Every Saint has a past; every sinner a future

Fifth Sunday of Lent Year C

There is a clever quote that is often attributed to the Buddha, “Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment." If you do not have a pedantic nature like me, you will most likely take this as gospel truth. The problem is, it’s a fake quote. The Buddha didn’t say this. He said something similar but yet fundamentally different from what the above quote claims. In fact, the Buddha had also asked us to let go of the present - no past, no future, no present.

The Christian version of this quote may sound like this, “don’t dwell on the past, but move forward.” Unlike the above quote, this is founded on scripture, especially the readings we have just heard today.

Most of us would take the above saying as referring to not holding on to painful memories, failures, and past hurts. That is clear. Some people are trapped in the past, in a cycle of regret, resentment, un-forgiveness and despair. Past painful memories keep on re-playing in their minds like a broken record, re-igniting the sense of pain and loss as if the incident had just happened a moment ago. Any counsellor or psychologist or a good friend or relative will tell you, “Best to keep the past in the past. Move on. Learn from it. If you dwell in the past, you will get left behind.”

But our readings bring up additional lessons on why we should not dwell on the past but seek to move forward.

In the first reading, Isaiah writes to a people who are now languishing in exile, regretting their past misdeeds and wallowing in self-pity and despair. Isaiah’s message does not entirely erase the past. He reminds his people of how God had also liberated their ancestors from Egypt during the Exodus and even performed this impossible miracle of leading them through the Red Sea whilst destroying the army of a superpower in pursuit. It was important to remember this less the Jews in exile were to doubt Isaiah’s prophecy that God was going to bring them home and rebuild their nation. But it was also important that the Jews did not feel trapped in the past of their failures and miss out on what God is going to reveal and do in their lives. And so, Isaiah tells them: “No need to recall the past, no need to think about what was done before. See, I am doing a new deed, even now it comes to light; can you not see it? Yes, I am making a road in the wilderness, paths in the wilds.”

In the second reading, St Paul also expresses his gratitude of having come to know Christ and to believe in Him. This comes after years of persecuting Christians and after his conversion, years of proclaiming the gospel to faraway cities and nations. He looks back at his legacy and instead of seeing a trophy to be shown off to his audience, he regards his past exploits and achievements as “rubbish” in comparison to the treasure which he had discovered. He now writes of “the supreme advantage of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For him I have accepted the loss of everything, and I look on everything as so much rubbish if only I can have Christ and be given a place in him.” And then he confidently declares: “All I can say is that I forget the past and I strain ahead for what is still to come; I am racing for the finish, for the prize to which God calls us upwards to receive in Christ Jesus.”

As we move to the gospel, we hear of this moving tale of how our Lord liberates this woman from her accusers but more importantly, He liberates her from her past life of sin. She epitomises this famous quote from Oscar Wilde’s play, “A Woman of No Importance.” The hedonistic character Lord Illingworth (perhaps an echo of Oscar Wilde’s own wild life of debauchery) says, “every Saint has a past and every sinner a future.” The meaning is simple and edifying: No one is so good that he hasn’t failed at some point, and no one is so bad that he cannot be saved. All have sinned, and all can be saved by God’s grace. The only distinction is between those who have already received it and those to whom it is still available. God’s grace is readily available for the taking. We just have to embrace it.

Not dwelling on the past and moving forward does not mean turning a new leaf, or a new page in your life. We can’t pretend that the past did not happen or subject ourselves to some form of selective amnesia, refusing to acknowledge what has gone before. That would be a mistake. Repentance requires that we do confront the truth of our past, not sugar coat it or attempt to erase or rewrite it. But we do not remain in the past. We must not allow our guilt ridden past to obstruct the freedom of what the Lord has promised us for our future. Sometimes, penitents walk out of the confessional having their sins forgiven and absolved and yet continue to carry the heavy burden of their sins. They are unable to let go of their past and by doing so, reject the gift of grace which our Lord has promised us through the Sacrament of Penance.

What the Lord says to this woman caught in adultery is what He says to each of us: “go away, and do not sin any more;” in other words, go away from your past and enjoy the freedom He offers you. “If the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed.” (John 8:36) Our Lord opens up a path ahead of us, where sin had closed the door. His grace and mercy convert our slavery to guilt into freedom from sin. Just as what God had promised to do for His people through the prophet Isaiah in the first reading, when He forgives us, He is making something new, a new path in the desert will open up, where the Lord our God will put springs of living waters for His people to drink.

All of us have sinned, some worse than others. There are many of us who labour under the crushing weight of guilt in the belief that our sins are so grave and egregious that not even God would be able to forgive us. But that is Satan’s greatest lie. Pope Francis is fond of reminding us that God never tires of forgiving us, but it is we who often grow tired of asking Him for forgiveness. So, let us not tire of asking God for forgiveness, let us learn to let go of the guilt and lift up our eyes to the Lord and see a better future, a better life ahead of us, as we journey together toward Easter and one day to Eternal Life. Remember that every saint has a past, and every sinner a future.

Repentance, the path to Joy

Fourth Sunday of Lent Year C
Laetare Sunday

I’m going to start by stating an obvious but essential truth - albeit an uncomfortable one - most of us are afraid of seeing change in our lives. From routine behaviour, to lifestyle patterns to business-as-usual way of doing things at the workplace or home or even church, change is uncomfortable to say the least. Sometimes, when we are constantly grumbling over the status quo, we still deliberately choose to maintain it for fear that change may exact a greater price from us. “Better the devil that you know than the devil you don’t.” So, we continue to plod on, weighed down by the burden of despair and hardship, rather than choose to cast off the shackles and be set free. We end up always choosing status quo over change.

As the witty Ronald Reagan once stated, “Status quo, you know, that is Latin for the mess we’re in.” Yes, today’s readings would affirm this important truth. If the Israelites had chosen the status quo, they would not have arrived at their destination which is the Promised Land. If the followers of Christ had not chosen to renounce their ego and personal agendas, they would not become the “new creation” which is what the Lord had chosen them to become. If the Israelites were contented with the hard but stable life of servitude in Egypt, they would not have made the journey to freedom. If they were contented with just consuming manna in the desert, they would not be able to savour the rich produce of the lands which awaited them at the end of their meanderings. If the early Christians had chosen to remain attached to their old sinful lifestyles of corruption and debauchery, they would never have been able to experience the joy of being reconciled with God.

So, clinging on to the status quo means relishing in mediocrity whilst rejecting the heights of glory and perfection which the Lord has called us to. The status quo discourages risk taking and encourages us to deny or circumvent the cross, which is the only means in which we hope to follow and imitate the Lord. The status quo sells us the lie that we have already arrived at our destination and that there is nothing better beyond what we are experiencing here and now. It gets us into a rut and we are stuck, making no progress but often regressing in any spiritual growth that we have attained thus far. Change and repentance are the only way we can get out of this vicious cycle. Repentance is the key that can get us out of the gaol of sin and mediocrity. The problem is that we are always expecting others to change but never subject ourselves to the same demands.

But not all change is good or positive. Change which leads us away from God ultimately leads us to our doom, to the pit of despair. This was the change desired by the younger son in our familiar parable of the Prodigal Son. He desired freedom to set his own course in life. He desired financial freedom to feed his insatiable appetite for entertainment. But ultimately, he sought freedom from the only man who truly cared for him and loved him, his father. All the other friends whom he bought with his wealth proved to be fair-weathered. They stuck with him only as long as he could finance their lifestyle of debauchery. They too were subjects or slaves of change, but a change that ate into the root of fidelity demanded by lasting friendships. Their feelings towards this son changed as quickly as his fortune took a turn for the worse.

But the younger son, after having squandered his inheritance and exhausted all his material resources, also expressed a change that is needed by all of us, a change that would lead to his repentance and eventually his redemption. We Christians call this change repentance. This is a kind of change that does not take place on the surface - one which is superficial - but a change that takes place in the depths. Repentance involves a turning away from and a turning towards - we turn away from sin, from our ego, from our old self - and we turn to God who alone remains the constant axis, the anchor of our lives, the Only One who is unchanging because He has no need to change, He cannot change, He is perfection itself. The Greek word translated as repentance is metanoia, which literally means a change of mind and heart. Before he could change his direction, to run towards his father after a lifetime of running away from him, the son had to experience a change of mind and heart. It suddenly dawned on him that his father was the true source of joy in his life and not the bane of it.

