skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C
Most of us are allergic to discomfort and are naturally attracted to comfort. I can honestly admit: “me too!” I look for the most comfortable chair in the room. If I had a chance, I would be doing most of my reading, writing, listening to music or watching television or even praying, lying down on a comfy sofa, a divan or even my own bed. My argument is that discomfort can be such a distraction and takes away our attention from things which require our focus. Of course, comfort can also lull you to sleep which ultimately cancels out all other intended activities.
The truth of the matter is that we have made a god of comfort. Look at the advertisements that appear on television or your social media feed. They cater to our desire for ease. Don’t misunderstand my point. I also love being comfortable, and there’s nothing inherently wrong with seeking those things that make life easier and more comfortable. But I’m bothered with the obsession I see of avoiding anything that might make us uncomfortable. This may be the reason why many people avoid church. The pews are uncomfortable. The heat and the cold are uncomfortable. The music is uncomfortable. The readings and prayers are uncomfortable. Decent Sunday Best clothing is generally uncomfortable. The priest’s homily is uncomfortably long and pointless. Everything about Church shouts “discomfort!”
But the readings we have heard today is that God’s desire is not to give you a life of comfort; He desires to be your comfort. In the first reading, the prophet Amos warns the people of Judah and Israel against feeling so comfortable that they have insulated themselves from the suffering and poverty of those around them and for this reason they have also insulated themselves from God’s Word. In the second reading, St Paul reminds the young bishop Timothy of the need to strive in making progress in Christian virtue and sanctity, “to fight the good fight.” Christianity is not about lazing around like spiritual couch potatoes waiting for the next blessing to drop on our laps without any effort on our part. Faith can’t be manipulated via remote control.
St Paul writes: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He comforts us in all our affliction” (2 Cor. 1:3-4). It is clear that God does not promise to remove our afflictions. Many times, He mercifully does, but there’s no guarantee. What is promised is that “He comforts us in all our affliction.” That is the greater gift: God Himself walking with us! God wants us to find our joy in Him, not in a life of ease and comfort. This life is short and transitory, and those things we crave and rely on for our comfort are equally transitory. They will not last—but God’s presence will. As my favourite saint, Teresa of Avila, often reminds me, “all things passes, only God remains!” There will come a day in His eternal kingdom when we will be free from all affliction. There will be unending joy and comfort with Christ in His kingdom, but for now He wants us to learn that it is Him—His loving, comforting presence—that we truly need.
This is what the famous parable of Lazarus and the rich man seeks to illustrate. Many people often provide this parable with a moral interpretation - that is, that we should be concerned with the welfare of our brethren unlike the rich man who was indifferent to the needs of Lazarus, the beggar. Others have also used this parable as a lesson on poverty and riches. Poverty in this life will be rewarded with riches and treasures in the next, while wealth in this life would be a foolish investment because it yields nothing in the next when it is not shared with others.
Though these may be valid points, I would like to lead our reflexion into a different rabbit hole. I view this parable as an invitation to see value in the uncomfortable, in suffering, in what is lacking. There is no greater contrast made than that of the rich man and poor Lazarus. The first lived a life of great comfort, described in detail in the story, while the latter suffered abject poverty. Yet after death, their fortunes were reversed. The rich man would now suffer the ultimate discomfort of being separated from his loved ones and from God while Lazarus would be comforted in the bosom of Abraham. Notice that the rich man only came to be aware of his brothers’ spiritual welfare when he was dead, when he is now experiencing the greatest discomfort. He had little thought for his brothers when he was alive because his comfortable lifestyle had made him immune to feeling any empathy for others.
What can we learn from this story and Amos’ warning in the first reading? While God offers ultimate spiritual comfort, He often uses uncomfortable situations to promote spiritual growth and deeper reliance on Him rather than on worldly comforts. Our Lord Jesus Himself promised His followers that, in this world, they would face hardship (John 16:33), yet this discomfort can lead to true peace, growth, and a greater understanding of God's power and faithfulness.
So, why does God allow us to experience the uncomfortable?
Firstly, God wishes to dislodge our dependence on worldly comforts, what spiritual writers call “inordinate affections” - loving the creature for its own sake and not because it leads us to love the Creator. God often uses discomfort to break our reliance on easy, predictable comforts, which can be false idols or sources of sin.
Secondly, as God helps us to be detached from temporal earthly pleasures, He is leading us to true lasting comfort. By moving you out of your comfort zone, God helps you seek and find His comfort, which is rooted in His presence and promises, rather than a life free from difficulty.
