We need Disciples, not Volunteers

Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

As a priest I must admit, I have my good days and bad days. Good days when I feel no regrets at being a priest, when the ministry is rewarding and fruits are evident. But then, just like all of you, I have my bad days. When my decisions and best intentions are met with criticism, hostility and other forms of negative reaction. I am tempted to ask myself: is this all worth it? Did I sign up for this abuse? Or in exasperation I may even decry that I don’t get paid enough for this - in fact, I get paid peanuts for the job! That’s true, but that is the difference between a job and ministry, between a volunteer and a disciple. I constantly need to remind myself before I remind others - we in the Church are called to share in the ministry or the apostolate of the Church. Though it entails work, sometimes thankless tiring work, it is not a job but a vocation. We are called to be disciples of the Lord and not just part-time volunteers.

I guess the culture of volunteerism has taken a firm foothold in Church ministry and mission. The frequent cry you often hear in most churches is this, ‘We need more volunteers!’ Volunteering has become the primary way in which Christians are invited to participate in the work and mission of the Church. Over the years, I find that sustaining morale among church volunteers has become a real challenge, sometimes it seems even impossible. We see our volunteers suffering from disillusionment and a constant need for tender-loving-care. The usual complaints we hear is that many feel unappreciated, ill-equipped for the job, a lack of support from others, and have become tired of the numerous criticisms heaped against them.

But perhaps the greatest problem lies in the area of quality control. This is particularly true in the case of the Catholic Church. Well, you know what they say, ‘when you are only willing to pay peanuts, expect nothing less than monkeys!’ (What does that tell you about us priests?) The most troubling issue when dealing with volunteers is that of commitment. There is no doubt that volunteer work is often a thankless and demanding endeavour, requiring great generosity, time and effort. We’ve eventually come to accept that if we demand too much of these volunteers, they would break and quit. We tip toe around their mistakes and find it hard to hold them accountable. Too often we settle for less rather than for more. In order to keep and please our volunteers, we end up lowering standards, compromising values and ultimately crippling the radical demands of discipleship in the name of survival.

It’s important and liberating to remember that volunteerism is not discipleship. While volunteerism has great value, even in the Church, it is not the central model for Christian life and service. We don’t need to recruit church volunteers—our Lord’s command to us was to go and make disciples. When it comes right down to it, there is a huge difference between volunteering from time to time, being a fair-weather follower, and belonging totally to Jesus Christ. The individualism and consumerism that shapes how we participate in volunteering are incompatible with the selfless, all-demanding devotion that Christ calls for in participating in His mission. One of the benefits of being a volunteer is that there is always the option to take a break or even to quit. Volunteers set the agenda- when, how much, where, and what it is they will volunteer for. Discipleship, on the other hand, is not periodic volunteer work on one’s own terms or at one’s convenience. As it is clear in the strong statements we find in today’s gospel, discipleship is total, unconditional, limitless commitment to Christ, requiring the greatest sacrifice, even enduring suffering and death.

Structurally, today’s gospel selection is comprised of a catena of sayings on discipleship, followed by two parables. The sayings demonstrate a literary device in Semitic literature, the hyperbole; a figure of speech in which exaggeration is used for emphasis or effect, as in ‘I could sleep for a year’ or ‘This book weighs a ton.’ The hyperboles or exaggerations help us to appreciate and imagine the gravity of what is being expressed. Thus, the forcefulness of the first saying in today’s gospel to turn one’s back on, or literally to ‘hate’ father, mother, etc, is shocking. Naturally, this is not an actual call to hate your family – hate is incongruent with the Christian life. To hate here means absolute detachment in the strongest possible terms. ‘Hating’ parents simply meant loving Jesus first and foremost, above family and even above self. From that love would flow the willingness to follow the Lord by taking up the cross.

Therefore, the gospel sets out the difference between mere volunteerism and hard-edged discipleship. It boils down to the answer you give to these set of questions – What are you prepared to lose? What are you prepared to give up? What is the cost you are willing to pay? Disciples are willing to pay the price of giving up everything for the sake of the kingdom. Discipleship is costly because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it cost God the life of His Son: “you were bought at a price,” and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us.

In the two short parables you just heard, our Lord communicates the necessity of entering into the process of discipleship with a clear head and the intention of persevering, holding fast till the end. The man who wants to build a tower must count the cost to make sure he has enough to finish the job. The king who is going to war must first count his troops and resources to make sure he can win the battle. In both parables the message is clear: Those who begin a major endeavour need to be prepared to see it through to the finish. Throughout our lives we will be tempted to quit when suffering threatens us, when we face criticism, when the cost seems too heavy, when we receive little reward or encouragement. The importance of counting the cost of discipleship is apparent when we see the point of our endeavour is to finish the race, not just merely to start it. Some say the hardest part is getting started. If this is true though, why do we hear stories of people who give up on their diet, stop writing a novel or quit a difficult task at work. Maybe it’s not the start but the finish that’s so difficult. The goal should always be to finish, not start. And in order to finish, we must be prepared to pay the cost and make sacrifices.

Today, what the Church needs is not more volunteers. We have enough of that and we could do with less of that! What the Church needs, what Christ wants, what salvation demands is this –men and women who have counted the cost and who are committed to Jesus regardless of the cost, and who will not stop in the middle of the stream and go back. What the Church needs are disciples! Discipleship is not for the faint of heart. Discipleship is not for the lukewarm. Discipleship is not for the fence-straddlers. Discipleship is for the committed, for the consecrated and dedicated. Discipleship is for those willing to put their hand to the plough and not look back. Discipleship is not for a day, or for a week, or a year. Discipleship is for the rest of our lives. Discipleship is for those who are willing to follow Him regardless of what they have to let go of and leave behind. These are the clear job descriptions that disciples must know and be prepared for: No reserves – sacrifice everything, no retreats – press on, no regrets – finish the race.

Inspiration, Education and Freedom

Pentecost Sunday

It’s been 50 days since Easter, 49 days since the passing of Pope Francis and exactly one month since the election of a new Pope, Pope Leo XIV. Yes, I’ve been keeping count. Some can’t contain their exhilaration. Others are a little more cautious, observing a “wait-and-see” attitude. Still others remain disappointed that their preferred candidate wasn’t elected, though mostly hiding their disappointment publicly for fear of retribution or judgment. The question that was being floated before, during and even after the short conclave which elected the new pontiff has been this: what role did the Holy Spirit play in all this? Was it purely politics and human machinations or was this the result of divine intervention, the Holy Spirit at work in the Church?

It is not hard to come to such an assumption because if there is an implicit assumption that the Pope can be infallible (in whatever way that is claimed), then surely the election of the Pope must be equally infallible? It must be stated from the very beginning that we should not conflate the doctrine of infallibility with the election of the pope. The cardinals are not guaranteed infallibility. Furthermore, although secrecy is imposed on the participating cardinals under an oath that could lead to one’s excommunication, it doesn’t take much to assume that the entire conclave was conducted under a highly charged politicised atmosphere where much energy is spent on canvassing, persuading, negotiating, dissembling and organising. Is there even room for the Spirit to work?