And so, we witness in the beautiful tale of the Prodigal son, a humbled younger son, a pale shadow of his impetuous younger self, not fully converted nor perfectly repented, but now committed to a path of conversion and repentance, a gradual process of inner change that would lead him back to his father. The father unlike his son, has not changed because he has no need to change. He remains loving and compassionate to his son despite being rejected by the latter. He receives his son with open arms, an unmatched joy that has not been lessened by his son’s betrayal. There is no doubt to the hearer of the parable that this father is a symbol of none other than our Heavenly Father.

Rather than to see contrition for one’s sins which leads to repentance as a dampening of our mood, a wet blanket thrown over an unhindered life where we can choose to do as we wish, such conversion is the real elixir which grants us lasting joy. If there is any reason to be joyful today on Laetare Sunday, it is this - repentance brings the ultimate change by challenging the status quo of sin: a change from fruitlessness to fruitfulness, blindness to sight, lost to found, darkness to light, sick to healed, and being born again and becoming a new creation.

And so, during these holy days of a new springtime, for that is what Lent is all about, we learn that change can be hard because coming out of slavery can be a long, daunting process. It requires that we see beyond the immediate, beyond the earthly things which we stubbornly cling to, and keep our gaze firmly fixed upon the end result: total union with God. If we do, we can endure any trial, knowing that there is a loving Father who never tires in waiting for our return to Him. Unlike all the things of this earth, our Father’s love for us has not changed, it cannot change, it will endure forever. Likewise, we too must endure. To endure to the end means we must have our minds set to never surrender, to never desire to return to the slavery from which we’ve been liberated, to always allow God to change our hearts and minds so that we can become the best version of ourselves which He has intended us to become.

A Betrothal and a Wedding

Solemnity of the Annunciation

A long forgotten Catholic tradition is the rite of betrothal, a mutual promise, vocally expressed between a man and woman, pledging future marriage to one another in the Church. In a certain way, this seems to have been supplanted by modern engagement ceremonies. And yet, parties often wish to dispense with all these formalities as quickly as possible. Couples find it unbearable to undergo what they consider as lengthy marriage preparation courses or even practice sexual continence during courtship. In fact, parties can’t wait to share a bed and start living together before they have tied the knot, what more announce their plans to be married.

The event of the Annunciation speaks of both a betrothal and a wedding. It is certainly not referring to the betrothal of St Joseph to the Blessed Virgin Mary, though we are told in scriptures that they were betrothed before the Annunciation. The Hebrew concept of erusin (“betrothal”) is the first of two stages of an ancient Jewish marriage rite. Joseph and Mary are not engaged at the time of the Annunciation; they are, in fact, legally married. Although the espoused couple could not yet live together, the Mosaic Law safeguarded the marital goods of fidelity and permanence during this twelve months period: adultery was punishable by death (cf. Deut 22:23-27), and separation was possible only by means of a legal divorce. Moreover, erusin is akin to the canonical principle of a ratified marriage without consummation. Marital relations (and, hence, the good of children) were proscribed until nissuin, the second stage of the marriage, when the couple finally came to live together.

But the gospel and feast today does not focus on the betrothal of St Joseph and the Blessed Virgin Mary, but rather the betrothal and the wedding between the Holy Spirit and Mary. This may seem shocking to many of us, including Catholics, as we are conditioned to believe and even revere Mary as a perpetual virgin, and that her relationship with St Joseph was a uniquely chaste one. The pious custom of referring to the Holy Spirit as the spouse of Mary is a symbolic expression of Mary’s perpetual virginity (rather than a rejection of it) and affirms the virgin birth of Jesus. It is not meant in a literal manner but rather in terms of Mary’s singular devotion to God and unique relationship to the Trinity. It is similar to how religious sisters sometimes refer to Jesus as their spouse.

In the case of the Annunciation, the angel Gabriel acts as an intermediary, a divine matchmaker who offers God’s proposal to Mary. Just like a scene in a romantic movie, the audience waits with anticipation. Will the girl accept the offer and invitation? Will she say “Yes”? It would have turned out differently if the answer was a “No”. But thank God, this young girl did say “Yes,” and the whole story of salvation reached its climax here.

What was contained in that single “yes”? By saying "Yes", the Holy Spirit “came upon” or overshadowed Mary, reminiscent of how the glory of God came upon the portable tabernacle and later the Temple in Jerusalem. With Mary’s “Yes,” the bond between man and God was sealed as the nuptial bond of husband and wife are sealed at the moment they freely exchanged their consent with each other in marriage. God could become man, the Word became flesh and offered His life on the Cross. Because of the Incarnation, His death would be real and because His death was real, so was His resurrection. In other words, if Mary had said No, we would not have Christmas, and without Christmas, there would have been no Good Friday and without Good Friday, Easter would not have existed. One can say that our whole Christian calendar depended on what happened on this Feast.

The whole plan of salvation depended on this single moment. Mary’s “Yes” may seem insignificant but it is the most incredible and most important answer and decision ever made by a creature of God. At that very moment, heaven was wedded to earth and the rest is history. Through the fiat of the Virgin Mary, all of creation participates in this mystery and begins to be transformed.

You see Mary is not only the first Christian and most preeminent member of the Church, she is also a model of the Church, a paradigm for what God wills to accomplish, in and through the Church. Mary is the epitome of the Church, “not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing … holy and without blemish” (Eph. 5:27). As type and foremost member of the Church, Mary stands as the pledge of what Christians shall become in the next life. What Mary is, so we shall be. Because of what Mary did and what God did for Mary, the future is now open to every human: to enter into the glory of heaven.

Memento Mori

Third Sunday of Lent Year C

As much as you believe that the government is out to get your money by using any pretext whatsoever, they do sincerely go out of their way to issue ample warnings to discourage you from engaging in any activity that could get you taxed or penalised. Take for example, the repeated large signs displayed on highways and major thoroughfares reminding you of speed limits and of the impeding speed cameras just up ahead. If the first sign doesn’t get your attention, there’s always two more to follow. I’ve been advised (poorly advised I must say), that you can still get to “speed” until you see the third sign. This is certainly not a piece of advice that any one of you should follow. But should you decide to press down on your accelerator despite three consecutive warnings, be ready for a hefty fine. You deserve it. You’ve been warned. You can’t use ignorance as an excuse to wrangle your way out of this.

Disasters and tragedies are meant to do that. Serve as signposts, warnings, that we must take evasive action before it is too late. Unfortunately, a good tragedy is wasted on so many. Some attempt to benefit from the tragedy suffered by others. Many look at these as fodder for news, rumour-mongering and endless speculations. Still others look at tragedies as evidence of a pernicious and malicious God, or a God who is indifferent to our concerns and suffering or even as proof of the non-existence of God. But what about us Christians. Our Lord provides us with the answer in today’s gospel.

When tragedy strikes, don’t look back and try to discern the reason. Sometimes a postmortem may be necessary to determine the truth and avoid further recurrences but often people are trapped in the past, in a cycle of regret and resentment and not prepared to move forward. Neither should we look around us for someone to blame. Again, assigning responsibility may be needed to hold persons accountable but this may be a futile exercise that only leads to a frustrating dead-end, leaving us with more questions than answers. Our Lord challenges us, however, to look inwards, to make an honest introspection of ourselves, to make an assessment of where we are going and where are we heading if we continue to stay on this course.

Three possible lessons could be derived from this self-examination.

Tragedies and unexpected events serve as “memento mori” - they remind us of our mortality and the brevity of life. Tempus Fugit, Memento Mori – time flies, remember death!

Rather than shaking the foundation of our faith in God, such events should lead us to trust more in God rather than in ourselves and our devices. Only God alone can stave off an impending disaster or provide us with the strength and grace to push through and come out stronger.

Finally, such tragedies serve as a call to repent. In today’s gospel, our Lord refutes all speculations that the people who suffered tragedy deserved it by redirecting the attention of His audience to themselves: “unless you repent you will all perish as they did.” If we were to examine the concept of repentance in their original biblical languages, we would realise that repentance is more than just turning away from our sin but actually a turning to God, a radical reorientation of our lives to God. This is what happened to Moses in the first reading.

