Not on the Way, in the Way

Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Those who know me well would have heard me sing a parody of that famous song immortalised by Josh Groban, “You raised me up.” In my twisted version, the first line goes like this: “You raised me up and then you slammed me down.” This sounds much like what the Lord does to St Peter in today’s Gospel. Last week, our Lord gave Simon a new name, Peter, the Rock, on which He promised to build His new temple, the Church, and which will stand as a lasting and formidable bastion against the gates of the underworld. No greater honour could be paid to any of the apostles. That was his high point!

But this week, our Lord drastically changes His tune and utters one of the meanest put-downs and aims it like a knife at Peter. Peter’s fortune is reversed - in last week’s passage, he was raised up to the highest heavens and in this week’s episode he is cast down from the heights like Satan. St Peter is now the agent of Satan, the stumbling block to those who might come to profess the same faith. This unexpected transformation from building block to stumbling block, from an instrument to an obstacle, from a lieutenant of Christ to an adversary, comes quickly – so quickly, in fact, that the two passages occur back to back in one continuous narrative.

What brought about this reversal of fortune for Peter? Having been identified as the Messiah, the Lord in today’s passage begins to spell out how He is planning to accomplish His work of salvation. The nature of His mission would entail suffering, rejection and death. It was clear to the apostles that Jesus was the Messiah. The notion that He was the suffering Messiah was much harder to digest. It required frequent repetition from the Lord to make real to their minds the thought that He had to suffer and be killed. It is no wonder that St Peter, who had just confessed that our Lord was the long-awaited Messiah, now pleads with Him to cease His madness, “Heaven preserve you, Lord,” or “God forbids!” “This must not happen to you.” The disciple who is meant to listen to the Master, now seeks to command the Teacher. St Peter found the cross offensive because he could not bear the thought that the Messiah, from whom he expected national deliverance, should be killed.

What Peter failed to realise is that the death of Christ was necessary, as the text tells us that “He was destined to go to Jerusalem.” The words “destined to go” imply a constraint, an imperative, a divine necessity. His death had been planned and willed by God through all eternity. The prophets had predicted it and He must fulfil it. Pope Saint Paul VI wrote: “In a mysterious way, Christ Himself accepts death... on the Cross, in order to eradicate from man's heart the sins of self-sufficiency and to manifest to the Father a complete filial obedience” (Apostolic Exhortation Gaudete in Domino, 9 May 1975). By willingly accepting death, the Lord carries the cross of all human beings and becomes a source of salvation for the whole of humanity. Peter couldn’t quite get it. None of the disciples could at this stage.

Our Lord’s reaction to Peter’s attempt to give Him guidance was as sharp as it was instantaneous: He turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle in my path, because the way you think is not God’s way but man’s!” The Lord notes that unlike last week’s passage, where our Lord affirms that Peter’s confession of faith was revealed by the Father, the source of this week’s statement was from Peter himself. What’s worse, is that this human opinion was being used by the devil to tempt the Lord to turn His back on the cross, to choose safety and honour, over suffering and sacrifice. This was the nature of the three temptations which Satan used on our Lord in the wilderness before He began His public ministry. Satan had returned to tempt our Lord in the person of Peter. Of course, our Lord will have none of it because He knew that glory comes only after sacrifice. As one of my seminary formators once told a group of us, “If you are not on the Way, you are in the way!”

This dramatic exchange between our Lord and Peter would have been accentuated by the stunning backdrop. The town is Caesarea Philippi, a town built and named by an heir of Herod the Great in honour of Great Caesar and yet Philip the Tetrarch arrogantly attaches his name to the title - Caesarea Philippi - Philip’s City of Caesar. The vassal seeks to rule his liege. The arrogance of Philip, a minor ruler, is pretty rich. Similarly, Peter in remonstrating with the Lord, seeks to lord over Him. Instead of renouncing himself and follow the Lord’s lead, Simon Peter seeks to have the Lord follow his instructions and lead.

