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Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B
In the collective imagination of the Anglosphere, Robin Hood is second only to King Arthur in the hold he has on the public mind. The idea of the Merry Men living in self-constructed freedom “all under the merry greenwood tree” in Sherwood Forest – robbing the rich and helping the poor and staying loyal to King Richard the Lionheart during the regency of his brother – has been embraced by countless generations.
Robin Hood and his merry band of thieves have often been portrayed in a heroic light, as those who sided with the poor and stood against the despotic tyranny of the rich and powerful, symbolised in the person of the Sheriff of Nottingham, ironically, a medieval representation of the “blue”, the law enforcement agencies. Robin’s actions were not only regarded as justified but lauded as virtuous because he “stole from the rich to give to the poor!” There seems to be a resurgence of this spirit in many of the liberal ruled cities in America, where criminals are often vindicated as deserving of the spoils of theft and looting due to their disadvantaged social economic status. In fact, stealing is now regarded as a kind of reparation for what many would claim had been stolen from them. Ironically, the law enforcement officers, men who wear the “blue”, are regarded as the “bad guys”, very much like the wicked and conniving Sheriff of Nottingham.
In the second reading, we see St Paul writing to the wealthy church in Corinth and requesting them to send aid to the impoverished mother church in Jerusalem. He begins his appeal by first commending them on their spiritual wealth - “You always have the most of everything – of faith, of eloquence, of understanding, of keenness for any cause, and the biggest share of our affection – so we expect you to put the most into this work of mercy too.” Paul is trying to explain that this act of charity is not merely an act of generosity but also a work of mercy - another spiritual good. In other words, the more they give, the wealthier they become spiritually. Then he sets out the standard and model of such generosity - it is none other than Christ Himself: “Remember how generous the Lord Jesus was: he was rich, but he became poor for your sake, to make you rich out of his poverty.”
Of course, St Paul was not himself resorting to a Robin Hood mentality by taking from the rich to give to the poor. He was making it clear that any such giving should be done from a cheerful and willing heart, rather than grudgingly. Furthermore, he was not insisting that the Corinthians should impoverish themselves by enriching the folks in Jerusalem. He proposes a pragmatic rule to giving: “This does not mean that to give relief to others you ought to make things difficult for yourselves: it is a question of balancing what happens to be your surplus now against their present need, and one day they may have something to spare that will supply your own need. That is how we strike a balance …”
This is the reason why the vow of poverty which is taken by a religious is not meant to be pure renunciation of material goods, but rather a commitment to share everything in common. An interior spiritual poverty is required for communal living. A lack of it rings a death knell to the community, especially when every member is only looking out for his own interest and security, whilst failing to be concerned with the welfare of his brothers and sisters.
We see in the gospel the true hero worthy of our praise and emulation - it is not the fictional Robin Hood but the very real Jesus of Nazareth. Our Lord shows us how God’s generosity and providence can be given and is given to all, without depriving one whilst blessing the other. In the longer version of the gospel, we see both the adult and the child being recipients of our Lord’s mercy and healing powers - the woman who had suffered from internal bleeding for many years and the young girl whom our Lord brought back from the brink of death. It is arguable as to who was in the more dire situation. The focus seems to be on defeating death in the girl. Our Lord returning life to the dead girl confirms what is written in the Book of Wisdom that “death was not God’s doing,” and that God had made “man imperishable, He made him in the image of His own nature; it was the devil’s envy that brought death into the world …”
So, it is death and devil that seem to have robbed us of our immortality and they have done so without enriching anyone but impoverishing all of us. But our Lord comes to the rescue. He robs the devil and death of their booty and final victory. Death may be strong, in fact, it may be the strongest thing that anyone of us knows of - no medicine, no elixir, no insurance or guarantee, no fortress or bunker, no “Iron Dome” can keep us safe from its clutches. But there is one who is stronger, so strong that nothing can stand in His way - not the cross which took His life, not the stone rolled over the mouth of the tomb, not the gates of Hades could keep Him imprisoned. It is Christ our Lord and Saviour. He has plundered the fortress of death and the devil and restored our inheritance to us - life, eternal life.
