Stay connected to Christ

Seventh Sunday of Easter Year A

In the first reading, we have the account from Acts of how the disciples returned to the city of Jerusalem where they were instructed by the angels to do so after having witnessed our Lord ascend to the heavens. The distance from the Mount of Olives where our Lord departed to the city was described as a short distance, “no more than a Sabbath walk.” This was the maximum distance that one could walk on a Sabbath to ensure that one would not violate the Sabbath prohibition against “working”. To technically bypass this restriction, Jewish law allows for an eruv, a boundary marked with wire that extends the area considered "home," allowing for a greater, or more flexible, walking distance. If you’ve been to the Hasidic Jewish neighbourhood in New York City, you will see this wire hanging around the area. Don’t be mistaken, it’s not the electric or telephone lines. It’s the “eruv”.

This mention of the Sabbath walking restriction seems unnecessary especially when the Ascension most likely happened on a Thursday. Interestingly, it was also on a Thursday, Holy Thursday to be specific, that Jesus marched out to the Mount of Olives, to the Garden of Gethsemane which lay at the foot of this hill, after He had celebrated the Last Supper with His disciples. Now after His Ascension, they return to the very room where the Last Supper was celebrated to continue their vigil, their nine days novena awaiting the descent of the Holy Spirit. Coincidence or Déjà vu or Providence? I would prefer to think of it as the last.

This may explain why the Lectionary takes us back to the scene of the Last Supper. We can imagine that as the disciples and Mary return to the Upper Room, they would have recalled memories of our Lord and His teachings. One of those that would have come to mind would be what we have heard a while ago. Our Lord, who has yet to meet His passion and experience the resurrection, speaks from eternity, from beyond the grave. In Jesus’ sacred, saving hour, a great liturgy of love emerges from the poetry of this prayer. Through His word and in the sacred bread of His body, all are drawn toward the Father to receive life and glory. A major biblical motif, “glory” (kabod) was used in the Old Testament to illustrate God’s goodness in providing for His people in the wilderness; for example God’s presence in the pillar of fire and cloud was called “glory”; God’s saving intervention was described in terms of manifesting His “glory,” and God’s presence as He alighted on the Tent of Meeting, also referred to His “glory.”

Interestingly, the Sabbath walk we had discussed earlier was also related to the Tent of Meeting where the Ark of the covenant was kept and the glory of God had descended. The Israelites were meant to keep close to it because God was their shield, their Rock, and their Shepherd. They were meant to keep within the “eruv” boundaries surrounding the Tabernacle. To wander off would mean disaster – they would be lost or even worst, fall prey to wild animals or their enemies who wanted nothing more than to destroy them. And so, whenever the glory of God lifted from the Tent, the Israelites would break camp and follow – not any sooner or later.

But the glory of God had already departed from the Temple as the prophet Ezekiel had prophesied and the Ark of the covenant was lost after the raid of the Babylonians. The great Temple of Jerusalem was now just an ostentatious husk, beautiful on the outside but empty within. So, the Temple could no longer serve as the heart of the “eruv”, the sacred perimeter. The core had shifted. Jesus, the New Temple, the true abode of the “glory” of God. Where ever our Lord is, so is this sacred perimeter marked and demarcated.

So, what did Jesus mean when He spoke of the hour of entering into His “glory”? Such “glory” is certainly not equivalent to what man often desires - popularity, public acceptance, praises and a good name. Here lies the divine paradox of the gospel - when Jesus spoke of His own glory He was speaking about the cross. Throughout the gospel of John, Jesus and His ministry was portrayed as a progressive process of glorification, a process of preparation for the ultimate “sign” – the crucifixion, the climax of salvation history.

St Peter must have finally understood the connection between glory and the cross after several failed attempts. At the time of his first letter, the early Christian communities were already experiencing persecution and suffering for their faith. The cross was no longer theoretical or symbolic, it was very real. And yet in today’s second reading, St Peter writes with great confidence and as a means of encouraging his fellow Christians: “If you can have some share in the sufferings of Christ, be glad, because you will enjoy a much greater gladness when his glory is revealed. It is a blessing for you when they insult you for bearing the name of Christ, because it means that you have the Spirit of glory, the Spirit of God resting on you.”

The other radical twist introduced in today’s passage is that Jesus speaks of eternal life not as some future or eschatological reality, something which you experience only after death. On the contrary, one can experience eternal life in the here and now. According to Jesus, eternal life is “to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent”. To know connotes the intimacy of an immediate experience rather than cognitive knowledge. Such as, my family knows the real me! Therefore, “to know” God, means to be called into an intimate relationship with the Father, like the one that Jesus the Son already enjoyed. This provides another beautiful layer to our understanding of Jesus’ hour of glory. In other words, knowledge of and intimate participation with Jesus in His hour, in His glory, or in the words of St Peter, sharing in the sufferings of Christ, one can already taste eternal life here and now.

Christian faith continues to present a different picture of glory, one which requires us to see the world, its trials and tribulations, through the lenses of eternity. It calls the world to transcendence, to appreciate once again the need for beauty, goodness, and truth. It challenges us to stay near to Christ and His cross, and we should not walk too far away from it or risk losing His protection and be lost. But if this message is to be heard, there must be Christians who are disciples that are willing to live out the message of today’s gospel. This means living a life rooted in Christ and yet in the world that already goes beyond it and resists being reduced to its conventions. And it is intrinsic to this way of life that it be lived not merely by isolated individuals, but by a community. Thus, the essential need for our BECs, our Basic Ecclesial Communities, to bear witness to the gospel message. The community is our “eruv” where we ensure that we remain rooted in Christ, remain connected to Him. Where we reject community living, we in fact reject the gospel, and we become anti-witnesses of its message. To walk beyond the boundaries of the Church is to walk away from our Lord, to turn our backs on Him, to turn our backs on salvation.

A Call to Action

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord Year A

It’s Ascension Thursday and we would expect to hear the account of the Ascension in the gospel. But this account is missing from St Matthew’s gospel which ends with our Lord summoning His disciples to an unnamed mountain in Galilee where He commissions them to “make disciples of all the nations; baptise them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands” He had given them. Both content and location defer sharply from Luke’s account of the Ascension which takes place on the Mount of Olives, just outside Jerusalem. This seeming discrepancy has less to do with a contradiction or an error than it must possibly do with two different events. The Great Commission, as many would call the episode described in today’s passage, would have taken place on a hill (or borrowing scriptural language of embellishment, a “mountain”) in Galilee, whereas the Ascension as described in the gospel of St Luke and the Acts of the Apostles, took place outside Jerusalem on the Mount of Olives.

Scholars and theologians suggest several reasons why Matthew chose to end his gospel this way instead of referring to the Ascension as do St Luke and the longer ending of St Mark’s gospel.