If you find this parallel coincidental, consider now the geographical location. Caesarea Philippi is in the foothills of Mount Hermon, in a region currently known as the Golan Heights, previously Syrian and then occupied and annexed by Israel after a series of wars. But what was most imposing about this region and city is the enormous rocky outcrop on which the city is built. At the foot of this rock was a natural spring which was considered to be a sacred shrine dedicated to the god Pan, who had the appearance of a satyr - a half goat and half man creature - almost demon-like. So, the words of our Lord spoken here take on another level of meaning when one has a view of the surroundings where He spoke. The rock on which He would build His Church would no longer be this geological rocky formation but a man, a seemingly weak one at that - Simon Peter; and when He subsequently called out Simon Peter as “Satan,” our Lord would not have been referring to the demon-like pagan god Pan, but the very same man whom He had named “rock” just a few minutes earlier.

The passage ends with our Lord spelling out what a disciple of His must do. The fate of the Master must now be the fate of the disciple, for this is what it means to “follow” Christ. “If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me.” You see, the cross was not only for Jesus. It is ours too. The cross of Christ means your death and my death.

In the midst of the many voices clamouring for our time, our money, our allegiance and our attention, we are called to choose the cross, we are called to choose Christ, to the complete dispossession of all else. In His call to authentic discipleship, Christ challenges our most precious loyalties. As there can be no other gods before the God of Israel, there can be no other loves before Christ. The life you long for, the changes you want, come only through the cross — no other way! If you will live at the cross, the cross will take care of the rest. This is a great challenge for each of us.

The Cure D’Ars, St John Vianney, leaves us with this wonderful wisdom: “On the Way of the Cross, you see, my children, only the first step is painful. Our greatest cross is the fear of crosses. . . We have not the courage to carry our cross, and we are very much mistaken; for, whatever we do, the cross holds us tight - we cannot escape from it. What, then, have we to lose? Why not love our crosses, and make use of them to take us to heaven?”

You are Peter

Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

If you are an avid follower of the Catholic blogosphere, you would certainly get the impression that the Catholic Church is deeply polarised and is spiralling completely out of control. There was a time when you would dismiss all negative commentaries as conspiracy theories and that there is no reason to panic. But today, you would find it hard to allay their fears and anxiety. As many of you may know, we are heading into another critical moment with speculations and anxiety building up about the outcome of the greatly touted Synod on Synodality, with rumours that women ordination, married priesthood, same sex marriages are on their way in. The entire Synodal process, though praised by marginalised voices as allowing them to air their views, seems to have rendered our bishops impotent - with one commentator claiming that the bishops have been reduced to “note-takers, not teachers; recording secretaries, not guarantors of orthodoxy; messenger boys, not apostolic leaders.”

In the middle of this storm is the figure of Pope Francis. Borrowing the cliched line in the Spider-Man movie, with great power comes great responsibility. Shouldn’t he be assuming the bulk of responsibility for this seeming mess? Many today would like to see him take a more proactive role to clean up the mess they see in the Church.

For those who fall on either side of the divide, whether you are an avid Pope Francis fan or against his policies or those who sit at the sidelines watching the ensuing mayhem and internal conflict unfold, it is good to remember that the office of the Pope, who is the visible guarantor of unity within the Church, has always been a controversial and divisive one, especially during major crises in the Church’s long history. During tumultuous periods of the Church’s history, the great schism between the East and the West, during the time of the anti-popes, and in the aftermath of the Protestant Reformation, the Pope has been at the very centre of controversy and division. Some see papal authority as an overreached while others view him as the anti-Christ. Has St Peter’s successor finally fallen on the wrong side of God’s plan of salvation?

It is good to return to what our Lord said in today’s passage. “You are Peter and on this rock I will build my Church. And the gates of the underworld can never hold out against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven: whatever you bind on earth shall be considered bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth shall be considered loosed in heaven.” Earlier, Peter had made a definitive declaration that Jesus is the Messiah of Jewish expectation and the Son of the Living God. In return, Jesus issues His own declaration that Peter is to be the foundation of a new and messianic temple known as the Church.

The dialogue begins with our Lord asking for a public poll: “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” Isn’t that often the way we define ourselves or rate personalities? Modern politicians often believe that the polls hold the truth. But are any of these polls conclusive? Just like real life, the opinion polls about the Lord are divided. There is no consensus as to the identity of Jesus, because His identity is the subject of revelation and not public opinion: “it was not flesh and blood that revealed this to you but my Father in heaven.” It is good to remember this when we wish to make an assessment about the papacy.