The story of Moses juxtaposes two possible paths which we can take when faced with tragedy or a crisis. The first path seems to be the easier and more logical choice because it arises from our basic instinct for survival. Moses fled Egypt after having killed someone and sought refuge in a life of anonymity far from civilisation. But God did not abandon him to his devices. He comes in search of the one who will not shepherd animals but His people and lead them out of slavery to freedom.

Thus, God intervenes in the life of Moses, disrupts his relative peace and creates a crisis in order to shake Moses out of his preferred retirement. For a man who sought to escape a crisis, God now introduces a crisis to redirect Moses in the path which God has chosen for him. We see the obvious tension between Moses’ preferred path and that of God’s in the series of questions and answers we hear in the first reading. Moses attempts to give excuses to evade the call but God would have none of it. Moses cannot plead ignorance. God answers every single objection he raises.

Just in case, that we too may attempt at deflecting whatever barbs the Lord may throw at us by arguing that the experience of Moses has nothing to do with our current modern experiences, St Paul in the second reading brings us up to speed by reminding us that what happened to the Israelites in the Old Testament should also be an important warning given to present day Christians. Less, modern day Christians should imagine themselves insulated from the judgment which God had issued upon their ancestors, St Paul tells us, “All this happened to them as a warning, and it was written down to be a lesson for us who are living at the end of the age. The man who thinks he is safe must be careful that he does not fall.”

When God gives us warnings it’s meant to help us take remedial action and evade our own personal disaster. They are not meant to be threats to scare us into docile submission, but opportunities accorded to us to avert danger because He loves us and doesn’t want us to come into harm’s way, especially when the harm may result in our eternal separation from Him.

That is why our Lord concludes His teachings with the parable of the fig tree in the vineyard. It would seem strange to find a fig tree in the middle of a vineyard instead of a fig tree orchard. What more the vinedresser’s main task is to care for the vines rather than a fig tree, and yet he is tasked to go beyond his job description and entrusted to nurture this tree, a work which seems pointless since the fig tree is barren. But at the behest of the vinedresser who pleads on behalf of the fig tree, the tree is given a respite of another year before it is cut down. Notice that we are not told what happens after that one year. Did it finally bear fruit? We are not sure. This parable is deliberately open-ended – the listener supplies the conclusion in his own life. We have been shown mercy by God, a mercy which we do not deserve. We have been warned but have we heeded the warning or persisted in stubborn old ways?

So, my dear friends, do not be sighing in relief that disaster came to others and you were spared. Neither should you be busy speculating as to who is to be blamed for the tragedy and mishap. Watch out for the “signs,” for God issues many warnings ahead of the danger. Only one thing matters: That disaster – that accident – that unexpected event – it could be you next time – why take a chance . . . no more waiting . . . settle with God today.

Hope will not disappoint

Second Sunday of Lent Year C

The word “hope” is thrown around a lot. “I hope I win the lottery!” “I hope that I do well in my exams!” “I hope that I get a raise.” “I hope Father’s homily will be short!” As you know from experience, most of the time you don’t get what you “hope” for. So, keep hoping!

For most people, optimism and hope are interchangeable, but are they really? The objects of both concepts are worlds apart. Optimism focuses on making this life and this world a better place. Nothing wrong with that, unfortunately the future and the outcomes of our actions are never truly within our control. We want things to be better. We want our problems to be resolved. We want crises to end. We want the best possible future for ourselves and our loved ones. But the best we can accomplish is to have strong aspirations. We can never guarantee their final outcome. The truth is that life is not a genie released from a bottle who can guarantee the fulfilment of all or any of our wishes.

On the other hand, Christian hope is different. It’s not wishing for good things with this life as our goal. The ultimate object of Hope like the other theological virtues of faith and charity, is God. As St Paul assures us in his letter to the Romans, “Hope will not disappoint” (Rom 5:5), precisely because God will not disappoint. Hope does not spring from a person’s mind; it is not snatched out of mid-air. It results from the promises of God. It is grounded in God, the God who does not break His promises, the God who remains faithful to His covenants, the God who surprises us with something greater than we can ever conceive or perceive, the God who will certainly and irrefutably never disappoint. This is what we see in the readings we have heard this week.

In the first reading, we have God promising to give Abram something which seemed humanly impossible to this old and childless man. God uses the stars to birth faith in Abram. Throughout Abram (who was later renamed Abraham) and his wife Sarah’s lives, God brought them into situations that stretched their faith and required the continued exercise of hope and trust in God. Abram had left everything he knew—his extended family, an assurance of wealth and stability in a well-established homeland —to follow a voice that called him by name into the unknown. Like a blindfolded trust-walk, Abram took step by step in the wilderness, moving forward in God’s plan for his life. When he started to question the journey, he simply needed to glance up to the stars to remember the One who showed him the expanse of the heavens and all the stars therein and then promised to make Abram’s descendants into a great nation as numerous as those incalculable stars. St Paul reflecting on this act of faith and hope wrote: “Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations” (Rom 4:18).

Abraham’s faith and hope did not require a denial of reality, nor would such a denial have been healthy. False optimism, on the other hand, does that. How many of us have been miserably disappointed because we have held on to some false optimism that eventually turned out to be a lie or a delusion? But here Abraham acknowledged his own personal and natural limitations (old age and barrenness) without weakening in faith. In some circles, the power of positive thinking and speech receives such an emphasis that people feel they cannot speak honestly about their circumstances. Positive thinking merely denies reality, it cannot reshape it nor create it. That isn’t walking in hope. Hope acknowledges the facts and then looks beyond them to the truth of what Scripture reveals about God, His power, and His ability to fulfill His word.

In the second reading, St Paul reminds us that our true homeland is heaven. Many have forgotten this. Too often today when people talk about “heaven” they mean a purely spiritual destination where spirits float around with God in the clouds. That’s a non-Christian hope. That “heaven” is not what we look forward to. In place of a heaven which means perfect communion with God, man has tried to replace it with surrogates, always looking for the elusive utopia, the earthly paradise of our own making. But any “earthly paradise” which excludes God from its definition, is a false paradise, and eventually would turn out to be a living hell. We need only look towards the “paradise” which both the Nazis and communist regimes attempted to create on earth. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches: “Hope is the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ's promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit” (CCC 1817).

Finally, we have the gospel passage which is St Luke’s account of the Transfiguration. This story appears in all the synoptic gospels and each version is always read on the Second Sunday of Lent. This event takes place as our Lord is proceeding to Jerusalem with His disciples to meet His fate - His atoning death on the cross which will lead to His saving resurrection. The Lord was transfigured so that “the scandal of the Cross might be removed from the hearts of his disciples” (Roman Missal, Preface for the Feast of the Transfiguration), to help them bear the dark moments of His Passion. The Cross and glory are closely united.

The transfiguration was meant to instil hope and strengthen their faith in the face of the Lord’s impending suffering and death. Even witnessing Jesus' tragic death, they were not to lose faith, knowing that suffering and death do not have the final say. That is why the message of the Lord’s transfiguration is so important. It offers us a glimpse into a different world - eternal life, the life of the resurrection, heaven itself. In the presence of suffering, we see our Lord’s glory, we see Moses and Elijah who were deemed dead or at least removed from our human existence, alive in God and we hope that one day we will be with them. This vision offers us hope as we journey through life, knowing that something beautiful awaits us after the trials of this world.

As the ups and downs of life continue, hope remains an important virtue for all of us. Hope can sustain us amidst the difficulties of life. There are times when the enormity of our pains and trials leads us to despair, questioning whether God sees our suffering and what His purpose is in it. But imagine someone showing you a glimpse of your future life beyond this world – a life in the presence of God, reunited with loved ones, free from suffering. Such a vision, however fleeting, can make a profound difference in how you view your earthly life and the manner in which you choose to live it. When our eyes are fixed on the light at the end of the long dark tunnel, even though that light may seem faint and tiny at times, the going gets easier and our strength to press on is renewed. As the Catechism says, hope keeps us from discouragement, sustains us when abandoned, and opens our hearts in expectation of heaven (CCC 1818).