Firstly, in Matthew’s Gospel, the evangelist begins with Jesus being called "Emmanuel" (God with us) and the gospel then ends with the Lord’s promise "I am with you always" which form a pair of literary bookends (an inclusio and conclusio), emphasising that the Lord remains spiritually present with His Church despite His physical departure. The Ascension marks the completion of the Lord’s earthly mission. He came to teach, to heal, to suffer, die and rise again. After His resurrection, His final act was to return to the Father. This signals that His saving work was done. Mission accomplished! Yes and no. Although His work of salvation is complete and He is no longer present with us physically until His return in glory at the end of the ages, He continues to remain with us sacramentally through the Eucharist and continues to act in and through His Church, His Mystical Body on earth - teaching us, guiding us, and sanctifying us.

A second reason for St Matthew’s omission of the account of the Ascension is that his gospel is primarily written for a Jewish audience and so Matthew emphasises Jesus as the prophesied and long-awaited Messiah and Davidic King. So, the titles of “Messiah,” “the Christ Anointed) of God” and “Son of David” are recurring leitmotifs in the storyline as a gradual revelation of His identity. The ending establishes His universal authority over all nations rather than focusing on the mechanics of His departure. We are invited to not only look upwards in the direction which He has ascended but to look around to the full expanse of His earthly domain where He has made us His stewards and emissaries with a specific duty of making disciples and Christians: “Go, therefore, make disciples of all the nations; baptise them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands I gave you.” The Feast of the Ascension, therefore, speaks of two missions, the completion of our Lord’s earthly mission and ministry but now also the beginning of the Church, our own mission to spread the gospel to the ends of the earth.

In Eastern iconography, we witness this twofold dynamics. The icon of the Ascension is divided into three sections. In the upper part, we have the ascending or ascended Lord in all His divine glory and below we have the disciples with Mary in their midst. The apostles are shown below in various states of confusion, motion, and conversation, indicating their transition from spectators to missionaries, only Mary remains peacefully calm and poised in a position of prayer. But between these two obvious focal points, we have two angels. The gestures of their hands tell a grand story. The angels point toward Christ while also addressing the disciples, “Why are you men from Galilee standing here looking into the sky?” (Acts 1:11). This gesture acts as a call to action—directing the disciples to stop simply gawking and to start walking, to cease from gazing into an empty sky because the Lord has already departed and to begin the mission to spread His gospel to the ends of the earth as He had instructed.

So, the Ascension by no means concludes the story of salvation as how the curtain falls or the end credits to a movie marks its end. When the story ends, the audience departs in silence or whispers their reviews of what they had witnessed. Not so in the case of the Ascension. In fact, today reminds us that we have been swept into the storyline of our Lord, a story that does not end until He returns in glory. There’s work to be done. Hearts to be touched. Wounds to be bandaged. Souls to be saved. We are our Lord’s proxies. We are His ambassadors. We are His hands and His feet. When people see us, they should see the Risen Lord, despite all our foibles and limitations. We are what we claim to be - “Christians” - a little Christ. That is why even though He is ascended, He is not absent. In fact, His presence has become all the more pervading through us, the Church and the Sacraments.

Finally, today’s feast is not just about a recollection of the story of how the Lord ascended to heaven, which is a nice thing to know, nor that we have been entrusted with a mission, which is something challenging if we truly grasped it. Today’s feast also provides us with the ultimate reason for our hope. Through our Lord’s Ascension, we know for certain that the gates of heaven are opened and He awaits to welcome us to stand before His seat of glory, where He is seated at the right hand of the Father. But His exaltation is also “our exaltation” (collect for the Vigil Mass). As the Preface for the Feast tells us, His Ascension “is not to distance Himself from our lowly state but, that we, His members, might be confident of following where He, our Head and Founder, has gone before.”

Worship and Mission

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord Year C

It is significant that St Luke tells the story of the Ascension twice, and we have the benefit of hearing both accounts today – the account from the Acts of the Apostles in the first reading, and a second account in the Gospel. Each narration brings out a different aspect of the truth but the theme of witnessing seems to bind both Lucan accounts. For St Luke, the Ascension was a significant moment in the disciples’ personal transformation. It marked a critical turning point, the passing of the Lord’s message and mission to His disciples.

In the Acts account, just before He ascends, the Lord promises His Apostles, “you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you, and then you will be my witnesses not only in Jerusalem but throughout Judaea and Samaria, and indeed to the ends of the earth.” Similarly in the Gospel, having reiterated the kerygma, the kernel of the Christian faith, that “Christ would suffer and on the third day rise from the dead,” the Lord gives them this commission: “In His name repentance for the forgiveness of sins would be preached to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses to this.” In other words, when Christ ascended, He left with the intention that the Church takes up where He left off.

The Acts version of the event also paints a rather comical scene should it be depicted in art. In my recent trip to Spain, I encountered a piece of iconography which seems strange and unique to our times but was quite prevalent during the Middle Ages to depict the Ascension of the Lord. The Apostles are gathered in this scene. Nothing unusual about this. But they are gazing up to see a pair of feet sticking out from the cover of clouds above their heads.

They would have continued staring if not shaken out of their stupor by the question posed by two men in white, presumably angels: “Why are you men from Galilee standing here looking into the sky?” The question could be paraphrased, “Do you not have something better to do than to stand here and gawk?”

Here lies one of the greatest challenges to Catholics – our inertia to engage in mission. We seem to be transfixed firmly in our churches but feel no need or urgency to reach out. We Catholics have been “indoctrinated” to attend Mass every Sunday and on holy days of obligation. The Liturgy is supposed to be the “source and summit of the Christian life.” So, we should see it not just as an end but also as a starting point for mission. Yes, worship is our primary activity. But what about mission? It is a false dichotomy to pit worship against mission. It’s never a hard choice between the two. Both worship and mission are part of the life of a Christian. They feed off each other.

The Ascension reminds us that the Church is an institution defined by mission. Today all institutions have a statement of mission; but to say the Church is defined by mission is to say something more. The Church is not an institution with a mission, but a mission with an institution. As Pope Francis of happy memory is fond of reminding us - the church exists for mission. To be sent, is the church's raison d'être, so when it ceases to be sent, it ceases to be the Church. When the Church is removed from its mission, she ends up becoming a fortress or a museum. She keeps things safe and predictable and there is a need for this – we need to be protected from the dangers of the world and from sin. But if her role is merely “protective” she leaves many within her fold feeling stranded in a no man's land, between an institution that seems out of touch and a complex world they feel called to understand and influence.

On the other hand, the Church cannot only be defined by her mission alone, but also by her call to worship the One who has sent her on this mission. If this was not the case, she would be no better than an NGO. As the Church of the Ascension is drawn upward in worship, she is also pushed outward in mission. These are not opposing movements, and the Ascension forbids such a dichotomy. The Church does not have to choose whether it will be defined by the depth of its liturgy or prayer life, or its faithfulness and fervour in mission. Both acts flow from the single reality of the Ascension. Both have integrity only in that they are connected to one another.

At the end of every Mass, the priest dismisses the faithful with one of these formulas, “Go forth, the Mass is ended!” “Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord!” etc. Mission is at the core of each of these formulas. The Sacrifice of the Mass is directed and geared towards this purpose – the continuation of the mission of Christ. If worship is the beginning of mission, then mission too must find its ultimate conclusion in worship – for the liturgy is the “source and summit of the Christian life” as taught by the Second Vatican Council. The Ascension event reminds us that mission must always be anchored in Christ through prayer. So, the more authentically missionary a church becomes, the more profound will be her life of worship, since mission always ends in worship.