Thirdly, uncomfortable situations help us stretch and move beyond our comfort zones and help promote growth and trust in God in all situations. People tend to trust less in God when they are feeling comfortable. But they can discover the strength which comes from grace in moments of weakness and vulnerability. God uses uncomfortable situations, like a crucible and furnace, to refine us and align us for His purpose. So, what do we do if we find ourselves in an uncomfortable situation? Rather than demanding an end to the discomfort, let us seek God’s presence in it. Our own discomfort should lead us to greater solidarity with others who may be suffering greater discomfort than us. Comfort blinds our senses just as it did with the rich man in the parable, who was oblivious to the needs and suffering of Lazarus who sat at his gates. Discomfort opens them. Remember that God does not waste suffering; even your discomfort is part of His plan to bring you to a greater good.
Finally, we must be willing to step outside the path of least resistance, and into situations that call you to greater faith and action, for that is what discipleship is all about. As the Son of God bridged the impassable “gulf” between heaven and earth to come to us sinners in our aid, let us bridge the “gulf” that remains between us and others and not wait till it is no longer passable.
Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C
Let’s not ignore the elephant in the room and go straight to the very question many of you may be asking: Is having money bad? Now, to be honest, most of us would have a positive to ambivalent view of money - money is good, it is even necessary, especially when it gets you the things you want in life. Despite what people claim, money can buy us some level of happiness. It’s not perfect nor lasting happiness, but money can contribute to an injection of dopamine in your system. When is money considered a bad thing? I guess it’s when we have to part with our money. When we believe that an item we want is prized too high, or the amount of taxes we have to pay to the government is just outrageous or when the Church asks us to give more in the collection. So, when others are perceived to be out for our money, our hard-earned savings, then we will accuse them of being greedy, materialistic and money minded. Over the years, these labels have been the most common ones I’ve heard, especially, when I’m making a fund raising pitch.
Anyway, back to our first question: “Is having money bad?” Obviously, we see in some cases, like the Israelites in the first reading, love for money can lead to corruption and exploitation, especially of the poor and the weak, and ultimately this led to their destruction. Nevertheless, this moral tale of Israel’s undoing of God’s promises and blessings through its leaders’ greed and injustice should not be taken as a blanket approbation of money and wealth. While the love of riches poses temptations, money in itself is not intrinsically evil or unworthy of our use.
Our Lord did not inaugurate a new economic system that did away with the need for fair trade or some form of currency. The Kingdom of God did not entail a Utopian socialist or communist welfare state where there was a free supply of goods and services. Because of the miracle of the Incarnation, God became man as the Word became Flesh and dwelt among us. Because Christ was both truly God and truly human, He had a body, lived in a family, recognised humanity's need for food, health, and material necessities, and acknowledged the importance of money as a measure of reality and as a practical necessity. Although Christ warned against worshiping money and serving Mammon, and although He taught His followers not to be anxious about food, clothing, and all the things that money affords, He did not regard money as a trivial matter beneath Him or His followers. Christ of course enjoined man not to "lay up treasures on earth" and not to be ruled by avarice in the form of greed or miserliness, like the rich man who gave Lazarus the scraps from his table while he feasted at a banquet. Yet Christ did not scorn money, for in His humanity He always paid His debts and was mindful of humanity's need to use material resources throughout our daily lives.
In the gospels, Christ teaches the importance of common sense and the virtue of prudence in all transactional relationships. A builder constructing a tower looks foolish if he does not first calculate the cost before he builds the foundation and later discovers a lack of funds to complete the project. Likewise, a king who wages war takes account of the number of his forces in comparison to the enemy's army to determine his chances of victory. Common sense always counts the cost and avoids wasting money and resources. Our faith is not blind, and it is certainly not foolish. You do not rush into something, throwing all caution to the wind, whilst banking on God to extricate you out of the mess you are making. Common sense not only considers consequences and weighs costs but also acknowledges the uncertainty of the future with all its unpredictability and variability. Foolish planning, excessive spending, and imaginary scheming are all based on the presumption that our future is within our control. It isn’t.
Our Lord goes further in today’s parable of the dishonest but astute steward. The fact that our Lord praises a dishonest man may come as a shock to many of us. Christ does not praise the steward for his dishonesty or for having cunningly extracted himself from impending disaster. Sinful behaviour can never be condoned, and the end can never justify the means. What is laudable is that the steward is able to make changes and take creative steps to avoid a personal disaster that would have ruined him. When ordered to give an account of his management after accusations about wasteful spending, the steward seeks the master's debtors and bargains with them to give a portion of the money owed. In a way, he fulfills our Lord’s command to forgive debts (or sins), so that his own may be forgiven. The dishonest steward makes restitution of his past mistakes and restores his master's fortune.