And this is what St Baldwin of Canterbury declared in the 12th century, a truth that has not grown old nor will ever be obsolete:
“Death is strong: it has the power to deprive us of the gift of life. Love is strong: it has the power to restore us to the exercise of a better life.
Death is strong, strong enough to despoil us of this body of ours. Love is strong, strong enough to rob death of its spoils and restore them to us.
Death is strong; for no man can resist it. Love is strong; for it can triumph over death, can blunt its sting, counter its onslaught and overturn its victory. A time will come when death will be trampled underfoot; when it will be said: ‘Death, where is your sting? Death, where is your attack?’
‘Love is strong as death,’ since Christ’s love is the death of death. For this reason he says: ‘Death, I shall be your death; hell, I shall grip you fast.’ The love, too, with which Christ is loved by us is itself strong as death, since it is a kind of death, being the extinction of our old life, the abolition of vice, and the putting aside of dead works.”
Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B
Someone once gave me a tip on how to sound smart even when I am not. “Ask a question which you do not have the answer. The other person most likely may not know either.” Of course, if the person did know the answer, you can always curtly tell him: “Wrong. When you find the right answer, come look for me!” Mischief managed!
Today’s readings are sandwiched between questions. In fact, the first reading is a set of rapid fire questions which God poses to Job. The gospel closes with the disciples asking this question about Jesus: “Who can this be? Even the wind and the sea obey him.” Ironically, the answer to the questions in the first reading would also serve to be the answer to the last question posed by our Lord’s disciples in the gospel.
Throughout the book of Job, we see our protagonist and his friends asking all sorts of questions directed at God and Job’s righteousness. The basic question is whether Job deserves his current loss and suffering. His friends say “yes” but Job defiantly protests his innocence by saying “no.” God finally breaks the silence and the book presents it in a most dramatic way: “From the heart of the tempest the Lord gave Job his answer.” Just like our Lord answered His disciples in the gospel in the middle of a storm.
God’s first question to Job (which has unfortunately been redacted from our first reading) sets the tone of their mostly one-way conversation and series of rhetorical questions, “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding” (Job 38:4). In short, God is reminding Job and his friends, “Who are you to question me?” At the end of this age, we will stand before our Lord as Judge and King of the Universe. It is we who will be questioned, and it would be audacious for us to believe that we are entitled to question Him.
St Paul puts it more directly: But who are you, a human being, to talk back to God? “Shall what is formed say to the one who formed it, ‘Why did you make me like this?’” (Rom 9:20). Some translations of this passage in fact make this point clearer: “can a pot question the potter why it was made this way?”
Does it mean that we should never ask questions? Certainly not. As St Anselm wisely reminds us: “faith seeks understanding.” This is what we see in the episode of our Lord calming the storm in today’s gospel passage. The lack of faith exhibited by the fearful disciples who thought that they were drowning and that the Lord had abandoned them were now challenged to ask questions, questions which would deepen their faith and expand their understanding of who the Lord is: “Who can this be? Even the wind and the sea obey him.“ It’s a rhetorical question that can only have one answer. The answer, of course, is God - Jesus is God because only God could have such power and authority over the wind and sea - and yet, they were not ready to make that leap of faith, a leap which they will eventually make after the resurrection when they witness for themselves that Jesus also has authority over death, His own death.
There is, therefore, no dichotomy between faith and reason. But our pursuit for full understanding should not be the reason to demolish faith. The basis for asking questions and the goal for seeking answers should propel us to recognise our limited knowledge in comparison to God’s immense wisdom which is always beyond and above ours. Curiously embedded in the midst of our questioning nature is a profound insight into the human condition. At once this both affirms our search for understanding and demonstrates its limits.
The wisdom God puts in our inward parts makes it possible for us to yearn for an answer to the mystery of suffering. Yet our wisdom comes only from God, so we cannot outsmart God with wisdom of our own. In fact, He has implanted in us only a small fraction of His wisdom, so we will never have the capacity to comprehend all His ways. As we have seen, it may be good for our souls to voice our complaints against God. But it would be foolish to expect Him to admit His error, that He had made a mistake. The truth is that God never makes mistakes. We do but He never does.