The Lord has ascended to heaven and is now seated at the right hand of His Heavenly Father. But this does not mean that He is now retired or has completely withdrawn from the mission of the Church. He continues to act through the Church, through the sacraments which He had given to the Church. The Eucharistic Lord continues to invite us, He commands us, to share in His mission, and to preach the Gospel everywhere. Those first Apostles took seriously our Lord’s command that they preach the Gospel to all nations, and the fact that we are Christians here today centuries later and thousands of miles away from the birth of Christianity, is positive proof of how seriously they heeded His command. From its very origins then, the Church has had an outward missionary thrust. The work Christ began here on earth, He has now entrusted to us so that we may continue. If we have truly caught on to the message of the risen and ascended Christ, we should not just stand here looking up into the skies, waiting for an answer. We are called to get going and do the job our Lord has given us to do, never forgetting that we must remain connected to Him through our worship and prayer. With the help of the promised Holy Spirit, you will be His faithful witnesses “not only in Jerusalem but throughout Judaea and Samaria, and indeed to the ends of the earth.”

A Descent before an Ascent

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord
Lithuania Poland Pilgrimage
John Paul II Salt Chapel, Wieliczka Salt Mine

Most of you are familiar with that basic rule of gravity, “what goes up, must come down.” I guess that principle applies to us. Before taking off for the skies to fly home, we have decided to have our last Mass here in the depths of the earth, literally. But the gospel seems to have a different spin on this. In fact, it proclaims: “The One who came down, must now go up!” I guess that most of us would think of the Ascension as a “going up,” as the normal usage of the word would suggest. Few would see the Ascension as actually linked to a descent.

Salvation history takes a similar route. God, or more specifically, God in the flesh, had to touch and be touched by the rock-bottom experience of our human existence, before He can take the ascending path leading man to his redemption. St Paul lays out this paradox in the second reading. Having quoted Psalm 68 (or 67), St Paul then gives this explanation: “When it says, ‘he ascended’, what can it mean if not that he descended right down to the lower regions of the earth? The one who rose higher than all the heavens to fill all things is none other than the one who descended.” Christ is the victorious conqueror who ascends to His throne in heaven after defeating the spiritual forces. He wins this victory by descending to the very depths, even to plunge Himself into hell, to enter the fray of battle with sin, death and the devil, to accomplish this deed. Christ now shares the spoils of war with His followers. We, perennial losers because of our propensity to sin, have become winners, not by our own achievement but this was accomplished for us by the One who conquered sin and death and victoriously rose from the grave, and now sits at God’s right hand as our Champion.

In fact, it would not be an exaggeration to say that this descend-ascend V movement describes St Luke’s two volume work - his gospel and the Acts of the Apostles - which provide us with not just one, but two accounts of the Ascension. One account ends his gospel, and a second account begins the Acts of the Apostles. In each passage, the Ascension is the essential fulcrum linking the life of Jesus (the Gospels) to the life of the Church (Acts). St Luke begins his gospel with the descent of the Son of God at the Incarnation, and then concludes with His Ascension. Our Lord descended into the human realm as He was sent by the Father, in obedience to the Father’s will to save humanity and then our Lord ascends to His rightful place at the side of His Father in heaven, after having completed His mission. Venerable Fulton Sheen explains this profound connexion between these two events: “The Incarnation or the assuming of a human nature made it possible for Him to suffer and redeem. The Ascension exalted into glory that same human nature that was humbled to the death.”

This movement, however, is not just something which is undertaken by our Lord alone, but one which should be undertaken by the Apostles and all followers of the Lord too. The Collect or Opening Prayer for this Mass has this beautiful line which speaks of our common destiny: “where the Head has gone before in glory, the Body is called to follow in hope.” We must descend with Him before we can rise with Him and follow our Lord in His ascent to glory. The Apostles accompanied our Lord on His journey to Jerusalem. Before they can ascend with the Lord to the glory which He wishes to share with them, they too must descend from their high horses and acknowledge that they are part of the human dung heap of sin, cowardice, faithlessness and infidelity. This had to happen before they can be redeemed by the Lord. Just like the Lord, they needed to experience humiliation before glorification; death before Eternal Life. After the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, we see a speedy recovery. They begin to ‘ascend’ to the heights of missionary zeal, preaching the gospel of the Risen and Ascended Lord, from Judaea to Samaria and then, to the ends of the earth.

On this day, as we commemorate the Lord’s Ascension, should our gaze be directed upwards? What do we hope to see? I guess the dark cavernous ceiling of this salt mine, would be the most obvious answer. Or two feet disappearing into the clouds? Well, the two men in white (presumably angels) at the end of today’s first reading from Acts provides us with the answer, in the form of a question: “Why are you … standing here looking into the sky?”

Their question seems to be a challenge to not just be focused on one direction. In fact, we are invited to look upward, downward, and the road ahead of us. Our Lord’s Ascension invites us always to look upwards, in other words, to never lose sight of the hope of heaven, especially when navigating this world with its many pitfalls mired in disappointment and despair. We are asked to strive always for what’s higher, for what’s more noble, for what stretches us and takes us upward beyond the moral and spiritual ruts, within which we habitually find ourselves. Our Lord’s Ascension reminds us that we can be more, that we can transcend the ordinary and break through the old ceilings, that have until now constituted our horizon. His Ascension tells us that when we stretch ourselves enough, we will be able to walk on water, be great saints, be enflamed with the Spirit and experience already, the deep joys of God’s Kingdom.

But our Lord’s Ascension also invites us to look downwards. We are told to make friends with the desert, the Cross, with ashes, with self-renunciation, with humiliation, with our shadow, and with death itself. We are told that we grow not just by moving upward but also by descending downward. We grow too by letting the desert work us over, by renouncing cherished dreams and accepting the Cross, by letting the humiliations that befall us deepen our character, by having the courage to face our own deep chaos, and by making peace with our mortality. Sometimes, our task is not to raise our eyes to the heavens, but to look down upon the earth, to sit in the ashes of loneliness and humiliation, to stare down the restless desert inside us and to make peace with our human limits and our fragility.

Christians are not only asked to look upward as if our heads have disappeared in the clouds, nor should we be so focused looking downward in intense introspection to the point of despair. We must look ahead at the path which we must walk, the very same path which our Lord, fully human and fully divine, had walked before us. To look ahead, is to be reminded that we have a mission to accomplish, a gospel to be preached, a witness to give to a world that has often lost sight of looking upwards or downwards but one lost in self-absorption. At the end of every pilgrimage, this is what we must do. This may be the end of our pilgrimage to Lithuania and Poland but let us not forget that we are still on a pilgrimage of life to heaven. To look ahead to the horizon who is Christ, for “where the Head has gone before in glory, the Body is called to follow in hope.”

