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.”

Light shines brightest in darkness

Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord

Imagine that the journey of life was all cozy and rosy. That everything worked out as we wished and there was absolutely no pain. How could you appreciate the presence of something if you have never known its absence? Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. Sorrow and joy, darkness and light, pain and happiness, these things serve as the lower and upper limits of the scale of life. They enable us to measure situations and moments in our lives. Without one, it becomes impossible to appreciate the other. We need to understand darkness to comprehend the light. To appreciate life, we must accept death as part of the equation. To live is to experience wholeness.

Today’s feast similarly gives wholeness and a necessary balance to the entire Christmas story. Its placement in the calendar positions, Epiphany as the fulfilment of Advent and the climax of Christmas. While in Advent the Church awaits the coming of the light of the Messiah, at Christmas the Church beholds the incarnation of God in flesh, and on Epiphany the Church celebrates that God has come to make His glory known to the world, in and through the Lord Jesus Christ. During Advent, the Church seeks God’s intervention for humanity still covered by darkness. At Christmas the Church declares that God has assumed our humanity, by inserting His light into the darkness. On Epiphany the Church asserts that God has made Himself known to all humanity, the Light now shines in the darkness.

The movement from Advent to Epiphany marks a progression from darkness to light, which is why Epiphany sometimes is called the Feast of Lights. Advent anticipates God’s promised light that will come to dispel the darkness. Christmas praises God for His light that has been born into the darkness. Epiphany rejoices that God’s light has come to the world and has manifest itself to those living in darkness. And so, with Isaiah, on Epiphany the Church proclaims: “Arise, shine out, Jerusalem, for your light has come, the glory of the Lord is rising on you.”

Yes, the feast of Epiphany is rightly called the festival of light, although there are many other contenders for this title. I would like to think of it as more a festival of twilight, rather than a blast of sunlight. The most picturesque scene is never captured when the sun is high in the sky or when the land is covered in the darkness of the night. The most beautiful painting on God’s canvas of nature is often wrought in the twilight hours of sunset and sunrise, where both light and darkness mingle and produce the most amazing myriad of colours. And thus, twilight often marks the significant hours of our Lord’s life: His birth in Bethlehem in the darkness of the night of Christmas; His death on a cross on Good Friday where daylight was darkened by an eclipse; His resurrection in the darkness before the dawn of Easter; and when His birth and presence was manifested by the star which shone in the dark and led the magi to His bedside on this feast.

In Isaiah’s prophecy in the first reading, we witness the intermingling of light and darkness. The prophecy announces that the “light has come” and yet “night still covers the earth and darkness the peoples.” How could this be? How could light coexist with darkness side-by-side? Well, darkness is not a “thing” which exist. Just like evil does not ontologically exist as an entity, evil is the mere absence of good. Likewise, darkness is the absence of light, without it, we would never know what it means to not have light. That is to say, we would take the presence of light for granted, we would never fully see how lucky we are to have light. So anytime you find yourself in a difficult situation, anytime you find yourself in darkness, always remember that brighter days will come, and when they do, you will find and appreciate joy more than you would have if joy had been a simple daily occurrence without interruption.

In the account of the visit of the magi in the gospel, we see the fulfilment of the prophecy of Isaiah: “The nations come to your light and kings to your dawning brightness.” It is this association with the “kings” and “nations” of Isaiah’s prophecy and not from our gospel text, which had inspired the tradition that the magi were three kings representing three continents in the ancient world - Europe, Africa and Asia. Once again in this familiar tale that has been immortalised in Christmas pageants, carols and crèche scenes, we see the intermingling of light and darkness. While the visit of the Magi—representing the nations of the world—is an unmistakable sign that the salvation offered by the newborn King is for all times and peoples, writers through the ages saw the Magi’s journey as a metaphor for conversion and the journey of faith that each of us is traveling, a journey that often passes through the valley of darkness. It is precisely the darkness of antagonists like the politically insecure Herod or the religious leaders of his time which makes the story of Epiphany and our story so much brighter. How could virtue shine more valiantly, if it was not surrounded by the darkness of vice and sin?

Following the inspiration of God, the story of Epiphany and our own story move from the darkness of doubt and sin, entering into the light and freedom of God’s children. This inspired Pope Benedict XVI’s reflexion on this feast, when he wrote: “How important it is that we Christians are faithful to our vocation! Every authentic believer is always traveling his own personal itinerary of faith, and at the same time, with the little light that he carries within himself, can and must be a help to those alongside him, and even help the one for whom finding the way that leads to Christ is difficult.”