Our Lord then puts His own disciples on the spot and calls them to give a direct answer rather than relying on third party polls. This is a risky thing for both our Lord and His disciples. The disciples may not wish to end up offending our Lord by giving the wrong answer, and they could always hide behind the opinion of others. But St Peter makes this firm declaration of faith: “You are the Christ … the Son of the living God.” Peter did not only risk being humiliated by our Lord for giving the wrong answer but far more grievously, he risked being accused of blasphemy for calling Jesus “the Son of God.” But the response of Peter stands out amid the cacophony of conflicting opinions.

Just as Peter declares Jesus to be the “Messiah” and the “son of the Living God,” Jesus now returns the favour and declares Simon to be Peter, in Greek “Petros” or “Petra.” The title announces Peter’s unique role in God’s plan: “You are Peter and on this rock I will build my Church. And the gates of the underworld can never hold out against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven…” The Jewish expectation of the messiah was that he, like the original son of David (Solomon), would rebuild the Temple of the Lord. Rabbinical Judaism also believed that the foundation stone of the Temple capped off the shaft leading down to the netherworld. So, Peter is now given a comparable role in the living temple built by the Messiah, the Church, as the capstone or “rock” which seals off the forces of evil. Our Lord also entrusts Peter with the keys of the Kingdom. In the first reading, the possessor of the keys was the chief steward of the king; he was the senior official who held the most powerful government position in Israel under the king.

So, Peter and his successors were meant to be impregnable bulwark against the forces of evil and the gatekeeper who will ensure who gets into or is excluded, from the Kingdom. So, does our current crisis warrant that we question the words and promises of our Lord in today’s passage? Should the words of our Lord be read in a contingent way? Our answer must be a definite no and this answer is deeply rooted in our faith in Jesus Christ. Papal flaws are an opportunity to understand what the papacy really means, not to abandon it (or the Church).

What most Catholics fail to recognise is that throughout its 2000 years history, the Catholic Church has always been threatened with the risk of capsizing and many popes in the past and in present times have been subject to scrutiny and criticisms, some unfounded while others have some basis in reality. And yet, with all the odds stacked against these two institutions, both have somehow miraculously remained afloat! Saint Ambrose said: “The Church is like the moon; it may wane, but never be destroyed; it may be darkened, but it can never disappear.” When the Church is in greatest need, Christ comes to its help by miracles, or by raising up saintly men to strengthen and purify it. Yes, the Lord does not, and will not abandon His Church because the Lord always keeps His promises.

This is the meaning of the doctrine of “indefectibility”, a term which does not speak of the Church’s lack of defects but confesses that, despite all its many weaknesses and failures, Christ is faithful to His promise that the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. The Church's indefectibility, therefore, means that she now is and will always remain the institution of salvation, founded by Christ.

So please, my fellow Catholics, the proper response when reading headlines about the corruption or destruction of the Church due to the mismanagement by her leaders is not panic or rage or despair. Rather, we should never cease or slack in praying for our Holy Father, the successor of St Peter, and for the unity of the episcopate, the successors of the Apostles. Let us continue to hold firm to the promise of our Lord: “You are Peter and on this rock I will build my Church. And the gates of the underworld can never hold out against it.”

The Lost Sheep of Israel

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

“I was sent only to the lost sheep of the House of Israel.” These words are striking in their context because of the obvious persistence of the Gentile lady pleading with the Lord and the apparent perplexity of the disciples who were privy to the conversation. But it is striking also because it echoes directly what the Lord had already said to the disciples when He sent them out to preach the Gospel of the kingdom (Matthew 10:6). Two questions that arise in both instances are ‘Why did the Lord put this restriction on His mission, as shared with His disciples?’ and ‘What did he mean by “the lost sheep of Israel”?’ And, flowing from both, ‘What relevance, if any, does this have for the Church and her mission through the ages?’

A cursory reading of this passage may lead to an uncomfortable shallow interpretation. Our Lord Jesus seems to have been led by a pagan, a Canaanite woman, to revisit some of His prejudiced and preconceived notions of His mission - from a narrow vision which focused only on the “lost sheep of the House of Israel” to a broader vision which encompasses the Gentiles too. Based on such a humanistic interpretation, it would seem that the woman was more broad-minded than the Lord Himself and was responsible for leading Him to a personal epiphany and turning point in His ministry. By confining His mission to a particular group of people whilst excluding others seems very un-Jesus like. But was this a eureka moment for the Lord, the Word Incarnate, who came to reveal the Father’s loving will to the world? Or is the Lord the One who is trying to reveal something about His mission and that of the Church to us?