Wait and Pray

Seventh Sunday of Easter Year A

The first reading situates us within this week that lies between the Ascension of the Lord and the Descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Nine days of waiting. Nine days of continuous prayer - the first novena of the Church (the word “novena” is actually derived from the Latin root which simply means nine). After the rigours of the Lenten fast and penance and the feasting of Easter, these nine days seem to be a most welcomed respite from all the liturgical hustle and bustle for those who have been engaged but it can also be annoying for those who feel an itch for more activity and hate the idleness which they associate with prayer and all things churchy. For the latter, prayer doesn’t seem to count as a fruitful activity. Real Christians should be out on the streets working, not confined to their rooms like cowards praying.

But is prayer a cop out for those who shirk their social responsibilities? Is it idle activity for those who are unable or unwilling to take responsibility to resolve their own issues? Why would our Lord ask these disciples to wait and pray? Let’s go back to that first novena between our Lord’s Ascension and the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Put yourself in the middle of this frightened and confused band of apostles and disciples. They had seen the Lord suffer and die, but then He rose and appeared to them, demonstrating His power. He commissioned them to carry the message of eternal and abundant life before ascending into heaven, leaving them with marching orders. Icons of this scene show the disciples with their feet and bodies facing outwards, ready to take the gospel beyond the borders of Judea, to Samaria and even to the ends of the earth. But then the Lord also told them to take pause, to not “leave Jerusalem, but to wait there for what the Father had promised.” If some of you may think that novenas are superstitious activities for the simple-minded who still believe in tooth fairies and Santa Claus, remember that the first novena was ordered and instituted by none other than the Lord Jesus Christ Himself. That first novena would be the prototype for all other novenas.

What would have happened if they had given up and left? We can only speculate. If they had left, they would never have been present to experience the Pentecost. And without the Pentecost, the gospel would not have been carried to the ends of the earth. In fact, the entire New Testament may never have been written and the Church would not exist today. Imagine that! But, the persistence of Christ’s followers and His mother to wait for the promise, ended in fulfilment. On the Feast of Pentecost, tongues of fire appeared on each of their heads declaring the coming of the Holy Spirit and the Church was born.

The lesson learnt from the first novena instituted by the Lord is that prayer is about waiting. Prayer requires faith; faith requires patience; and patience requires waiting upon the Lord. To wait patiently for God is to trust in God’s unfailing love for us. To wait upon the Lord is to recognise that He is our Lord and Master. How God does His will is up to Him. We cannot control God or tell Him how to accomplish His plan. He will do His will in His way. Prayer is not a sign of weakness. Prayer is a conscious choice of admitting that we can’t do it alone. It is an act of vulnerability that connects us to God and others. It puts us in a position of strength, not weakness. One of the greatest and most damaging lie we can believe is that we can do it on our own. Prayer dispels that lie and frees us to lean on someone else when it seems unbearable or impossible.

But waiting on God can be the most difficult, and perhaps the most confusing part of the prayer process. We live in a world of instant everything. We value speed. This is true not only in our culture at large, but in our spirituality and prayer. We rush through our prayers because we have other more urgent matters to attend to. We look for the shortest masses. The quicker, the better. Many rush off immediately after communion or before the final blessing and announcements. Yes, waiting in prayer is not an easy kind of prayer to practice. When we pray, we want to see results; and we want to see them now! And if that answer doesn’t seem to be forthcoming, we begin to wonder if God has abandoned us or if He really cares about us at all. We fail to recognise that when you treat prayer as if you have the right to tell God how to do His work, you will be disappointed. God does not take instructions. We wait, He doesn’t. But when you realise that God’s ways are not your ways, that His ways are superior to your ways, you will not be thrown off balance when circumstances seem to be leading you away from God’s will rather than toward it.

Something happens to us in this kind of waiting. There is purpose in waiting. Waiting on God forces us to look to Him. We are brought to attention. The prayer of waiting draws us into a place of stillness and quietness before God where we open our hearts to listen and receive the good gifts of guidance, wisdom and blessing. Waiting in prayer expands our hearts to accept God’s will instead of pushing for our own agenda. When we wait with hope it is like sitting in the dark of night before the first rays of dawn appear. We know that dawn will come, yet we cannot hurry it. We can watch and wait with hope to receive the first lights with joy.

Waiting gives God the opportunity to redefine our desires and align our purposes and vision with His. What appears from the earth-perspective to be a delay on God’s part is really the time when God is working behind the scene, beyond our senses. During the waiting time, we are operating by faith. Trials cause us to persevere by deepening our knowledge of God and relying on Him more intentionally. That is why in the midst of our daily frenzied activities, our Christian life needs to include times of contemplation and prayer to simply be with God in the stillness and to wait upon Him in loving anticipation of what He would do with us.

Waiting as an essential element of prayer, helps us not to treat novenas and other special prayers as quick fixes. As Jesus told His disciples, we must pray constantly and never give up (Luke 18:1). Sometimes we have to pray for a long period before we see any results. Why? We don’t know. As much as we grow impatient, we need to recognise that His timing is an astounding thing. What we do know is that Jesus always has our back and He knows what’s best. We mustn’t become disheartened or give up saying novenas because we don’t immediately see the fruits of our labour. The Blessed Virgin Mary and the apostles obeyed the Lord’s instruction to wait and pray, and scripture tells us that their fidelity and vigilance finally paid off.

May our waiting and our praying make us more open to receiving the Holy Spirit and more capable of showing the grace of God in all that we are and all that we do.

Authority - Mission - Presence

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord Year A

The gospel passage that I’ve just read comes at the end of the Gospel of St Matthew and unlike the Gospel of St Luke and its appendix, the Acts of the Apostles, it does not mention the event of the ascension of our Lord. We have the first reading from Acts to provide us the details of this event. St Matthew ends his gospel by focusing on the action of our Lord commissioning His disciples and records His words in this regard. This passage is popularly known among Protestants (and Catholics, who have also gotten use to the name) as the Great Commission. Though there is nothing essentially wrong with this term, it would appear that its use comes quite late in Christian history, even among the Protestants.

Rather than be distracted by the debate over its proper name, I think it is far more important to look at our lectionary selection for today. The readings for this feast can be summarised in three words - authority, mission and presence.

Authority is one of those words that usually creates an instant emotional reaction—in some folks, fear and distrust, in others safety and order. While the Lord Jesus was the image of love and gentleness, today He claims that “all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to” Him. The mention of “heaven and earth” is a short hand which means “everything”, “all.” So, when our Lord told His disciples this, He was claiming something that no other mortal, even the greatest emperor or king, could claim. His authority is absolute.

But our Lord’s claim was not just that He possessed an authority and could exercise a power that was above and beyond every human authority and sovereignty but it was also a divine claim. Authority is attributed to God the Father; it is His very nature. Authority alludes to the Deity’s right to command and enforce obedience. It is God who can rightfully and exclusively claim that He possesses “all authority in heaven and on earth.” Throughout His earthly life and public ministry, our Lord showed that He had authority over demons, sickness, death and the wild forces of nature. But one could question the limits of His authority when He was arrested, sentenced and executed. His authority seemed to have stopped here. But the resurrection proved that even here our Lord’s authority was not circumscribed by human authority.