On this feast of Pentecost, a feast that is specifically focused on the Holy Spirit, it would be good to understand how the Spirit works within the Church. Back to the question of the Holy Spirit’s role in the election of a pope, Pope Benedict XVI, while still Cardinal Ratzinger (and so cannot technically make any infallible pronouncement at this stage of his life), was asked by the Bavarian television: “Is the Holy Spirit responsible for the election of a pope?” Though not having the character of being infallible, his answer is perhaps the best answer we can have on the issue: “I would not say so, in the sense that the Holy Spirit picks out the Pope… I would say that the Spirit does not exactly take control of the affair, but rather, like a good educator, as it were, leaves us much space, much freedom, without entirely abandoning us. Thus the Spirit’s role should be understood in a much more elastic sense—not that he dictates the candidate for whom one must vote. Probably the only assurance he offers is that the thing cannot be totally ruined… There are too many contrary instances of popes the Holy Spirit obviously would not have picked!”

Then, Cardinal Ratzinger, provided us with three important points which apply to an election of a Pope, but I would also like to propose that these same principles can apply to how the Holy Spirit works within the Church in general, outside a conclave tasked with electing a pope. These three principles are control, education and elasticity.

The first principle is “control” or the lack of it. Although the word “inspiration”, used to speak of the source for both sacred Scripture and Tradition, suggests that it is the Holy Spirit who is the author and mover, He does so not in the manner of spirit possessions which the mediums of some non-Christian religions believe in. When the Holy Spirit “inspires” us, He does not take full control of our minds or wills as if we have to abdicate both and lose all consciousness or our freedom.

It is here that we need to make a clear distinction between prayer and magic and not confuse the two. It is all too easy to confuse prayer with magic. Magic is all about control – whether it is controlling our fate or our environment or even the gods. But prayer is not about control—it is the opposite. It is an act of surrender. It requires the surrender of our own will to the will of the Father. Discerning the will of God is not easy. We pray “Thy will be done” several times each day, but it never becomes easier to engage in the effort of discernment—of telling the difference between my will and Thy will.

This leads us to the second principle, which pretty much describes the mission of the Holy Spirit in today’s gospel - educator. Our Lord assures us that “the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything and remind you of all I have said to you.” The educator offers to teach, show, provide insight and wisdom. But, just as you can lead a horse to water but cannot make it drink, so the Holy Spirit offers H imself to the Church—but with preconditions. The first is that one prays. Prayer in practice is much harder than talking about it. It involves the sacrifice of time, the surrender of will, an abandonment of control, and the preferring of the slow, still, small voice. It also involves triangulation with the prayers of others.

Lastly, the answer of Cardinal Ratzinger helps us see that the relationship between the Holy Spirit and the Church is often elastic. It is not one where the Holy Spirit is the puppeteer and we are mere puppets in His hands. His direction, guidance and inspiration does not compromise our freedom. He gives us room to grow, to stretch, to discern the path that we must follow for our sanctification. We too must learn to give room to the unexpected, to spontaneity, to the Holy Spirit. Benedict’s notion of elasticity is wise and compelling. It combines the light touch of love with the firm grip of connection.

God will never let us go, never abandon us—but nor will He control us if we choose to wander. Benedict reassures us that God will not allow the Church to be utterly ruined. But He will allow us the scope to spoil it by our own wilfulness if we insist. How else do we explain the existence of some very poor popes who did great damage to the Church? As St Paul reminds us, where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more. It is the nature of God’s rescue mission that He can take the mess we make and reconfigure it into material for renewal, forgiveness and hope. That’s the “happy fault” sung by the priest during the Easter Proclamation, the Exsultet.

So, we rejoice that the Holy Spirit, the gift of our Lord to the Church, continues to inspire us, educate us and free us. The Holy Spirit will always act with Christ, from Christ, and conform Christians to Christ. It is the Holy Spirit who carries out Christ’s promise to Peter that evil would not prevail against His Church. Not that it could not spoil, corrupt, confuse or disturb. The history of the Church has been marked by many dark episodes when her shepherds and flock have given in to sin, sometimes to the most depraved kind of sin. But history shows that whenever the Church slips into corruption, God raises up saints and renews it afresh by enabling “the Church to grow young, perpetually renews it, and leads it to complete union with its Bridegroom.”

Come Holy Spirit and fill the hearts of Thy faithful and enkindle in them the fire of Thy love!

Soul Quenching Spirit

Pentecost Vigil

Last week, the indigenous communities of Sabah and Sarawak celebrated their respective harvest festivals. This week the Jews do so with the Festival of Weeks or Pentecost, which is its Greek name. The words of our Lord in today’s gospel were not spoken on Pentecost. In fact, the Feast of Pentecost, which is a harvest festival and one of the great pilgrimage festivals of the Jews, is never once mentioned in any of the gospels. The first time we hear of it in the New Testament is found in the Acts of the Apostles, in the scene which is identified with today - the descent of the Holy Spirit and the birth of the Church.

The words of our Lord in today’s passage is spoken on another Jewish festival - the Feast of Booths or Tabernacles. This feast, Sukkoth, is most well-known for the little huts or “booths” (from which the feast derives its name) that the Jewish people would construct and live in throughout the week of the Feast. The feast, like all the other major festivals, was a throwback to the time of the Exodus. It was a celebration of God’s gracious provision for the Israelites in the wilderness before they could even plant or harvest crops. But when they had arrived in the Promised Land, the feast took on an additional significance – it marked the completion of the year’s harvest, for Sukkoth was the last of the three great pilgrimage festivals (the other two being Passover and Pentecost) for the year.

Sukkoth was observed over a week, seven days. On these seven days, the priest will undertake a water drawing ceremony - he would go to the pool of Siloam, fill up golden pitchers with water from the pool and make a grand processional back to the Temple, trumpets would resound, there would be great rejoicing, and singing praises from Scripture like Isaiah 12, “Let us draw water from the wells of salvation,” and along with the singing of Psalms. Thousands and thousands of people from all over Israel would throng the streets of Jerusalem waving palm branches, much like what happened when our Lord entered Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives at the start of Holy Week.

Excitement and jubilation filled the air, as the priest would pour out the water beside the altar. And then they would all fall silent as the priest poured water over the altar. This takes place on the last day of the Feast (described by John as “the last and greatest day of the Festival”), and it’s at the end of all this ceremonial pomp and circumstance that Jesus stood up and shouted, “If any man is thirsty, let him come to me! Let the man come and drink who believes in me.” Can you imagine the shock and utter annoyance of the priestly caste and religious leaders at these words? While all eyes were focused on the golden pitcher of water being poured out over the altar, the Lord Himself is declaring – “Look at me! I am the true source of that water!”

The water poured out by the priest on the altar symbolised the blessings that would come with the future Messiah, and his spiritual life-giving water would stream out over all the earth, just as the water flowed from the rock in the wilderness. Amid this great liturgical ceremony, rich with Biblical allusions and symbolism, the Lord Jesus points people to Himself and says, “the Promised one is here!” The offer of salvation goes out to all people because it’s only through Jesus Christ that your soul’s thirstiness can be quenched. “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink.” But what exactly is this “water” which the Lord is offering?

Should anyone misunderstand the words of the Lord, St John the Evangelist then segues into giving a definitive interpretation to the nature of that water which flows from the Lord: “He was speaking of the Spirit which those who believed in him were to receive; for there was no Spirit as yet because Jesus had not yet been glorified”. He provides this interpretation by citing a quotation from scripture: “From his breast shall flow fountains of living water.” Here’s the problem - there is no exact quotation from the Old Testament which can be found in the Old Testament. There are, however, two references to living, flowing water: Ezekiel 47:1ff and Zechariah 14:8. Both references are speaking of the future temple in the Millennial kingdom and pictures water flowing from the temple. However, neither of these references show that the source of that water comes from “the breast” of the Messiah nor do they point to the Holy Spirit in the way that John does in his gospel.

