Memento Mori

Third Sunday of Lent Year C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Hope of Resurrection has dawned

Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed

Most of us have a myopic view of reality, we often only see the small picture and are oblivious to the bigger one. We are often told by contemporary wisdom to live in the present and not dwell in the past nor should we be anxious about the future. This is a drastic mistake as it often translates into bad decisions, despair or at the other extreme, false optimism. The truth is that belief in the resurrection is what enables us to live in hope. Hope is the desire for eternal life, "placing our trust in Christ's promises and relying not on our strength but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit" (CCC, #1817).

In certainly one of the most beautiful texts in the Roman Missal, we find these profound words meant to broaden our vision:

“In him the hope of blessed resurrection has dawned, that those saddened by the certainty of dying might be consoled by the promise of immortality to come. Indeed for your faithful, Lord, life is changed not ended, and, when this earthly dwelling turns to dust, an eternal dwelling is made ready for them in heaven” (Preface 1 of the Masses for the Dead).

Our Lord’s resurrection has brought about a new dawn of hope, the hope that one day we too shall share and partake in His resurrection and our bodies not be condemned to rot in the grave nor our souls dissipate into oblivion. This is certainly consoling for those who mourn over the death of their loved ones knowing that they have been promised immortality. St Paul exclaims this in his letter to the Corinthians: "This corruptible body must be clothed with incorruptibility, this mortal body with immortality" (1 Corinthians 15:53).

We struggle to find analogies to explain this reality, but the process of metamorphosis that changes a caterpillar into a butterfly comes to mind. The Greek word used to describe the Transfiguration of the Lord is precisely the word that has been used to explain this transformation from nature. Another analogy comes from St Paul in his letter to the Corinthians. To show continuity and discontinuity between this life and the next, Saint Paul turned to the seed and the plant. The seed buried in the ground has one form, and the plant that springs from the ground is in another form. The continuity between the seed and plant is accompanied by discontinuity or radical change. Paul uses this image to contrast the resurrected body with the physical body: what is sown corruptible will be raised incorruptible; what is sown dishonorable is raised glorious; the weak will be raised powerful (1 Corinthians 15:42-44).

But our vision is not just broadened by faith and hope to see what becomes of mortal bodies and immortal souls. We are also given a new vision of the Church as a “bigger tent”. As much as it is a popular jargon to declare that “we are the Church,” it would be pure hubris to declare that we the living faithful are the only members of the Church. We are only “a part” of the Church, a small part. The Catechism of the Catholic Church explains how there are “three states of the Church … at the present time some of his disciples are pilgrims on earth. Others have died and are being purified, while still others are in glory, contemplating ‘in full light, God himself triune and one, exactly as he is'” (CCC 954). Traditionally, these three states have been referred to as the Church Militant, Church Suffering and Church Triumphant. Together, these three make up the Communion of Saints which we profess in the Creed.

As Catholics, it is not just incumbent for us to pray for the living, for their needs and protection and ultimately for their salvation, but we should also turn our prayers to the saints to ask for their intercessions. But let us never forget to pray for the dead, the members of the Church Penitent or Church Suffering. They seem to be the most neglected category in these times when man is unable to see beyond the veil and threshold of death and heaven, for many they remain a mere illusion and mystery. We need to remember the words in the Preface, that in death, “life is changed not ended.”

The idea of funerals and in this particular day in the year, specifically set aside for praying for the dead, is premised on the belief that not all persons who die will immediately go to heaven. In fact, for the vast majority of us, we would most likely be in Purgatory, even if we have lived a fairly good but far from perfect life. Rather than a downer and a wet blanket, this should be a cause for hope and joy, that heaven is not entirely denied to the imperfect but open to those who were on the path of perfection, unfinished products, but through God’s mercy and providence, are brought to that perfection through the fires of His blazing love. As St Paul wrote in his letter to the Romans which we heard in the Second Reading, this hope “is not deceptive, because the love of God has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit which has been given to us.” It is a hope not based on human merits but the result of the sacrifice of Christ who “died for sinful men.”

It is in Christian hope that the Christian community commends the dead to the mercy and love of God for the forgiveness of their sins. The Church encourages you, therefore, to seek indulgences, pray novenas, fast, make sacrifices and have Masses said for the deceased, especially for those who have no one to pray for them. These acts of charity will increase the love of God in your heart and soul and help those who have gone before us in death. As St Ambrose reminds us, “we have loved them in life, let us not forget them in death.”

Love is stronger than Death

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

In the collective imagination of the Anglosphere, Robin Hood is second only to King Arthur in the hold he has on the public mind. The idea of the Merry Men living in self-constructed freedom “all under the merry greenwood tree” in Sherwood Forest – robbing the rich and helping the poor and staying loyal to King Richard the Lionheart during the regency of his brother – has been embraced by countless generations.

Robin Hood and his merry band of thieves have often been portrayed in a heroic light, as those who sided with the poor and stood against the despotic tyranny of the rich and powerful, symbolised in the person of the Sheriff of Nottingham, ironically, a medieval representation of the “blue”, the law enforcement agencies. Robin’s actions were not only regarded as justified but lauded as virtuous because he “stole from the rich to give to the poor!” There seems to be a resurgence of this spirit in many of the liberal ruled cities in America, where criminals are often vindicated as deserving of the spoils of theft and looting due to their disadvantaged social economic status. In fact, stealing is now regarded as a kind of reparation for what many would claim had been stolen from them. Ironically, the law enforcement officers, men who wear the “blue”, are regarded as the “bad guys”, very much like the wicked and conniving Sheriff of Nottingham.

In the second reading, we see St Paul writing to the wealthy church in Corinth and requesting them to send aid to the impoverished mother church in Jerusalem. He begins his appeal by first commending them on their spiritual wealth - “You always have the most of everything – of faith, of eloquence, of understanding, of keenness for any cause, and the biggest share of our affection – so we expect you to put the most into this work of mercy too.” Paul is trying to explain that this act of charity is not merely an act of generosity but also a work of mercy - another spiritual good. In other words, the more they give, the wealthier they become spiritually. Then he sets out the standard and model of such generosity - it is none other than Christ Himself: “Remember how generous the Lord Jesus was: he was rich, but he became poor for your sake, to make you rich out of his poverty.”

Of course, St Paul was not himself resorting to a Robin Hood mentality by taking from the rich to give to the poor. He was making it clear that any such giving should be done from a cheerful and willing heart, rather than grudgingly. Furthermore, he was not insisting that the Corinthians should impoverish themselves by enriching the folks in Jerusalem. He proposes a pragmatic rule to giving: “This does not mean that to give relief to others you ought to make things difficult for yourselves: it is a question of balancing what happens to be your surplus now against their present need, and one day they may have something to spare that will supply your own need. That is how we strike a balance …”

This is the reason why the vow of poverty which is taken by a religious is not meant to be pure renunciation of material goods, but rather a commitment to share everything in common. An interior spiritual poverty is required for communal living. A lack of it rings a death knell to the community, especially when every member is only looking out for his own interest and security, whilst failing to be concerned with the welfare of his brothers and sisters.