Inwards to Outwards, Downwards to Upwards

First Sunday of Lent Year C

People have often noted that our society has become increasingly Godless or more atheistic. Is this true? There are countless of studies done in the West that seems to support this proposition. When surveyed, the majority of individuals state that they don’t identify with any religion. As Chesterton said, “He who does not believe in God will believe in anything.” Just recently, Lady Gaga when receiving her Grammy award, proudly declared: “music is love,” perhaps a deliberate spin on St John’s declaration that “God is love.”

We may be tempted (forgive the obvious pun) to focus merely on the temptations of Christ on this First Sunday of Lent, but the readings actually take us along another path of reflexion - what do we really believe in - the faith which we profess. You will notice that during the season of Lent and Easter, it is strongly recommended that the longer Nicene Creed is substituted with the shorter Apostles’ Creed. The reason for this substitution is not due to the brevity of the latter since our liturgies of Lent are typically lengthened by the Rites associated with the RCIA. The real reason is that the Apostles’ Creed is the creed used at baptism and the focus of both Lent and Easter is the Sacrament of Initiation, which begins with Baptism.

That is the reason why we have two ancient examples of professions of faith in today’s readings, the first predating Christianity, while the second is one of the earliest Christian creeds.

In the first reading, we have the ancient profession of faith which focuses on what God has done for the Israelites during the Exodus. Moses instructs the people that this creed is to be said by the priests when making an offering on behalf of the people, reminding them of the reason why the sacrifice is made. They should never forget that God is the very reason for their existence, their survival, and their freedom.

In the second reading, St Paul explains that the Christian profession of faith should focus on our belief in Jesus as Lord and what God has done by raising Him from the dead: “If your lips confess that Jesus is Lord and if you believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, then you will be saved. By believing from the heart you are made righteous; by confessing with your lips you are saved.”

Finally, in the gospel we come to realise that creeds are not just meant to be propositional (mere statements of belief) but are meant to be practical (to be lived out). Here we have the three temptations posed by Satan to the Lord. St Luke’s ordering of the temptations is slightly different from Matthew’s version (the second temptation is switched with the third). On the face of it, these three temptations appear to have nothing to do with our profession of faith but are in fact an inversion, a parody of our fundamental faith. Satan, the adversary of God and man, is attempting to lure our Lord into making a mockery of faith by professing a faith which places trust in His own resources and even in the devil, as opposed to placing our trust and faith in God. Before we affirm our faith in God, we must renounce our dependence on Satan.

This is the reason why during the rite of Baptism and the renewal of baptismal promises made at Easter and before one receives the Sacrament of Confirmation, the renunciation of sin is a necessary prelude to the profession of faith and both precedes the administering of the sacrament of baptism and confirmation. Because of the renunciation of sin and profession of faith, which forms one rite, the elect would not be baptised merely passively but will receive this great sacrament with the active resolve to renounce error and hold fast to God.

As I had mentioned earlier, St Luke’s ordering of the temptations differ from that of St Matthew’s. Unlike St Matthew, Luke concludes the list of temptations with the temptation that takes place within the Temple precinct and not on a mountaintop. Here, we witness the audacity of the devil to challenge God’s sovereignty, the ultimate basis of all temptations. These temptations are not merely luring Christ or each of us to place our trust in the cravings of the flesh or the material things of the world. Sin ultimately turns us away from God. The devil is actually selling us this lie - trust in your own desires, trust in your own power, trust in your own strength - because trusting in God is wholly insufficient! It is never enough!

The gospels in setting out these three temptations are trying to juxtapose to the experience of the Israelites in the wilderness with our Lord Jesus’ own experience. The three temptations of Jesus recall the three failures of the Israelites in the desert. Where the devil tempts the Lord to turn stones into bread, we see how the Israelites complained about the lack of food in the desert. Where the devil places our Lord on a mountain and promises Him lordship over the world if only He would bow and worship him, the Israelites questioned the lordship of God and instead worshipped an idol, a bronze calf. Where the devil tempts our Lord to test God, the devil had succeeded in getting the Israelites to test God while they were in the desert.

Satan was tempting Jesus to recapitulate the Israelites' lack of trust in God. Jesus would have nothing of it. In one of the most beautiful lines in Sacred Scripture, the letter to the Hebrews tells us, "We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathise with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet never sinned" (Heb 4:15). The story ends with our Lord’s victory. Temptation does not necessarily lead to sin. If we hold fast to the Lord, and rely on His grace and strength, we will be victorious. Lent is the season when we are called to recapitulate our Lord’s victory over sin rather than the Israelites’ failure. The Church aids us in the battle by recommending the three practices of Lent – fasting, almsgiving and prayer. The practices of Lent are the remedy to the temptations of the Evil One.

At the end of this Lenten season, we will celebrate and profess the mystery of faith - the death and the resurrection of the Lord. At Easter, the priest will invite you to renew your baptismal promises with these words: “Dear brethren, through the Paschal Mystery we have been buried with Christ in Baptism, that we may walk with him in newness of life. And so, let us renew the promises of Holy Baptism, which we once renounced Satan and his works and promised to serve God in the holy Catholic Church.” We turn away from being ‘inwards and downwards’ to being ‘outwards and upwards.’ Having rejected Satan and all his works and empty promises, let us with firm conviction profess our faith publicly in God the Father and His works, in God the Son, Jesus Christ, and His works, and in God the Holy Spirit and His works. Those works, which the Lord has begun in us, will continue in us throughout this season of Lent and beyond until the Lord completes it when we go forth to meet Him as He returns in glory.

A Season of Redemption and Release

Ash Wednesday 2025

Everything about today’s liturgy screams of “penance,” from the ashes which you would be imposing on each other, to the readings which speak of the penitential practices of fasting, almsgiving and prayer. The entire liturgy is so penitential that the Church omits the penitential rite at the beginning of today’s Mass. I guess to a non-Catholic observer, our Catholic “obsession” with penance seems morbidly strange. Why would anyone relish the thought of denying yourself something pleasurable and make a celebration of it?

Penance comes from a Latin word, ‘paenitentia’ which derives from a Latin noun, meaning repentance, and ultimately derives from the Greek noun ποινή (poine). The original Greek word seems more austere than the Latin and English. It’s practically “blood money” – the price you pay as compensation for taking the life of another. For the uninitiated, mortification and penances in the Catholic context do not involve any form of blood-letting. Thank God for that. You do not have to cut your wrist or mutilate yourself or even pay an exorbitant price as compensation for the harm that you have done to another. But someone had to pay the price and someone did. Someone was mutilated for our crime. Someone had to exchange His life for ours, He took the punishment which was our due, He died so that we might live. You know who it is – it’s Jesus Christ.

Because of what the Lord has done for us on the cross, penances are no longer ways of earning God’s forgiveness; nor, for that matter, is going to Confession. Christ has already won that forgiveness for us by means of His sacrifice on the cross. And that forgiveness is made present for us by the work of His Holy Spirit. But if God has already forgiven us, and if Confession makes that forgiveness present to us in concrete, visible, audible ways, what’s the penance for?

Because of what the Lord did for us, the word “penance” now takes on a broader meaning – it now involves “recompense, reward, redemption, or release.” Let us first look at our own experience of human relationships and the dynamics of forgiveness offered to someone who has hurt us. Even if someone forgives you, this by itself doesn’t mean you are yet, in yourself, changed. “Forgiving” is something the other person does; what do I do? Have we internalised that forgiveness? Has it changed us?

Forgiveness opens the door to a changed relationship and a new life. But it would be a mistake for me to think that the forgiveness is the final step in the process when forgiveness is the first step. The next step is for that love to change my heart and set me on a new course in life. Doing penance is about making those first few steps in a new direction. God’s transforming love doesn’t leave me in my sin; its goal is to transform me. The grace of the sacrament works by changing my heart. And if my heart is truly changed, then I need to begin to live differently as well. So, by doing penances, we shouldn’t mistakenly imagine that I’m “earning” God’s love and forgiveness. No, we love, “because God has loved us first.” (1 Jn 4) It is only by accepting God’s love and forgiveness that I can be changed. Penance completes the process of reconciliation.

Another dangerous view of penances is to imagine that penance is an outmoded concept, that we are not expected to make any effort to put things right, since our Lord Jesus has already done it all for us. This suffers from the sin of presumption - presuming that heaven is guaranteed and hell is only a boogie man, a myth, to scare poor Catholics into submission. But both these views of penance are both inaccurate and dangerous. They reduce penances to performative acts – either playing to the crowd or to God.