In Hebrew, the word used to speak of the spirit is “ruah,” which could also translate as wind or breathe. The wind represents the Holy Spirit’s share in the creation of the world (Gen 1:2), and the breath or wind of God represents the Holy Spirit’s participation in the creation of human beings (Gen 2:7). On the day of Pentecost, before the appearance of tongues of fire, there was the sound of a powerful wind which filled the entire room.

But water is also another symbol of the Holy Spirit and this is why when our Lord invites His listeners to come to Him and drink, He is inviting them to partake of the gift of the Holy Spirit. Water cleanses, quenches, refreshes, and gives life. Wherever the rivers flow and rain falls, there is life. Water represents the Holy Spirit’s ability to refresh us, quench our spiritual thirst, cleanse us, and bring forth life wherever He flows. He is the rain of Heaven, and He is the living river that flows from within.

The message which the Spirit inspires us to proclaim is a message of hope. It is a message the world needs especially at this moment. Hope at a time when divisions between peoples are being actively promoted. Hope at this time when our prayers may seem fruitless. Hope at a time when our spiritual lives seem tired and drained. The demands of living, paired with a waning prayer life, can produce a dryness of the soul. In this spiritual desert, you become tired, frustrated, weak, and apathetic. Responsibilities and needs, like the intense heat from the beaming sun, drain you of vitality. Life can sometimes be like a desert, but the Holy Spirit is that ever-flowing living water that quenches the thirst of our souls.

Be assured of this, the Spirit is at work even when we may not see it, when we may be tempted to be discouraged. Tonight, as we begin the celebration of Pentecost, we ask the Holy Spirit to come on us anew as He came on the disciples. To come on us to enable us to be that source of hope for the world, to work in us so we can play our part in bringing creation to its fulfilment, to work in us so that we can share the message that all people are united in Christ, to refresh our dry and withered souls, to work in us so that we can offer people the hope of the new life Christ brings. Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit and they shall be created. And You shall renew the face of the earth.

 

In the One we are one

Seventh Sunday of Easter Year C

Not even an hour had passed after his election as the supreme Roman Pontiff, and when his name was announced from the central loggia of the Basilica of St Peter, both Catholics and non-Catholics began trawling the internet to gather as much background information as possible on this dark horse candidate which no one seems to have predicted or mooted. Despite delving into past social media postings, quotations from recent speeches and homilies, reading perhaps too much into his words and papal attire, Pope Leo XIV remains an enigma. We can only speculate as to the future of his pontificate from what he had said or done in the past, but there should be humility in admitting that the jury is still out as to how he is going to steer the Church, the barque of St Peter. I am in agreement with one commentator that we should just let “Leo be Leo” instead of trying to shape his pontificate in “our image and likeness.”

A clue that can throw light on his fundamental theological and pastoral position is his motto: “in Illo uno unum,” which translates as “in the One we are one.” The phrase is paradoxically both simple and profound. It is taken from Saint Augustine's Exposition on Psalm 127, where the great doctor of the Church explains that “although we Christians are many, in the one Christ we are one.” Being an Augustinian priest before his elevation to the episcopacy, it is natural that this self-styled “son of Augustine” should adopt his motto from the Augustinian tradition.

The Rule of St Augustine to which Augustinians live under and are guided by, is really big about discovering God in community. Augustine believed that shared love of something always generated love of one another. Shared affinity sparks synergy which leads to unity. And that’s the meaning of Pope Leo XIV's motto: “in illo Uno unum” - in the One we are one. We're made one by loving the One. Someone noted: “Fans of the same team like each other. Music lovers normally get along well. And Christians should love Christ passionately enough that it translates into loving each other.” The members of the Church are supposed to get along because of the One we love in common. We all stand and fight under one big banner that flies above us as a standard and identity marker of who we are and what we stand for.

Perhaps, this is a most necessary corrective in an age where the Catholic Church seems threatened by factionalism, where we witness members who are fiercely individualistic and tribalistic, where Catholics most often than not identify themselves with commonly used political labels, whether on the left or the right or in the middle, rather than in the foundation of our common bond as Catholics.

Just in case you think that this is exclusively an Augustinian thing, our Lord reminds us in today’s gospel that this is fundamentally a Christian thing, indeed a most Catholic thing: “May they all be one. Father, may they be one in us, as you are in me and I am in you, so that the world may believe it was you who sent me.” We are one because our Lord wills it and because He and the Father (and the Holy Spirit) are one. The Church, the Christian communion, has a fundamentally Trinitarian structure and foundation. And the truth of the Most Holy Trinity, Unity in Diversity, is most evident when expressed in authentic community living.

In today’s Gospel, taken from the High Priestly prayer of Jesus at the Last Supper, our Lord prays for the whole world, asking that the love with which the Father had lavished upon Him might also be ours, and that through us the Father’s love might be evident to the world. That is what He died for. This prayer is not just empty rhetoric. The prayer puts into words the very mission of Jesus, the project of Jesus, that is to bring about the community of humanity in communion with the Most Holy Trinity. “Holy Father, I pray not only for these, but for those also who through their words will believe in me. May they all be one.” The Lord’s death on the cross, the gift of Himself to us, was the embodiment of these intercessions; and His resurrection embodied the Father’s answer to that prayer.

And so, the prayer of our great High Priest, that “all be one,” transcends time and space. This unity is not meant to be sustained by a long history of human endeavour. In fact, just like in the past, human endeavour to preserve unity had often proven inadequate and the weak members of the Body of Christ had been responsible for causing great divisions and injury to the unity intended by Christ. We are not the primary agents of the Church’s unity. No, the bonds of unity among the disciples of Christ must be built on a much stronger and studier foundation. The unity of God’s people can never be fabricated by man. It must be generated by the Spirit of God. True authentic unity in the Church is never achieved by sharing an ideology or personality. Our unity, our communion, can only be found in our love for God. In Him we are one. Christians are drawn to one another because they are drawn to a common centre, Jesus Christ Himself. For that is the source of the power of that unity. As long as we remain separated from Him or His will through wilful sin, as long as we insist on our way of doing things or our opinions are the only correct ones, we will never be able to arrive at that unity.

As we await Pentecost and the return of the Holy Spirit, let us as members of the Body of Christ, the Bride of Christ, call upon the Bridegroom to come, for we wish to be united with Him and through Him, with each other. At the Mass of the Initiation of his Petrine Ministry, Pope Leo XIV made an impassioned call to unity, but it is a unity not built on sharing one ideology or another, but on Christ. Let us continue to pray for him and the Church whom he leads as we heed his words: “Look to Christ! Come closer to him! Welcome His word that enlightens and consoles! Listen to His offer of love and become His one family: in the one Christ, we are one.”

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.”

Think and Feel with the Church

Fourth Sunday of Easter Year C
Good Shepherd Sunday
Pilgrimage 13 - (Anticipated Mass in Lisbon)

As we come to the end of our pilgrimage, I would like to thank all of you for being good sheep that have listened attentively and obediently to the voice of your shepherd. Some would call it blind docility. Others would call it basic survival skills. Whatever may have been the reason for your exquisite cooperation, it has been a blessing and a privilege to have guided you through this entire journey of faith and discovery. We are thankful that we have lost no one on this trip.

What has been the secret of us staying safe, staying focused, staying on the right path? Our Lord provides us with the answer: “The sheep that belong to me listen to my voice.” Listening is at the heart of the Christian life. But if we wish to listen, we should start with obeying. Obedience comes from the Latin “to listen” (obedire). Obedience, according to St Augustine, is “the mother and guardian of all other virtues.” It ensures a life of goodness because it entails hearing and following God, the source of all goodness. This obedience is not for some in the Church but for all, from the child kneeling in the pew to the Pope presiding in Rome.