We see in the gospel the true hero worthy of our praise and emulation - it is not the fictional Robin Hood but the very real Jesus of Nazareth. Our Lord shows us how God’s generosity and providence can be given and is given to all, without depriving one whilst blessing the other. In the longer version of the gospel, we see both the adult and the child being recipients of our Lord’s mercy and healing powers - the woman who had suffered from internal bleeding for many years and the young girl whom our Lord brought back from the brink of death. It is arguable as to who was in the more dire situation. The focus seems to be on defeating death in the girl. Our Lord returning life to the dead girl confirms what is written in the Book of Wisdom that “death was not God’s doing,” and that God had made “man imperishable, He made him in the image of His own nature; it was the devil’s envy that brought death into the world …”

So, it is death and devil that seem to have robbed us of our immortality and they have done so without enriching anyone but impoverishing all of us. But our Lord comes to the rescue. He robs the devil and death of their booty and final victory. Death may be strong, in fact, it may be the strongest thing that anyone of us knows of - no medicine, no elixir, no insurance or guarantee, no fortress or bunker, no “Iron Dome” can keep us safe from its clutches. But there is one who is stronger, so strong that nothing can stand in His way - not the cross which took His life, not the stone rolled over the mouth of the tomb, not the gates of Hades could keep Him imprisoned. It is Christ our Lord and Saviour. He has plundered the fortress of death and the devil and restored our inheritance to us - life, eternal life.

And this is what St Baldwin of Canterbury declared in the 12th century, a truth that has not grown old nor will ever be obsolete:

“Death is strong: it has the power to deprive us of the gift of life. Love is strong: it has the power to restore us to the exercise of a better life.

Death is strong, strong enough to despoil us of this body of ours. Love is strong, strong enough to rob death of its spoils and restore them to us.

Death is strong; for no man can resist it. Love is strong; for it can triumph over death, can blunt its sting, counter its onslaught and overturn its victory. A time will come when death will be trampled underfoot; when it will be said: ‘Death, where is your sting? Death, where is your attack?’

‘Love is strong as death,’ since Christ’s love is the death of death. For this reason he says: ‘Death, I shall be your death; hell, I shall grip you fast.’ The love, too, with which Christ is loved by us is itself strong as death, since it is a kind of death, being the extinction of our old life, the abolition of vice, and the putting aside of dead works.”

We leave no one behind

Easter Sunday

“We leave no one behind!” Does this expression sound familiar? It should – you’ve heard it before from the lips of the stereotypical mud encrusted, battle worn, biceps bulging, tobacco chewing sergeant or commandant, who rallies his troops to make one last almost suicidal ditch to rescue captured fellow comrades or to recover the bodies of fallen heroes. The words seem almost magical and powerful in being able to pierce, invigorate and inspire even the most faint-hearted and exhausted of troops and fill them with a new fighting spirit.

On Easter Sunday, the Sunday of all Sundays, we celebrate not just the power of rhetoric, we celebrate a reality, a truth – it is this, starting with Jesus Christ, God affirms that He leaves no one behind! God has not abandoned His only begotten Son to death. In fact, Christ is actually on a secret mission of the Father. He accomplishes the mission of God, a mission once considered vastly more difficult than the worst Mission Impossible assignment you can imagine. That mission is to vanquish the old enemy of humanity – sin, and its most powerful minion, its prison warden, death – and rescue man from its clutches. And the only way to do it, was to be thrown into the same prison.

The empty tomb is God’s smoking gun – it is the definitive sign of Jesus breaking free from the prison of Hades, Death, He tramples down the gates and the walls that have kept generations incarcerated, and He has triumphantly set us free! The significance of Easter is that Jesus is announcing not just to Christians, but to the whole world, and not just to this generation but to all generations – “We leave no one behind!”

We affirm this truth whenever we recite that ancient baptismal creed, the Apostles Creed, “He descended into hell.” The word ‘hell’ here of course did not refer to the state of final damnation but was rather a reference to the realm of the dead (the Greeks called it “Hades” and the Jews “Sheol”) or what has been traditionally called “the limbo of the fathers”. The Limbo of the Fathers is where the righteous awaited the resurrection of Jesus, after which they could enter Heaven. The Catechism of the Catholic Church states: "By the expression 'He descended into Hell', the Apostles' Creed confesses that Jesus did really die and through his death for us conquered death and the devil 'who has the power of death' (Hebrews 2:14). In his human soul united to his divine person, the dead Christ went down to the realm of the dead. He opened Heaven's gates for the just who had gone before him."

This descent should not be seen as just the natural result of His human death. It is more. Christ willingly died for a purpose; and his descent to the dead is part of that purpose. Christ goes to Hades on a mission. He goes, tradition has it, to the Limbo of the Fathers, where the souls of the just slept in death, waiting for the gates of heaven to be re-opened on the day of salvation. In other words, Christ goes to the realm of the dead to announce to them that their salvation has come and that heaven has been opened to them at last and leads them forth. Christ’s mission is one of liberation, from the jaws of death; and the dead heard the good news before the living. In early Christian iconography, Jesus is depicted as storming Hell, the gates of this prison lies trampled beneath His feet, and He begins the salvation or the freeing of all its inmates beginning with Adam and Eve. But Adam does not merely represent himself. He stands for all humanity. In Christ no one is overlooked or left behind.

An ancient homily for Holy Saturday, whose author is unknown, celebrates this in vivid terms. While on earth there is silence, under the earth (as it were) Christ is emptying Hades with solemnity. The new Adam goes to rescue the first Adam, his father in the flesh, with the command, “awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead”. Adam and his progeny can now rise from the dead because Christ’s human death transforms death for all the children of Adam. For just as what happened in Adam (sin) happened for us all, so too what happened in Christ’s human flesh happened for us all: “For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:22). Or as the ancient homilist has Christ put it, “Rise, let us go hence; for you in me and I in you, together we are one undivided person”. Death had, as it were, led humanity into a walled-off, dead-end street; Christ now breaks through that barrier so that death might now launch humankind onto the highway to heaven. For it was for heaven, not for Hades, that God through Christ made us: “I have not made you to be held a prisoner in the underworld”. In Christ no one is overlooked or left behind. Alleluia! He is Risen Indeed! Alleluia!

Deep within them I will plant my Law

Fifth Sunday of Lent Year B

In the traditional calendar, today would be the first Sunday of Passiontide, a more intense period of preparation for Holy Week. It is no wonder that we would be treated to a preview of an essential theme of the holiest week of the year. On Maundy Thursday, on the night when our Lord Jesus gathered with His disciples in the upper room to celebrate the inaugural Eucharist, He declared that through His blood, shed for His disciples, there would come into existence a “New” covenant. What is this “New” covenant which He is speaking of? If this is a “New” covenant, how about the “Old”? We can find the answer in the first reading.

The prophet Jeremiah speaks of the time when God will make a “new covenant with the House of Israel (and the House of Judah)”, a covenant that would be unlike the covenants of old which had been broken due to Israel’s disobedience.

What was wrong with the old covenant that necessitated a new one? Well, the old covenant was fundamentally good - an unprecedented blessing for the people of Israel. It assured them of God’s commitment to them. It gave them an identity - they were God’s Chosen People! It provided them with laws to govern their behaviour. It promised them spiritual and material and even military blessings if they obeyed that law and remained true to the covenant. God even instituted the office of high priest so that the people would have someone to offer sacrifices on their behalf and represent them in the presence of God. But it was flawed in three ways.

First, although there was a high priest who would regularly offer an animal sacrifice for their sins, such sacrifices could never fully and finally secure their forgiveness. “For it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins” (Heb 10:4).

