle is, it is merely another foreshadowing of a greater miracle – it looks forward to another miraculous feeding at the Last Supper – the Eucharist. Although, the Gospel does not give us one of the narratives of the Last Supper, the second reading does – it is St Paul accounting the tradition that had been passed down to him, which he attributes directly to the Lord: “this is what I received from the Lord, and in turn passed on to you.” Note the manner in which he describes this event, as having received it first-hand, even though we all know that he was not present in the Upper Room during the Last Supper. Consider the parallels. Both events were proximate to Passover. It was evening. Those present all reclined. Christ took, blessed and broke the bread. He gave thanks (from the Greek root – eucharisteo) and gave it to the disciples.
Starting from the distant past of Melchizedek’s offering, we move through the manna of the Exodus to the new miraculously multiplied bread to the true bread from heaven, the bread transformed into Christ’s own Body and Blood, which is Itself a foretaste of the new creation and the world to come. One miracle points to a greater one. Instead of being fed bread that can satisfy the body, we are given bread from heaven that will last forever! The Eucharist may seem less spectacular than the miracle of multiplication, but it is in no way inferior. In fact, the miracle of the Eucharist is God’s greatest miracle, and because it is not something which can be recognised by our senses, it is one that calls for greater faith. God deigns to give us, under the guise of mere bread, His very Self. The Eucharist, the Bread of Life, the food of angels, sustains our pilgrimage on this side of eternity. The Body of Christ is broken and given to the multitudes during the Mass.
The beauty of the miracle occurring at each Mass—that Jesus becomes really, truly and substantially present under the forms of mere bread and wine—grounds our faith and reflects the words our Lord spoke: “I am the Bread of Life. He who feeds on my Flesh and drinks my Blood has life eternal, and I will raise him up on the last day.” (Jn 6:35, 54-56) This is no small matter—what an incredible gift from God! We must, therefore, never forget that when we participate at Mass, we witness a miracle, and we participate in this very miracle through the reception of Holy Communion, we share in the Divine Life of our Saviour. Let our petition echo the words of the Sequence: “Come then, good shepherd, bread divine, still show to us thy mercy sign; Oh, feed us still, still keep us thine; So may we see thy glories shine in fields of immortality.”
Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity
St Augustine once wrote this about the Most Holy Trinity, that “in no other subject is error more dangerous, or inquiry more laborious, or the discovery of truth more profitable.” Yet, the Most Holy Trinity is not some obscure concept which is alien to us. On the contrary, it pervades every aspect of our faith life - from the sign of the cross made in the name of the three persons of the Triune God, to the Trinitarian Pauline greeting which the priest uses at the beginning of the Mass and the blessing at its end, to how prayers (especially liturgical ones) are formulated, to the Creed which we profess, and to the formula used when we were baptised. And yet, it’s one of those topics which many, including us clergy, would attempt to avoid talking about, because it’s one of those things that we find most challenging to explain. Of course, to be honest, the greater challenge is for us priest, to wrap our heads around it before attempting to unpack it for others.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church speaks of the doctrine of the Most Holy Trinity as the central mystery of our faith, which is a huge claim. The doctrine of the Most Holy Trinity is not just one teaching among many. It is the Christian teaching of the very nature of God … the core belief and the essence of our Christian faith. Everything a Christian does, flows from this teaching, is centred upon this teaching and leads back to this teaching. Yet, we have to acknowledge that this mystery seems to be the most mysterious among the hierarchy of truths which the Church professes and teaches. But how should we understand it as a mystery?
There is a misconception that the mystery of the Trinity is difficult to understand and therefore difficult to teach. We have to get past that. The “mystery” is no mystery in the sense of a puzzle – it isn’t like an impossibly complex mathematical riddle to be solved. Rather, it is a mystery in the same way love is a mystery. We all understand love. Yet, love is inexplicably hard to describe without resorting to metaphors, analogies or symbolic and poetic language. And like love, we don’t need to be able to fully articulate it before we can grasp it. While I can never fully comprehend the incomprehensible, I can be loved by it. The mystery of love is that it is a paradox—the more we give of ourselves to another, the more we receive; the more we unite ourselves to another, the more we become our true self. The Trinity is a mystery in the very same way.
Some may argue that if our Lord Jesus truly wanted us to understand this profound concept, which is the mystery of the inner being and relationship between Him and the Father and the Holy Spirit, He should have spelt it out clearly leaving no room for ambiguity. But He did not do so because as pointed out in today’s Gospel passage, Christ still has “many things to say to you but they would be too much for you now.”