Today, there is a tension and battle raging between human authority and divine authority. If human authority is subject to divine authority and obeys the dictates of the latter, there is no issue because there is no conflict. For to obey human authority in such an instance would be to obey divine authority. But the problem arises when there is a conflict between human authority and that of God’s - that is when governments, associations, leaders, parents command us to disobey God, which is in essence ordering us to sin - then we must echo the words of St Peter: “We must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). God’s authority must always take priority even if it means we would have to disobey civil and human authority, including going against our own wishes.

The authority which the Lord exercises is the basis of what follows. He has given us a mission: “Go, therefore, make disciples of all the nations; baptise them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands I gave you.” There are three parts to this commission and each part is essential to the mission of the Church and every Christian. These are non-negotiable. We are called to “make disciples of all nations,” in other words, that we have a duty to lead others to Christ and make them His followers. The simplicity of the words betrays their gravity. In today’s multicultural world, many of us ignore or shy away from this commission for fear that we would be regarded as intolerant or even militant in terms of religious convictions. Political correctness demands that we respect others by not imposing our views on them. But the call to evangelise is not one which is coercive. We are not asked to point a gun to the head of the person and force them to believe what we believe. Rather, evangelisation is a call to be attractive, or to be more accurate, to make our faith more attractive. For our faith to be attractive, our public witness of the faith must be consistent with our actions, our words must be credible, and our practice of the faith must be filled with joy and enthusiasm.

But evangelisation does not stop with just preaching the gospel in words and deeds. It must also lead to conversion and baptism, insertion into the Mystical Body of Christ, which is the Church. Baptism is the only first step after evangelisation. What follows must be catechesis: we will need to “teach them to observe all the commands” the Lord has given us, and this is a life-time’s project and not just confined to Sunday School for children and teenagers.

Finally, our Lord Jesus ends the “Great Commission” by assuring the disciples that He will be with them every step of the way as they embark on this journey of declaring and discipling. This is the great paradox of this event. Our Lord’s physical and bodily departure would result in His return in sacramental form - He will continue to be present in, through, and to His Church. Not in a purely symbolic way but in a manner which is true, real and substantial, especially in the Sacraments.

Matthew concludes his gospel in much the same way as he began, by reminding us that God has drawn near to us through Jesus. The child called Immanuel (“God with us,” Matt 1:23) is now the Risen Saviour who has promised that He will never leave or forsake His followers. His Ascension is not a departure where He distances Himself from us, but rather an insertion of His real presence in the Church where He continues to accompany us, lead us, guide us and feed us with His own Body and Blood. And with His Ascension, He inaugurates the next part of His grand plan which involves the Holy Spirit. Through His promised Spirit dwelling in them, they would be filled with both the presence and the power of Christ as they spread the gospel message from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth. We’ve been given the sacred privilege of joining Christ in His work of spreading His name and making His disciples all over the world, and because He sends us out in the authority of His Father and in the fellowship of His Spirit, we have all we need to obey Him wherever He leads.

Glass ceiling shattered

Sixth Sunday of Easter Year A

A glass ceiling is a common metaphor used to describe how certain invisible barriers are in place due to cultural norms and prejudices which would prevent a certain class of people from advancing upwards in the hierarchy of society. In the past, the metaphor was exclusively used for women who entered fields which were traditionally dominated by men. Today, (and here’s the irony) the expression is most often used to refer to transwomen (biological men who believe they are women) breaking new records in women sports. In other words, when men beat women in women sports, a new glass ceiling is broken. Try to wrap your head around this!

Today, we are getting ahead of the scene of the Ascension of the Lord, which we will celebrate this coming Thursday. The readings provide us with a demonstration of what will take place as a consequence of the Ascension and Pentecost and also an explanation by none other than the Lord Himself who will be the prime mover of this phenomenal thrust forward by the Church, which will shatter “glass ceilings” and even concrete ones, like never imagined before.

Immediately, in the aftermath of the Ascension, the angelic messengers provided the apostles with a series of deliberate instructions. The apostles were to wait for the Holy Spirit to come, for they would be immersed in power. They were not to set their hearts on times, timing, dates, but to know that when empowered by the promised Holy Spirit, they would be witnesses of God’s Kingdom, locally, nationally, and to the ends of the earth. In fact, the movement of the Holy Spirit will have a ripple effect - crossing boundaries, making new precedents and shattering glass ceilings: “you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

In the first reading, we witness the breaking of the first cultural, religious and social barrier - the evangelisation of the Samaritans by the deacon Philip. The Samaritans’ long split from the Jews had lasted for centuries and there didn’t seem to be any hope that the riff would ever be healed since there was so much historical as well as religious-cultural baggage that prevented the two closely related communities and yet socially distant communities from reuniting. There was an expression among the Jews that if a Jew were to come across a leper and a Samaritan, the former was to be preferred over the latter. And yet, the message of the gospel and the power of the Holy Spirit was able to break this seemingly insurmountable barrier and bring together not just the Jews and the Samaritans but communities spread throughout “the ends of the earth.” It is interesting to note that at the end of the first reading, we have the first instance of the Sacrament of Confirmation where the apostles would come to lay hands, confer the Holy Spirit and confirm the initial conversion of these Samaritans.

In the second reading, we see Peter’s exhortation to a church facing persecution. One could regard the Christian way as distinctively unique from other religions of that time. There were certain religious adherents, for example the militant Jewish zealots, who took a military response to threats from the civil authorities and which were eventually annihilated by the latter when they rose in rebellion. There were still others who adopted a philosophy of accommodation and assimilation, adapting their teachings and practices in order to fit in with the dominant mainstream. There were still others, basically the mystery Gnostic religions, who adopted a secretive approach, hiding their practices and concealing their teachings behind a veneer of mystery. Christianity adopted none of these approaches.

The fact that Christianity was an evangelising religion that sought to publicly spread its teachings and expand its members, led to it being persecuted. But St Peter reminded Christians that their response to such persecution should not be violent or one where they should retreat into a secretive shell of safety but done by finding opportunities to expound and explain one’s faith, “always have your answer ready for people who ask you the reason for the hope that you all have. But give it with courtesy and respect and with a clear conscience …” None of the other religions which adopted self-preserving methods have survived. Most of them eventually became extinct in the years and centuries which followed. Yet, Christianity not only survived but thrived in the midst of persecution, due to the fact that this is a movement not based on human innovation but on the Holy Spirit’s inspiration.

Finally, we come to the gospel and what our Lord wishes to tell us about the Advocate, the Spirit of Truth and promises that He “will be with you forever.” Our Lord Jesus was prophetic in telling His disciples that “the world can never receive (the Spirit) since it neither sees nor knows him.” You may have heard that we are currently living in a post-truth age, where objective truth is often vilified and subjective truth in the form of “lived experience” is made sacrosanct and inviolable. In other words, no one can question a man if one day he chooses to identify as a woman because no one can deny his “lived experiences” or preferred pronouns, even though it may be objectively delusional. Blaise Pascal once said: “Truth is so obscure in these times, and falsehood so established, that, unless we love the truth, we cannot know it.”