Second, the law of the Old Covenant that came through Moses was unable to supply the power that people needed to fulfill and obey it. The Law of Moses was very clear in stating, “You shall not” or “Do this and live” or “Be holy.” The Law of Moses told the people of Israel what they should and should not do but it was never capable of supplying them with the spiritual power to obey. It provided them the “means” but not the “grace.”

Third, the Old or Mosaic Covenant was temporary and limited. It was designed by God with a shelf life. God never intended it to last forever nor to be the final revelation of His will for mankind. It was also limited to Israel and its descendants and not meant to encompass all nations whom God had promised to bless through Abraham. In Hebrew 8:5, we are told that everything Moses did in constructing the Old Covenant tabernacle, together with its rituals and sacrifices, was only “a copy and shadow of the heavenly things.” But God always intended to establish a new covenant with every single person - “the least no less than the greatest.”

What the old covenant lacked, our Lord Jesus supplies and perfects in His “new covenant”. He seals it not with the blood of bulls and goats, but His own blood shed on the cross for our atonement. He did not only show us the way to sanctification and salvation but provided us the means to attain it by pouring out grace upon grace through the sacraments which He instituted. As we heard in the second reading, “He became for all who obey Him the source of eternal salvation.” He not only gave us a covenant that was temporary and limited but one that is eternal and universal. We see evidence of this in the gospel when the Greeks come in search of Him.

Unlike the covenants which had been written in stone, this new covenant would be written in the hearts of the people and therefore accessible to all peoples: “Deep within them I will plant my Law, writing it on their hearts. Then I will be their God and they shall be my people.” It is interesting to note that the first set of commandments were written by God Himself by His own hand, but these were physically shattered by Moses when he broke them in rage after having discovered Israel’s apostasy (the incident of the golden calf). Moses, thereafter, was commanded by God to inscribe a second set which was kept in the ark of the covenant, which eventually went missing after the sack of Jerusalem and the exile of the Judaeans to Babylon.

So, this new covenant would no longer be inscribed into something breakable and as flimsy as stone. The idea of God planting the covenant deep in the hearts of His people meant that this new covenant would no longer be an external set of laws requiring superficial observance but one which demanded true and radical repentance. We must literally die in order to live these commandments in our lives. “Unless a wheat grain falls on the ground and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest”. It would be anchored to the very core of our being and not just tied to the foreheads or wrapped around the hands like the external phylacteries worn by the Jews.

In the old covenant, man struggled to offer something worthy to God but in the new covenant, it is our Lord Jesus Christ, who offers Himself as the perfect sacrifice, the only worthy sacrifice, through His own death. There is no hint of agony or humiliation when our Lord speaks of His death. In fact, He tells us that this is the Hour of His glory because when He is lifted up on the cross, He will draw all men to Himself. God’s glory will be shown not in a covenant written in stone but in the living, suffering and dying of His Son. But that’s not the end of the story. God’s glory is in the raising of our Lord Jesus to new life, the final triumph of love over death.

But before that new life can be born and bear fruit, the old life, like the grain of wheat, like the old covenant, has to die. So it is, with us. We have a choice. We can cling on to our old lives and all the broken promises we’ve made to God, afraid of what might happen if we say yes to God’s invitation to new life. Or we can begin again to let our old lives go as we renew our acceptance and commitment to the new Eternal Life found in the Risen Christ. This Passiontide, let’s enter fully into the mystery of the suffering of Jesus, let us renew our commitment to the new covenant which He has established with His death, so that we can also enter fully in the joy of His resurrection. “A pure heart create in me O God” and plant your Law deeply in our hearts.

God will provide

Second Sunday of Lent Year B

The faith of the protagonist in the first reading is legendary, so much so that his faith has been used as a model for Christians in the New Testament. Abraham’s walk with God began when God found him living in a pagan land and called him to leave his home and family to go to the place God would show him. After decades of walking with God, Abraham’s small faith grew through each high and low. He learned to trust God with his dreams and with his disappointments, with his gains and with his losses, with his successes and with his flops. In each stage, God proved faithful and Abraham’s faith took roots. And when his faith was firmly rooted in the Lord, God tested Abraham’s faith by asking him to make the greatest sacrifice of all - his son Isaac.

This is where we find ourselves in the story of Abraham. In the first reading, we have the moving account of God asking Abraham to offer his only son Isaac as a sacrifice. Abraham had waited decades for this miracle child. Right from the very start of his faith journey, God had promised to bless Abraham and to make his name great and blessed through his descendants. Now, how is this going to happen if God is going to take his only male heir? Abraham had been asking that same question for years when he and his wife Sarah remained childless until their old age. Yet, God has never disappointed in that first instance by giving him a child. So, now Abraham trusted that God will not disappoint him again.

At first glance, the story of Abraham and Isaac seems disturbing. Why would a loving God ask Abraham to sacrifice his only son in a manner similar to his pagan neighbours? Was He bringing unnecessary torment to a man who had already waited so long for a child? Upon closer inspection, it’s clear that God’s request to sacrifice Isaac was not unloving or capricious. Instead, it is a beautiful picture of Abraham’s faithfulness and God’s provision. In the past, Abraham had doubted God. He had tried to have children in his own way instead of waiting on God. By asking him to sacrifice Isaac, God was testing Abraham to see if he trusted Him. And he did: Abraham’s faith in God was so great that he was willing to give Him his only son, trusting that God could bring him back from the dead.

As God describes Isaac to Abraham, we hear Him describe His only Son, Jesus. The story of Isaac is both a picture of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his only son and a foreshadowing of God’s willingness to sacrifice His only Son for us. This was the Son that truly died and was brought back from the dead. The story of Abraham’s sacrifice, like no other, gives us a glimpse into what it cost the heart of God to sacrifice His only Son for us. Abraham’s story of the sacrifice of Isaac parallels Jesus in many ways. Both were well loved sons; both carried wood to the place of the sacrifice; both were promised that a lamb would be sacrificed, only for Jesus there was no ram in the thicket to take His place. He is the Lamb of God that would be sacrificed, the Lamb of God who would take away the sins of the world.

As we turn to the gospel, we see another set of parallels. This time, it is the disciples of the Lord who are being prepared for their greatest test - the passion and death of our Lord. The great reason for this transfiguration was to remove the scandal of the cross from the hearts of His disciples, that they will not lose faith and hope when they witness our Lord’s death. Unlike Abraham, their faith will falter. Unlike Abraham, they will flee the scene instead of accompanying our Lord to His great sacrifice. But because of the transfiguration and the resurrection, they will return.

As far back as our liturgical sources take us, we find the Church beginning Lent with the Gospels of Jesus’ Temptation in the desert and His Transfiguration on the mountain. Hence Christians’ Lenten experience replicates the God-guided experience of the people of Israel: their forty years of journeying in the desert, which tested their fidelity, and the community-founding theophany at Sinai which endowed them with the Torah of grace.