At the end of the day, money and wealth are morally ambivalent. They are tainted when we choose them to advance our own selfish agenda to the detriment of others. And yet, though risking being tainted, such money can be used for the furtherance and advancement of others and a good cause. At the end of the day, money is “good” in that God did not create anything inherently evil, but it would be so much “better” if used for others, especially for the poor and for the mission of the Church.
The wise Christian who understands this truth does not waste money and does not hoard it. He does not worship gold or make an idol of Mammon, but recognises other treasure in heaven, the divine rewards that are a hundredfold. He calculates costs, predicts consequences, and demonstrates foresight, but does not live in an imaginary future. He counts pennies, but he does not hesitate to give without measure when the occasion inspires generosity. He honours the truth that the labourer is worthy of his hire, but the love of justice does not impair his spirit for forgiveness, mercy, and charity, which transcend the letter of the law. He uses his assets of money, land, or animals to produce an abundant harvest, remembering that good husbandry, gardening, or economy strives for fruitfulness, increase, and profit both in the economic life and moral life.
The moral life of a Christian, then, can be likened to a business venture in which God gives his stewards the opportunity, the raw materials, the resources, and the talents to be fruitful and multiply. The workers cannot be selfish, lazy, dishonest, avaricious or useless. God takes stock and demands accountability. God expects increase from the talents that He invests and awaits interest from the capital He lends. A bountiful harvest in the form of the fruitfulness of love and the benefits of profits earns the praise, "Well done, good and faithful servant," and "Enter into the joy of your master,” (Mt 25:21; 26). This multiplication of good works in matters great and small wins not only the earnings of one's labour and the praise of the master but also eternal life: "Come, O blessed of my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world" (Mt 25:34). Both the economic art of managing temporal goods and the moral life of the Christian rejoice in making a profit, creating a surplus, and beholding a fruitful harvest.
Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross
Power is as intoxicating as any drug we know of, perhaps even more potent than most. To those who are powerless, power promises redemption, a means to improve one’s position, to undo the injustices we face, to climb out of the rut we find ourselves trapped in. For those in power, the one thing they fear most is the loss of power. It would mean the loss of security, the loss of livelihood, the loss of public esteem or even worse, the loss of their lives. Dictators often do not fare well when they are overthrown in a coup. But today, we are confronted by the most radical inversion of how we should view power. The cross paradoxically shows us how true power is rooted in abject powerlessness.
Throughout the annals history, the cross remains a sign of contradiction – it is both an unthinkable disgrace and yet a potent source of grace. It has inspired confidence in armies to march into battle and others to sue for peace; it has been used as a palpable symbol of power as well as powerlessness. And so, it is both despised as well as coveted by one human power or another. The cross was invented by the Persians and then adopted by the Romans as one of the cruelest and most frightening instruments of torture and execution to instil fear among subjects. Constantine used it as a talisman of power in the civil war with his brother and the Persians claimed it as their greatest battle trophy over the Byzantines.
So, how is the cross a symbol of power and powerlessness? The symbolism of power hidden in the cross is often lost on us and is only revealed as a mystery of revelation. The Cross represents the Sovereign authority of God and His providence. This is certainly difficult to comprehend. Yet, what seems to us to be failure is, in God’s eyes, the victory of sacrificial love. It is on the cross, that Christ receives the highest exaltation from God, ironically, at the moment He suffered the greatest humiliation at the hands of men. As Christ was lifted up on the Cross, now by means of the Cross, He lifts up humanity, and indeed all creation. As today’s gospel reminds us, “for God sent his Son into the world not to condemn the world, but so that through him the world might be saved”. The Cross possesses the power to forgive sins, the power to heal consciences and human hearts.
But paradoxically, the cross is also a symbol and an instrument of powerlessness. For a brief moment, the Son of God gave up His access to the powers of the universe and submitted Himself to the power of men so that He could die at our hands. On the wood of the cross, the most powerful being in the universe chose to be powerless. The Lutheran theologian and martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, describes the profound significance of this moment, “God allows himself to be edged out of the world and onto the cross. God is weak and powerless in the world, and that is exactly the way, the only way, in which he can be with us and help us.” So what God has done is that He took an instrument of evil, an instrument that brings death and transformed it so that it gives life, brings goodness and healing, and that’s what we hear the Lord saying about Himself, “When I am lifted up, as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, then I will give life.” Just as Moses uses the symbol of Israel’s bane, the serpent, as a visible sign of God’s healing, our Lord similarly uses the cross as an instrument of healing, life and salvation.