God alone is this obedience owed and given, but it is given to God through the Church because God gives Himself to us through the Church. Here is where many begin to engage in hypocritical casuistry. Some would claim that they are obedient to God but not to men, like the Pope or bishops, or man-made institutions like the Church. But God places us in a Church as a part of the body where Christ is the head, and we are the parts. This is why our Lord chose not to appear to Thomas in the gospel of Divine Mercy Sunday until he was prepared to return to the community of believers, the Church. As much as the Church is maligned and judged for the failures of her shepherds and members, there is no denying that our Lord instituted the Church to be the redemptive tool of the world, to continue to shepherd His flock, with Him as the Head and the body, with all its different parts working together to bring redemption to the world.

One phrase that captures this principle of listening to the voice of the Shepherd through His Church is, “to think with the Church;” or, in St Ignatius of Loyola’s formulation, sentire cum ecclesia. “Sentire”, of course, is not simply “to think,” which in English is often meant in a cold, rational way. Other words that are used to translate sentire are sense, feel, and perceive. “Feel” is a great translation that can also carry connotations of “think” except that “feel” can also imply the lack of rational thought.

What does it really mean to “think with the Church”? For one thing, thinking with the Church means giving a unique respect to our bishops and to the Pope. A filial love for our shepherds is a necessary expression of wanting to listen intimately to the voice of the Good Shepherd. We must, however, acknowledge that sometimes shepherds speak with their own voices rather than with that of Christ and the Holy Spirit. And this is the reason why confusion, heresy and even schism can break the unity of the Church and disrupt her mission.

We must, therefore, make a distinction between what is and is not meant to think and feel with the Church. First, it might be helpful to describe what the Church is not. The lay faithful are not pawns who are to take marching orders from their priests and bishops, nor bishops from the Pope. The Church is not a secret organisation where information (or revelation) is possessed in full only at the top and then is distributed selectively and imperfectly throughout. To think with the Church does not mean “to let the Church think for you.” Discernment is required.

But discernment without a guide or standard may lead us to error, that is to substitute Christ’s teachings with our own personal opinions. This, then, is precisely why the Magisterium, the teaching authority of the Church as a guardian and servant of Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition, is so necessary if one desires to think with the Church. Magisterial interventions serve to guarantee the Church’s unity in the truth of the Lord. They aid her to ‘abide in the truth’ in the face of the arbitrary character of changeable opinions and are an expression of obedience to the Word of God. The Magisterium exists precisely for the purpose of ensuring that the Church can authoritatively distinguish what derives from faith and what is merely an opinion. Even Popes and bishops must submit to the Magisterium as faithful servants as much as they are the very teachers whose teaching authority flows therefrom.

Episcopal and papal authority depends on obedience to what has been revealed and handed down by means of the Holy Spirit. To be a teacher of the faith is first and foremost to be a learner of it. Though bishops and the Pope have specific teaching roles, the whole Church is a listening Church, a learning Church and so the whole Church is the teaching Church. Our mission is to conform to what has been taught so that we in turn may be true teachers of the word. A person ceases to be a teacher of the faith when he ceases to let himself be instructed by universal tradition. Our teaching must be shaped by our obedience to universal tradition and never by our own ideas, by our own standing, or by our own times. This is what it means to listen to the Good Shepherd instead of talking or shouting over Him.

During his papacy, Pope Francis proposed that we follow the synodal path of becoming a listening church. That is indeed a noble idea. But to be truly listening, we must first be ready to listen to our Lord who has spoken through scripture and Tradition through the ages. If not, we will end up listening to the spirit of the world, instead of the Spirit of Christ and be misled ourselves and in turn lead others astray. We can have a listening Church only if we have an obeying Church. Obey; listen; proclaim. God has spoken; our task is to hear that Word and speak from it. We are not to speak from our times but to our times from God’s Word. Only then, can we be assured of being partakers of eternal life and not be lost.

As we depart from Lisbon for home, continue to listen carefully to the voice of the Shepherd in whatever situation you may find yourself. You came here as pilgrims. You will leave here as missionaries bringing the good news of Jesus Christ with you to the ends of the earth. But first, let us start with our neighbourhood and parish!

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.

The Universality of our Faith

Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord

Many have forgotten the ideals that were encapsulated in the rallying cry of the French Revolution, Liberty, Equality and Fraternity, which did not just bring down the aristocracy but also much of the Christian ethos on which Western civilisation was built upon. Today, those ideals have been reduced to ashes like the Cathedral of Notre Dame of Paris, only to have risen like a Phoenix in another form - DEI - Diversity, Equity and Inclusion. Although, some would argue that DEI is just another form of the threefold motto of the French Revolution only differing in minor semantics, DEI has gone beyond what those principles had been espoused to introduce. DEI: the race-and-identity-based ideology has become a core component of corporate or cultural endeavours across the US and even the world. DEI informs how students are taught, workers are hired and governance policies are established and obeyed. DEI are the new gifts offered not at the altar of God or to His infant Son, but to the altar of man.

Long before DEI became a fad, we have the tradition of the magi, often depicted in the Nativity crèche scene as three men hailing from the three known continents of the early medieval period - Europe, Asia and Africa. They perfectly fit the bill of being DEI hires. Recently, Fr Bonaventure and I were doing some Christmas decoration shopping, and we were looking for a new nativity set for the Parish House. Our eyes set upon this beautiful porcelain set which was surprisingly cheaper than all the other synthetic stuff. Our joy was short lived when we were informed by the shop owner that the set was already sold, and the display set was the only one they had in stock. Upon enquiring as to why the price of this exquisite set was far cheaper than the rest, the shop keeper admitted that one piece was missing - “the black king.” Too much “whiteness” (and indeed unlike the other sets, all figures were porcelain white) had rendered it defective and sadly “cancelled.” Christmas was no longer DEI compliant!

Thank God, we don’t need DEI to celebrate today’s feast. Yes, we should respect diversity rather than insist on uniformity. Yes, we need to include rather than to exclude, to build bridges rather than walls. These values are entirely understandable and morally laudable. But we don’t need to force the Church into a DEI box in order to achieve this. Our celebration of Epiphany is already a celebration of diversity, equality of dignity and inclusion.

Epiphany is the celebration of the universality of the Church, the universality of our faith, the universality of salvation and the universality of Christ as Saviour, who came to save not just an elite group of individuals belonging to a particular nation, caste, or race but He came to save all humanity. This universality is manifested in the visit of the magi, these non-Jewish wise men, most likely astrologers, as they came to pay homage to the Infant King in Bethlehem. The visit of the Magi, Pope Francis teaches, shows that Jesus Christ is 'the light of the world that guides the path of all peoples.' The Son of God did not only come for the people of Israel, represented by the shepherds, but also for the whole of humanity, represented by the Magi.

The Magi remind us of the catholicity or universality of the Church. Catholic means universal! We perhaps take for granted the catholicity of the Catholic Church. It is an important “mark of the Church.” We see this universality right here in our own parish. We are blessed with a diversity of races and cultures. We believe that God calls all people to salvation and that the Gospel is meant to be spread to the nations of the whole world. The Second Vatican Council taught that this gift of universality which adorns the People of God is a gift from the Lord Himself whereby the Catholic Church ceaselessly and efficaciously seeks for the return of all humanity and all its good under Christ the Head in the unity of His Spirit (Lumen gentium 13).