More than ever, we need the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, the Spirit of Truth, as we stand against a bulwark of the enemies of truth. Just as God is immutable, so is truth. There is no such thing as new truth. All truth finds its source in God and is eternal—never changing. What is true today will remain true tomorrow—regardless of how our culture seeks to personalise truth or mould it according to its latest agenda. Ultimately, the Church must stand firm and remain a pillar and buttress of truth in an age of darkness and confusion.

Truth is under assault and many Christians do not appear to be ready for battle. The good news is that Christians are not on their own as they search for truth and seek to find ways to have answers “for people who ask you the reason for the hope that you all have”. Rather, you will be “guided into all truth” by the Spirit of God. And this is a wonderful comfort as we walk through the world, knowing that Jesus says: “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32) and prays for those who follow Him: “Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth” (John 17:17). Through His power, “speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ” (Ephesians 4:15). Stand firm, knowing that you have the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Truth as your Advocate. With His power and inspiration, we will not only break “glass ceilings” but pass through humanly insurmountable barriers.

Be His faithful witnesses

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord

It is significant that St Luke tells the story of the Ascension twice, and we have the benefit of hearing both accounts today – the account from the Acts of the Apostles in the first reading, and a second account in the Gospel. Each narration brings out a different aspect of the truth but the theme of witnessing seems to bind both Lucan accounts. For St Luke, the Ascension was a significant moment in the disciples’ personal transformation. It marked a critical turning point, the passing of the Lord’s message and mission to His disciples.

In the Acts account, just before He ascends, the Lord promises His Apostles, “you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you, and then you will be my witnesses not only in Jerusalem but throughout Judaea and Samaria, and indeed to the ends of the earth.” Similarly in the Gospel, having reiterated the kerygma, the kernel of the Christian faith, that “Christ would suffer and on the third day rise from the dead,” the Lord gives them this commission: “In His name repentance for the forgiveness of sins would be preached to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses to this.” In other words, when Christ ascended, He left with the intention that the Church takes up where He left off.

The Acts version of the event also paints a rather comical scene. The disciples are standing there, first looking at the Lord ascending and then, they continue staring at the clouds. They are then shaken out of their stupor by the question posed by two men in white, presumably angels: “Why are you men from Galilee standing here looking into the sky?” The question could be paraphrased, “Do you not have something better to do than to stand here and gawk?”

Here lies one of the greatest challenges to Catholics – our inertia to engage in mission. We seem to be transfixed firmly in our churches but feel no need or urgency to reach out. We Catholics have been “indoctrinated” to attend mass every Sunday and on holy days of obligation. The Liturgy is supposed to be the “source and summit of the Christian life.” So, we should see it not just as an end but also as a starting point for mission. Yes, worship is our primary activity, as witnessed by the Apostles at the end of today’s Gospel. But what about mission? It is a false dichotomy to pit worship against mission. It’s never a hard choice between the two. Both worship and mission are part of the life of a Christian. They feed off each other.

The Ascension reminds us that the Church is an institution defined by mission. Today all institutions have a statement of mission; but to say the Church is defined by mission is to say something more. The Church is not an institution with a mission, but a mission with an institution. As Pope Francis is fond of reminding us - the church exists for mission. To be sent, is the church's raison d'être, so when it ceases to be sent, it ceases to be the Church. When the Church is removed from its mission, she ends up becoming a fortress or a museum. She keeps things safe and predictable and there is a need for this – we need to be protected from the dangers of the world and from sin. But if her role is merely “protective” she leaves many within her fold feeling stranded in a no man's land, between an institution that seems out of touch and a complex world they feel called to understand and influence.

On the other hand, the Church cannot only be defined by her mission alone, but also by her call to worship the One who has sent her on this mission. If this was not the case, she would be no better than a NGO. But the Church of the Ascension is simultaneously drawn upward in worship, and pushed outward in mission. These are not opposing movements and the Ascension forbids such a dichotomy. The Church does not have to choose whether it will be defined by the depth of its liturgy or prayer life, or its faithfulness and fervour in mission. Both acts flow from the single reality of the Ascension. Both have integrity only in that they are connected to one another.

At the end of every mass, the priest dismisses the faithful with one of these formulas, “Go forth, the Mass is ended!” “Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord!” etc. Mission is at the core of each of these formulas. The Sacrifice of the Mass is directed and geared towards this purpose – the continuation of the mission of Christ. The Eucharistic Lord invites us, He commands us, to share in His mission, and to preach the Gospel everywhere.

If worship is the beginning of mission, then mission too must find its ultimate conclusion in worship – for the liturgy is the “source and summit of the Christian life” as taught by the Second Vatican Council. Worship must be at the heart and the soul of mission. This is beautifully depicted in the Novgorod School’s icon of the Ascension. The apostles are excited and ready to carry out the mission entrusted to them by the two angels at the scene of the Ascension. And yet, the Blessed Virgin Mother stands serenely in the middle of this icon, with her hands raised in the traditional gesture of prayer (orans). She seems to be the sturdy anchor that holds them rooted to the Ascension event, reminding them that their mission must always be anchored in Christ through prayer. So, the more authentically missionary a church becomes, the more profound will be its life of worship, since mission always ends in worship.

Those first Apostles took seriously our Lord’s command that they preach the Gospel to all nations, and the fact that we are Christians here today centuries later and thousands of miles away from the birth of Christianity, is positive proof of how seriously they heeded His command. From its very origins, then, the Church has had an outward missionary thrust. The work Christ began here on earth, He has now entrusted to us so that we may continue. If we have truly caught on to the message of the risen and ascended Christ, we should not just stand here looking up into the skies, waiting for an answer. We are called to get going and do the job our Lord has given us to do, never forgetting that we must remain connected to Him through our worship and prayer. With the help of the promised Holy Spirit, you will be His faithful witnesses “not only in Jerusalem but throughout Judaea and Samaria, and indeed to the ends of the earth.”

He who descends ascends

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord

Most of you are familiar with that basic rule of gravity, “what goes up, must come down.” But the gospel seems to have a different spin on this. In fact, it proclaims: “The One who came down, must now go up!” I guess that most of us would think of the Ascension as a “going up,” as the normal usage of the word would suggest. Few would see the Ascension as actually linked to a descent, unless you are an alcoholic and would be familiar with the point that only when you have hit rock-bottom, the only way left to go, is up.

Salvation history takes a similar route. God, or more specifically, God in the flesh, had to touch and be touched by the rock-bottom experience of our human existence, before He can take the ascending path leading man to his redemption. Ascent can only be understood in the light of a descent. St Paul lays out this paradox in the second reading. Having quoted Psalm 68 (or 67), St Paul then gives this explanation: “When it says, ‘he ascended’, what can it mean if not that he descended right down to the lower regions of the earth? The one who rose higher than all the heavens to fill all things is none other than the one who descended.” Christ is the victorious conqueror who ascends to His throne in heaven after defeating the spiritual forces. He wins this victory by descending to the very depths, even to plunge Himself into hell, to enter into the fray of battle with sin, death and the devil, to accomplish this deed. Christ now shares the spoils of war with His followers. We, perennial losers because of our propensity to sin, have become winners, not by our own achievement but this was accomplished for us by the One who conquered sin and death and victoriously rose from the grave, and now sits at God’s right hand.