To get to the bottom of this mystery, let us consider the category of persons mentioned by the Lord - “the lost sheep of the House of Israel”. Who were they? This is not the first time the Lord made reference to this group of persons. Earlier in Chapter 10, as the Lord was sending out the Twelve, He specifically defined their mission as being confined to this same category of persons: “Do not go in the way of the Gentiles, and do not enter any city of the Samaritans; but rather go to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matthew 10:6).

The reference to the House of Israel is strange. Israel no longer exists as a political entity during the time of Jesus. Its denizens are now living in the diaspora. The former kingdom of Israel had been divided, then conquered and now redistributed into various client states of the Roman Empire. These states look nothing like the Israel of old. In fact, Israel has been exiled from the land that was promised to them. Under the dominion of pagan empires, some Israelites have somewhat sort of returned to the land, but she is also scattered across the nations. While Jerusalem is still the centre of her identity, Israel does not rule the land or in possession of it, either. In a way, one could rightly describe the people of the House of Israel as “lost”, they had lost their homeland, yearning to return to it and see it being restored to her past glory.

But there is also a spiritual sense to the description of being “lost sheep.” These people once belonged to God, and He to them. But now the nation that is supposed to be a shining beacon to all the others, showing to the nations of the earth what it looks like to be a new creation of people serving the God who made the heavens and the earth, had become just like everyone else. God’s treasured possession had been lost. The image of the common people of Israel as “lost sheep” is a big part of the Old Testament prophetic indictment. The image is especially common in Jeremiah, reaching a fever pitch in Jeremiah 23.

In a sense, all of us are lost. “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way.” (Isaiah 53:6). Yet in another sense, there were also lost sheep that were abused and neglected by their spiritual shepherds, the scribes, priests, and Pharisees. This is the sense of Jeremiah: 50:6 “My people have been lost sheep. Their shepherds have led them astray”. In the third book of the prophet Isaiah, which we had just heard in the first reading, the hope and desire of every “lost sheep” is that God would come in search of them and bring them home. But God will not only confine His action of restoration and reunification to the House of Israel. Even in the Old Testament, we see a fervent expectation that He will lead all nations to His Holy Mountain so that they can offer worship to Him in His “house of prayer” which is to be a “house of prayer for all the peoples” and not just for the Israelites.

So, the words of our Lord to the Canaanite woman is not meant to limit His mission to a particular group nor are they intended to exclude her and others. Rather, our Lord is actually telling her that He is fulfilling the prophecies of Isaiah and Jeremiah and that this Canaanite woman is going to be one of the first beneficiaries of His mission because she fits the criteria set out by Isaiah in the first reading: “Foreigners who have attached themselves to the Lord to serve him and to love his name and be his servants – all who observe the sabbath, not profaning it, and cling to my covenant – these I will bring to my holy mountain.” Her reverence for the Lord is expressed by her action - she alone is recorded as “kneeling at His feet.”

Instead of seeing Jesus’ messianic mindset in terms of either or, one ought to see His mission as to Israel on behalf of the nations. In other words, in narrowing His focus to Israel, our Lord Jesus does the work necessary for the entire world to be blessed. That is why He specifically called twelve disciples to be with Him and to share in His mission. The number twelve is not accidental. It is deliberate. Our Lord is reconstituting Israel in the form of the Church built on the foundation of these twelve men as how God had made Israel a nation through the foundation of the twelve tribes. But then our Lord is reminding His Church, the new Israel, as well as the old, that they have been constituted not for some exclusive self-serving purpose. Israel is meant to draw all nations to God and to lead them to worship Him on His Holy Mountain.

The mission to the Gentiles was not at the expense of the mission to Israel, nor was it merely an extension. Instead, Israel was to be the catalyst through which God would accomplish His promises to the world. Mission to the nations depends upon Jesus’ accomplishment of His mission to Israel. This was the conviction of St Paul which we heard in the second reading. He tells the Romans that He is an apostle to the pagans so that the Jews may grow envious of this mission and be the catalyst of bringing some of them to embrace this new faith. The faith of the nations will in time convince Israel that the God of all peoples has been revealed in Jesus Christ. The mission inaugurated by Christ will then come full circle.