Today’s readings recover the correct view of penances. Penances are the means by which we right our relations both individually and collectively with God, our neighbour and ourselves. It is seen as the antidote or cure to the three-fold wreck of sin. This three-fold movement is a theme that is revisited again and again in the scripture. We see a disintegration of man’s personal integrity, his relationship with others and with God, at the Fall. This same movement appears again in our Lord’s three-fold temptation – to worship Satan instead of God, to seek approval instead of basing one’s relationship on truth, to prefer material comfort to one’s spiritual good.

In our Lord’s public ministry, the temptations come again and again – He hungers and thirsts, though He is able to make food out of nothing; the people wish to make Him King, and He evades them; the demons proclaim Him as the Holy One of God, and He silences them. This three-fold patterning continues in the Passion: in the agony in the Garden, in the trial before His accusers, in the three-fold denial of Saint Peter, in falling three times according to tradition, and from the cross He rejects the sedation of the wine (material comfort), the physical comfort of passers-by and finally, even experiences the desolation of being forsaken by God.

What does this mean for us? It means that the temptations that assail us on a daily basis are also the means by which God uses to strengthen us. Therefore, the penitential practices which we undertake are not to appease a God who has distanced Himself from our trials and sufferings. We can never accuse God of this because of what our Lord Jesus had to endure. Rather, our penitential practices are meant to unite us with our Lord who redeemed our pains and sufferings through His own. Fasting, almsgiving and prayer are the three means by which we conform ourselves to this three-fold patterning – By fasting we reject bodily comfort, by almsgiving we turn away from temporal power and the need to please the crowds, and by prayer we acknowledge the primacy of God. But in order to do this we should first earnestly seek the assistance of the Sacrament of Penance, confession, lest our spiritual exercise be subverted by pride. Penitential acts, when done without true humility and repentance, will ultimately become performative. And when our acts become performative, God is not honoured, only man.

The goal of Christian penitence is not to pay the ransom, our Lord has already done that. The purpose of our penitence is to participate in the joy of the redeemed, as returning prodigal sons and daughters to receive the cloak and ring and banquet from the One by Whose stripes we have been healed. Through our penances, done with humility and love, we regain what we have lost, we receive healing for what is wounded, we restore what has been damaged by sin. As we begin this Holy Season of Penance, let us be assured of the abundant graces of mercy which our Lord has poured out and continues to pour on us from the cross.

Loving Judgment

Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

One of the most common accusations and attacks heaped by modern folks on Christians, especially Catholics, is that we are too judgmental. What makes this accusation most stinging is that we are rebuked with the assertion that “Jesus never judged anyone.” Is this a valid accusation? How should we respond to it? For many Catholics, the only way to deflect the accusation is to remain silent or adopt a relativistic approach to morality - “there is no right or wrong” or “there is no absolute truth,” or “it depends on how you look at it.”

But perhaps the most common argument to avoid being seen as judgmental is to cite our Lord on this issue. Didn’t our Lord Himself say: “judge not, that you be not judged?” (Matthew 7:1). Or perhaps His most famous warning on the hypocrisy of blind judgmentalism which we just heard in today’s gospel: “Why do you observe the splinter in your brother’s eye and never notice the plank in your own?” It is quite convenient to take this saying out of context but if we continue reading the rest of the text, we realise that our Lord is actually proposing to us a correct way of judging rather than forbidding all forms of judgment.

The first step in making a correct judgment is honest and humble introspection. “Take the plank out of your own eye first, and then you will see clearly enough to take out the splinter that is in your brother’s eye.” One cannot apply two standards: “Rules for Thee but none for me.” If we wish to judge others, we must be ready to judge ourselves, to honestly recognise and call out our own prejudices, biases, hidden agendas, and sinful thoughts and actions.

The second step is that we should avoid making quick, rash and premature judgment, to avoid “judging a book by its cover.” In the first reading, Ben Sira provides us with four illustrations or examples by which we should test someone’s worth by observing their speech. But in the gospel, our Lord while still affirming that one’s speech is an indication of what is in his heart, appears to move beyond speech to other aspects of a person’s behaviour: “every tree can be told by its own fruit.”

Finally, we must make a clear distinction between judging someone’s behaviour and judging the eternal state of his soul. Although as rational beings, we are capable of doing the first and should in certain cases, the latter solely belongs to God. We cannot claim to read the thoughts nor accurately discern the intentions of others. We can draw some conclusions from their actions and behaviours but we cannot claim to be certain of their guilt or innocence purely through speculation. Even courts acknowledge that one is innocent until proven guilty. Likewise, if we have to presume, we should always try to presume the best rather than the worst. Every good Christian should be ready to give a favourable interpretation to the speech, deeds and behaviour of another than to be quick to condemn them.

It is also important for us to distinguish between making a valid moral judgment and being judgmental. It is imperative that we learn to do the former as an exercise of conscience while making sure that we avoid the latter. Pointing out the truth is not judgmental. It is not judgmental to make a moral appraisal of whether a person’s actions are sinful or whether the person is likely culpable for them. Our entire justice system is dependent on this. The refusal to make such judgment would result in the collapse of the whole system and would be a travesty of justice.

Secondly, it is not judgmental to have a negative emotional reaction to what is objectively evil. Thirdly, it is not judgmental to act with prudence when dealing with someone who has cheated us or hurt us. We should not be so gullible as to trust everyone without reservation. We must take the necessary precautions to avoid further harm to oneself or others.

If we still seem hesitant about engaging in judging or correcting others, know that Jesus did it all the time; He showed us what we must do by His own example. When the apostles were afraid that the violent storm would lead to their perishing, Jesus rebuked them, “Why are you terrified, O you of little faith” (Matthew 8:26). This was a judgment. In a pointed attack on the duplicity of the religious leaders, Jesus called them a “brood of vipers” (Matthew 12:34). Another judgment. When saving the woman caught in adultery from being stoned by the religious leaders, Jesus showed her mercy yet told her to “not sin anymore” (John 8:11), recalling her past life and summoning her to a conversion of life. This, too, was a judgment.

If we can spare a soul from sadness, sorrow and despair by judging them and assisting them in converting from sin, then we have shown them great love. To not judge and to turn a blind eye to the grave sins of others is a form of false compassion and sinful neglect. True Good Samaritans take the time and effort to come to the aid of those who are suffering because of the assault of sin.

So, when faced with the immoral behaviour of others, how can we be sure to rightly judge behaviour? In our Lord’s own words, we must start by taking the plank out of our own eyes—by making sure we are doing the best we can to live lives of good example. We must also strive to form our consciences correctly, so we know sin when we see it, even in ourselves. Finally, we must not jump to conclusions about another’s culpability in sin. Take time to know all the facts while always presuming the innocence of the other until proven guilty. Doing all this will help to ensure that our admonitions are seen as the loving actions we intend them to be—meant to help our loved ones live their lives in ways that are pleasing to God. Only then can our efforts be effective in helping to take these ugly specks out of our brothers’ eyes.

Be a little Christ

Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

The lofty demands by the Lord in today’s gospel reading would often elicit this immediate response: “I’m only human.” This is not a humble admission of one’s fallibility or inability to live up to the ideals of Christian living, but often used as an excuse that such demands are only meant for angels and the saints, and beyond the reach of mere mortals like us. When we hide behind the label of being “human”, our nature is not seen as a gift but rather as a deficit. We forgot that we are made in the image and likeness of a loving God who only wants what’s best for us and to be our best, not our worst.

We find in the course of salvation history and the pages of the Bible, individuals, families and nations called, chosen and sent by God on His mission not because of their good genes, immaculate backgrounds, exceptional talents or heroic prowess. In fact, most of these figures appear to be failures and losers, or as my bishop is fond of saying, they are members of “the least, the little, the lost and the last.” The reason for such seemingly defective candidates directs the spotlight away from them and points it glaringly at the One who is the real hero and protagonist of the story - God. Scripture is not the revelation that exposes the gradual evolution of man into some sort of Ubermensch (Superman), but rather the revelation of a God who qualifies, empowers and sanctifies the unqualified weak sinner.