The power and the powerlessness of the cross provide us with the necessary lens to view our own suffering, our daily crosses. St John Paul II, who prophetically wrote his first encyclical on Suffering, and would later suffer that fate in the last years of his pontificate, uses the cross to formulate his answer to man’s perennial dilemma – Why do we have to suffer. The saintly Pope stated, with piercing simplicity, that the answer has "been given by God to man in the cross of Jesus Christ." Each of us is called to "share in that suffering through which the Redemption was accomplished." Through His only begotten Son, God "has confirmed His desire to act especially through suffering, which is man's weakness and emptying of self, and He wishes to make His power known precisely in this weakness and emptying of self."
And this is the way we experience God’s power here on earth, sometimes to our great frustration, and this is the way that Jesus was deemed powerful during His lifetime. The gospels make this clear. Jesus was born powerless, and He died helpless on a cross. Yet both His birth and His death show the kind of power on which we can ultimately build our lives. The cross of Christ, therefore, teaches us that we can find power in weakness, in that which makes us vulnerable and even seemingly powerless.
Perhaps, what makes it so difficult to accept the good news of the cross, is that we are stubbornly holding on to power; we want to have a “sense of control.” Henri Nouwen writes, “What makes the temptation of power so seemingly irresistible? Maybe it is that power offers an easy substitute for the hard task of love. It seems easier to be God than to love God, easier to control people than to love people, easier to own life than to love life.” Most of us fear our powerlessness in the face of illness and death. We would like to retain an element of control, even though we realise that dying often involves the very opposite: a total loss of control, over our muscles, our emotions, our minds, our bowels and our very lives, as our human framework succumbs to powerful disintegrative forces.
Even when those disintegrative forces become extreme and our suffering may seem overwhelming, however, an important spiritual journey always remains open for us. This path is a "road less traveled," a path that, unexpectedly, enables us to achieve genuine control in the face of suffering and even death. The hallmark of this path is the personal decision to accept our sufferings, actively laying down our life on behalf of others by embracing the particular kind of death God has ordained for us, patterning our choice on the choice consciously made by Jesus Christ. As no one had ever done before, Jesus charted the path of love-driven sacrifice, choosing to lay down His life for His friends. He was no mere victim in the sense of being a passive and unwilling participant in His own suffering and death. He was in control. He was powerful even in His apparent powerlessness. No one could possibly take His life from Him, unless He chose to lay it down.
To the Romans, it may have been an instrument of torture or execution, to Constantine it may have been an amulet of power, to the Persians a trophy of conquest, but to us Christians, it is the very symbol of Christ’s victory over darkness, death, sin and the devil. Therefore, as the entrance antiphon exhorts us, “We should glory in the Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ, in whom is our salvation, life and resurrection, through whom we are saved and delivered.”
Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C
As a priest I must admit, I have my good days and bad days. Good days when I feel no regrets at being a priest, when the ministry is rewarding and fruits are evident. But then, just like all of you, I have my bad days. When my decisions and best intentions are met with criticism, hostility and other forms of negative reaction. I am tempted to ask myself: is this all worth it? Did I sign up for this abuse? Or in exasperation I may even decry that I don’t get paid enough for this - in fact, I get paid peanuts for the job! That’s true, but that is the difference between a job and ministry, between a volunteer and a disciple. I constantly need to remind myself before I remind others - we in the Church are called to share in the ministry or the apostolate of the Church. Though it entails work, sometimes thankless tiring work, it is not a job but a vocation. We are called to be disciples of the Lord and not just part-time volunteers.
I guess the culture of volunteerism has taken a firm foothold in Church ministry and mission. The frequent cry you often hear in most churches is this, ‘We need more volunteers!’ Volunteering has become the primary way in which Christians are invited to participate in the work and mission of the Church. Over the years, I find that sustaining morale among church volunteers has become a real challenge, sometimes it seems even impossible. We see our volunteers suffering from disillusionment and a constant need for tender-loving-care. The usual complaints we hear is that many feel unappreciated, ill-equipped for the job, a lack of support from others, and have become tired of the numerous criticisms heaped against them.