That Jesus is a universal Saviour is a great source of comfort and hope to us. But the divisiveness of Jesus, and the opposition that He provokes: that too remains. Right from the very moment of His birth, we see opposition in the person of King Herod. But King Herod would only be the first in a long line of those who would oppose Christ and His followers. Though Christ’s mission was universal, it did not mean that all accepted it universally. Christ is a sign that will be opposed: we see it in the persecution faced by Christians over the centuries and in many parts of the world; we see it in that mixture of indifference and hostility which is largely the default setting of our own secular culture to the Christian faith. The universality of His message of salvation is matched by the universality of opposition and hostility to the Gospel.

But perhaps too we see it even in our own hearts. There may be a part of us that wants to follow Jesus; there may be moments when we recognise that we need a Saviour; there may be times when the illusion that we are in control is shattered, and we want to be able to trust in His rule and in His care. But then, there is also a part of us that is frightened in much the same way that Herod was frightened, a part of us that wants to maintain the illusion of control at all costs. We are unwilling to be like the Wise Men, following the light to who knows where; we are unwilling to leave everything behind, to turn our lives upside down, to take risks and to make sacrifices for the sake of Jesus. We don’t want a King; we don’t think we need a Saviour. It’s our life, we are in control, we think we already have the answers. We turn away from Jesus, or we follow Him only half-heartedly, because we fear the challenge and the loss of control.

Every one of us has felt the sting of unjust exclusion, that sense of being on the wrong side of an arbitrary social divide, not permitted to belong to the “in” crowd. Perhaps, we in Malaysia have felt this more than in any other place on this earth. That entire classes of people, indeed entire races and ethnic groups, have suffered this indignity is beyond question. But the answer is not to hold up Diversity, Equity and Inclusion as the ultimate moral compass of our society. The antidote to our division is not to be found in these values, if they are values that have been cut off from its source, our Lord Jesus Christ, the unique and universal Saviour of the world.

So today we rejoice with the Wise Men in the presence of Jesus our Saviour and King. We rejoice that His salvation and His rule is universal, that His loving redemption extends to you and to me. We pray for the spread of the Gospel in our own generation, for all who have been unable to accept the Lord’s call, for persecuted Christians around the world, and for those who persecute them. And we repent of that fear that holds us back, that fear that prevents us from wholeheartedly seeking the light of Christ, the fear that keeps us separate from others and to view them as inferior to us. Today, we as members of the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church should double our efforts in reaching out to everyone, by welcoming everyone to bask in the light of Christ, our true star. But it is also important to recall what Cardinal Francis George, the former Archbishop of Chicago, once said when asked whether all are welcome in the Church. He responded, “Yes, but on Christ’s terms, not their own.”

Broken but not Beaten

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

As much as we hope to see the Church grow in size and influence, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, the future Pope Benedict XVI, made this prophecy back in 1969 which has been proven to be true, at least in the West as we have witnessed, a free fall drop in members and vocations:
“From the crisis of today the Church of tomorrow will emerge — a Church that has lost much. She will become small and will have to start afresh more or less from the beginning. She will no longer be able to inhabit many of the edifices she built in prosperity. As the number of her adherents diminishes, so it will lose many of her social privileges (…) And so it seems certain to me that the Church is facing very hard times. The real crisis has scarcely begun. We will have to count on terrific upheavals.”

This prophecy seems to be in the vein of the doomsday prophecies so commonly uttered and recorded in the Old Testament - all fire and brimstone and destruction. On the surface, the words of Pope Benedict do little to inspire but rather can be a cause for despair. Perhaps, this is reflective of the life of the blind Bartimaeus before his chanced meeting with the Lord. Like Bartimaeus, when thinking about the terminal diagnosis given about the Church, it is easy to wallow in self-pity, to complain about our dire situation and view everything around us through the lenses of darkness. And yet the good news is that light shines brightest in the dark.

In the first reading, the Prophet Jeremiah is commanded by God to make the following announcement to the remnant population of a decimated nation: “Shout with joy for Jacob! Hail the chief of nations! Proclaim! Praise! Shout: ‘The Lord has saved his people, the remnant of Israel!’” In the midst of disaster and national tragedy, the prophet declares that God is the father to Israel, and in fact, Israel is His cherished first-born son - the sole heir to His inheritance according to the law of primogeniture. Who are these remnants? The idea of a “remnant” sounds either like the survivors of some Holocaust or a band of puritanical hold-outs who have kept themselves unsullied from the depravity of their present age. But this is not the biblical understanding of the word, even among the Jews.

According to an ancient Jewish tradition, the universe is sustained by the presence of at least thirty-six tzadikim, or “righteous ones”, in every generation. The story of Abraham’s intercession on behalf of the evil cities of Sodom and Gomorrah may have inspired this tradition. Just like any good apocalyptic prophecy which continues to maintain the suspense, no one knows the identity of those tzadikim. They are humble souls who quietly pray and perform good deeds for the benefit of the world. Just like the description given in Hebrews of the role of the High Priest, as someone who “has been taken out of mankind and is appointed to act for men in their relations with God, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins.” And so, it is believed that God does not judge the world on account of these saintly “remnant” souls.

If the understanding of what a remnant means is connected to the presence of this mysterious group of righteous saints, a pattern seems to emerge here which should allow us to understand the nature and mission of the remnant. The remnant is neither the victim of God’s wrath nor do they delight in it. Quite the contrary: the remnant exists to appease it. They never take advantage of their status as righteous ones in the eyes of the Lord to call fire and brimstone to rain on the sinners’ heads, but they pity the sinners and sacrifice themselves for them, even the unrepentant ones. They are not harbingers of God’s justice, rather they are the emissaries of His mercy. Through them, God’s mercy becomes manifest to all mankind.

Therefore, the mission of a remnant Church is not resignation, nor is she to wallow in self-pity nor should she grow resentful in complaining about her plight. When we do this, we are like the crowd of by-standers and disciples who try to silence the cries of those who cry out like Bartimaeus. Rather than facilitating an encounter with the Lord, we act as His greatest detractors and become obstacles to others to make progress on the path to holiness. No, this is not the mission of the “remnant Church.” Rather than withdrawing into a cocoon of self-pity and safety, we are called to be intercessors and mediators. We should go out and redouble our efforts to share the gospel message and invite others to join the faithful remnant. We are called to uphold the true teachings of the gospel and be a beacon of light in a world seen as darkened by sin and apostasy. To those cowering in fear and shrouded in darkness like Bartimaeus, let us encourage them with this exhortation: “Courage, get up, He is calling you.”

So, let us not perceive the Church’s smallness with fear or reticence, but with faith and courage. Our voice may seem small but it is amplified with the roaring power of the Holy Spirit and Christ’s sanctifying grace working in and through the Church. Salvation will come not from success and efficiency measured by the standards of the world, but from Jesus Christ alone, who has promised never to abandon His Church. We must be joyful and content, for it is only when we’re weak that we’re strong (2 Cor 12:9-10). It is only by being the grain of mustard that we, as a Church, will be able to grow into the greatest tree in the field, where the birds from heaven will be able to roost, rest and sing (Mk 4:30-32).

In an interview, our Holy Father Pope Francis summarised the prophetic vision of Pope Benedict XVI in these words: “Pope Benedict was a prophet of this Church of the future, a Church that will become smaller, lose many privileges, be more humble and authentic and find energy for what is essential. It will be a Church that is more spiritual, poorer and less political: a Church of the little ones.” Rather than bemoan the passing of her bygone glory or seek to insulate herself in bubble-wrapping, we should rejoice at the grace of being tenderly pruned at the hands of a Loving Father, for what would emerge from this “smaller”, “humbler”, “more spiritual,” “less political” church is something that will continually surprise and excite us.