In the first reading, we are given a beautiful portrayal of young David before his ascension to the throne. In his loyalty to God, he spares the life of his king who had hunted him and who had threatened to kill him out of envy. As magnanimous as David may be, epitomising the virtue of compassion and offering forgiveness to his enemy as the Lord exhorts in the gospel, David proves to be a weak man and a great sinner later in life. As much as he is seen as a national hero and in fact, the gold standard of kings, David remains a weak and imperfect man. He would later be found guilty of the most egregious crimes of adultery and murder. The Messiah is prophesied to be of his lineage and it is this lineage and link to David which would serve to validate and legitimise the office of the Messiah. But the gospels would soon reveal that it is the Messiah, Jesus Himself, who would validate His ancestor.

St Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians also draws a contrast between the first Adam and the second or last Adam, who is Jesus Christ. The contrast could not be starker. Christ is the founder of the new humanity, just as Adam is the founder of fallen humanity. The obedience of Christ, the Second Adam, undoes the disobedience of the first Adam. Just before this passage Paul has explained that in the resurrection, we will all be changed, and transformed into the heavenly sphere, in the image of the Risen Christ. What was weak will be strong with the strength of God, what was corruptible will be incorruptible with the incorruptibility of God, what was contemptible will be glorious with the glory of God. So, a Christian’s goal is not just to aspire to be the best and most perfect man (“Adam” means “man”) but rather our goal should be to imitate and be another Christ. That is why we are called “Christians.” “Christian” means “a little Christ.”

The gospel provides us with one of the most important aspects of Christ which we must imitate - His mercy and compassion. The problem is that one of the victims of our banal culture is compassion. Compassion is a precarious word, often used interchangeably with pity and sympathy. The word “pity” means a feeling of sadness or fear at the unavoidable lot of another, either deserved or undeserved. But the message we hear in today's gospel is entirely different. Being a bleeding heart, having pity and sympathy for others just doesn’t cut it. It must go much deeper: Our Lord says, "Be compassionate as your Father is compassionate."

So that compassion may not descend into shallow banality, we look to Jesus who provides us with a radically new benchmark. In fact, every example that He cites in today’s passage is something which the Lord Himself had done, especially during His Passion. He forgave His enemies who had delivered Him to His executors right at the moment of His death on the cross. He was mocked, slapped, humiliated and tortured but did not retaliate. He was stripped of His clothes and then made to walk a mile and beyond to the place of His execution. Our Lord demonstrates not only through His teaching, His miracles, His public ministry, the shape and content of compassion, but most certainly through His passion and death.

This is what compassion entails. From the Latin root, the word literally means to “suffer with” and this is what our Lord, our true Hero did for us. That means sharing our goals, our fears, our intentions, our pains and our suffering. One can't even begin to speak of compassion unless one is prepared to pay the price for it, an often expensive price that may even entail sacrificing our personal happiness and well-being, and finally our entire life. So, compassion is never of the saccharine kind. It bears within itself the precious cargo of patience, humility, and growth in the conforming of our will to God's will, to the will of Jesus Christ, our friend. To become more like Him is to become more, not less, human. Only in this way, as the whole of our being takes on the qualities of truth and righteousness, is love and compassion true. Its inner demand always includes suffering. At a deep level, the essence of love, the essence of genuine compassion, means self-abandonment, self-giving, it bears within itself the sign of the cross.

How do we grow in sacrificial love and compassion? We do this by uniting our own sufferings with His, dying to our selfish will, and rising to new life in Christ through humility and obedience to His will. So by declaring that “we are only human” is not a resignation to our weak fallen nature, an excuse to abandon what is difficult, but should be testimony that we wish to be “modelled after the heavenly man,” Jesus, whom St Paul so proudly declared. In embracing our humanity, we must also enter into solidarity with fellow humans. We are all united by our humanity and because of that we are also united by our fallen nature and need for salvation. The good news is that we are also united by grace, because the One who has come to save us chose to unite with us so deeply that "He became sin who knew no sin” (2 Cor 5:21).

Each of us can resolve to imitate Christ in our own lives, by reaching out in love and compassion to assist and comfort others who are suffering. At times this can be relatively easy, such as simply spending time with a friend who is suffering with a problem and may need someone to listen. At other times the witnessing of suffering may require much greater effort, such as when a loved one is dying from a painful illness. It would mean embracing the pain, the suffering, the frustration and the anger of the friend. And even in the face of the greatest offence which we had suffered at the hands of this person, we should also acknowledge - “he is only human” - and at least remember to treat others as how we wish to be treated in return. If we desire mercy, show mercy!

The Cursed and the Blessed

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

What does a world without trust look like? If subjects no longer trust politicians and their leaders, our society would descend into chaotic anarchy. If consumers no longer trust that their data and money can be safeguarded, then the modern financial system could collapse. If litigants no longer trust the legal and judicial system, justice would be an elusive illusion. Marriages will breakdown, families will divide and communities would be perpetually splintered. Trust is the base layer of all human relationships. Without trust, there can be no value exchange, no community, no intimacy. It would seem that Confucius was right when he declared: “without trust we cannot stand.”

And yet, our Lord begins His soliloquy in the first reading with these words: “A curse on the man who puts his trust in man, who relies on things of flesh, whose heart turns from the Lord. He is like dry scrub in the wastelands…” Is God calling us to abandon trusting humans altogether? Is He advocating that we should be perpetually weary of the deceit and untrustworthiness of others? I believe reading the passage in its entirety will help us to understand these troubling and challenging words.

If we were to go to the beginning of this chapter in the Book of Jeremiah, which has not been included in our lectionary selection, the prophet correctly observes that “sin is engraved with an iron tool, inscribed with a flint point on the tablet of their hearts.” That hardened sin is why God is so harsh in His condemnation of Israel and it is sin which has rendered the heart “deceitful above all things and beyond cure.” So, what the Lord is warning us is to distrust sin which causes man to be deceitful. The problem with marriage that results in divorce is not the institution of marriage itself nor due to some inherent defect of the partners to the marriage, but sin which corrupts the heart and leads us to break covenant with each other. Sin makes the human heart inherently self-centered, unable to see itself accurately and correct itself.

On the other hand, the man who places his trust in God will not be disappointed or as the text of Jeremiah assures us, he will be “blessed.” The reason for this is that God is not only truthful, He is truth, and therefore, ever faithful, and borrowing the language of a marriage covenant, He is true to us in good times as well as in bad, in sickness and health, and unlike the partners to marriage, even death cannot separate us from the love of God. At the end of the day, our Lord is not advising us to treat every person with suspicion. No relationship can be sustained and no society can survive without learning to trust others. But trusting in others requires faith in someone far greater than them. We lay our hearts on the line knowing God is the only one who ultimately keeps them.

There is no greater proof of this proposition than the Catholic Church. Christ founded His Church on the foundation of weak men and where is the Church today? She remains standing despite centuries of persecution, ostracisation, schisms, heresies and bad shepherds. On the other hand, look at the empires, kingdoms and governments built by strong, talented and charismatic men. Where are they now? Most are in the dust and reduced to the pages of history books. One thing is true, our trust in God would not disappoint because God will not fail us. If men can betray us, break their promises to us, disappoint us with their failures, God will never do so. He can’t. It’s against His very nature. This is why St Paul can declare that “hope does not disappoint” (Rom 5:5), because that hope is founded on a God who will not disappoint!

So, we can now understand the simple binary picture painted in both the first reading as well as in the gospel, where our Lord Jesus sets out Luke’s version of the beatitudes matched by a set of woes or curses. Those whose hearts turn away from the Lord are cursed and those whose hearts trust the Lord are blessed. It’s as simple as that. There are just two kinds of people in the world—the cursed and the blessed—and the difference is whom they trust. In a world filled with differences and divided by those differences, that is a revelation. It’s not black or white, rich or poor, Jew or Gentile, male or female, old or young that ultimately matters. It is where the heart of each person places their trust.

If you still can’t see the difference in this morally ambiguous world of ours, Jeremiah sets it out in stark contrast. He describes what being “cursed” means with an image of a bush in the desert, where there is no steady water supply. Such a person will live on the edge of existence, always thirsty for more water, always on the verge of dying, so that when water finally comes in the form of an occasional thunderstorm, it won’t lead to a good harvest or abundance. Such a person will survive, but just barely. Life will be parched and lonely and unfruitful at its core.