The “night still covers the earth and darkness the peoples,” but the light of Christ has come into the world, and that has made all the difference. Our lives may now be covered in darkness, but dawn is on the way, the night of doubt and uncertainty would soon be over. But even in this experience of darkness, even in the dark night of the soul, the heavenly light that guided the Magi still shines in the Gospel, which continues to guide us along our pilgrim way. As we look upon the crèche, we cannot stay there. Like the shepherds and the magi, we too are called to move away and take the light of Jesus with us. We are asked not only to admire the light, but to be people of light. As Jesus Himself tells us, you are the light of the world and your light must shine. The gift of this great Christmas feast reminds us that the Church, and every person of faith, has been entrusted with that same light and we are called to carry that light into the dark places of the world in our prayer, words, and acts of charity.

Dreaming and Believing

Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord

Dreams can be so vivid and life-like. Psychologists speak of them as the voice of our subconscious crying out for attention, whereas certain primitive cultures view them as premonitions or messages from the gods. According to Jewish tradition and scriptures, God revealed Himself in dreams to biblical heroes, for example, Abram’s dream (Gn 15:12-13); Jacob’s dream at Bethel (Gn 28:12); Joseph’s dreams (Gn 37:5-9); the calling of Samuel (1 Sm 3:3-4) and Daniel’s dream (Dn 2:19). According to the great Jewish historian Josephus (Antiquities of the Jews 2.216-19), God promised Moses’ father in a dream that He would keep the infant Moses safe.

It is no wonder that St Matthew, with his keen interest in showing in his gospel that the Lord Jesus is the fulfilment of the Old Testament prophecies and expectations, utilises themes and literary devices from the Hebrew Scriptures. Among the gospels, the gospel of St Matthew alone provides us with accounts of life-changing dreams, where the dreamers were so convinced about the veracity of their dreams that they had no other choice but to follow them. You might notice that the Christmas story in the gospel of St Matthew is very different than the one in Luke. For here in Matthew, there are no shepherds, no sheep, no manger, no singing angels. Only in Matthew do we meet the magi, we see the star that guides them. Only in Matthew, do we hear about four dreams in the infancy narrative of Jesus (the fifth dream was dreamt by Pilate’s wife who then warned her husband to have nothing to do with Jesus, a warning that went unheeded). Dreams provide the tool by which God directs human affairs.

The first, third, and fourth set of dreams are given to St Joseph, the betrothed of the Virgin Mary. It’s no coincidence that St Joseph is a dreamer like his namesake and ancestor, the patriarch Joseph, who not only dreamt dreams but also interpreted them for others. Since the dreams of St Joseph are not part of today’s gospel reading, I will not trouble you with their details, except to say that they gave direction to St Joseph and his family.

The second dream in the series, comes to the magi at the end of today’s gospel - warning them not to return to Herod. They chose to defy the orders of Herod by obeying the commandment of God to return to their homeland by another way. History tells us that Herod the Great was a wicked, paranoid king, who though hailed by some as a great strategist and builder, but by others as a bloodthirsty insecure ruler. For political reasons, he even murdered three of his own sons. It would seem that our Epiphany narrative is no conspiracy theory but fits neatly into this description of the king. The magi had reason to fear he might target them once he found out where Jesus was born.

After their departure is recorded at the end of today’s gospel, the magi are no longer mentioned anywhere else in the gospels. If their sudden appearance in the storyline seemed almost dream-like, their disappearance would similarly be enigmatic, like a whiff of a dream going up in a magical puff of smoke.

We don’t have to look into the content of the magi’s dream to conclude that there is something magical and dream-like about the whole Christmas narrative and it is this magical element that has inspired both Christians and secular culture to expand on the Christmas story beyond the pages of scripture. The story of what happened to the wise men after they left Jerusalem has also been the stuff of legends.



Matthew does not give us the name of the Magi. The names of the Magi as Balthasar, Caspar, and Melchior, come to us from a 6th-century Greek manuscript. The tradition of chalking our homes also uses the initials taken from their traditional names. Extra biblical tradition also seems to present them as cosmopolitan representatives of the world, with each representing one of the three known continents of antiquity - Europe, Asia and Africa. In almost all modern representations of the Magi, Balthasar is depicted as Black, since he is said to be an African king. Caspar is Asian (said to be an Indian scholar or sage) and Melchior, a Persian (thus Arian) prince representing the white Europeans.

Tradition also has it that after discovering the “infant king of the Jews” (Mt 2:2) and paying Him homage, the Magi returned home, gave up their titles, distributed their property to the poor, and dedicated themselves to spreading the Gospel. Tradition also has it that the apostle St Thomas baptised them forty years later in India. There is also the tradition that tells us that St Thomas ordained them as priests in India and that they were martyred there.

Whether one chooses to believe in the veracity of these extra biblical traditions is not important. What is important is that the discovery of the Magi is real. Though directed by astrological calculations and mystical dreams, the reality that the “infant king of the Jews” who is also the Son of God is undisputed. What the Jewish priests and scribes should have seen by scouring the pages of scripture, the magi had discerned by looking at the stars and reading their dreams, as if these were the natural scriptures of God’s creation.