The Ark of the New Covenant

Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

In the first reading, we are presented with that climactic confrontation between two seemingly poorly matched opponents. In one corner we have the cosmically enormous dragon that is able to sweep away the constellations and galaxies with its tail and in the other corner, a picture of abject haplessness and vulnerability, a pregnant woman in labour, notwithstanding that she is adorned with the sun, crowned with stars and is standing on the moon. If you were a bettor in the audience, you would put your every dollar on the lizard rather than the latter. This scene is so captivating that we often pay little attention or ignore entirely the paragraph that introduces this scene. Let me reread it if you have missed it: “The sanctuary of God in heaven opened and the ark of the covenant could be seen inside it.”

This line seems unconnected with what follows and yet it is the very clue which introduces the following scene of the battle. The note that the “sanctuary of God in heaven opened” is a summary of the Book of Apocalypse - this is the awaited moment of revelation, a glimpse of hidden heavenly realities in the midst of the turmoil and chaos we are experiencing in this world. What is being revealed to us? It is the ark of the covenant! But what has the ark to do with the lady in the next scene? More importantly, what has the ark to do with today’s feast of our Lady, the Blessed Virgin Mary and her Assumption?

Before we answer this burning question, let us now turn to the Gospel. In telling us the story of Jesus Christ, Luke presents Mary as our role model, the first Christian. But he drops hints to indicate something more. Mary is overshadowed by the power of the Holy Spirit when she conceives Jesus. Elizabeth questions, “Why should I be honoured with a visit from the mother of my Lord?” Mary stays in the hill country of Judah for three months. In the Old Testament, one item is overshadowed by the cloud of God’s Spirit. It is the Ark of the Covenant. Elizabeth’s question echoes that of King David when he hesitated to bring the ark into Jerusalem, “How can the ark of the Lord come to me?” and so, he leaves the ark for three months in the hill country of Judah.

It’s easy to miss the parallel between the Ark of the Old Covenant as the dwelling place of God, and Mary as the new dwelling place of God. You see the Ark of the Covenant, strange as it may be, is a type or a prefiguration of Mary. God loved His people and wanted to be close to them. He chose to do so in a very special way and so God instructed Moses to build a tabernacle. Within the tabernacle he was to place an ark made of acacia wood covered with gold inside and out, and within it was placed a golden jar holding the manna, Aaron’s rod that budded, and the stone tablets of the covenant. In the Ark of the Old Covenant, God came to His people with a spiritual presence, but in Mary, the Ark of the New Covenant, God comes to dwell with His people not only spiritually but physically, in the womb of a Jewish girl.

Notice the amazing parallels: In the ark was the law of God inscribed in stone; in Mary’s womb was the Word of God in the flesh. In the ark was the urn of manna, the bread from heaven that kept God’s people alive in the wilderness; in Mary’s womb is the Bread of Life come down from heaven that brings Eternal Life. In the ark was the rod of Aaron, the proof of true priesthood; in Mary’s womb is the true High Priest. No wonder St. Gregory the Wonder Worker said that Mary is truly an ark—"gold within and gold without, and she has received in her womb all the treasures of the sanctuary."

You can clearly see how the Ark of the Covenant is tied to Mary’s role and identity, but it still doesn’t answer the question: what has this to do with her Assumption? The Temple, the sacred place of Israel’s worship and the dwelling place of God, is no longer. When the Temple was destroyed, the Ark of the Covenant was lost. By the time of the Third Temple, Herod’s Temple, the building was merely an empty shell and the inner chamber called the Holy of Holies where the ark used to be housed was now vacant. But there is a new dwelling place of God. Scripture affirms that Jesus is the New Temple—the place where God and humans meet is Jesus (John 1:14; 2:22). Jesus, after His resurrection, ascended into heaven. The Lord sits in heaven “at the right hand of the Father.” But the Temple would not be complete, it would only be a hollow shell of a building, without its most defining content - the ark of the covenant.

The Virgin Mary, the new Ark of the Covenant, could not be separated from the dwelling place of the Most High. Just as Israel longed to carry the Ark to the holy city, where it could be placed in the temple, the new Ark must be taken to the presence of God. She who bore the presence of God into the world, would herself be taken into His presence once and for all.