In the visionary words of Pope Benedict: “But in all of the changes at which one might guess, the Church will find her essence afresh and with full conviction in that which was always at her centre: faith in the triune God, in Jesus Christ, the Son of God made man, in the presence of the Spirit until the end of the world. In faith and prayer she will again recognise the sacraments as the worship of God and not as a subject for liturgical scholarship.” This is our conviction of faith and hope – that when we come to our Lord with the enduring faith of Bartimaeus, we are convinced that we will see again, we will be refreshed again, our vigour and excitement will be reignited again to follow Christ once more.

Sin should never be tolerated

Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Tolerance is a highly valued attribute in today’s culture, perhaps seen as its greatest virtue. According to this value system, the only thing which cannot be tolerated is an intolerant person. This is why Christianity, the Church and our set of moral teachings are most frequently vilified because they are perceived by the world’s magnanimous standards as rigidly intolerant. Should anyone in the Church have the audacity of proposing a set of moral norms to us, they would most likely be met with this question: “who are you to judge?”

Today’s passage is made up of two sections which provide us with what seems to be opposite ends of a spectrum. The first part seems to have an extremely tolerant and inclusive Jesus reprimanding His own disciples for their narrow-minded intolerance. However, our Lord in the second part launches into this vitriolic diatribe against those who cause scandals and in fact, even condemns them to destruction and hell fire should they fall into error. So, how do we make sense of this bi-polarity? Is our Lord Jesus the model of tolerance or intolerance? I believe the question is misguided. Our Lord is neither the epitome of tolerance or intolerance. Tolerance has nothing to do with His actions. Context is needed in reading both sections.

Let’s begin with the first section. Pay close attention to the words used by the Apostle John in his complaint to the Lord: “Master, we saw a man who is not one of us casting out devils in your name; and because he was not one of us we tried to stop him.” Take note that this man who is the subject of John’s complaint is being accused of not being “one of us,” the “us” here specifically referring to the Twelve Apostles who had been chosen and commissioned by the Lord to preach and cast out demons. There is no indication that this man is not one of our Lord’s followers; he could very well have been a disciple or follower of the Lord, as is evidenced by the fact that this man casts out demons using the name of Jesus and not his own nor by any other power. It would appear that the Apostles, or at least John, thought that this authority was exclusively theirs and they had a monopoly over these matters. They had forgotten that their authority is derived from the Lord who can choose to share it with anyone whom He chooses.

A similar situation is narrated in the first reading, where it is Joshua who complains to Moses that two men who were not part of the original group of seventy elders were now exercising the authority of prophecy. Moses answered him, “Are you jealous on my account? If only the whole people of the Lord were prophets, and the Lord gave his Spirit to them all!” This is an important reminder that the Spirit of God blows where He wills and who are we to put limits on His actions. We should be rejoicing at God's generosity rather than complain out of jealousy if He chooses to favour others. Although we must respect the freedom of God to give what He wills where He wills it, there must also be prudent discernment of spirits to ascertain whether the origin of such action or teaching is the Holy Spirit or from some other source. As St Paul reminds us in 1 Thes 5:21-22, “But examine everything carefully; hold fast to that which is good; abstain from every form of evil.”

In the case of the gospel, our Lord provides us with a criterion of discernment: “no one who works a miracle in my name is likely to speak evil of me. Anyone who is not against us is for us.” Is our Lord advocating some form of indifferentism, that all religions, all philosophies and all churches are the same and equal paths to salvation? Notice that our Lord is not asking His disciples to accept, include and tolerate all and sundry. Blind tolerance is not the objective of the Church. Those who are the enemies of truth, the enemies of the teachings of Christ and His Church, those who serve values opposed to ours, can never be accepted nor tolerated. To tolerate such behaviour would be to work against the very mission of Christ and the commission given to the Church. It is for this reason that heresy (erroneous or false teaching), apostasy (total renunciation of the Catholic Faith) and schism (disobedience against the legitimate authority of the Church) are met with the harshest of penalties - excommunication. One cannot claim to be “with us”, if the person or persons are clearly working “against us.” For this reason, we cannot shake hands with a false gospel or cooperate with those who would lead the flock astray.

This becomes clear in the second half of the passage. Those who are in fact working against the Body of the Christ, leading others astray are to be met with zero tolerance. Don’t take it from me. Listen to what the Lord Himself had to say: “anyone who is an obstacle to bring down one of these little ones who have faith, would be better thrown into the sea with a great millstone round his neck.” The word translated as “obstacle” is “skandalon” in Greek, which literally means “to trip up, to make someone fall.” This is what scandals do - they cause others to sin. Our Lord reserved His harshest condemnation for such a scenario - it is better that they meet with a Mafia-like execution than to continue leading others into error. Traditionally, this is reflected in the Latin maxim “error non habet ius,” “error has no rights!”

The irony we see in today’s world is that maximum tolerance is accorded to all forms of depraved behaviour where sexual sins are often presented as legitimate alternative life styles which need to be recognised and celebrated. Today’s society applauds itself for being highly enlightened and open-minded and that those who would take offence with such behaviour and lifestyles are the ones who should be opposed for their rigidity and bigotry.

Rather than construing the last few statements of our Lord in today’s passage as evidence of our Lord advocating some form of hudud punishment in the form of bodily mutilation, we need to recognise the ecclesial and symbolic meaning of His words. If St Paul describes the Church as the Body of Christ, what we are seeing here is the fundamental basis for the penalty of excommunication. Excommunication excludes the offender from taking part in the Eucharist or other sacraments and from the exercise of any ecclesiastical office, ministry, or function. On the face of it, it sounds unreasonably harsh. But we need to remember that excommunication is meant to be corrective and remedial, rather than punitive. By the penalty of excommunication, the Church does not condemn anyone. Rather it is a teaching tool - it is meant to emphasise the seriousness of certain sins or offences that cuts a person off from sacramental grace. Without this warning, the person may be deluded to continue in his or her error and wrongdoing.

Certainly, there are many things which we must learn to endure - the quirks and idiosyncrasies of others. God knows we have our own annoying traits which others have to put up with for the most part. But there is something which cannot be tolerated and should never be tolerated even in the name of being nice and peaceable - it is sin. Sin corrupts not only our lives but the community. But just like God, we must show forbearance and mercy to the sinner with the hope and expectation of his repentance. If we truly love our neighbour, then it is our fundamental duty where possible to reach out and lead him or her to the truth and to righteousness. We do so not because we are envious or judgmental. Charity demands we do something to stop the rot and prevent the person from being "thrown into hell where their worm does not die nor their fire go out." Let us never forget that it is not our reputation but the salvation of every soul which is at stake.

God is the Author, man isn't

Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Being a priest, I must admit that it’s not hard to know what I must do. If I want to know what I must do, I am simply guided by sacred scripture and sacred tradition, the teachings and disciplines of the Church found in canon law, the liturgical rubrics and pastoral directories governing church discipline, structures and practices. The hard part is doing it anyway despite it being unpopular. It’s funny that whenever I do what is required of me, I’m always accused of being “rigid”! Yes, the Church’s laws, rules and rubrics provide clear unambiguous guidance and direction, but they also make room for discernment and exception-making whenever necessary. The hard part is always trying to reinvent the wheel based on personal preferences and feelings, mine as well as others. This is when the point of reference is no longer Christ or the Church, but me. If I should “follow my heart” or that of others, without any reference to Christ or the Church, I would simply be guilty of what the Lord is accusing the Pharisees in today’s gospel: “You put aside the commandment of God to cling to human traditions.”