The impact that the Christ-child had on the Magi is deeply touching. This event completely transformed their lives. According to all these traditions, it was not merely a star that led them from that moment on, but rather, Jesus Christ. Jesus consumed their life and existence. The Magi are an invitation today to let Christ have the same impact on us. Are we wise like the Magi? Let our life tell that story! The depiction of the Magi as people of different colours and races helps us imagine a parish community as a global community. The Magi are the microcosm of a parish community. No one should ever feel unwelcome in a worshipping community. We know that this clearly was a problem in the early Church. In his Letter to the Ephesians, Paul struggles to convince the Jewish Christians that, “Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body, and copartners in Christ Jesus through the gospel” (Eph 3:5-6). The Magi bear witness to a global nature, indeed, the catholicity of the Catholic faith.

The Magi did homage to the Divine Child and then their lives became a witness to Him. Today, after we have woken up from the stupor of sleep and dreams, from two years of pandemic lockdowns and online Masses, let us resolve with excitement and new vigour to do homage to the same Christ, so that our lives too can be transformed and shine like the star that will lead others to Christ.

Our Dowry is Eternal Life

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Although Year C should take us through the Gospel of St Luke, our lectionary this Sunday provides us with this passage from the Fourth Gospel - the Wedding at Cana. The liturgy still wishes to unravel the mystery of Christ’s manifestation in the world during Epiphany.

If you imagine that Epiphany is like a triptych, a three-panelled screen, today we are invited to look at the final panel of the three events that comprise the Feast of the Epiphany: the coming of the Magi, the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan, and the marriage feast of Cana. In speaking of these three events, St Peter Chrysologus explains the rationale of divine pedagogy: “the great events we celebrate today disclose and reveal in different ways the fact that God himself took a human body. Mortal man, enshrouded always in darkness, must not be left in ignorance, and so be deprived of what he can understand and retain only by grace. In choosing to be born for us, God chose to be known by us.”

The marriage feast of Cana is the piece that brings all the rest of the Christmas celebrations to its final completion. The Divine Light that drenched us on Christmas night, and which we have been gradually adjusting to, now reveals the whole panorama of the divine plan of salvation. The first miracle is not just a magical performance in which our Lord changes water into wine. His actions point to something so much more profound - it points to our transformation. The human condition, with its brokenness and sinfulness, is wiped out in the divine transformation of human nature.

To understand the significance of this event, let us look at the first two panels to see how these two other events manifest to us the significance of the Incarnation. First, the Feast of the Epiphany focused on the coming of the Magi, the symbol of seekers of all time, finding the truth they sought in a most unlikely place. The Magi represent the call of the whole human race to faith, in the infinite mercy of God expressed in the Word made flesh in its most fragile form.

Secondly, the baptism of the Lord in the Jordan is the symbol of purification. He Himself did not need the purification but by uniting Himself with human nature and submitting to John's baptism of repentance, our Lord revealed that God is in total solidarity with the human condition just as it is. In other words, Christ is with us in our tragedies, in our sorrows, in our joys, and in our sinfulness to heal all our wounds through the process of the spiritual journey: through the sacraments and the divine therapy of prayerful contemplation.

Lastly, we come to this passage and St John takes the trouble to tell us that this wedding took place on “the third day.” The weddings in Palestine took three days. No wonder the wine ran out. Can you imagine preparing an unending supply of wine for this sustained period of celebration? But there is something about the number three which should trigger our sacramental imagination, especially if you have a keen eye for Christian symbolism. In fact, in a sermon of Faustus of Riez, the symbolism is explained beautifully: 

“What wedding can this be but the joyful marriage of man’s salvation, a marriage celebrated by confessing the Trinity or by faith in the resurrection. That is why the marriage took place “on the third day,” a reference to the sacred mysteries which this number symbolises.”

Faustus continues to read into the allegorical symbolism of the wedding: 

“Like a bridegroom coming from his marriage chamber our God descended to earth in His incarnation, in order to be united to His Church which was to be formed of the pagan nations. To her He gave a pledge and a dowry: a pledge when God was united to man; a dowry when He was sacrificed for man’s salvation. The pledge is our present redemption; the dowry, eternal life.” 

Faustus continues: “To those who see only with the outward eye, all these events at Cana are strange and wonderful; to those who understand, they are also signs. For, if we look closely, the very water tells us of our rebirth in baptism. One thing is turned into another from within, and in a hidden way a lesser creature is changed into a greater. All this points to the hidden reality of our second birth. There water was suddenly changed; later it will cause a change in man.”

Human nature is to be transformed into what wine symbolises - namely, the Spirit. Notice that the miracle does not annihilate but transforms the water. The wine is not something entirely new; it is a transformation of what was there before. Similarly, our human nature, our personal history, and our self-identity are not annihilated but transformed. Man is not dehumanised by this change but rather his humanity is elevated. St Ireanaeus, who is commonly misquoted, reminds us of this truth that “the glory of God gives life; those who see God receive life.”