So, the scene described in the first paragraph of our first reading is not just an editorial prelude to the battle scene between the dragon and the mysterious lady. The former scene provides the necessary interpretation for the latter. Mary, the woman adorned with the Sun, crowned with stars and standing on a moon is an apocalypse, a revelation, of that very ark of the covenant which is now brought up to the sanctuary of heaven.

As the Ark of the New Covenant assumes its rightful place in heaven, we celebrate that Christ has given us victory over death. Before we receive the bread from heaven from the hands of the priest who acts in the person of Christ once again, we will declare together that we believe in the resurrection of our bodies and our life in the world to come. What assurance can we have that this is true? Well, Mary, the New Ark of the Covenant is proof of this. It is not only her spiritual soul which is taken up to heaven but her body too - for that same body was the tabernacle which contained not just symbols or representations of God. The tabernacle of her womb contained God Himself. As St Augustine rightly sang her praises: “Him whom the heavens cannot contain, the womb of one woman bore.” For that reason, it is not hyperbole, that Mary, the new Ark of the Covenant, is larger than the heavens.

The Sound of Silence

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

In every concert piece, there is a portion of the score which builds up to a crescendo, followed by a moment of silence where all the instruments are paused at once. It may only last a beat or two and then the strings would quietly start again. That silence is a powerful moment in the piece. That silence isn’t a random absence of sound; it is placed there by the composer as a key part of the music. It is essential to the movement and feel of the piece. The lack of sound almost seems to be a sound in itself. Perhaps, this could be the hidden meaning behind that Simon and Garfunkel classic, The Sound of Silence.

The first reading is particularly poignant, as it provides us with a strange but insightful theophany - a manifestation of God to the prophet Elijah during one of the darkest moments of his life. Elijah had fled a murderous pagan Queen who sought revenge for the death of her pagan prophets on Mount Carmel. From the dramatic and climatic battle with these prophets which proved victorious for Elijah because God had fought on his side, Elijah fell to the lowest moment of his ministry where he wished for his own death as an escape from misery. But God sent an angel to console him and lead him to another mountain, Horeb. On Mount Sinai in the Old Testament, God had revealed Himself to Moses. God had hidden behind dark clouds lit up only by streaks of lightning and the sound of deafening thunder. We see something similar in the first reading - wind, earthquake and fire. But ironically, God is not found in the strong wind, earthquake, or fire. Elijah recognises God’s presence in “the sound of a gentle breeze” or in some translations, “the sound of silence.”

The gospel passage also draws our attention to the sound and power of a storm contrasted by the silence at the end of the story. Having performed the great miracle of the multiplication of loaves and the feeding of the multitude, our Lord refused to allow the disciples to bask in the glory of His miracle. He Himself chose not to. Instead, our Lord chose to withdraw into the hills to be alone with His Heavenly Father, to commune in silence. But the noise would pursue His disciples even when they were far out in the sea away from the crowds. The noise of positive approval of the crowds was now replaced with the noise of a crisis, the noise of fear.

When our Lord came walking on the waters in their direction, the storm had not yet calmed. Despite what they witness, their fears and doubts seem more overwhelming than their faith in God. But there is a glimmer of hope. St Peter seeks to take a first step in faith. He requests our Lord to help him walk on water too. As long as Peter kept his eyes on Christ, he was able to walk unhindered through the stormy sea; as soon as he let his eyes wander away from Christ to examine the intimidating waves and listen to the sound of the strong winds, he began to sink. It was not the noisy raging storm around him which caused him to sink but it was the noise in his heart which stopped him from trusting and listening to the Lord.

Finally, the Lord steps into the boat and the evangelist tells us, “the wind dropped.” The noise fell into silence again. Our Lord had restored calm. Our Lord had silenced the noise in the surrounding storm and the storm within the hearts of His disciples. Once more we see the power of silence.

Many of us too, experience the sound of silence in our own lives. The silence is disturbing and unnerving. Perhaps we’ve prayed and prayed and still no answer comes. Maybe we’ve been in a long season of waiting and the silence grows increasingly loud as the days wear on. Or maybe we find ourselves in a spiritual wilderness where the fog of doubt and uncertainty is thick. We feel all alone. Abandoned. Forgotten. And the silence makes us think God has turned and simply walked away. We start to think He’s given up on us and begin to wonder if we should too.