But there is also deliberate and stark parallelism between the story of the Transfiguration and our Lord’s Passion. The same three named disciples are handpicked by our Lord to be with Him and to witness both events, and on both occasions they remained confused. Our Lord was transfigured on one mountain and crucified on another. On both occasions, there is a revelation of our Lord’s identity as the Son of God. At the Transfiguration, it is God who speaks: “This is my Son.” But in the crucifixion, we find this idea finally taking hold and being repeated at last by a person. And what’s really remarkable, it’s not one of the disciples. It’s not even a Jew. He’s a Roman soldier. The enemy! The person, we least suspect. Declaring it at the point we least suspect. This Gentile centurion shows greater faith than even the disciples, because he alone witnessed the Lord’s death unlike His disciples.

If you have ever doubted God’s wisdom or questioned your faith because of some crises, do not lose faith but continue to trust in the Lord. Abraham did and he was rewarded. Beyond the scandal of the cross is the glory of the resurrection. We are assured as Abraham was, that God always provides. Like Abraham, we should have confidence in God, trusting Him with everything and being willing to sacrifice our best to Him. St Paul reassured us with the rhetorical question: “With God on our side who can be against us?” And the answer is no one and nothing! God not sparing His own Son for our sake is the pledge of His fidelity and love for us.

Though we may not fully understand His plans, God in His providence, supplies all our needs. We should never lose faith in His promises and Providence. Abraham says, “God will provide the sacrifice.” Not only did God provide a ram as a sacrifice for Abraham, but He provided a lasting sacrifice through His Son — for Abraham, and for all of us. All our Lord asks is that we have a trusting heart and be willing to “listen to Him.”

Our duty is to pray

Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed

News from the battle front of the Israeli-Hamas conflict has brought to the fore something which most people would rather choose to avoid or hide. Death. Where death often hides its ugly visage behind the secure walls of hospitals and retirement homes, where cadavers in coffins are dressed up to make corpses look as if they are still very much alive albeit asleep, it takes a war to show that death is more than statistics and a distant isolated reality. As family and friends grieve, others swear vengeance and retribution, and spectators look on with shock and disbelief, many have asked these question: what has become of these casualties of war and violence, some of them mere babies and children? Is there more to life after their deaths?

If there is no life after death, then all that we can do for the dead is to eulogise them in obituaries, celebrate their lives in memorial services, immortalise them by building monuments in their name or fight wars to seek justice for what has been done to them. But that is not the case. We Catholics do not merely believe that there is life after death but that the soul is immortal. Though our physical bodies experience decay in the grave, the immortal souls continue to live on until they are given new spiritual and glorified bodies at the resurrection of the dead.

That is why today’s commemoration is not just meant to be a memorial of the dead. On the contrary, today is a day when we are reminded of our primary duty to the dead. We pray for the dead, and we do this, not because they need our prayers but because this is what the Holy Spirit has taught us to do. It is a gift of God, to allow us to share in His work in bringing His people to perfection. It is a special gift of hope from God, a great divine courtesy, but it is also a great responsibility on our part.

The earliest Scriptural reference to prayers for the dead comes in the second book of Maccabees. Since Protestants reject the idea of praying for the dead, this book is not included in their canon (collection of books in the Bible). The second book of Maccabees tells how Judas Maccabee, the Jewish leader, led his troops into battle in 163 B.C. When the battle ended he directed that the bodies of those Jews who had died be buried. As soldiers prepared their slain comrades for burial, they discovered that each was wearing an amulet taken as booty from a pagan Temple. This violated the law of Deuteronomy and so Judas and his soldiers prayed that God would forgive the sin these men had committed (II Maccabees 12:39-45).

Who are the dead that we are speaking of? The Church certainly cannot be speaking of the Saints in heaven who have no need of our prayers but whose prayers we are most certainly in need of. Likewise, we cannot be praying for the souls who are suffering the eternal separation of hell. If that separation is permanent and eternal, they can never benefit from our prayers. No amount of prayers can free a soul from hell. Rather, it is the souls in purgatory whom we should be praying for. Purgatory is not a place where bad people become good people, but where good people become perfected in love. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that “all who die in God’s grace, but still imperfectly purified, are indeed assured of their eternal salvation; but after death they undergo purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven.” (CCC 1030)

We need to pray for the dead, for the souls in Purgatory, because this is a task put into our hands. Purgatory is not a remand centre where its occupants are awaiting judgment - whether some would be set free to join the denizens of heaven or sentenced to share the lot of the souls in hell. No, purgatory is where souls are prepared for heaven, it is where the work of God begun in their lives would be completed. God wills that we should share in this work through our prayers.

Purgatory is the process after death where these attachments, the umbilical cord which binds people to the old world, are cut so that people can be free to enter into the life to come. It is the hospital where the infection of sin is eliminated. It is the incubator where heart, lungs, and vision is made ready for a much larger life. Purgatory is not a kind of temporary hell. Hell is eternal separation from God, but purgatory facilitates our eternal union with Him. That is why when we speak of the Last Things, purgatory is not included in the traditional list of four (death, judgment, heaven and hell).

The dead are blessed, and their life is a blessing for us, because they have no life but the life of God, and He is the God of the living, not of the dead. Christ died and rose again that he might become the Lord of the living and the dead, as St Paul tells us (Romans 14:9). In praying for the dead, we are not merely witnessing to the Resurrection, we are instruments of the Resurrection. And by praying for them, we are attesting to the truth, “life is changed, not ended” at death.

So, today there is no point seething over the horrifying massacres of innocents nor try to figure out the culpability of who is responsible for their deaths. Instead of being glued to the daily news of war and retribution fuelled by anger, hatred and prejudice, let us instead pause to pray. In times of war, we often pray for the living, for the survivors, for a cessation to the killing. We forget that one of the most important things that we must do is to pray for the fallen and all the dead. We can’t know for sure where the dead or our beloved deceased are, unless they happen to be canonised saints. So when in doubt, we pray for them. There is no harm, in fact, there is great benefit, to pray for them.

Not on the Way, in the Way

Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Those who know me well would have heard me sing a parody of that famous song immortalised by Josh Groban, “You raised me up.” In my twisted version, the first line goes like this: “You raised me up and then you slammed me down.” This sounds much like what the Lord does to St Peter in today’s Gospel. Last week, our Lord gave Simon a new name, Peter, the Rock, on which He promised to build His new temple, the Church, and which will stand as a lasting and formidable bastion against the gates of the underworld. No greater honour could be paid to any of the apostles. That was his high point!

But this week, our Lord drastically changes His tune and utters one of the meanest put-downs and aims it like a knife at Peter. Peter’s fortune is reversed - in last week’s passage, he was raised up to the highest heavens and in this week’s episode he is cast down from the heights like Satan. St Peter is now the agent of Satan, the stumbling block to those who might come to profess the same faith. This unexpected transformation from building block to stumbling block, from an instrument to an obstacle, from a lieutenant of Christ to an adversary, comes quickly – so quickly, in fact, that the two passages occur back to back in one continuous narrative.

What brought about this reversal of fortune for Peter? Having been identified as the Messiah, the Lord in today’s passage begins to spell out how He is planning to accomplish His work of salvation. The nature of His mission would entail suffering, rejection and death. It was clear to the apostles that Jesus was the Messiah. The notion that He was the suffering Messiah was much harder to digest. It required frequent repetition from the Lord to make real to their minds the thought that He had to suffer and be killed. It is no wonder that St Peter, who had just confessed that our Lord was the long-awaited Messiah, now pleads with Him to cease His madness, “Heaven preserve you, Lord,” or “God forbids!” “This must not happen to you.” The disciple who is meant to listen to the Master, now seeks to command the Teacher. St Peter found the cross offensive because he could not bear the thought that the Messiah, from whom he expected national deliverance, should be killed.