But this would change with the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, because when “the Spirit of truth comes he will lead you to the complete truth, since he will not be speaking as from himself but will say only what he has learnt…” Our Lord knew that the Church had to do more than repeat His words and tell stories about His deeds and the adventures of the early community. That is why He gave His apostles and their successors “the Spirit of truth” to guide them as they sought to make His saving truths known in every time and place.
What is this “complete truth” which our Lord is referring to? For one, it is objective and eternal. In other words, truth is not a matter of consensus. We don’t fashion truth to suit our opinions or desires. It is common today to speak of “your truth” and “my truth,” and that is instead of looking at objective facts, we often hear people speaking of their “lived experiences,” suggesting that every person’s truth is unique and irreplaceable and therefore, infallible and unchallengeable. The complete Truth of the Lord, however, cannot be something malleable, easily moulded according to our personal agenda, our likes and dislikes. Rather, it is we who must conform to the objective Truths revealed to us by God; and if we are humble and strive to be faithful, then the Holy Spirit will gently lead us and transform us with that Truth, into God’s own likeness.
But the most complete Truth is not like any other objective truth which we can speak of. The self-revelation of God is in fact that “complete truth,” for above the Truth of God, there can never be any other truth, and all truth found in the created world is only a shadow and a reflexion of His Truth. The inner Truth of God is this: that the most original and unconditional love of the Father is matched and answered by the equally absolute reciprocal love of the Son. We can understand and participate inwardly in this mystery of love, if the Spirit, who is both the mutuality and fruit of this eternal love, is made to penetrate us. The Spirit binds us to divine love itself. Indeed, this is what St Paul proclaims to the Romans in the second reading, that “the love of God has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit which has been given us.”
It is an undeniable reality that we who believe in the primacy of the Truth revealed to us by God, are now engaged in a direct confrontation with the greater culture which denies the existence of objective truth, what more the doctrine of the Most Holy Trinity that finds no equivalent correspondence in this life. Perhaps, the world continues to reject the revelation of the Trinity, precisely because we have been bad witnesses - our lack of love or care for others, our penchant to be selfish and individualistic, our tendency to pander to the maddening crowd, rather than stand up to defend the Truth. How wonderful it would be if we could just reflect the life of the Most Holy Trinity in our own lives? That would be our most convincing and effective way of evangelising - not just with eloquently profound theological explanations (which are undeniably necessary) but, simply through the way we live our lives.
And so on this day, we affirm once again the truth of the One True God in three persons, co-equal in dignity and substance, we recognise that it is less important to focus on the math of the Trinity and more important to focus on the why. Why would God go to all the trouble of creating the world, creating us, and then sending His Son to save us and His Holy Spirit to guide, inspire and sanctify the Church? We arrive at the same answer as the early disciples. God is love. “God has no other reason for creating than his love and goodness: ‘Creatures came into existence when the key of love opened his hand’” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 293). That is the complete Truth, and nothing less than the complete Truth. That is the mystery of the Most Holy Trinity. May His Holy Name be praised!
Pentecost Sunday
The Holy Spirit, the Third person of the Most Holy Trinity, being pure spirit, would be the hardest member to picture in our mind’s eye since He, unlike the Second Person, was never incarnated in human form, or like the First Person, the Heavenly Father, has no equivalence in our human experience. Cardinal Ratzinger, who later became Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, would, therefore, write, that we “cannot reveal the Spirit directly, so all we can do is try, by means of images, to lead toward what is meant.”
The most common symbolic depiction of the Holy Spirit would be that of a dove, since it has a strong scriptural basis in the event of the Lord’s Baptism. But the first reading, which gives us the sole account of the event of the Pentecost, provides us with four elemental symbols: earth, wind, fire and water. Fans of the eponymous soul funk band of the 70s would be thrilled to know this. If you are from a different era, ignore my digression.
Earth. Wind. Fire. Water. The four classical elements of the universe were originally conceived by the ancient Greek philosopher Empedocles, five hundred years before Christ, and popularised by Aristotle. Of course, we are not going to dispute the error and the naïveté of the ancients in postulating this simplistic explanation that the entire universe is made up of these basic building blocks. We are not going to split hairs, or to be more precise, split atoms to refute this ancient science. On this feast of Pentecost, we are invited to consider them as entry points into the story of divine love and presence, that encompasses all creation.
The association of these four material elementals with the ephemeral Spirit, points to something foundational to our Catholic perception of the universe - we speak of the Sacraments as outward signs of inward grace; the invisible spiritual realm hidden within and being expressed through the visible and material realm.