The problem isn’t with God but with us. It is we who have the wrong assumption about God’s silence. Perhaps God’s silence isn’t silence at all. Perhaps what seems like silence is actually an important pause in the score of our life. Because it’s often in the quiet where the real work takes place. We see this truth in the darkness of the womb, a child is knit together. And in the quiet of each night, while all the world sleeps, our bodies and minds continue their labours, drawing breath and circulating blood and firing synapses. In the tomb, where the body of Jesus was laid after His crucifixion, He descends into Hades to rescue the faithful dead unnoticed by the world, which believes that they have killed Him. God is at work, God is always at work, even in the silence. God is at work especially in the silence. Often, the silence is His work.

I once encountered the deafening silence of God as I was discerning my vocation to the priesthood. I had decided to clear my doubts and seek an answer by undertaking a personal retreat at the seminary. After four days of spiritual direction, personal prayer and silence, the answer did not come. As I drove back alone to KL, I was overwhelmed by an immense sense of loss and sadness, and it was at this moment I had an epiphany. The Lord had indeed answered in His silence. In that long drive home, I realised that He had given an answer to my question: “Lord, if it be your will take this cup away from me.” His silence was the answer I needed though it may not have been the answer I expected or wanted. The cup may have tasted bitter at the first sip but would soon yield a full body of sweetness over the years. God answers even in His silence and His ways are always wise and above and beyond our wildest dreams.

There is good in quietly waiting on the Lord. There is good in the silence. Silence forces us to hear things we can’t hear in the storms and cacophony of life. It makes us sit and notice those things we often avoid or drown out with busyness and other distractions. The silence gives us an opportunity to take an honest look at ourselves. To see what we truly love and trust and hope in. To perhaps realise how fickle our hearts are and how far we’ve wandered from God. To see the lies we’ve long believed and lived by. And, ultimately, to grasp just how much we need God’s grace poured out in our lives. Then, like the flash of light in the darkest night, God breaks the silence. The Spirit prompts our hearts and reminds us of what is true. And we realise God has been there all along.

It is good and comforting to remember that the sound of God’s silence will not last forever. It is but a pause used for His good purposes in our lives. One day, all the silences of life will find their place in the score of our lives and we’ll hear it played out in its completion. We’ll hear the most beautiful composition ever played, the song God wrote before time began, the song of redemption. So, despite the raging storms around us, let us keep our eyes and our hearts fixed on Him knowing that with Him, we will not drown, our ship will not capsize and the ranging winds of the storm will drop. Despite the noises of confusion without and within, if our hearts are united to His, we will hear His voice even in the midst of the sound of silence.

Uncovering Beauty

Feast of the Transfiguration

At the end of a tour of the Vatican Museum, tourists and pilgrims would be treated to one of the great wonders of the Catholic Church, the Sistine Chapel, with its most stunning and exquisite wall to ceiling murals painted by some of the greatest Renaissance artists that had ever lived. It is quite frustrating that what should take at least an entire day to appreciate and admire is often crammed into a 10 to 15 minutes experience during the peak hours of the visit. It is just impossible to take in everything and to focus on any particular scene for more than a quick cursory glance.

If I choose to highlight at least one scene due to the brevity of time, it would be indisputably Michelangelo’s Last Judgment which occupies the entire altar wall of the Chapel. It is a depiction of the Second Coming of Christ and the final and eternal judgment by God of all humanity. Due to the monumental scale of the work, it took four years to complete. After the death of Michelangelo in 1564, and as a consequence of the Council of Trent condemning nudity in religious art, the genitalia in the fresco, referred to as 'objectionable,' were painted over with drapery. For centuries, the original work of art remained hidden under layers of soot, dirt, grime and the censor’s concealing paint until the commencement of restoration works in the 20th century. After the cleanup, both the restorers and the world were surprised by the discoveries of what lay beneath. To the close minded, it could be described as medieval pornography. But to the enlightened, the original work of art could only be described as divine. The metamorphosis (the Greek word for Transfiguration) of this work of art, now unveiled its true beauty to an admiring world.