But perhaps the greatest problem lies in the area of quality control. This is particularly true in the case of the Catholic Church. Well, you know what they say, ‘when you are only willing to pay peanuts, expect nothing less than monkeys!’ (What does that tell you about us priests?) The most troubling issue when dealing with volunteers is that of commitment. There is no doubt that volunteer work is often a thankless and demanding endeavour, requiring great generosity, time and effort. We’ve eventually come to accept that if we demand too much of these volunteers, they would break and quit. We tip toe around their mistakes and find it hard to hold them accountable. Too often we settle for less rather than for more. In order to keep and please our volunteers, we end up lowering standards, compromising values and ultimately crippling the radical demands of discipleship in the name of survival.
It’s important and liberating to remember that volunteerism is not discipleship. While volunteerism has great value, even in the Church, it is not the central model for Christian life and service. We don’t need to recruit church volunteers—our Lord’s command to us was to go and make disciples. When it comes right down to it, there is a huge difference between volunteering from time to time, being a fair-weather follower, and belonging totally to Jesus Christ. The individualism and consumerism that shapes how we participate in volunteering are incompatible with the selfless, all-demanding devotion that Christ calls for in participating in His mission. One of the benefits of being a volunteer is that there is always the option to take a break or even to quit. Volunteers set the agenda- when, how much, where, and what it is they will volunteer for. Discipleship, on the other hand, is not periodic volunteer work on one’s own terms or at one’s convenience. As it is clear in the strong statements we find in today’s gospel, discipleship is total, unconditional, limitless commitment to Christ, requiring the greatest sacrifice, even enduring suffering and death.
Structurally, today’s gospel selection is comprised of a catena of sayings on discipleship, followed by two parables. The sayings demonstrate a literary device in Semitic literature, the hyperbole; a figure of speech in which exaggeration is used for emphasis or effect, as in ‘I could sleep for a year’ or ‘This book weighs a ton.’ The hyperboles or exaggerations help us to appreciate and imagine the gravity of what is being expressed. Thus, the forcefulness of the first saying in today’s gospel to turn one’s back on, or literally to ‘hate’ father, mother, etc, is shocking. Naturally, this is not an actual call to hate your family – hate is incongruent with the Christian life. To hate here means absolute detachment in the strongest possible terms. ‘Hating’ parents simply meant loving Jesus first and foremost, above family and even above self. From that love would flow the willingness to follow the Lord by taking up the cross.
Therefore, the gospel sets out the difference between mere volunteerism and hard-edged discipleship. It boils down to the answer you give to these set of questions – What are you prepared to lose? What are you prepared to give up? What is the cost you are willing to pay? Disciples are willing to pay the price of giving up everything for the sake of the kingdom. Discipleship is costly because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it cost God the life of His Son: “you were bought at a price,” and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us.
In the two short parables you just heard, our Lord communicates the necessity of entering into the process of discipleship with a clear head and the intention of persevering, holding fast till the end. The man who wants to build a tower must count the cost to make sure he has enough to finish the job. The king who is going to war must first count his troops and resources to make sure he can win the battle. In both parables the message is clear: Those who begin a major endeavour need to be prepared to see it through to the finish. Throughout our lives we will be tempted to quit when suffering threatens us, when we face criticism, when the cost seems too heavy, when we receive little reward or encouragement. The importance of counting the cost of discipleship is apparent when we see the point of our endeavour is to finish the race, not just merely to start it. Some say the hardest part is getting started. If this is true though, why do we hear stories of people who give up on their diet, stop writing a novel or quit a difficult task at work. Maybe it’s not the start but the finish that’s so difficult. The goal should always be to finish, not start. And in order to finish, we must be prepared to pay the cost and make sacrifices.
Today, what the Church needs is not more volunteers. We have enough of that and we could do with less of that! What the Church needs, what Christ wants, what salvation demands is this –men and women who have counted the cost and who are committed to Jesus regardless of the cost, and who will not stop in the middle of the stream and go back. What the Church needs are disciples! Discipleship is not for the faint of heart. Discipleship is not for the lukewarm. Discipleship is not for the fence-straddlers. Discipleship is for the committed, for the consecrated and dedicated. Discipleship is for those willing to put their hand to the plough and not look back. Discipleship is not for a day, or for a week, or a year. Discipleship is for the rest of our lives. Discipleship is for those who are willing to follow Him regardless of what they have to let go of and leave behind. These are the clear job descriptions that disciples must know and be prepared for: No reserves – sacrifice everything, no retreats – press on, no regrets – finish the race.