The Blessed Virgin Mary alone notices that the wine has run out and so she intervenes by bringing this matter to her Son and subsequently tells the steward to follow His instructions. Mary’s faith is an embodiment of the new wine that does not run dry despite encountering an obstacle. Upon following her advice and the instruction of the Lord, the steward exclaims after tasting the water now changed into wine: “People generally serve the best wine first, and keep the cheaper sort till the guests have had plenty to drink; but you have kept the best wine till now.” The new wine which our Lord provides will never run out. It is a new creation. The old creation, with its burden of sin is erased, and the new creation, the action of the Spirit, is now available. In partaking of this new wine, we have become a new creation. Having become one with us in our fallen human nature, our Lord transforms our fallen nature into His divinity.

This is what the liturgy proclaims in this feast. We come to this wedding as guests but penetrated by grace, we leave as brides. We come as paupers but we leave incredibly enriched. What the wedding feast at Cana prefigured, every Eucharist now makes into reality. As St Peter Chrysologus tells us: “Today Christ works the first of his signs from heaven by turning water into wine. But water has still to be changed into the sacrament of his blood, so that Christ may offer spiritual drink from the chalice of his body, to fulfill the psalmist’s prophecy: How excellent is my chalice, warming my spirit.” In a short while, we will receive our Lord in Holy Communion. Having savoured all the best vintages of life, we can boldly declare that the Eucharist is the “best wine” kept till now. Though other joys may run out one day, the Lord’s grace will always overflow with ever renewing abundance!

Light and Darkness

Solemnity of the Epiphany

Opposites attract, and that’s rarely truer than when it comes to a juxtaposition. Juxtaposition means placing two things side by side so as to highlight their differences - day and night, light and darkness, beautiful and ugly. But juxtaposition is also used to present us with contrasting moral behaviour. Think of Cinderella—her goodness and moral virtue are all the clearer to readers because her wicked stepsisters are there for contrast. Or closer to home - think of the selfless members of the public who reached out to strangers during and in the aftermath of the floods, in contrast to the self-engrossed and narcissistic politicians who turned up days later just to get a selfie at the expense of someone else’s misery.

Today, we don’t have Cinderella and her stepsisters to serve as subjects for our discussion and comparison. Neither are we going to waste our time ranting about the gross inaptitude or negligence of the authorities to mobilise any rescue and salvage efforts. Instead, the Gospel story provides us with a contrast between the wisemen and king Herod, a contrast that perhaps encouraged tradition to turn the magi into kings, that they might stand beside Herod as marking a very different kind of king. Here we have two utterly different reactions to the new-born Jesus, the promised Messiah.

The magi, whom we can safely assume to be men of considerable wealth and status, go to extraordinary lengths, endured great pains and inconveniences, willingly made many sacrifices to find and see the Messiah. They leave behind their homes and its securities, and travel to a distant land; even risking the humiliation of seeking directions from a cynical Herod and his “expert” advisors. These foreigners finally get to see the Child. Take note that they do not ask favours or seek special privileges from the infant king, unlike our Lord’s future disciples. They are just content to meet the Lord and leave their treasures before Him without any fuss or fanfare.

Herod, by contrast, does not leave the comfort and security of his palace, even though Bethlehem is just a stone’s throw away from Jerusalem. As a king, he expects his subjects and his subordinates to make their way to see him. Visiting his subjects is just below him. In fact, he had little interest in the mysterious star that had appeared in the sky, or the rumour that the Messiah had actually come in the flesh. His entire way of life is secured against such bothersome events, and the last thing he wants to know is that a messenger from God, a potential rival, has been born in his neighbourhood, without his permission.

The contrast between the three kings and Herod, could not have been any more pronounced. This is the contrast between the search for God and that of power, between knowledge and ignorance, between worship and hostility, between faith and unbelief, between truth and hypocrisy. The wise men are in tune with what God is doing; Herod is clueless. The wise men are excited about these events and want to worship this newborn king. Herod can only see a threat to his authority. The wise men are empowered by their belief; Herod is blinded by his ambition and fear. And what makes this all the more fascinating is that the three kings are foreigners; non-Jews from a distant land. Herod is a Jew – raised in the faith that had talked for centuries about a promised messiah.

And it makes you wonder, as you read this story, if there’s a greater reason for it being here in the first place: more than just recounting history. It makes you wonder if this story is here to reveal to us two very different ways of seeing the world, and two very different ways of responding to light and darkness; these polar opposites, these symbols are about good and evil; but even more, they’re about hope and its polar opposite, fear.