It’s not wrong to experience grief or anger or any other emotion when we’re going through a hard time, when we find ourselves in a middle of a maelstrom wondering whether the Lord is sleeping on the job or that He has abandoned us. It’s ok to ask God our questions. It’s ok to tell God how we’re feeling, He already knows anyway. A key invitation of our spiritual journey is to be emotionally honest about our uncertainties. Questions…are signs of a living, growing, active faith, not evidence of a dying one.
But when we do ask questions, it is good to remember that we may not always get an answer right away, but when it comes, it will certainly shift my perspective. God is giving us a larger picture of our circumstances, just as He was doing it for Job and for the Lord’s disciples. Much like someone who stands too close to a painting and cannot appreciate the artist’s perspective, we need to step back a few steps so that we can glimpse — if not fully understand — God’s larger purposes with greater clarity. Part of this enlightenment is to show us that we may have been asking the wrong questions.
The question to ask is not “why?” but “what?” with a heart to learn God’s wisdom and purpose for us. Instead of asking, “why did this happen?”, we should actually be asking, “What do you want me to learn from this experience? What good do you want to come from this?” God generally does not answer any of our ‘why’ questions, but He will gradually answer those ‘what’ questions as He moulds us into a stronger person of faith. Because He wants us to trust Him like never before.
If we are looking for a reason for Job’s suffering or ours, we may not find it. But this we do know: Job’s ordeal has given him an even greater appreciation for God’s goodness. Job’s relationship with God has deepened, his faith has grown stronger and he has become wiser as a result. The same could be said of us whenever we experience hardship or face adversity. It’s not always easy to trust in the Lord’s providence and wisdom. But we are assured by St Paul, “we know that in everything God works for good with those who love him, who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). We may not see it clearly now, but it makes the hard times a little easier to bear, knowing that there is something to learn (and one day, to teach and encourage others) and that God will answer us “from the heart of the storm.”
Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B
We often oscillate between two extremes - on the one hand, we feel so motivated that we are totally confident in our ability, capacity and sufficiency of our resources to move mountains and reach for the stars - a kind of Thomas the Train or Obama concession speech, “yes, we can!” moment. On the other hand, after a series of setbacks and failures, a much wiser and less naive tone sets in, sometimes to the point of hapless despair. Our initial “yes, we can” is now replaced with a more realistic “no, we can’t. It’s simply impossible.”
Our Lord offers us two agrarian parables which offer us a different way of looking at things. You see, Christians are neither expected to become naive optimists nor cranky pessimists. We are asked to be people of faith and hope. Both optimism and pessimism are inadequate categories. Though they appear to be at opposite ends of the spectrum of how we should perceive life and any situation, they both share something in common. They are both flip sides of the same coin. Both give too much emphasis to self - either to our ability or inability to accomplish something.
In one of the most epic scenes in the movie Dr Strange, which sets the stage and prepares our eponymous hero for the final showdown, the hero enters into this profound conversation on the spectral plane with his mentor, the Ancient One, as the latter lies dying in the emergency operation theatre. It is the last piece of wisdom which the Ancient One imparts unto her student. Dr Strange started off as a cocky brilliant brain surgeon, so confident in his own ability to heal, but after a disastrous car crash which ended his career, he is now uncertain about himself and fears failure. The Ancient One tells him: “Arrogance and fear still keep you from learning the simplest and most significant lesson of all.”
Dr. Stephen Strange: “Which is?”
The Ancient One: “It’s not about you.”
Yes, this is the powerful message of these parables and the first reading: “It’s not about you!” Rather, it is all about God. In the first reading, after the glory of Jerusalem had been destroyed and the Temple laid waste, the returning exiles from Babylon would have felt a heavy pessimism hovering over their future. Could they ever dream of rebuilding what had been destroyed and lost? Where would they find the resources to do this? It all seems to be a hopeless situation even if they are now given the opportunity to return to their homeland. This is where we see the prophetic genius of Ezekiel at work, painting a picture of how God would do the rebuilding and reconstruction of their nation by using images from nature. Ezekiel promises that Israel will again become a great cedar tree, in whose shade the nations will come to take shelter. But this great tree would not be the result of human planting or cultivation. It would be God’s doing.