What Peter failed to realise is that the death of Christ was necessary, as the text tells us that “He was destined to go to Jerusalem.” The words “destined to go” imply a constraint, an imperative, a divine necessity. His death had been planned and willed by God through all eternity. The prophets had predicted it and He must fulfil it. Pope Saint Paul VI wrote: “In a mysterious way, Christ Himself accepts death... on the Cross, in order to eradicate from man's heart the sins of self-sufficiency and to manifest to the Father a complete filial obedience” (Apostolic Exhortation Gaudete in Domino, 9 May 1975). By willingly accepting death, the Lord carries the cross of all human beings and becomes a source of salvation for the whole of humanity. Peter couldn’t quite get it. None of the disciples could at this stage.

Our Lord’s reaction to Peter’s attempt to give Him guidance was as sharp as it was instantaneous: He turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle in my path, because the way you think is not God’s way but man’s!” The Lord notes that unlike last week’s passage, where our Lord affirms that Peter’s confession of faith was revealed by the Father, the source of this week’s statement was from Peter himself. What’s worse, is that this human opinion was being used by the devil to tempt the Lord to turn His back on the cross, to choose safety and honour, over suffering and sacrifice. This was the nature of the three temptations which Satan used on our Lord in the wilderness before He began His public ministry. Satan had returned to tempt our Lord in the person of Peter. Of course, our Lord will have none of it because He knew that glory comes only after sacrifice. As one of my seminary formators once told a group of us, “If you are not on the Way, you are in the way!”

This dramatic exchange between our Lord and Peter would have been accentuated by the stunning backdrop. The town is Caesarea Philippi, a town built and named by an heir of Herod the Great in honour of Great Caesar and yet Philip the Tetrarch arrogantly attaches his name to the title - Caesarea Philippi - Philip’s City of Caesar. The vassal seeks to rule his liege. The arrogance of Philip, a minor ruler, is pretty rich. Similarly, Peter in remonstrating with the Lord, seeks to lord over Him. Instead of renouncing himself and follow the Lord’s lead, Simon Peter seeks to have the Lord follow his instructions and lead.

If you find this parallel coincidental, consider now the geographical location. Caesarea Philippi is in the foothills of Mount Hermon, in a region currently known as the Golan Heights, previously Syrian and then occupied and annexed by Israel after a series of wars. But what was most imposing about this region and city is the enormous rocky outcrop on which the city is built. At the foot of this rock was a natural spring which was considered to be a sacred shrine dedicated to the god Pan, who had the appearance of a satyr - a half goat and half man creature - almost demon-like. So, the words of our Lord spoken here take on another level of meaning when one has a view of the surroundings where He spoke. The rock on which He would build His Church would no longer be this geological rocky formation but a man, a seemingly weak one at that - Simon Peter; and when He subsequently called out Simon Peter as “Satan,” our Lord would not have been referring to the demon-like pagan god Pan, but the very same man whom He had named “rock” just a few minutes earlier.

The passage ends with our Lord spelling out what a disciple of His must do. The fate of the Master must now be the fate of the disciple, for this is what it means to “follow” Christ. “If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me.” You see, the cross was not only for Jesus. It is ours too. The cross of Christ means your death and my death.

In the midst of the many voices clamouring for our time, our money, our allegiance and our attention, we are called to choose the cross, we are called to choose Christ, to the complete dispossession of all else. In His call to authentic discipleship, Christ challenges our most precious loyalties. As there can be no other gods before the God of Israel, there can be no other loves before Christ. The life you long for, the changes you want, come only through the cross — no other way! If you will live at the cross, the cross will take care of the rest. This is a great challenge for each of us.

The Cure D’Ars, St John Vianney, leaves us with this wonderful wisdom: “On the Way of the Cross, you see, my children, only the first step is painful. Our greatest cross is the fear of crosses. . . We have not the courage to carry our cross, and we are very much mistaken; for, whatever we do, the cross holds us tight - we cannot escape from it. What, then, have we to lose? Why not love our crosses, and make use of them to take us to heaven?”

Uncovering Beauty

Feast of the Transfiguration

At the end of a tour of the Vatican Museum, tourists and pilgrims would be treated to one of the great wonders of the Catholic Church, the Sistine Chapel, with its most stunning and exquisite wall to ceiling murals painted by some of the greatest Renaissance artists that had ever lived. It is quite frustrating that what should take at least an entire day to appreciate and admire is often crammed into a 10 to 15 minutes experience during the peak hours of the visit. It is just impossible to take in everything and to focus on any particular scene for more than a quick cursory glance.

If I choose to highlight at least one scene due to the brevity of time, it would be indisputably Michelangelo’s Last Judgment which occupies the entire altar wall of the Chapel. It is a depiction of the Second Coming of Christ and the final and eternal judgment by God of all humanity. Due to the monumental scale of the work, it took four years to complete. After the death of Michelangelo in 1564, and as a consequence of the Council of Trent condemning nudity in religious art, the genitalia in the fresco, referred to as 'objectionable,' were painted over with drapery. For centuries, the original work of art remained hidden under layers of soot, dirt, grime and the censor’s concealing paint until the commencement of restoration works in the 20th century. After the cleanup, both the restorers and the world were surprised by the discoveries of what lay beneath. To the close minded, it could be described as medieval pornography. But to the enlightened, the original work of art could only be described as divine. The metamorphosis (the Greek word for Transfiguration) of this work of art, now unveiled its true beauty to an admiring world.

Likewise, the great event of the Transfiguration seeks to peel away at the mystery of the Passion of Christ. On the Mount of Transfiguration, we have a glimpse of the true glorious nature of the scene that took place on another hill, Calvary. It’s hard to make out the innate beauty and true nature of the crucifixion, especially when it is covered by all the blood, gore and horror of the event. The Transfiguration, however, allows us to see what really took place. The gospels attempt to do this by making striking similarities between the account of the transfiguration and the story of the cross: Both these scenes would have constituted an extraordinarily powerful diptych representing the high and low points of Jesus' life.

Our Lord takes Peter, James and John, His inner circle, with Him up the Mount of Transfiguration. On the evening of Holy Thursday, He will lead the same threesome to Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives to witness His passion. History repeats itself - the three disciples fall asleep on the Mount of Transfiguration as they did in the Garden of Gethsemane. Our Lord is transfigured on a mountain and crucified on another. Just as Jesus is flanked by His heavenly courtiers, Moses and Elijah, at the Transfiguration, He is placed between two thieves at His crucifixion. Although the disciples were enveloped with light on the Mount of Transfiguration, the whole land was covered in darkness at the Crucifixion. It is as if glory and suffering somehow belong together, two sides of the same coin. In the context of the deepest humiliation, pain and suffering, the true glory of Christ is revealed. It is as if human suffering is somehow itself transfigured by the God who came to redeem it; that somehow, the destiny of the Son of God fulfils the destiny of the human race; only through the suffering of death can we enter into glory.