Can you remember what the gospel described as Herod’s first reaction, when the wise men told him about the newborn king they had come to see? He was “perturbed,” a translation that could suggest that he was confused or unsettled. A better translation would be that he was “afraid”. Both hope and fear were present when our Lord was born; and both are still very much with us today. When we hear the patter of the first few drops of rain on our roof or begin to experience a scratchy throat or a runny nose; could these be signs of something worse to come? There is fear in our hearts even as we whisper our supplications to God. The light and the darkness are all around us, constantly clamouring for our attention. And usually, it seems, the darkness wins.

And then suddenly, in the midst of this never-ending, all-consuming darkness, something changes. The Prophet Isaiah in the first reading announces this:

“Arise, shine out, Jerusalem, for your light has come, the glory of the Lord is rising on you, though night still covers the earth and darkness the peoples. Above you the Lord now rises and above you his glory appears. The nations come to your light and kings to your dawning brightness. Lift up your eyes and look round: all are assembling and coming towards you, your sons from far away and your daughters being tenderly carried. At this sight you will grow radiant, your heart throbbing and full…”

Such powerful imagery. God’s people who lived in darkness will be able to see again because of this wonderful light – a light that gets a little brighter and a little brighter, until the light shines in full and you can see everything as it’s meant to be seen. And when this happens, this light does more than just show us what is there: it gives us hope. Such hope is not based on wishful thinking or false optimism that things will get better. It arises from knowing that the One whom the prophets had been waiting for, has finally arrived. So, our Epiphany juxtaposition actually draws our attention to the true star of this story - the One whom the wise men thought was the true infant king of the Jews and whom Herod believed to be his rival - but we Christians know Him as the Lord of Lords and King of Kings, Jesus Christ, the Son of God! It is He who truly is the One who is in control. He is the creator of the star which shows the way, He is the One who inspires the wise men to make this treacherous journey, and He is the One who reveals the coming of the Messiah in Scriptures. Herod is just a clueless petty ruler who is a pawn in God’s plan of salvation for His people.

So, in the harsh dark, as well as light of Epiphany, we see ourselves at our best and worst. We can either choose to imitate the three kings illuminated by God’s light; or be like Herod, imprisoned in the darkness. But more importantly, let us not lose sight of the true star of the story - our Lord Jesus Christ. Like the wisemen, let us offer Him our gifts of love, faith and hope, knowing that He has come to offer us something so much more valuable - the gift of His life and salvation. While other kings expect their subjects to die for them, our Lord and King has the distinction of coming to die for His subjects, for you and for me.

A King to obey, A God to adore, A Saviour to die

Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord

A week ago I posted a picture of our magnificent crèche in Jesus Caritas on Facebook. The meticulously detailed work of art done by our youth immediately attracted fawning admirers and many ‘Likes’. Someone noted in one close-up picture of the main characters, that the Magi had arrived too early. It wasn’t Epiphany yet, but already one of the three “kings” was strategically placed at the foot of the manger offering his gift of gold. Although, there may be issues of scriptural accuracy, I thought that our infant King, the Christ-Child would do well this year to have some early visitors since He has been deprived of His fan club this year since public Masses had been suspended for Christmas.

But the question of the appearance of these Magi coming too early in the story is moot today. Today, they appear in our gospel reading. But this is not their first appearance. In the first reading, in the prophecy of Isaiah, we see a teaser, a sort of prophetic trailer to this event of the Epiphany.

Isaiah predicted that at a time of darkness, the glory of the Lord will shine over Jerusalem. The heavenly light will be a beacon to the pagan nations and even to their kings. The prophecy of Isaiah may be one of the reasons why these Magi are often associated with kings. Despite the regular chastisement on the accuracy of this tradition from the pulpit (that there were an indeterminate number of wise men recorded in the gospel instead of the popular three kings), this has little effect on popular culture such as carols and Christmas pageant plays where children compete to be dressed in the splendorous costumes of these royal figures. As for the number of Magi which traditionally is set at three, no mention of their numbers can be found in St Matthew’s story. The three gifts which they bear may be the reason for concluding that there were three wise men or kings who visited the Christ-child.

Now that we’ve uncovered a possible reason for identifying the Magi with the three kings, it would be good to see the difference between Isaiah’s prophecy and the actual fulfilment of that prophecy in the visit of the Magi. It has to do with the number of gifts. On the matter of gifts, I often recall the gifts that were brought by the fairies to the christening of Sleeping Beauty. Each gift was a blessing save the penultimate one - the wicked and vengeful fairy who was not invited to the party, conferred on the child the gift of death. The last fairy, though she could not undo this curse entirely, blunted it by transforming the curse of death into a long sleep that could only be awakened with a prince’s kiss. Doesn’t that sound like the work of Christ in blunting the death blow through the gift of the resurrection?