Too many these days, including many well-intentioned pastors, feel that the teachings of the Church fall into the category of “grey area” and “ambiguity,” thus the teachings of faith and morals are relative to individuals and their respective unique situations. They have problems with doctrinal teachings on contraception, purgatory, and indulgences (just to name a few), all of which are covered and explained clearly in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. And if we should decide to defend these teachings and the laws which flow from them, we are immediately labelled as “rigid” and “seeing everything in black and white,” refusing to acknowledge that people change over the years and so the Church must learn to adapt accordingly. The final argument and last insult would be to insist that Church laws are mere “human regulations” which justifies departing from them. And since they are supposedly “man-made rules,” you can and should dispense with them as how Christ dispensed with the man-made rules and traditions of the scribes and Pharisees in today’s gospel passage. Interesting argument but seriously flawed.

Yes, it is correct to state that many of these rules are man-made, Christ made them and Christ was fully human. It was Christ Himself who instituted the Eucharist: “Do this in memory of Me”, He said at the Last Supper. “Go therefore and baptise”, He said, and it was He who included the Trinitarian baptismal formula in the rite. It was He who taught if someone should divorce his or her spouse and marry another, it would be adultery. Our Lord was the master of creating traditions! But let us not forget this little, often ignored, seldom stressed point – Christ was also fully divine – He was fully God. So, no, though there are man-made rules in the Church just like any human organisation and society, and these rules can technically be changed and have changed over the centuries, there are fundamentally certain rules set in stone, on an unbreakable and indissoluble “stone”, which is to say that they are “immutable,” they remain binding in every age and place and under any circumstances, precisely because God is the author, and man isn’t.

Alright, given the fact that divine laws can’t be changed except by God, how about all the disciplines, canon law, rules and liturgical rubrics of the Church? Aren’t these man-made? Well, just because they are “man-made” doesn’t necessarily empty them of value. Traffic laws, statutory laws, municipal by-laws, school regulations, association rules would equally fall under the same category of being “man-made.” Can you imagine a society or a world that totally departs from any law or regulation and everyone is allowed to make decisions, behave, and act upon their own whims and fancies? If you’ve ever watched one of those apocalyptic movies of a dystopian world in the not-too-distant future, you will have your answer. We will soon descend into a society of anarchy, lawlessness, violence, where justice is merely an illusion and “might is right.” The reason for this is because none of us are as sinless as the Son of God or His immaculately conceived Mother. Laws are not meant to curtail and restrict our freedom. They are meant to ensure that our rights as well as the rights of others are protected so that true freedom may be enjoyed. The Law of Christ as expounded by the Church frees us - it frees from our selfish, self-referential, sin-encrusted egos.

A more careful examination of Christ’s words in today’s passage indicate that He was not condemning human tradition, but those who place human traditions, laws, or demands before true worship of God and His will expressed in the commandments. The problem wasn’t “human traditions” but specifically “human traditions” that obscure the priority of worship and God. Man was made to worship God; it's in our very nature to do so. Every other human activity should either flow from this or should rank second to this. This is what liturgical rubrics hope to achieve. Detailed instructions for both the priest and the congregation are intended to ensure that God is ultimately worshipped and glorified in the liturgy, and not man who is to be entertained. In other words, all these “man-made” rules of the Church which, to some of us, doesn’t seem to be what Christ taught, actually flow from the heart of Christ's teaching. Christ gave us the Church to teach and to guide us; she does so, in part, by teaching us to know God, to love Him and serve Him and through all these, be united with Him in Paradise forever. But when we substitute our own will for this most basic aspect of our humanity, we don't simply fail to do what we ought; we take a step backward and obscure the image of God.

It is often very convenient to denounce Catholic tradition as “man-made” or “human tradition” just because we don’t like it. The hypocrisy of such an accusation is often lost on those who supplant the Church’s tradition, rules and rubrics, with their own interpretation and version. Clericalism, real clericalism and not just the dressed-up version of it (those who wear black cassocks or lacy albs), is the result of choosing to depart from those rules, disciplines and teachings. When we ignore or reject the rules of the Church, we are merely replacing them with our own rules, our so-called “human traditions.” In fact, we are putting “aside the commandment of God to cling to human traditions.” It is not those who keep the rules but those who flagrantly break the rules that are the modern-day Pharisees.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church tells us that Sacred Tradition, rather than a set of “man-made rules” or “human traditions” is “the living memorial of God’s Word.” Pope Benedict XVI explains that Sacred Tradition “is not the transmission of things or words, an assortment of lifeless objects; (but) it is the living stream that links us to the origins, the living stream in which those origins are ever present.” Therefore, we should be putting aside our own arrogant personal preferences and opinions, rather than God’s commandments, and come to acknowledge that it is not stupidity but humility to listen to the voice of the Church because as St Ambrose reminds us, “the Church shines not with her own light, but with the light of Christ. Her light is drawn from the Sun of Justice, so that she can exclaim: ‘It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me’ (Gal 2:20)”.

Real Food and Real Drink

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

We come to the close of our Lord’s Discourse on the Bread of Life. One would imagine that His audience’s hearts had been softened by all the explanation which our Lord had offered thus far and which we have heard for the past few weeks. But our Lord’s teaching on this subject reaches its climax today with this shocking revelation. The kid’s gloves are off and no mushy gooey diet is served to His listeners. Our Lord gets to the very heart of the matter and says it as it is: “if you do not eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you will not have life in you. Anyone who does eat my flesh and drink my blood has eternal life, and I shall raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink.” If eating flesh makes you sick to your stomach, try drinking blood to down the gory meal!

If it is disgusting to demand that they eat His flesh, can you imagine the horror of His audience when the Lord tells them that they must also drink His blood. The Jews have one of the most hemophobic cultures on this planet; there is little that is more disgusting and offensive to a Jew than being expected to touch blood, let alone consume it. And the text did not use the standard Greek verb “to eat” here when it emphasises this eating and drinking: φᾰγεῖν (phagein) is the standard, classical Greek verb “to eat,” the way humans eat a meal. The verb here instead is τρώγειν (trōgein), used especially of animals eating or feeding, most literally translated as “to bite, chew, gnaw.” No dainty fine dining here but a blood fest!

Up to this point, the growing crowd had been thrilled with the Lord. After all, He could heal the sick and feed the masses with a meagre supply of bread and fish! Was this the long-awaited Prophet, the likes which they have not seen since Moses? They were even ready to make Him king. But our Lord discerned something defective about their enthusiasm. They desired more loaves from heaven, a repeat performance of what Moses did for their ancestors during the Exodus, but not the bread He had come to give them: Himself. So, He tested their understanding and readiness to accept what He was about to offer them with a series of increasingly provocative statements, culminating in the one above. We should not be surprised that they took offence; it sounded like cannibalism. The “Jesus for King” campaign suddenly evaporated.

Protestants would look at this passage and insist that the crowds had misunderstood our Lord by taking His words literally whereas they should be understood metaphorically. Here is where our Protestant brethren have gotten it wrong. It is ironic how Protestants take many passages in the Bible literally but not this one, even though our Lord insists that He was. Our Lord was indeed speaking literally instead of metaphorically. His declaration that He was the Bread of Life is radically different from all the other “I am” pronouncements. No one expects Jesus to be speaking literally when He describes Himself as the Door or the Vine. But here our Lord insists that His flesh and blood are real food and real drink. As one aging statesman is fond of saying: “no kidding… it’s not hyperbole … but seriously!”