And then Jeremiah describes what “blessed” means with the image of a tree planted by a stream that never dries up. Because its roots are sunk deep in the “spring of living water,” the person who trusts in the Lord does “not fear when heat comes,” “in a year of drought.” His life is always verdant, and he continually bears fruit. So, he does not live in fear and worry. Life is abundant for the person whose heart trusts in the Lord, rather than in human beings.

So, how do we grow in trusting God rather than in ourselves and our resources? The answer is prayer. When man works man works but when man prays, God works. The self-sufficient man does not pray because he sees no need for prayer. The mystic and saint, Padre Pio puts it in the simplest terms: “Pray persistently, daily, and with love. Pray in the face of every challenge, every crisis, every failure, every cross. Pray, and hope, and don't worry, and by the power of the Holy Spirit, we shall renew the face of the earth.” Don’t let prayer be your last resort when all else fails. Begin every venture, every decision, every challenge with prayer. Do not just do your best and let God do the rest. Let God be the fuel, the guide, the inspiration and the object of everything you do.

To sum it, let us listen to the words of this spiritual author, Thomas a Kempis who gave us this classic literature on spirituality, The Imitation of Christ:

“Vain is the man who puts his trust in men, in created things.
Do not be ashamed to serve others for the love of Jesus Christ and to seem poor in this world. Do not be self-sufficient but place your trust in God. Do what lies in your power and God will aid your good will. Put no trust in your own learning nor in the cunning of any man, but rather in the grace of God Who helps the humble and humbles the proud.”

Here I am, send me

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

There is a tendency among many to be drawn to certain charismatic preachers and leaders. Can people be faulted for this? Who doesn’t want to be inspired or motivated or moved to tears or action? And whether one wishes to admit it or not, who doesn’t want to be entertained by amusing anecdotes and colourful illustrations? That is why crowds would throng to a rally or a preached mission whenever a popular and dynamic preacher is in town. But the readings which we hear this Sunday provide us with an important and necessary corrective - the gospel is always greater than its greatest proclaimers. An important truth that preachers, like me, should remember and need. “For what we preach is not ourselves,” wrote St Paul to the Corinthians, “but Jesus Christ as Lord” (2 Cor. 4:5).

The prophets of old like Isaiah and the great missionary apostles like St Paul and St Peter, were anything than rockstar-like celebrities of the faith. The quest for celebrity-like fame can actually be a distraction from the work of preaching the gospel. The habit of seeking ever-larger audiences through new technologies always runs the risk of trivialising the message, fueling the culture of celebrity, and losing sight of the everyday work of evangelisation.

In all three examples that are offered by today’s readings - Isaiah in the first reading, St Paul in the second and St Peter in the gospel - there is a keen awareness of their own personal unworthiness. Isaiah protests that he is unworthy to speak God’s words because he is a man of unclean lips. Paul claims that he is the “least among the apostles” and that he “hardly deserve the name apostle.” When Simon Peter discovered the enormity of what he has just witnessed, the Lord performing a miracle before his own eyes, he pleaded, “Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man.” None of these men stated a claim that they were entitled to the right of proclaiming the Word of God. On the contrary, all three clearly admitted their own disqualification.

Many of us would have similar sentiments and that is the reason why so many Catholics fail to undertake the work of sharing the good news with others. If you have ever felt that you were not good enough for God or the work He wishes to entrust to you, know this - you are in good company - because that’s just how Isaiah, St Paul, and St Peter felt when God called them.

Feeling inadequate before God is certainly understandable. In a way, this isn’t wrong. It’s a sign of humility to recognise our inadequacy before God. After all, God is God! He is perfectly good, perfectly righteous, and perfectly pure. We are none of those things. When we imagine ourselves before a being of such power and purity, we can’t help but feel small and unworthy by comparison. Yet, despite our unworthiness God continues to call us. Don’t take my word for it. Take God’s Word. He still chose Isaiah and Peter and Paul, despite their protestations of being unworthy. If it takes humility to recognise that we are unworthy, it takes greater humility to admit that it’s not about us! It’s all about God - the sovereignty of God and the freedom He exercises in choosing who He pleases even if the world or the person thinks nothing of it. It would be arrogance for us to question God’s choice.

This is why in our human frailty, we cannot just merely depend on our abilities and resources. We have abilities and we do have resources but we also have our limitations. But God supplements these with His abundant grace. This is what St Paul declared in the second reading: “I am the least of the apostles; in fact, since I persecuted the Church of God, I hardly deserve the name apostle; but by God’s grace that is what I am, and the grace that he gave me has not been fruitless.” Like Paul before his conversion, many of us continue to live in the delusion that we are self-made, that we have to chart our own destiny, orchestrate our own achievements, work hard to achieve our goals. But there is also grace that shapes and perfects us and as Paul so rightly noted, that it is by “God’s grace that is what I am.”

This is also what Peter experienced in the gospel. The dawn of his new life marked by the success which could only be brought on by the Lord’s miraculous assistance had to come after a long night of struggling and repeated failure. Peter would continue to experience this pattern in his own life. Whenever he depended solely on his bravado, his personal leadership skills, his speaking out of turn and jumping the gun, he would meet with failure and disappointment. Tradition tells us that this pattern continues even after the Lord had ascended and he had received the mantle of leadership and the gift of the Holy Spirit. But despite his shortcomings and failings, and in spite of it, our Lord would continue to return to him, renewing his election and commission. Peter too can declare with Paul that the Lord’s “grace that is what I am.”

Now many of us would argue that unlike Isaiah, we were not given a vision of heaven, or like Peter and Paul, called by the Lord personally to be His apostles. How does the Lord qualify us who are unqualified? The answer is simple and yet profound. The Lord continues to call and He continues to act and He continues to pour out His graces through the Church, especially through the sacraments. All of the sacraments are tangible means by which God imparts His intangible grace to us. Baptism is that first sacrament that binds us to Christ, Penance is the sacrament that restores us to union with Him when we have strayed, the Eucharist is what He chooses to sustain us with His own body and blood. That is why when people avoid the sacraments, they do not know what they are missing out. Just like the air we breathe is necessary for our survival, the grace we receive through the sacraments is necessary for our salvation. Without grace, we will perish.

But for all our dependence on grace, does it mean that we just sit back and do nothing? We are not Calvinist Protestants who hold on to the erroneous sola that only grace alone saves. St Paul was the greatest evangeliser the world has ever known, and he certainly worked hard at it. But he was only able to succeed by relying on God’s grace. This is the key: we can’t do God’s work on our own. Nor can we just sit back and be lazy Christians, relying on God to do all the work. The truth lies in the middle: we need to put forth effort, because God wants to work through us and in us, our will cooperating with His. God knows exactly what you are capable of. He knows exactly how strong you are, and how weak you are. He knows your knowledge and your ignorance. He knows your capacities and your limitations. And He says, my grace is sufficient for you (2 Cor 2:19). We just need to trust that the God who calls us will provide whatever grace is needed to answer that call. All we need to do is say, like Isaiah, “Here I am” (Is 6:8).

There is a moment that comes at every Mass, just before we receive Communion. The priest holds the consecrated host up before us and proclaims, “Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the Supper of the Lamb.” At that moment, like Isaiah and St. Peter, we find ourselves in the presence of divinity. We stand before perfect goodness. And if we feel unworthy before that presence… let us pray with earnestness and complete sincerity, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.” We acknowledge our sins and trust God to forgive us. We acknowledge our weakness and trust God to strengthen us. We have faith that God will accomplish His will through us and in humility we say, “Here I am; send me.”

The Light which enlightens

Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

Although today’s feast is clearly not part of the Christmas season, it does complete the Christmas cycle. I like to call it “the icing on the cake.” It is considered a Christmas feast because we are still contemplating the Lord Jesus as an infant rather than as an adolescent or an adult. Today’s feast usurps the Sunday liturgy, which is a rare thing in the first place but prescribed by the rubrics. Usually, other feasts have to give way to the Sunday liturgy which ranks much higher, but not today. In other years, where this feast is celebrated ideally early in the morning or in the evening for obvious aesthetic reasons, the Mass begins with the blessing of candles followed by a candlelight procession into the Church. Apart from the evening anticipated Mass, we have been deprived of the benefit of witnessing the most apparent feature of this liturgy, which you can deduce from the old name for today’s feast - Candlemas – or the Mass of the candles. Today is the Church’s Festival of Lights.