How could Jesus’ ascent to the cross, a symbol of humiliation, be seen as a moment of glory? The answer lies in the scene of the Transfiguration. What is hidden to the eyes of those who witnessed the scene of the crucifixion is now revealed to the three Apostles and to all of us in the Transfiguration. The Transfiguration helps us to understand the Cross and Calvary would not be Jesus’ Alamo, the event commemorating His great defeat. The Transfiguration reveals to us what really happened on Calvary. Lifted up on a mountain, lifted up on a cross, lifted up as universal Saviour, Jesus truly ascended His throne of glory. The Transfiguration indeed reveals the true divine glory of Christ. Its purpose is to reveal to His disciples who Jesus is, and so to prepare them for the cross.

The Lord’s prophetic words that He would be tortured and killed in Jerusalem would have deeply troubled His disciples. A vision of the crucifixion might have evoked the feeling of despair in His disciples. It would have shaken their faith to the core. The mystery of redemption could have appeared to them as a defeat and the Messiah powerless. At a time of despondency and doubt, the three apostles’ witness to the Transfiguration was to strengthen the faith of the other disciples. And so, we finally come to the heart of this deliberate juxtaposition of the two scenes. No amount of intellectual explanation would have sufficed to explain the scandal of the cross and the suffering of Christ. God had to demonstrate it.

And this is what constitutes the mystery of Christianity - It attracts people not so much by its delicate and sophisticated intellectualism, nor by the brilliant oratory of its preachers, nor yet by the beauty of its rites. Christianity revealed to the human soul a new world, an eternal world, a world of divine light – that which not a single religion or philosophical system could give. It reveals to the world the beauty and sweetness of the divine mystery of its Saviour albeit hidden in human flesh and adorned with the tattered flesh of broken humanity. Here then is the greatest paradox of all - the glory of God revealed in Jesus, and especially in that which seems to be most inglorious. To the outward eye this was the uttermost in degradation, the death of a criminal. To the eye of faith, it was (and still is) the supreme glory.

We need to have before us the Transfiguration so that we may have a glimpse of the end of the story, the dawning glory of Easter, in order to be sustained in the midst of the darkness, pain and isolation that we must endure throughout our walk through the valley of the shadow of death. In the Transfiguration we taste the sweetness often hidden in the bitterness of failure, suffering and pain. In the Transfiguration we behold the beauty and glory often covered beneath layers of soot and the grime, concealed by the awful and scandalous experience of humanity’s suffering! In the Transfiguration, we finally receive the answer to the inexplicable mysteries concealed by death, an answer that can only be found in the Resurrection!

As the First Preface for Dead recited by the priest at a funeral Mass, we acclaim: “In Him who rose from the dead, our hope of resurrection dawned. The sadness of death gives way to the bright promise of immortality. Lord, for your faithful people, life is changed, not ended.” And though none of us have witnessed the resurrection of the body, we acknowledge and confess this to be true because of what the Apostles had witnessed at the Transfiguration.

Christos Anesti! Alithos Anesti!

Easter Sunday 

Alleluia! He is Risen!
Indeed He is Risen!

This is the antiphonal Paschal Greeting which Christians had for centuries used to greet each other on Easter Day and during the Easter season. The first part was the greeting, to which the recipient will reply with the second part. Though it is no longer practised among Catholics these days, this continues to be a widely practised custom by our Eastern brethren: "Christos Anesti! Alithos Anesti!". The greeting is imbued with the Easter excitement and joy that the Lord is risen, that He has conquered death, that all His promises made to His disciples are validated and that life, not death, has the final word.

But for many, the excitement and joy of Easter seem absolutely foreign. Anxiety seems to be the great problem of our age, both individually and collectively. Fortunes are made selling medications and providing therapies to help people overcome their fears, anxieties, phobias, and neuroses.

If ours is an age of anxiety, it is because it is an age in which the Lord Jesus is either not known or not believed. He may be talked about—dozens of books may be written about Him and hours upon hours of television and radio programming may be devoted to Him, but in practical terms, how Jesus lived and died, and what He taught about how to live and die, have negligible impact on the course of world events. In a recent podcast interview, the grandfather of the podcast movement, Adam Curry, was explaining to the atheist Joe Rogan on the latter’s show how he had embraced Christianity. Joe had found the topic interesting enough to feature it on his show, but like so many folks of modern times, could not make the connexion between faith and reality. He could not understand the former’s “leap of faith.”

Why are Christian beliefs considered alien to many? Why is Easter still a mystery, only to be reduced to popular cultural symbols of bunnies and eggs? St Paul gives us this answer: “How can they believe in Him of whom they have not heard?” (Romans 10:14) Christians claim to believe in Jesus, but don’t believe Him or take Him at His word, the living Christ has become all but invisible to the world. Because Christians continue to try to be the guardians of their own existences, instead of being the extension in time and space of the body of the Crucified One, the God who wants to protect them has become unknown to the rest of humanity, which consequently continues to look for a saviour - Another wonder drug? Another technology? Another political ideology or economic theory? Another political leader or commercial whiz-kid billionaire? Another messiah?

We have experimented with so many ideas, things and persons but none of them is able to deliver ultimate human fulfillment or ultimate security against death. What the world is in particular need of today is the credible witness of people enlightened in mind and heart by the word of the Lord, touched by the power of the resurrection, who have seen the empty tomb and recognised its meaning and are capable of opening the hearts and minds of many to the desire for God and for true life, life without end.

When we sing our great paschal anthem, “Christ is risen,” we note that Jesus “has given life,” not survival, “to those in the tombs.” For the past three years, we have been taught and we have learnt that survival – our own individual survival and that of our loved ones and even of the human race is paramount and is dependent on a prescription of masking, social distancing and vaccinations. We were even willing to forgo and sacrifice our religious obligations, that which guaranteed eternal life, for a few more years of surviving this earthly existence. But, many of us have forgotten that it is Eternal Life, not survival, that our Lord teaches. It is life, real life, true life, Eternal Life that only God can give, that enables us to live in joy and to experience the “peace that surpasses all understanding,” and which can take us beyond this “valley of tears.” Nothing can substitute for it, and it can only be accessed by faith.

Recently, a tragic shooting in a Christian school in Nashville, Tennessee, by a crazed transgender individual, had shocked Americans from both sides of the political aisle, though both had divergent views on the cause of this tragedy and the remedy which would prevent such future madness. Three adults and three 9 year old children, including the daughter of the pastor whose church ran the school, were killed. The one line statement of the father sums up the faith of Christians: “Through tears we trust that she is in the arms of Jesus who will raise her to life once again.” Christians are not immune to tragedy and loss, even for a father who is a Christian pastor. But Christians possess something which others do not. Christians possess an Easter faith that doesn’t take away the pain but gives us the ability to handle the pain; a faith that doesn’t always take you out of the storm, but calms you in the midst of the storm.

Yes, the life we celebrate today, the life which Christ has won for us through His death and resurrection, is more than just survival, or a life free of troubles, pain, ailments or failures. It is everlasting life. This is the life worth living and worth dying for. This is our hope and it is this which gives us the courage to face the uncertainties of the future and the dark shadows of the past.

Every nation has an anthem, a song to sing to inspire its followers and keep their hearts afloat in difficult times. Our Church too, has an anthem, the anthem of our resistance to evil, death and despair. It is an anthem so short, but so powerful, that it can be, and indeed is, repeated many, many times as we observe what Christ has done for us:

Alleluia! He is Risen! 

Indeed He is Risen!