The parables we find in the gospel reinforces this theme of God’s assured Providence. In the first parable which emphasises how the seed sown grows into a plentiful harvest with little intervention from the farmer and unbeknownst to him, we are assured that God’s purposes are accomplished in spite of our feeble and fumbling efforts. God is constantly working behind the scenes and His work is always successful, despite us not being able to discern it in a sensible manner.
The second parable adds an additional aspect to this theme. The beginnings of God’s work of building His kingdom often seems tiny and imperceptible, but never underestimate the outcome which will be massive. Small beginnings can produce grand endings. This would come as a message of hope to the early Christians who saw their movement as one led by a motley crew of underdogs, obstacles at every turn, impossible hurdles to overcome, and having to face the constant threat of extinction. What could a tiny mustard seed accomplish? It was not hard for these Christians to see how this metaphor applies to them. Yet, that very same mustard seed planted by God and nurtured by His hands would grow into a Church that would eventually overturn an empire without unsheathing a single sword. This was no optimistic vision of the future but something which eventually became a reality despite all the odds being stacked against it. The reason is simple. God is the mover, not us! So, don’t flatter yourself nor denigrate yourself, “it’s not about you!”
This is what Christian hope is about. Hope provides us with a vision of seeing the world, our current situation and the future through the lenses of God. The glossary section of the Catechism of the Catholic Church describes hope as “the theological virtue by which we desire and expect from God both eternal life and the grace we need to attain it.” An optimist may view things as attainable because of his strong confidence in his own ability to determine the outcome of his actions. A pessimist views a goal as unattainable because he only focuses on the futility of his own actions. But a man of faith with hope, is confident that God would fulfil what He has promised us and that He will supply us with sufficient grace to both endure our current situation and to attain the purpose which He has destined for us.
The solution to our despairing culture is not to pump it with more motivational hog wash and sell us the over-used idea that we are incredible, brilliant, capable and strong. What these programmes are trying to message is this - it’s all about you. You determine your future. You determine your own success and failure. You are in charge of your life and your destiny. The harsh reality of life would soon burst the optimistic balloon and expose these propositions as lies. The more you lead a self-focused life, the more you’re prone to discouragement. Every time you forget that it’s not about you, you’re going to get prideful or fearful or bitter. Those feelings will always lead to discouragement because they keep you focused on yourself.
The good news is that you don’t need to have all the answers. You don’t need to rescue yourself or others from a fix. You don’t need to be in control. You don’t need to be superman or superwoman. God has your back. God is the answer. God is always working even when nothing seems to be happening. God will always accomplish His purpose even when our efforts seem to fail, and every situation seems hopeless. This is the reason why in scripture, we often see God deliberately choosing men and women that culture overlooks to expose the hollow pretensions of the people who think they are something. God chooses what the world considers nonsense, weak, and ordinary to not only shame but also destroy all pretentious thinking and inflated pride. He does this so that the only thing that one can boast about is – Christ. Let us exclaim with St Paul “that we are full of confidence” not in ourselves or in our meagre resources but in Christ, who one day we hope would welcome us home!
Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B
One of the most colourful English expressions to describe a person who is out of his mind is “a sandwich short of a picnic.” Don’t attempt to wrap your head around this. What is pertinent in this description is the metaphor of a sandwich. In today’s gospel passage, although our attention is immediately focused on the heated argument between our Lord and His antagonists on the latter’s accusation that He is performing miracles with the power of demons, this is our first opportunity to see one of Mark’s sandwiches. Here, we begin with a story about our Lord’s family and end with another story about His family, while sandwiched in between is the story of Jesus and His conflict with the scribes.
The upper loaf of the sandwich begins with the story of how the family of Jesus wishes to take control of Him because they were of the opinion that He was “out of his mind.” Perhaps, one of the most painful experiences is to be accused by one’s loved ones as being insane. Those closest to our Lord tried to put a claim of control on Him because they thought He had gone crazy. This is a startling reminder that proximity to Jesus is not enough; allegiance to Jesus is what matters. That is what marks the followers of Jesus. It is striking that they want to silence Him, because He had just silenced the demons.