If you had not come for the service in the evening, you would have missed out on one of the major highlights of today’s feast – the candlelight procession, as the priest and the congregation enters the Church. This procession takes on a greater significance when we understand the history of this feast. According to the erudite Pope Benedict XVI, today’s feast supplanted an early rowdy pagan celebration which also featured a procession: “the pagan world’s wild cry for purification, liberation, deliverance from dark powers, meets the “light to enlighten the Gentiles,” the mild and humble light of Jesus Christ. The failing (and yet still active) aeon of a foul, chaotic enslaved and enslaving world encounters the purifying power of the Christian message.”

But in order to appreciate the wonder of the light, our story begins in darkness. Even though it is hard to appreciate the interplay of shadow and light in broad daylight, we can understand why it is important to have darkness in order to discern the importance of light. Light makes no sense without the darkness. In fact, shadow and light are the reality of our lives and our world.

As promised, our reflexion must begin with a meditation of darkness. Darkness is not just the absence of light. It has come to be synonymous with all that seems “negative” and “bad.” We recognise the darkness of the world around us – death, violence, selfishness, injustice and sin. We fear both the darkness and yet seem attracted to it. Sometimes we hide in the darkness avoiding the light because of our shame or guilt. There is also the darkness of uncertainty, especially about our future. There is a sense of powerlessness and life seems out of control. Sometimes we experience the darkness of ignorance and confusion.

But as Simeon would discover, there is a light which no darkness can keep out, there is a light which the darkness cannot defeat, there is a light which persist to shine in the darkness. No matter how large the shadows or how dark the night, the light is still present.

Something happens when we encounter the light. There is power in this light. It is a light which conquers the darkness. Wherever there is the least bit of light, darkness is forced to flee. You can be in the darkest place imaginable and just a tiny match, when lit, has the power to drive away all that black, oppressive darkness. Without light, our world would be dark and it would be drab. There would be no colour. But with light, a dreary world becomes brighter, and even the coldest chill will thaw. The light also gives life and thus is the enemy of death. God uses the light of our witness and testimony to warm the dead sinner’s heart and to draw them to Jesus for salvation. And then there is the Light which brings order to chaos – a Light which sets everything right, in its proper place and order.

But that Light, that Illumination, also reveals. It reveals hope, especially in this Jubilee Year of Hope – the hope that the night of darkness will not last for ever. Hope is sure to come with the dawning light. It reveals mercy and forgiveness in the shadows of guilt and shame, presence and courage in the night of fear, compassion and hope in the black holes of sorrow and loss, a way forward in the blindness of ignorance and confusion, and life in the darkness of death. The flame of God’s love consumes the darkness, fills us, and frees us to go in peace, just as God promised.

But every revelation is also a bittersweet reality. Truth can be painful. God’s salvation will be costly, not only for Jesus, but also for those who love Him. So, instead of offering Mary congratulations on her fine Son, Simeon prophesies that a “sword shall pierce” Mary’s heart. This prophecy does not only reveal the suffering which the mother must endure but also provides a glimpse of what is to become of the Son. In the Light which enlightens, we see the silhouette of the cross. But it is in the cross, that Christians will behold their brightest light – the light of the resurrection, God’s final victory over death, sin and darkness! And that is God’s promise to us on Candlemas Day: that whatever we’re going through, light and hope will win out in the end.

Preach the Complete Truth

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

This passage has often been cited as a model for preachers to keep their sermons short and sweet. If you had paid attention to the last line of the passage, many have claimed that this is indeed the shortest sermon ever delivered: “This text is being fulfilled today even as you listen.” But such a claim is grossly inaccurate and in fact, quite mischievous. It is clear that when we read the rest of the text in this pericope, our Lord has much more to say. And it would be stretching it to see how our Lord won the approval of the audience and caused them to be “astonished by the gracious words that came from His lips,” with just this one liner. The “gracious words” here, would obviously point to other things which our Lord said, as evidenced by our Lord’s use of two Old Testament illustrations if you read the rest of the following verses, which are not included in our lectionary selection.

Pope Francis has often reiterated his preference for brevity in preaching, which in his opinion, should not exceed 10 minutes. By the number of likes and retweets we see in social media whenever the pontiff’s advice on succinct preaching is reported, we get the impression that many Catholics are certainly in support of this guidance and show us how little our well-thought-out homilies are appreciated by the masses.

But should our homilies be solely measured by their length? It is good to note that our Lord was not known for the brevity of His Sermons. We have both the Sermon on the Mount (St Matthew’s Gospel), which stretches across three chapters, and the parallel albeit shorter Sermon on the Plain (St Luke’s version), as proof that our Lord did deliver lengthy sermons when necessary. His lengthy discourses in the Fourth Gospel are further evidence of this point.

In short, it is always much more effective if you can say things in a far more efficient way with less verbosity, but brevity can never be the sole or the most important criterion. In fact, I dare say that our generation suffers more from a lack of hearing the Word than it does from over-hearing it. Our problem is not “too much” of the Word of God” but rather “too little.” Our generation can sit through a two-hour or sometimes three-hour movie, a student can endure an hour-long lecture involving complex ideas, a young person can be totally engrossed in his gaming for hours on end without requiring any break, and yet, find a ten to fifteen minutes homily something beyond endurance.

A good homily is never to be measured by its brevity or entertainment quality but by how it corresponds with God’s agenda as in the case of our Lord’s preaching in today’s passage. Our Lord was not just spewing nice platitudes and entertaining anecdotes. He was setting out not His own agenda but God’s programme for His ministry which He faithfully desired to adhere to. So how long should a sermon or homily take? As long as it is necessary to convey what God wishes to say to His people, and no clock is going to put a cap on that.

Returning to our gospel passage and our Lord’s supposed short 10 seconds sermon, it is good to remember who Jesus is, which no one else can claim to be. It would seem from the brevity of our Lord’s sermon that the words of the prophet Isaiah which our Lord had just read were sufficient and our Lord only needed to declare that if His congregation wished to understand its meaning, they only had to look at Him. Our Lord, the Word Enfleshed, is the living fulfilment of that message. So, our Lord has the sole privilege of delivering the shortest 10 seconds homily, only because He is the Word. The rest of us poor preachers need more time to get the message across, precisely because we are not the Word, merely its servants.

The homily provides an unmatched opportunity for us priests to remind or inform our congregation what exactly we believe, and why. It is said that St Dominic often reminded his confreres in the Order of Preachers that they only had two tasks – to speak with God or to speak about God. Notice what’s missing from this formula? The homily is not meant for the priest to speak about himself. It is not meant to entertain, to provide practical self-help or adapt to your comfort level. It is a chance for us to provide a clear, unafraid, proclamation of the fullness of the Truths taught by the Scriptures and the Church which guards the deposit of faith. We may or may not need 30 minutes to achieve that, but we do need to make sure that what is said is distinctively and challengingly Catholic.

Just before Christmas last year, Elon Musk tweeted a photo of two piles of documents which were meant to be passed by the US Congress to ensure that their government did not shut down. One was a voluminous bill with thousands of pages and the second was just a thin tiny fraction of the former with just over one hundred pages. The message of the juxtaposition was clear and simple. Smaller, thinner, less is better. A Catholic apologist affixed his own commentary to the picture. The thicker pile represented the deposit of faith of the Catholic Church while the vastly thinner pile represented the Protestant watered down version. When it comes to matters of faith, the Word of God, more is always far superior than lesser.

On this Sunday of the Word of God, let us make it our resolution to be read more, immerse ourselves deeper, and listen more attentively to the Word of God. Lesser isn’t better. In fact, we may spiritually die from being impoverished in reading and hearing the Word of God being proclaimed and preached. Instead of demanding for shortcuts and soundbites, let us be hungry for the full and complete Truth. God intended to give us solid food, let’s not settle for baby’s mushy gruel. He wants to reveal to us the complete Truth, let’s not be satisfied with partial truths. There will always be depths of God’s revelation that needs to be plunged, mysteries that need to be explored, theological understanding that could be better expounded. Likewise, in sharing the Catholic faith with others, we should always resist the temptation of dumbing-down the message of Christ. People are hungering for the complete Truth, don’t give them sound bites. It’s either the complete thing that we must demand for or it’s a fake.