O Happy Fault O Necessary Sin of Adam

Easter Vigil of the Holy Night

O truly necessary sin of Adam,
Destroyed completely by the Death of Christ!
O happy fault that earned so great,
So glorious a Redeemer

Do you recognise this line? You should. It is found in the Exsúltet (the Easter Proclamation) sung at the beginning of this Vigil service. Perhaps, most people would have missed it unless you caught the oxymoronic contradiction found in two expressions: “necessary sin” and “happy fault”. If we consider sin as abhorrent to God and something which separates us from Him, what ‘sin’ could be considered ‘necessary’? How could any ‘fault’ or mistake be considered happy? Why, then, does the Church use these strange expressions?

The Latin expression felix culpa (happy fault) is derived from the writings of St Augustine, whose personal life was testimony to the truth of this maxim. In order for St Augustine to have been one of the greatest converts to Christianity, one of its greatest theologians and pastor, he had to start off being a great sinner. This was obviously the case: here was a man who had been schooled by his own father to frequent brothels since adolescence. As an adult, he would keep a woman in concubinage, what we would describe as a ‘sex slave’ in modern terms. Then he delved into and experimented with various philosophies and religions where he sought to make himself feel better about himself despite his lifestyle. St Augustine was truly a great sinner. But then grace touched him, moved him and finally transformed him into one of the Church’s greatest saints. In speaking about the source of original sin, Augustine writes, “For God judged it better to bring good out of evil than not to permit any evil to exist.”

What St Augustine meant here was that the Fall of Adam was from one point of view, fortunate, since without it humankind could not have experienced the unsurpassable joy of the redemption. How did he make this leap from sin to grace? If Adam and Eve never fell, Christ would never have needed to come. And so God allowed the loss of perfect human bliss through the original sin of Adam and Eve in order to bring about a greater, divine bliss for humanity (cf. 2 Peter 1:4)! From Adam’s sin came the glory of Jesus Christ. The remedy dished out by God goes far beyond restoring us to that Edenic state! God never goes backwards. He's not taking us back to Eden. He’s making light-years leap forward!

If you are not convinced at this argument, the whole of scripture stands as irrefutable evidence. By eating the forbidden fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, Adam and Eve are now prohibited from tasting the fruit of the Tree of Life which would have guaranteed them immortality. But here comes the ‘felix culpa’ bit – If man had not been denied immortality at this stage, he would still have to suffer an eternity of sin, an eternity of the effects of sin – alienation, suffering, pain, etc. In popular culture, vampires view their deathlessness as a curse, not as a blessing. Death would be the welcomed relief to a never ending existence of pain, misery and lovelessness.

Still not convinced? Well let’s look at other events in the Bible. If humanity had not sin by attempting to build the Tower of Babel, we would not be blessed with the myriad of cultures, civilisations, languages that have emerged throughout our human history. If Joseph had not been betrayed by his brothers and sold off to slavery, he would not have been their saviour, when the land was struck by famine. If Moses had not run away from Egypt as an act of cowardice, he would not have been chosen by God to lead his people to freedom. If David had not committed a transgression and adultery with Uriah’s wife, Solomon would not have been born. If the Temple had not been destroyed, the Church, the Body of Christ, who is the New and Perfect Temple, would have remained a dream. If Judas had not betrayed Jesus, Christ would not have been able to redeem the world through His sacrifice on the Cross.

While God never actively wills sin and disobedience, He made the option possible in order that we could freely choose to love Him instead. Adam and Eve's decision was never unknown to God, nor was the outcome. From all eternity God knew that His rational creatures would choose to rebel against Him, and His divine plan incorporated Adam's sin from the very foundations of the world. Eden was not Plan A and the Incarnation was not Plan B. God becoming Man so that we could participate in the divine life of God through grace was the idea all along! The Incarnation and the death and resurrection of Christ was always Plan A! Through, Baptism we are inserted into this great plan, this great mystery of redemption. We will “become partakers of the divine nature” (2 Pet 1:4). This vastly exceeds what God would have done for unfallen man. The beauty and perfection of Eden pales against the beauty and perfection of heaven.

All too often we run from our mistakes, reject them or simply live in denial of them. The failed work is quickly set aside. And worse, all too often initial mistakes, initial failures discourage us and prevent us from moving forward. The Paschal Mystery, the Mystery which Good Friday and Easter reveals, demands that we learn to recognise that hidden within every mistake, every human error, every shortcoming, every failure and even in the greatest of falls is the seed of the resurrection – where even sin can be transformed by a single moment of grace. Indeed, rather than cast aside His fallen creation, God reaches into the failure and tragedy of human sinfulness to redeem us. This is the Mystery which claims us in Christ and the power of this same Mystery is what heals us in the sacraments. “O Happy Fault”; “O truly necessary sin of Adam” …. “that earned so great, so glorious a redeemer!”

This will end in God's glory

Fifth Sunday of Lent Year A

There is something about the popularity of the special genre of zombie or ghost movies which shows not only Hollywood’s, but that of the common man’s fascination with death and what happens after death. We live in a world preoccupied with death; from the morbid images of the zombie genre films, to death metal music, to the oppressive occult practices, to our youth counter-culture, to the older generations preoccupation with preserving life … people are obsessed with death in fearful and hopeless ways.

Death is portrayed quite differently in Scripture. Psalm 116:15 says precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. Paul considered death his reward and inheritance. And in John 11 Jesus said, “Lazarus is dead; and for your sake I am glad I was not there because now you will believe.” How can this be? Our Lord loved Lazarus; He wept at his grave, yet He is glad? Can death possibly be a cause of rejoicing? As Christians we do not fear death; we may be sad that we will no longer see the ones we love, at least on this side of the grave, but the “sting of death” has been removed because of the resurrection of Christ, and we know that one day we will all exchange this mortal body for one of immortality.

Our Lord told His disciples that Lazarus was “resting” or “sleeping” and that He was going to “wake” him. For the disciples who remained unenlightened before the Lord’s resurrection, they thought that Jesus was referring to Lazarus having a snooze. Little did they realise that He was speaking of death and the resurrection. In Christ, physical death is merely a shadow as we quietly pass from one life into the next. Death is never final; it is always followed by life. Because He experienced separation from God on the cross, we will never be separated from Him.

Just imagine that scene in today’s gospel. It’s like something out of a zombie apocalypse. It’s not like a fairy-tale kiss bringing a sleeping beauty to life. Lazarus’s dead body had been in the tomb for four days. In the warm climate of the eastern Mediterranean, the dead body would rot and stink. Martha explicitly expressed concern about the stench of Lazarus’s body, what more the decomposition that would have begun to set in. Jesus was unconcerned. As He instructed them to remove the stone that sealed the tomb of Lazarus, the family members of Lazarus and on-lookers would have been appalled by such a morbid request and thought of desecrating the body of a dead man.

Just like what we heard in last week’s gospel, we see in this week’s instalment a spectrum of different responses – this week to the theme of “death”. The disciples tried to dissuade our Lord from going personally to Bethany which is close to Jerusalem because they feared death for Him and for themselves. We have Martha and Mary who had earlier appealed to our Lord to come and heal their brother because they believe that He could postpone death with a miracle. Now, that Lazarus is dead, they saw no need of His presence. His presence now was too little too late! Then we have Mary incapacitated by her tremendous grief because she believed death was the end of the road for her brother. And finally, we have Martha who believed in the resurrection of the dead, but only saw it as a future and ethereal reality that will take place at the end of time. Only our Lord, who feared neither death nor saw it as the end of life, could receive the news of His friend’s death and be gladdened because as He told His own disciples: “this sickness will end not in death but in God’s glory, and through it the Son of God will be glorified.” His vision of death must be ours too.