I digress. Let’s come back to our story of the gifts in the readings. Isaiah only mentions two - gold and incense - but St Matthew mentions three - gold, frankincense (which is a type of incense) and myrrh. The omission of the third gift in Isaiah’s prophecy and its inclusion in St Matthew’s list, is telling. It serves as a clue and shows that a particular aspect was missing from the Jewish expectation of the Messiah based on the Old Testament but was made clearer in the revelation of the New Testament. And the third gift is crucial to our story.

The three gifts have often been described as symbols - gold for a king and incense for a deity. This child is indeed a King but more than a king, He is God Incarnate, thus deserving not just our adulation but also our adoration. But what about the myrrh, which is mentioned in the gospel but omitted in Isaiah’s prophecy –where does that come from and what does it mean?

Myrrh, an aromatic resin, was used in preparing the dead for burial. It was used to anoint corpses to mask the stench and also served to preserve the body from immediate decay. There we have it - the missing link that completes the prophecy of the future fate of this child. Gold reveals that the babe in the manger is actually a king; frankincense tells us that He is God Incarnate; but myrrh reveals to us that this King, who is in fact our God, has come to die.

That someone would redeem God’s people through suffering and death was never part of the Jewish expectation of their Messiah. They failed to make a connexion between their expectation of a triumphant and glorious Messiah, with the Suffering Servant spoken of by Isaiah a few chapters earlier (Isaiah 53). This was the really hard thing for those living in Jesus’ time to comprehend –that the same person who fulfilled all those prophecies about a glorious new king, also fulfilled the prophecies about a mysterious figure in Isaiah’s prophecy who must suffer at the hands of His tormentors and enemies.

It would be good if we just stuck to the first two gifts. Many would have little to no objections to accept this child as their king. It may be far more difficult to acknowledge His divine nature but we can still work that into our formulae. But perhaps the most challenging aspect of this revelation is that this King, our deathless God, should choose to die. All three gifts of the Magi, however, are necessary to complete the true revelation, the true epiphany of who this child is, and what He is destined to do. We must never lose sight of this; that He is at once our King, our God, and Saviour who dies for us, for if any one of these aspects of His identity is omitted, He ceases to be who He truly is, He will not be the Saviour that we would need.

So, here as we had just heard from the Proclamation of the date of Easter and Moveable Feasts, distant rumblings of the Paschal event: the passion, death and resurrection of our Lord. Here in the gifts presented by the Magi, especially in the last gift, we see the inseparable link between Christmas, Good Friday and Easter.

Tradition gives us the names of the Magi -Caspar, Balthasar, Melchior. But the fact that Matthew gives them no names is telling. They may be kings, but in this story they are merely supporting actors. They follow the true Star, the King of Kings. Only His name is important. The Feast of the Epiphany is not about the Magi–it’s all about Jesus. And just like the Bethlehem star, their very presence and gifts reveal to us who this Child is - He is our King whom we must obey and serve, He is Our Lord and God whom we must worship and finally, He is our Saviour who will die for us in expiation of our sins.

Venite Adoremus - Come let us adore Him.

In Obscurity and Hiddenness

Christmas Mass at Dawn

Of the three Masses which make up the Christmas liturgy (one could add a fourth Mass if you include the Vigil Mass too), this Mass celebrated at Dawn, is the most obscure of all. Generally, most parishes will have a slew of Christmas Masses during the night (traditionally known as the Christmas Midnight Mass) and the Christmas Mass of the Day. But the Mass at dawn is a rare anomaly, most likely because most Catholics who had attended the Mass in the night would have been too sleepy to wake up for this Mass which is celebrated at such an inconvenient and unearthly hour. Secondly, most priests would never think of preparing a different homily for Christmas. One homily works well for all Masses!

Perhaps, the obscurity of this Mass and its timing seek to highlight the paradox of God’s revelation at Christmas. The gospel reading speaks of an epiphany to the Shepherds. Unlike the visit of the Magi, those wise men from the East who may have been kings, there is little pomp and pageantry and glittering costumes associated with these humble shepherds. The silent, secret and obscure birth of the King of the Universe is now made manifest to a group of persons who share His anonymity, due to their profession and status in society. God takes on the flesh of a deplorable and reveals Himself to the deplorables of society. God who is the centre of the Universe enters into the fringe of the universe and makes Himself visible to the marginalised and disenfranchised.

The presence of these shepherds is no accident. Outside the Holy Family, they are the first to receive this wondrous news from the lips of angels and they would be granted the inestimable honour of being the first to be granted an audience before the King of kings - a privilege many prophets, seers, kings and queens could only dream of.

Why would God choose these shepherds to be the first witnesses of His birth? Obscurity may be one of the reasons that united this child with the shepherds. The humility of the Messiah may have been another reason. But perhaps more significantly, the shepherds and the Christ Child shared a common vocation. Throughout the history of God’s involvement with His chosen people, shepherding has been the key way in which He cared for them. David was a boy whom God had taken from among the sheepfolds to be king of Israel. Shepherding was intended to be the model for the monarchy.