There seems little question about what the Lord meant: If He did not intend for His words to suggest an actual eating and drinking of His body and blood, He would not have emphasised this statement more explicitly when questioned about it, and He would have made some effort to clarify the misunderstanding when His disciples protested, if it was in fact a misunderstanding. We would hear how He refused to correct His words in next week’s final instalment of Chapter 6 of John’s Gospel, even when many of His disciples decided to walk away in protest. He did not stop them because for once, they did understand what He meant and since He literally spoke the truth, there is no need for Him to apologise or correct His speech. Our Lord refused to revise His speech even if it meant losing these number of followers. They were not true “disciples” who were ready to accept Him at His word.

“If you do not eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you will not have life in you.” That’s a tall claim, in fact, the tallest! Other types of food give sustenance and provide us with the necessary nutrition for health and growth and ensures our survival. But only one food can guarantee Eternal Life. It is the Eucharist: “Anyone who eats this bread will live forever!” The first reading taken from the Book of Proverbs speaks of Wisdom preparing a feast. The Eucharist is indeed the Feast of Wisdom because it is the Feast of Life – eternal life which is communion with God. This life in communion with God is the highest wisdom, and surpasses all wisdom, because it seals this bond between God and man. By eating the Body and drinking the Blood of Christ in the Eucharist we become united to the person of Christ through his humanity. “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.”

In being united to the humanity of Christ we are at the same time united to His divinity. Our mortal and corruptible natures are transformed by being joined to the source of life. In a divine twist, that which was desired by Adam and Eve (food that would make them like gods) but denied to them as a result of their disobedience and foolishness, is made available through this food which Christ, Holy Wisdom, now commands us to partake.

One of the keys to understanding Catholic theology — and one of the beauties, in its simplicity and complexity at the same time — is that just as this passage conveys both a physical and a spiritual sense, each of the Sacraments conveys both a physical and a spiritual effect. The Sacraments consist outwardly in simple, physical actions: washing with water, anointing with oil, the laying on of hands. And these actions not only symbolise a spiritual reality — the washing away of sins, the passing of authority and commissioning of duty — but they actually accomplish spiritually what they represent physically. Likewise, the Eucharist, by the simple act of eating and drinking the consecrated Hosts, not only symbolises and represents Communion in Christ’s Body, but actually infuses us with His grace because IT IS the Body and Blood of Christ. We literally, physically, spiritually share in Christ’s Body and Blood, in His humanity and divinity, in His eternal life. We believe this to be true because He had said so and who are we to doubt when you’ve heard it from the horse’s mouth.

A New Authority

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

“Don’t put words into my mouth” is a popular way of deflecting accusations by arguing that you have been misquoted, that your original speech has been embellished by words which do not reflect your original intent. Under these circumstances, you would not appreciate any extrapolation by others. The original words and context are always the best, or as they would say, “from the horse’s mouth.”

Despite our insistence on others keeping faithful to what we had originally said, we always appreciate novelty in speech. Innovation excites. Repetition bores. Sometimes, the truth does not matter especially when it hurts and does not work in our favour. The more fanciful the story, the more entertaining. That is why the best gossips and rumours are often the most incredulous. Who wants to know the boring truth, when you have the make-believe version that is much juicier?

Our readings today reverse the above cultural trends.

Instead of innovating with our own words and ideas, the first reading seeks to look for an ideal prophet following the archetype of Moses, someone who speaks God’s words and not his own. In fact, only God has every right to demand that we do not put words in His mouth and claim to speak on His behalf when He has not spoken these words at all. “All they have spoken is well said. I will raise up a prophet like yourself for them from their own brothers; I will put my words into his mouth and he shall tell them all I command him. The man who does not listen to my words that he speaks in my name, shall be held answerable to me for it. But the prophet who presumes to say in my name a thing I have not commanded him to say, or who speaks in the name of other gods, that prophet shall die.” The Lord promises to raise up another leader like Moses, a prophecy which can only be fulfilled perfectly in the person of Jesus.

In the second reading, we are reminded by St Paul that words are not sufficient in witnessing the gospel of the Kingdom. It must be matched by actions and a particular value-based lifestyle. This is why St Paul advocates the celibate life. He does so not because he believes that marriage is bad and that the conjugal life is somewhat evil. He does so because celibacy, just like marriage, is also a sign of the life of the Kingdom. Celibacy does not make sense unless the values of the Kingdom of God fill the celibate’s whole horizon.

Finally, we have a miracle story in the gospel where our Lord exorcises a man possessed with an evil spirit in the synagogue. The crowds seem impressed by our Lord’s teachings, because “unlike the scribes, he taught them with authority.” St Mark does not elaborate any further as to the meaning of this term: “authority.” We often believe that “authority” and “power” are interchangeable. Yes, although there is intersection between the two concepts, one does not immediately imply the other. Persons with authority can be made powerless and those with power may not have authority.

The original Greek used by the evangelist would help us make more sense of the differences between these two words. The Greek word for power is dunamis, from which we derive the English dynamite. Our Lord had power as evidenced by His power to perform healing miracles, raise the dead, calm storms and cast out demons. But the unclean spirits likewise had power over the humans and the animals which they possessed. The difference between our Lord and the demons is that the former had authority (exousia) to exercise that power, while the demons did not. Exousia or authority points to limits, accountability, ministry and jurisdiction. Our Lord possessed authority by virtue of His identity - being the Son of God - an identity and authority which even the demons recognised and feared. Notice that the demons did not acknowledge the authority of the scribes, Pharisees and religious establishment. In the case of our Lord Jesus, He possessed both authority and power. The demons possessed their subjects with power but without authority.

Likewise, in modern times, many people are no respecters of authority, viewing it as tyrannical and old fashioned. They fail to recognise that without authority, without true limits, jurisdiction and accountability, everything descends into sheer abuse of power. Nothing exists in a vacuum. When we reject legitimate and rightful authority, we become an authority unto ourselves. My favourite definition of a Pharisee reflects this irony - a Pharisee sees a law when there is none and breaks a law when there is one.

It is authority which links our Lord’s deeds with His words, and this is the reason why the crowds commented that our Lord teaches with authority even though they had just witnessed an exorcism, for they saw both our Lord’s teachings and His deeds are united by their common source - authority - “he gives orders even to unclean spirits and they obey him.”

One last point needs to be raised when it comes to the truth of the Word of God. The crowds also declared this after having seen our Lord’s authority over demons: “Here is a teaching that is ‘new’”. Is novelty the benchmark for truth? Modernist would argue that it is so. In their efforts to revise the teachings of Christ, the Word of God and the traditional teachings of the Church, they argue that the only criterion which matters is that all these must be in synch with the values of modern times, values which are constantly shifting and expanding, what we call “new!” What they fail to recognise is that the hallmark of Christianity is not novelty but fidelity. We will be judged not by how the Church gets in “with the times,” but how she is more perfectly faithful as a Bride of Christ, whom St Augustine calls “O Beauty, Ever Ancient Ever New.” It is Christ who makes the teachings of the Church new, not us.

Preaching in all its forms is indispensable to the Church’s mission given to her by Jesus Christ: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (Matthew 28:16-20). Such preaching cannot just be a car salesman’s pitch, rooted in half truths. It cannot just be one that tickles the imagination of our audience and entertains them with innovation and creativity. It must always be done with the authority given to us by the Lord through the Holy Spirit and not spring from self-appointment. Finally, preaching must lead others to be conformed to Christ and not to the world. The world may demand what is popular and effective but only Christ’s teachings are going to get us to heaven.