How can Lazarus’ death bring glory to God and to Jesus? The resuscitation of Lazarus was a prophecy in the form of an action. It foreshadows Christ’s own resurrection, and at the same time anticipates the resurrection of all the righteous. Lazarus’ death and subsequent resuscitation will show that God and Christ has power over death, man’s most ancient enemy – an enemy which we thought to be inevitable and undefeatable … at least until now.

So, the story of Lazarus is to be read not just as another miracle of our Lord, demonstrating His extraordinary power, but also a story of hope for all of us - a hope which does not lie in finding an answer to the mystery of suffering, a hope that is not grounded in a final solution to life’s troubles, but a shining hope in the life of the resurrection - a rebirth - of how even the dead, the seemingly lost can be called forth, they can be liberated once and for all from the bindings of sin, desperation and grief, and be finally set free to live not just a dream, but the reality of immortality, never to suffer pain or death again.

Let’s be honest. We human beings can handle many things that confront us in life, but on our own we will never be able to do much about death. We can accept death and resign ourselves to its inevitability, but we don’t have the power to overcome it. In battling death on our own, even with the help of family, friends and doctors, we will always emerge the loser. But the good news is that there is someone who has overcome death. There is someone who can ensure our victory. Our Lord has overcome death because only God can do so. By swapping places with Lazarus, our Lord offered life to the whole world through His own death and resurrection. Death will still come in unimagined ways, but none of them are the kind of death that separates us from God. Physical death is robbed of its power because in Christ there is life on both sides of the grave.

This is the Good News we hear today. This is the Good News our elect must hear today. Jesus is the resurrection and the life, the source of Eternal Life, not just on the last day, but this very day, in this very place- so let us echo the faith-filled words of Martha as we tell Him: “I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who was to come into this world.” Let us go forth to live as those for whom death has been past ever since the day of our baptism so that living or dying, our lives are in Christ.

Made of Sturdier Stuff

Thirty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

“Snowflake,” according to the ever-reliable Wikipedia, is a “derogatory slang term for a person, implying that they have an inflated sense of uniqueness, an unwarranted sense of entitlement, or are overly-emotional, easily offended, and unable to deal with opposing opinions.” A snowflake listening to today’s ominous warnings and prophecies in the gospel will have a royal meltdown. To a snowflake the slightest perceived offence would sound like a cataclysmic end of the world scenario, an Armageddon of disproportionate size.

But before you react to the words of our Lord, especially the part listing down the various sets of trials, tribulations and calamities, it is good to fast forward to the end of the passage to see the point of His message: “Your endurance will win you your lives.”

Catholics are not to waste time calculating when the end will come. They are not to allow themselves to be misled by false prophets and false messiahs. Nor are they expected to behave like headless chickens running around in circles panicking. Above all, they are to trust in the provident care of God, who will give them eloquence and wisdom to defend themselves and preach the truth. ‘Your endurance will win you your lives.’

As simple and as powerful as this message is, it doesn’t always feel that way. Our penchant for giving up and flying the white flag is so strong, especially when tragedy hits. As you all know, any exposure to the mildest sunlight, even for a few minutes, will cause snowflakes to dissolve into the ground with no resistance. It sometimes feels that every crisis is so catastrophic like it’s the End of the World. This is how the Jews would have felt when their beloved Temple was destroyed by the Romans in the year 70 AD in retaliation for their revolt.

Apparently, the great first century Temple in Jerusalem was a tremendous structure, a suitable tribute to God's greatness and glory, as well as the central symbol of the Jewish nation and their faith. The veil that separated the most sacred inner sanctum from the rest of the Temple complex was adorned with symbols of the cosmos, suggesting that the Temple was literally the centre of the universe. To say that it was worthy of admiration was an understatement. But when our Lord noticed His disciples admiring its grandeur, He had to speak this hard truth: “not a single stone will be left on another: everything will be destroyed.” Despite being sturdily built with reinforced foundations to last centuries if not for eternity, Our Lord knew it would one day fall and its fall would be a cataclysmic event, like the end of the world itself.

However, the Lord also knew that the Temple's destruction would not mean the end of God's creation nor the end of salvation history. So He urged His disciples to bear suffering with hope and patience. His lesson was that all of us suffer, and all of us go through destruction and tearing down. All of us even go through death, but that is not the end. He died Himself, but it was not the end. He was resurrected, and God's creative power began again and the first creation was surpassed by the greater act of redemption.

There may be some signs toward the end. Our Lord famously mentions some of them here and in the other gospels. Signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, wars and insurrections, earthquakes and the economy. At one level, He could have been speaking of the veil in the Temple with its embroidered cosmic and planetary symbols, the same veil torn into two at His death on the cross. But these signs could also point to something new emerging – the old creation has to be destroyed in order for the new to arise. These signs could indicate cycles of life. Stages of our life inevitably end before another begins. We think it is the end of the world, but it isn’t. Just the end of that particular stage of our world. With the ending of a phase, we enter into a new one. This too was true of the Temple. Its destruction did not mark the end of Judaism but initiated a new phase of belief rooted in faith.

The transition is often painful. Changes hurt. But they are signs that the kingdom of God is near, is very near. When you are encountering the anxiety of any change in your life, be assured that you are not far from God in that experience; He may feel distant and uninvolved in our crisis, but the truth is that He is closer to you than you can ever imagine.

The Church does not stand aloof and far removed from the changes which take place in our lives. The sacraments of Christ administered by the Church have always been associated with changes in our human lives-inevitable changes that most of us go through: birth, illness, marriage, death. In direct association with those changes, the Church provides baptism, anointing with oil, the sacrament of marriage, a funeral. The Church pronounces blessing and grace during those moments of change, painful as well as joyous. At its best, the Church teaches us how to change gracefully. Even the changes in the Church itself can be occasions for our learning grace.

“Everything will be destroyed,” the Lord ominously predicts. And sometimes we can see the signs of that tumult all too quickly. But that will not be the end. God will be in the change. A new beginning can emerge from destruction. And all things will be made new.

Finally, it is in all the changes of our lives, that our very character is formed. Thus, the way we endure change is the way we shape our character, our identity, our very soul. That's why the Lord said what He said about endurance. When we endure change, when we bear change, we gain our identity. In fact, we gain our souls. By your endurance, the Lord said, “will win you your lives”.

Trials "try" us, and tests "test" us. Most of the time, the purpose of trials is to show us who we really are, to reveal character in us. The measure of a man is not how he acts when things go smoothly, but how he acts when he is challenged. We can think all kinds of good thoughts about ourselves, but until we are put to the test, we don't know whether those things have become realities in us or not. We may consider ourselves generous, honest, or deeply committed to a particular truth or ideal, but the depth of these dynamics only reveals itself when we're under pressure. When we go through trials, we learn whether or not we really have the character and commitment we think we have. Test will prove to us whether we are snowflakes or made of sturdier material - hard solid rock that can withstand the heat of pressure and the cold of rejection. Remember, the hardest of diamonds are the product of the greatest pressures. That’s what you are meant to be. That’s who you are.