In fact, it would not be an exaggeration to say that this descend-ascend V movement describes St Luke’s two volume work - his gospel and the Acts of the Apostles - which provide us with not just one, but two accounts of the Ascension. One account ends the gospel and a second account begins the Acts of the Apostles. In each passage, it is clear that the Ascension is the essential fulcrum linking the life of Jesus (the Gospels) to the life of the Church (Acts). St Luke begins his gospel with the descent of the Son of God at the Incarnation, and then concludes with His Ascension. Our Lord descended into the human realm as He was sent by the Father, in obedience to the Father’s will to save humanity and then our Lord ascends to His rightful place at the side of His Father in heaven, after having completed His mission. Venerable Fulton Sheen explains the profound connexion between the Incarnation and the Ascension: “The Incarnation or the assuming of a human nature made it possible for Him to suffer and redeem. The Ascension exalted into glory that same human nature that was humbled to the death.”

But this movement is not just something which is undertaken by our Lord alone, but one which should be undertaken by the Apostles and all followers of the Lord too. The Apostles accompanied our Lord on His journey to Jerusalem as He instructs them on the Way. Before they can ascend with the Lord to the glory which He wishes to share with them, they must face the dark shadow of their own depravity; they must descend and acknowledge that they are part of the human dung heap of sin, cowardice, faithlessness and infidelity. This had to happen before they can be redeemed by the Lord. Just like the Lord, they needed to experience humiliation before glorification. After the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, we see a speedy recovery. They begin to ‘ascend’ to the heights of missionary zeal, preaching the gospel of the Risen and Ascended Lord, from Judaea to Samaria and then to the ends of the earth.

The Collect or Opening Prayer for this Mass has this beautiful line which speaks of our common destiny: “where the Head has gone before in glory, the Body is called to follow in hope.” In following Christ, we must follow Him to death, not just physical death but a spiritual dying to what ultimately weighs us down, which is sin. Before we can share in His glory, we must be prepared to acknowledge our depravity and sinfulness, and die to these. Such descent calls for humility, self-emptying, and a readiness to serve, rather than be served. We must descend with Him before we can rise with Him, and follow our Lord in His ascent to glory.

On the day we commemorate the Lord’s Ascension, should our gaze be directed upwards? What do we hope to see? Two feet disappearing into the clouds? Well, the two men in white (presumably angels) at the end of today’s first reading from Acts provides us with the answer, in the form of a question: “Why are you … standing here looking into the sky?”

Their question seems to be a challenge to not just be focused on one direction. In fact, we are invited to look upward, downward, and the road ahead of us. Our Lord’s Ascension invites us always to look upwards, in other words, to never lose sight of the hope of heaven, especially when navigating this world with its many pitfalls mired in disappointment and despair. We are asked to strive always for what’s higher, for what’s more noble, for what stretches us and takes us upward beyond the moral and spiritual ruts, within which we habitually find ourselves. Our Lord’s Ascension reminds us that we can be more, that we can transcend the ordinary and break through the old ceilings, that have until now constituted our horizon. His Ascension tells us that when we stretch ourselves enough, we will be able to walk on water, be great saints, be enflamed with the Spirit and experience already, the deep joys of God’s Kingdom.

But our Lord’s Ascension also invites us to look downwards. We are told to make friends with the desert, the Cross, with ashes, with self-renunciation, with humiliation, with our shadow, and with death itself. We are told that we grow not just by moving upward but also by descending downward. We grow too by letting the desert work us over, by renouncing cherished dreams and accepting the Cross, by letting the humiliations that befall us deepen our character, by having the courage to face our own deep chaos, and by making peace with our mortality. Sometimes, our task is not to raise our eyes to the heavens, but to look down upon the earth, to sit in the ashes of loneliness and humiliation, to stare down the restless desert inside us and to make peace with our human limits and our fragility.

Christians are not only asked to look upward as if our heads have disappeared in the clouds, nor should we be so focused looking downward in intense introspection to the point of despair. We must look ahead at the path which we must walk, the very same path which our Lord, fully human and fully divine, had walked before us. To look ahead, is to be reminded that we have a mission to accomplish, a gospel to be preached, a witness to give to a world that has often lost sight of looking upwards or downwards but one lost in self-absorption. To look ahead to the horizon who is Christ, for “where the Head has gone before in glory, the Body is called to follow in hope.”

You are witnesses to this

 Third Sunday of Easter Year B

Before our Lord ascended into heaven, He gave His Apostles several enduring mandates, commanding them what to do until He returned.  We’re most familiar with the one in St. Matthew’s Gospel, which the Protestants fondly label as the Great Commission. So much ink and words have been expended on that passage, to the point that it gives us the inaccurate impression that those were the only last words of our Lord to His disciples before His Ascension, and therefore, the only words that mattered. The trouble is that this obsession, with the last chapter of St Matthew’s Gospel, ignores the final words recorded in the other gospels. Furthermore, the event of the Ascension is entirely missing from St Matthew’s Gospel. In fact, only St Luke records the Ascension with precision at the end of his gospel and at the beginning of his second volume, the Acts of the Apostles.

Today, we have Christ’s final mandate in St Luke’s version: ‘So you see how it is written that the Christ would suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that, in his name, repentance for the forgiveness of sins would be preached to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses to this.’ The lectionary does a marvellous job at showing how the prophetic words of Christ at the end of the gospel would be fulfilled in the Acts of the Apostles, with St Peter and others giving witness to the gospel and calling their audience to repentance.

Let us zoom in on the last words of Christ: “You are witnesses to this.” What are the disciples called to be witnesses to? There is a certain ambivalence which may be intentional. First, this could mean that they are called to be witnesses of the gospel in its entirety. Or they could be called to be witnesses to the resurrection. Or it could be referring to what our Lord had highlighted in this mandate. Or it could be, all of the above.

But notice that our Lord is not making an exhortation here, instructing His disciples to become witnesses. He did not say, “You shall be my witnesses.” Our Lord is merely stating a fact: “You are witnesses to this.” He is not telling them what they need to do but reminding them of who they already are: witnesses!

So, what does it mean to be a witness? In a recently discovered manuscript of Archbishop Wojtyła, who later became Pope St John Paul II, he attempts to unpack the meaning of being a “witness.” He sets out his argument by making several points.

First, St John Paul II tells us that to be a witness means, being in union with Christ. It is relational rather than functional – our relationship with Christ is fundamental to the job that we must do. St John Paul II explains that to be a witness, to testify for Christ, means “uniting oneself to Christ to “see the Father” (cf. Jn 14:9) in him and through him.”