In the darkest despair of their defeats, when king, prophet and priest had failed, God declared Himself to be the Shepherd of Israel. So, when God descends to Man in the Christ Child it is entirely right that the first visitors of this Shepherd-King, His admirers and companions should be those whose ministry most clearly reflects His. “Birds of a feather flock together!”

The role of both shepherd and king is to watch over their flocks, to defend them from the prowling predator, to lead them into good pasture, to rescue the lost and foolish who stray, to tend the wounds and to bring them safely home to the fold. That is why Christ came – to be the Good Shepherd. Those are the very tasks our Shepherd-King takes upon Himself and thus upon His Church.

It is the self-same job description that is one of the most beautiful of the Papal titles, Pastor Pastorum, shepherd of the shepherds. For, wherever the Church is, there is the Pastoral work of Christ. And that work cannot be done other than among the flock. It is why Pope Francis uttered that pithy reminder, ‘The shepherd should smell of the sheep’.

The Pope’s comments seem to be utterly counter cultural today. Most of us reasonable and upstanding folks would not wish to smell like unwashed sheep. For most people today, and Christians are by no means an exception, personal identity and fulfilment depend upon being well-known not unknown, visible and not invisible, honoured rather than ignored, important instead of insignificant, and in demand rather than out of commission.

But when we consider how thoroughly invisible our Lord’s birth was, visible only to those who are regarded invisible in the eyes of the powerful and influential, we are reminded that God can be found in obscurity as well as in spectacular fanfare, and He often chooses the obscure to overturn our evaluation of what is important and throw us off our high horses.

So, let us strip ourselves of our false pretences of grandeur and face this ignoble truth - most of us live unexceptional and unheralded lives. We live, die, and then will be forgotten to history. However, hidden and obscure our lives might feel, either literally or figuratively, whether voluntary or involuntary, in that very hiddenness God is redemptively present. If we recall that we are mere sheep, we would know that we will always have a Shepherd who has our back.

So, this morning, as we come before His august presence so humbly concealed under the guise of bread and wine, let us kneel with those shepherds as the sky is filled with the glory of the whole company of Heaven praising God - for that is what we do every time we come to Mass. From the Gloria to the Sanctus we raise our voices and our hearts to join the Angelic chorus before the throne of grace. At every Mass, we come to adore our Shepherd- King and receive Him in the Holy Sacrament of the altar, as the Lord of Lords and God of Gods places Himself in our hands and in our hearts. And finally, with amazed and thankful hearts, let us remember what the shepherds did next; St. Luke tells us, “When they saw the child they repeated what they had been told about him, and everyone who heard it was astonished at what the shepherds had to say.”

In short, the shepherds were the first to preach the Good News. They were the first evangelists. Imagine that? Shepherds, the obscure, deplorables, the unwashed, the insignificant ... but evangelists nevertheless. Like the shepherds we know the truth. We have beheld His Glory. We know who Jesus is. The last act of the Mass is to send us out into the world to share that truth. And we do so in imitation of the shepherds who went home “glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen; it was exactly as they had been told.”

The Quintessential Lightbulb Moment

The Epiphany of the Lord

In our current liturgical calendar, the event of the Epiphany of the Lord is divided into two feasts and in certain liturgical cycles, a Sunday in Ordinary Time. Today’s feast of the Epiphany proper commemorates the “physical” revelation of Christ, the moment when the Gentiles, represented by the Gentile magi, recognised the incarnate Messiah. Next Sunday, the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, another epiphany, is a “spiritual” revelation of Christ; it marks the moment when Jews and Gentiles together recognised the divine sonship of Jesus.

Before we go any further, it would be good to consider the word “Epiphany.” In common parlance, epiphany has come to mean a moment of sudden revelation or insight, a light bulb moment! The original Greek, “Epiphaneia,” is very vague and implies only “manifestation” or “disclosure” or making one’s presence known. For us Christians, epiphany is not just any manifestation, but the self-disclosure of God in Jesus Christ to the world. This Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord (or “theophany) commemorates the revelation of Christ to the world on three separate events – the visit of the magi, the Baptism of the Lord and the Wedding at Cana. It is the quintessential lightbulb, the supreme “Aha!” moment. After generations of doubt and questioning and searching for God, the human race is finally presented with the greatest light bulb moment in history, and it is not just a grand idea or a complex concept, but a person.