Likewise, the great event of the Transfiguration seeks to peel away at the mystery of the Passion of Christ. On the Mount of Transfiguration, we have a glimpse of the true glorious nature of the scene that took place on another hill, Calvary. It’s hard to make out the innate beauty and true nature of the crucifixion, especially when it is covered by all the blood, gore and horror of the event. The Transfiguration, however, allows us to see what really took place. The gospels attempt to do this by making striking similarities between the account of the transfiguration and the story of the cross: Both these scenes would have constituted an extraordinarily powerful diptych representing the high and low points of Jesus' life.

Our Lord takes Peter, James and John, His inner circle, with Him up the Mount of Transfiguration. On the evening of Holy Thursday, He will lead the same threesome to Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives to witness His passion. History repeats itself - the three disciples fall asleep on the Mount of Transfiguration as they did in the Garden of Gethsemane. Our Lord is transfigured on a mountain and crucified on another. Just as Jesus is flanked by His heavenly courtiers, Moses and Elijah, at the Transfiguration, He is placed between two thieves at His crucifixion. Although the disciples were enveloped with light on the Mount of Transfiguration, the whole land was covered in darkness at the Crucifixion. It is as if glory and suffering somehow belong together, two sides of the same coin. In the context of the deepest humiliation, pain and suffering, the true glory of Christ is revealed. It is as if human suffering is somehow itself transfigured by the God who came to redeem it; that somehow, the destiny of the Son of God fulfils the destiny of the human race; only through the suffering of death can we enter into glory.

How could Jesus’ ascent to the cross, a symbol of humiliation, be seen as a moment of glory? The answer lies in the scene of the Transfiguration. What is hidden to the eyes of those who witnessed the scene of the crucifixion is now revealed to the three Apostles and to all of us in the Transfiguration. The Transfiguration helps us to understand the Cross and Calvary would not be Jesus’ Alamo, the event commemorating His great defeat. The Transfiguration reveals to us what really happened on Calvary. Lifted up on a mountain, lifted up on a cross, lifted up as universal Saviour, Jesus truly ascended His throne of glory. The Transfiguration indeed reveals the true divine glory of Christ. Its purpose is to reveal to His disciples who Jesus is, and so to prepare them for the cross.

The Lord’s prophetic words that He would be tortured and killed in Jerusalem would have deeply troubled His disciples. A vision of the crucifixion might have evoked the feeling of despair in His disciples. It would have shaken their faith to the core. The mystery of redemption could have appeared to them as a defeat and the Messiah powerless. At a time of despondency and doubt, the three apostles’ witness to the Transfiguration was to strengthen the faith of the other disciples. And so, we finally come to the heart of this deliberate juxtaposition of the two scenes. No amount of intellectual explanation would have sufficed to explain the scandal of the cross and the suffering of Christ. God had to demonstrate it.

And this is what constitutes the mystery of Christianity - It attracts people not so much by its delicate and sophisticated intellectualism, nor by the brilliant oratory of its preachers, nor yet by the beauty of its rites. Christianity revealed to the human soul a new world, an eternal world, a world of divine light – that which not a single religion or philosophical system could give. It reveals to the world the beauty and sweetness of the divine mystery of its Saviour albeit hidden in human flesh and adorned with the tattered flesh of broken humanity. Here then is the greatest paradox of all - the glory of God revealed in Jesus, and especially in that which seems to be most inglorious. To the outward eye this was the uttermost in degradation, the death of a criminal. To the eye of faith, it was (and still is) the supreme glory.

We need to have before us the Transfiguration so that we may have a glimpse of the end of the story, the dawning glory of Easter, in order to be sustained in the midst of the darkness, pain and isolation that we must endure throughout our walk through the valley of the shadow of death. In the Transfiguration we taste the sweetness often hidden in the bitterness of failure, suffering and pain. In the Transfiguration we behold the beauty and glory often covered beneath layers of soot and the grime, concealed by the awful and scandalous experience of humanity’s suffering! In the Transfiguration, we finally receive the answer to the inexplicable mysteries concealed by death, an answer that can only be found in the Resurrection!

As the First Preface for Dead recited by the priest at a funeral Mass, we acclaim: “In Him who rose from the dead, our hope of resurrection dawned. The sadness of death gives way to the bright promise of immortality. Lord, for your faithful people, life is changed, not ended.” And though none of us have witnessed the resurrection of the body, we acknowledge and confess this to be true because of what the Apostles had witnessed at the Transfiguration.