It is interesting to note that first aspect of witnessing is not something which we immediately associate with the work of evangelisation, which is to share the gospel with others, but to “see the Father” by uniting oneself to Christ, “in Him and through Him.” How could we possibly witness God’s love to others if we are unable to see Him through the lenses of Christ? The first step of witnessing requires our complete union with Christ and how He sees the Father. We recall the first calling of the disciples. They were called to “be with” our Lord before they were sent out to be “fishers of men.” A relationship with Christ always precedes His mission. If the former does not precede the latter, then our nets will remain empty and all our efforts fruitless.

Second, St John Paul II teaches that in order to be a witness, it means one must be able “to read in Christ the mystery of man.” Christ is the perfect man and if we wish to be human, then we must imitate Him. Witnessing is not the product of skilful words and eloquent speech, nor is it to be found in the method of delivery. These things are useful but they are not the most crucial thing. To be most effective and convincing, the messenger must become the message.

Witnessing ultimately means imitation. In a world which glorifies innovation and being original, the Christian call to witness goes against the current. If we are to be witnesses, we are called to imitate and not innovate. We must ultimately imitate Christ in every aspect of His life, speech, action, preference, demeanour and orientation. To be a Christian means to be a “Little Christ” or another Christ. If people are drawn to our preaching, it should be because they are drawn to Christ, we can take no credit for it. In fact, the cult of personality where so much emphases are given to the charismatic and colourful personality of the preacher or pastor, should be anathema to the Christian religion. To be more Christ-like, means dying to ourselves.

Lastly, St John Paul II highlights the sacramental dimension of witnessing. He writes, “It is the sacramental dimension through which Christ himself acts in a human being who opens himself to his action in the power of the Spirit of Truth.” If our witnessing is to bear fruit, it is not just a matter of uniting ourselves with Christ or imitating Him. Witnessing is not solely a human effort. It is always God’s initiative. It is allowing our Lord to work through us and in us, and it is for this reason that He left to the Church the sacraments, efficacious channels of sanctifying grace. Our work of evangelisation can only bear fruit, fruit that will last, if it draws its power from the fount of grace, which is made available to us through the sacraments.

The Acts of the Apostles, which is staple reading throughout the season of Easter best illustrates the above points raised by St John Paul II. We see the public ministry of the apostles flourishing, precisely because they were in total communion with Christ in His ministry, preaching and even suffering. One gets the impression, when reading the stories of the apostles is that, you’ve heard it all before. Where? In the gospels! The Apostles were copies of Christ, they gave witness through imitation, drawing others to Christ instead of to themselves. And finally, we see the early missionary communities, who were communities at prayer, communities at worship, communities which were built on the solid foundation of the sacraments. They understood that without the sacraments and active prayer life, their work of evangelising would fail. In fact, their worship would be the primary source of evangelisation, drawing so many to embrace and celebrate the mystery of Christ.

We often speak of Lent as a penitential season, an opportune time to repent. But repentance is not just something we do during Lent only. It extends into Easter and beyond, into the ordinary seasons and the cycle of life. For the gospel of repentance is not just merely calling out the sins of others. That’s a first step and a necessary one too. But repentance also is an invitation to conform our lives to Christ, and be witnesses of repentance by submitting to it daily, so that “God’s love comes to perfection in us.”

Sent on mission

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord

If you are expecting to hear an account of the Ascension at the end of today’s gospel passage, you will be sorely disappointed. At the end of St Matthew’s gospel, Jesus does not ascend. This seems utterly ironic as the gospel text chosen for this Solemnity of the Ascension. If you want to hear the story of the Ascension you have to read the First Reading taken from the Acts of the Apostles. But that does not mean that the theme of the ascension is entirely absent from the gospel passage. The significance of the Ascension is seen in the parting words of Jesus, ‘And know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time.’ In these last words, our Lord promises His enduring presence in the Church while she is on mission.

This is where the story in Acts and the ending of St Matthew’s gospel converge. After the Ascension, the disciples returned to the Upper Room, led back to the place where the Eucharist was instituted and it is here, later in the story, where the Church was founded; the place where these disciples will receive the Paraclete, the Holy Spirit. And it is from here, that the Church begins her mission, her members called to be “witnesses not only in Jerusalem but throughout Judaea and Samaria, and indeed to the ends of the earth.”

The Ascension is not just a graphic description of how Christ is lifted up into the heavens but it is an event which is ultimately tied to the mission of the Church. Christ came to fulfill the mission that was entrusted to Him by His Father, a mission which He had accomplished by dying on the cross and rising from the dead. His death and resurrection had opened up for us the way to heaven. Henceforth, humanity is elevated to an unprecedented dignity, the dignity of participating in the Father’s glory. On account of Christ’s ascension into heaven, we now know that the true reason for our existence - our true destiny as human beings - is God Himself. We were made for Him, to be with Him in heaven for ever.

This same mission of leading all to our heavenly homeland is entrusted by the Lord to the Church, to us. Our mission is to lead others to where our Lord and Master has gone before us. This is what the priest prays in the Collect at the beginning of today’s mass, “where the Head has gone before in glory, the Body is called to follow in hope.”

The Upper Room is not meant to be a secure bunker, shielding the disciples from a cruel, hostile and unforgiving world. It was meant to be a launchpad, a planning board room, a sanctuary of prayer in order to prepare the Church for mission. The last thing that our Lord had intended for His disciples is for them to remain locked down in that room for the rest of their lives, frightened of facing the many risks which comes with proclaiming the Good News to the ends of the earth.

Most of us have been under lockdown since the start of the MCO. Lockdowns are never easy, nor are they comfortable. But I think that many of us have now found much security in our present locked down condition, in the safety of our own homes, unwilling to venture forth. I do not think that anyone, not even the government nor the medical experts had envisaged that we would be locked down forever. Since the start of the MCO, the authorities had been very successful in instilling fear of this coronavirus among us, because fear is a powerful motivation for compliance. But, now that it wishes to reopen the economy and encourage us to return to some form of normalcy, it finds itself unable to undo the fear that has been deeply rooted in our psyche. Fear can cripple us, it can stunt growth, prevent us from moving forward and dull the enthusiasm for mission.

Fear can be a tremendous barrier for mission but fear itself is not a bad thing. Fear tells us where we feel the most vulnerable and provide us with an opportunity to place our trust in God. When you are hapless, when all your resources have been exhausted, when there seems to be no other solution, turning to God in desperation seems to be the last option available to the most hardened of unbelievers. And that is why accepting Christ’s commission to “make disciples of all the nations” cannot be purely predicated on our own ability and resources. Just as our Lord did not choose perfect men to be His disciples and apostles, the Church does not need perfect members to carry out Christ’s mission. This is because grace is needed to build on nature, God’s assistance is needed to complete and perfect human effort and ingenuity. Ultimately, we must rely on the grace of Christ’s enduring presence seen in His promise, “know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time.”

Seated at the right hand of the Father, our Lord Jesus continues His mission of drawing humanity away from the downward spiral of death and corruption so that they may ascend to a place of life and happiness within the heart of God. Christ, though He has ascended to heaven, continues to act through His Church. He does this through each of us. Therefore, our mission is not driven by our own initiative and efforts. If our efforts are able to bear fruit, it is because Christ is our strength, our motivation and our ability to do what we cannot accomplish on our own.