If you had listened carefully to the readings for this feast, one of the features that is pushed to the front are the different ways that God’s self-disclosure is facilitated. The prophet Isaiah in the first reading has received a vision of a hopeful future now that the harrowing period of exile has passed. He tells Jerusalem to “shine out” and the reason for this is clear: “for your light has come.”  It’s a reminder that the city of Jerusalem, has no light of her own, even when she thinks she does because she houses the Temple of the Most High, the dwelling place of God on earth. Yet, she shall witness nations and kings streaming towards her with treasures, not drawn to her but to the light which shines in her. And only in this light can she gather herself together out of the diaspora, the Jews in exile scattered throughout the world. She cannot reassemble herself, she cannot reconstruct herself merely by cutting herself off from the nations of the world who are now bringing her the “riches of the sea” from the most distant lands, rather, she can do this only in unity with them. The “New Israel” will be greater than the old, not because she is set apart from other nations, but ironically, when other nations are joined to her.  We can clearly see how this prophecy would be fulfilled by the visit of the Gentile magi.

The letter to the Ephesians speaks now of the Church as that reconstituted people, the new Israel. Saint Paul would insists that the Lord Jesus’ message was not just for Jews, but for all humanity. Even pagans would now be given the privilege of sharing “the same inheritance, that they are parts of the same body, and that the same promise has been made to them, in Christ Jesus, through the gospel.” Such a fate was never foreseen by the Jews of old. Even though God had told Abraham that the nations would be blessed in him, Israel did not grasp the hint and the full extent of this promise, that the Nations of the world would one day be incorporated into the new Israel.  But it is in the Church that we first see what sort of star has risen and what kind of epiphany has illuminated the whole world and brought about its salvation.

Although the readings speak of various lights, they are focused on one light in particular. The real revelation of Epiphany is not the star, nor the three kings, nor even Herod but Jesus, the Christ child. The spotlight is on God and His Anointed One. The entire journey of Christmastide, from the nativity to Epiphany, beckons us to marvel at the glorious, life-sustaining light of the Son of God that has come to earth. Pope Emeritus Benedict tells us that, “the Magi worshiped a simple Child in the arms of his Mother Mary, because in him they recognised the source of the twofold light that had guided them: the light of the star and the light of the Scriptures. In him they recognised the King of the Jews, the glory of Israel, but also the King of all the peoples.”

The light of Epiphany reveals, but not passively; it summons and sends. Epiphanies from God are uncomfortable because by their very nature they challenge the status quo and force us to respond. The light not only illuminates but also reveals and uncovers those things done in the dark. The light may reveal to us that there may be more of the insecure and jealous Herod and religious leaders, than there are the magi who risked everything to make this long journey to worship the true King. Like Herod, we can be filled with jealousy and rage. We can be passive and indifferent and pretend the light pollution of our noisy crowded lives drowned out any chance for epiphany like it did for the Jewish Leaders. Or, we can be like the Magi. Men and women who run to the light and go forth being witnesses of that light to the world.

This is why we consider the Epiphany of the Lord as the most incredible light bulb moment in human history. Pope Francis tells us, “God does not reveal himself in strength or power, but in the weakness and fragility of a newborn babe.” In our own day, too, God presents Himself in ways which we may not recognise. God does not appear in His glory, but in friends and strangers, unexpected incidents and under the insignificant appearance of bread and wine. Just as He did in Bethlehem, Jesus slips into our lives like a shadow.

Today, we may not be as privileged as the magi to witness the Star of Bethlehem and be led into the presence of Christ, but Christ continues to provide us with a new and enduring star that draws us ever closer to Himself. This is through the Eucharist, “the Source and summit of our Christian life.” The Eucharist is that powerful star that continues to attract and illumine Christians the same way the star attracted and drew the Magi to Christ Himself. The visible sign of this star throughout the Catholic Church is the Tabernacle in every Church. That is why we always have a light shining wherever there is a tabernacle. It’s telling us that Christ is to be found here, not just in a symbolic way but He is truly, really, substantially present in the flesh, both body and blood, soul and divinity.

Therefore at every liturgy, we encounter what the Magi encountered centuries ago. As we make our way to Church and as we walk down the aisle to receive Holy Communion, we realise that we come empty handed, unlike the Magi of old. We bear no gifts of gold, frankincense or myrrh. We only offer our meagre devotion and good intentions and we realise that this is never enough for the One whom we acclaim as the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords. But here as Saint John Vianney, the Cure D’Ars, tells us: “When we leave the altar rails we are as happy as the Magi would have been if they had been able to carry off the Infant Jesus.”

Just like the Magi who fell to their knees and paid homage to the Christ child, we too kneel down before our Lord Jesus Christ, God, hidden in humanity and under the appearance of Bread and Wine. Having received Him in the Holy Communion, we experience once again the joys of the Epiphany. So, at this Epiphany and every time when you have received Him in Holy Communion during the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, know that you are summoned and sent forth. In the light and darkness of Epiphany, we are called to be witnesses of His light, to perpetuate the true revelation that Jesus is the light of the world—the light that not only illuminates but also reveals; the light that not only liberates but saves.