The scribes, a group of our Lord’s strongest critics, jumped at the opportunity to attack our Lord by accusing Him of being possessed by the Prince of Demons, Beelzebul. Mental illness in ancient times was a sure sign of possession. They were confident that this time their accusation would stick since our Lord’s own family had turned against Him and had become the prosecution’s star witnesses. The evidence is clear - the miraculous actions of our Lord preclude a natural explanation. There can only be two sources - it is either divine or demonic. The scribes don’t deny the supernatural power; they just redefine its source.
Our Lord then exposes the fallacy of their accusation and skewed reasoning by asking this logical question: “How can Satan cast out Satan?” It’s a rhetorical question because our Lord doesn’t wait for the answer from His attackers, He provides it. If our Lord is actually using or being used by demons, then wouldn’t such a civil war in the demonic realm lead to their ultimate destruction. That would be preposterous.
Our Lord proceeds to give the right interpretation. There is not a civil war from within but a direct invasion from without— from heaven itself. This is a heavenly war. Satan’s kingdom is not being built; it is being plundered. Someone stronger has come - God Himself. And Satan (the strong man) has been “tied up” and now his house is being plundered. Jesus the King, the Lord of all that has been and all that will come, and no one, certainly not the ruler of the demons can stand up to Him. He cannot bind Jesus—Jesus binds him and plunders his house.
Rejecting our Lord has now led the scribes to commit a sin that has eternal consequences: blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. The blasphemy or sin against the Holy Spirit is saying that Jesus has an unclean spirit. They are saying that Jesus is motivated by evil rather than good, by an unclean spirit, rather than by the Holy Spirit. It is an unforgivable sin because they are rejecting the very gift of salvation which is being offered to them by the Lord. In this sense, they are the people Isaiah warned about: “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness” (Isaiah 5:20). This is a stunning irony.
We have reached a fork in the road: One road leads to life and the other, to death. The Pharisees charge Jesus with blasphemy (Mark 2:7, and now Jesus charges them with blasphemy. No neutrality is possible. Someone is blaspheming—either Jesus or the Jewish leaders. Which side will we take?
Thankfully the answer is given by none other than the family of Jesus. At the start of this story, they misunderstand His intentions and believe Him to be mad. They who are supposed to be “insiders” prove themselves to be “outsiders.” But at the end of this passage, we can detect a transformation, though subtle. Jesus provides the true criterion of discipleship: “Anyone who does the will of God, that person is my brother and sister and mother.”
This is where the Catholic interpretation takes an entirely different tangent from that of Protestants. For Protestants, our Lord’s words are putting Mary in her place, that is putting her down. But for Catholics, this is a clear affirmation of Our Lady’s esteemed position as our Lord’s most favoured disciple.
The clue is to be found in what our Lord meant by “family”: “who are my mother and brothers?” Who is our Lord’s true family. Once again, we are forced to decide the meaning of this word, as we were forced to decide on the source of His power - is He speaking of His earthly family or heavenly one? The Lord does not call us to simply belong to an earthly family. He comes to adopt us into His Heavenly family. For those hearing His teachings, He comes to adopt those into the household of our Heavenly Father.
So, back to our riddle. Did the Lord push aside His mother Mary when He says the words in this passage? Listen to what Jesus says, “Anyone who does the will of God, that person is my brother and sister and mother”. What does Mary say at the end of the Annunciation? “Let it be done to me according to thy word … according to thy Will!” Mary is the only one who declares so freely and openly that she is willing, and she does the will of God the Father. There can be no better candidate who meets this criterion of discipleship. So, it’s true that in one sense, our Lord is putting Mary “in her place”. It just happens that her “place” is as His mother not just by virtue of blood but more importantly in faith.
A slice of bread does not make a complete sandwich. You need two slices, two perspectives - one as a starting point and another as an ending. The truth of the matter is that sometimes we do behave like the family of Jesus at the beginning of the story trying to take charge of our lives by taking charge of our God. But this is a lie, the very same lie sold to our first parents which caused them to be expelled from paradise. We have to learn the painful lesson that no one can take charge of God. He is in control. He is the One who subdues, not the one who is subdued. It is we who must be subdued, who must submit willingly and lovingly to His will. Mary provides us with the perfect example of this. Only then, can we attain our true identity as members of God’s heavenly family and “that when the tent that we live in on earth is folded up, there is a house built by God for us, an everlasting home not made by human hands, in the heavens.”