The first element is earth. At first appearance, this seems to be the furthest idea from the Spirit since earth is the most solid of the four elementals. But earth is the first element the Creator used as He conjoined Himself with His creation to produce His greatest masterpiece - man. The word “human” comes from the Latin word “humus,” and is a direct reference of how God formed man from the earth, and breathed life and His Spirit into this lifeless clay, to create man. Each of us, members of the human race, earthy beings and yet privileged creatures because we are endowed with an immortal soul, are indeed fitting temples of the Holy Spirit. Just as God breathed life into earth to make man; at Pentecost, God breathes His Spirit into the earthen hearts of the disciples, infusing them with new life and making them into His new creation.
The element of earth also reminds us that the Jewish festival of Pentecost or Weeks (since it is made up of seven weeks, a sabbath of a sabbath) predates our Christian celebration. The three great pilgrimage festivals were all harvest festivals and Pentecost was the thanksgiving for the grain harvest. The feast also commemorated the giving of the Law or Ten Commandments to Moses at Sinai. But now, instead of the gift of Law, God has given us a far greater gift, that of the Holy Spirit who writes His law, not on tablets of stone (earth) but in our fleshy hearts. Instead of thanksgiving for a harvest of grains, today is a day of thanksgiving for a harvest of souls incorporated into the Body of Christ, the Church.
The next element is wind. There is nothing subtler than the wind, which manages to penetrate everywhere, even to reach inanimate bodies and give them a life of their own, as we see in the vision of the valley of dry bones (Ezekiel 37). In Hebrew, the word for Spirit, Ruach, could also be translated as breath and wind. The first mention of Ruach in the Bible is in the very first chapter of Genesis (1:2): “And the earth was a formless and desolate emptiness, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit (Ruach) of God was hovering over the surface of the waters.” In the theophanies of God, reference is often made to wind - either as in the form of a storm, a strong gale or even a gentle breeze. Our Lord in speaking to Nicodemus about the Spirit tells him: “The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit” (John 3:8). And then “when Pentecost day came round, they had all met in one room, when suddenly they heard what sounded like a powerful wind from heaven …”
After the wind, came the fire, produced by the confluence of matter and energy: “something appeared to them that seemed like tongues of fire; these separated and came to rest on the head of each of them. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak foreign languages as the Spirit gave them the gift of speech.” The liturgical colour for Pentecost is red, the colour of fire and blood and the symbol of love. This is also reflected in the traditional prayer to the Holy Spirit, “Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of thy Faithful; and enkindle in them the fire of Thy love…” It is a dangerous prayer, if we stop to think of it, because the Spirit’s fire is pure energy that melts the alloyed heart and purifies it for love.
The final element is water. Water holds such rich symbolic meaning and purpose for us. It strikes the balance in life like nothing else—too little is parched desolation, too much is drowned destruction, but in its fullness, water offers a life-force. In the Gospel for today’s Vigil Mass, our Lord says “Rivers of Living Water shall flow from within him” who believes in me. After they were filled with the Holy Spirit, the disciples left the Upper Room and began to proclaim the Gospel. And on hearing their words, 3000 were baptised that day. From the very day of Pentecost, the Church has celebrated and administered holy Baptism. Indeed St. Peter declares to the crowd astounded by his preaching: “Repent and be baptised every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.” With every baptism comes the reminder of the first Pentecost.
The Spirit comes to us today as wind, fire, and water, seeking to shape the earth that we are, into a new creation which we became at our baptism. But our earthen hearts are dry due to sin, resistant to God’s re-shaping, and need a little erosion through the water of the Spirit. Too often, we are consumed by a life that is not of the Spirit. We are fleshly creatures possessing a fleshly mind, meditating on the things of this world while attempting to justify our disordered love for them. Rather than hardening ourselves, trying to become what we want to be, we must remain pliable, open, and responsive to the creative activity of God: we must learn to ‘relax in the hands of God, to let God be the creator. For as we yield to God and allow the Spirit to wash over our muddied self with His divine wind, fire, and water, we will be shocked to find that the deeper He works to erode us, the stronger the rivers of living water will flow through us.
Earth, wind, fire, water. Four elements to ground and inspire and transform and mediate the grace of God for the people of God. For the gift of new life on this feast of Pentecost, for the gift of creation and our participation in it, for the gift of connexion as with one another, and with God who suffuses the whole of creation and community with the divine spirit of Love, for these gifts, may God’s holy name be praised. Come Holy Spirit, Come!
