We dare to say

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

The prayer of Abraham in the first reading stands in contrast to that of our Lord’s in the gospel. If Abraham struggled to find the words to intercede on behalf of the depraved inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah and even attempts to haggle and bargain with God in making a deal, our Lord provides us with the blue print of prayer in the gospel. There is no longer any need on our part to haggle with God or broker a deal like an astute lawyer, businessman or politician. God, the party on the other end of the transaction (if you see prayer as transactional), is already disclosing to us all His cards and the key to winning His favour and acquiescence.

Although what we’ve just read and heard is a different and shorter version of the Lord’s Prayer which we pray at every Mass and in our devotions, it doesn’t tamper the radical demands which we make of God. In fact, the prayer has the audacity of making the following demands of God: we demand intimacy and familiarity with God’s person and name that borders on the contemptuous and blasphemous, we demand the coming of the kingdom, we demand the terra-forming of our trouble ridden earth so that it may become more like a trouble free heaven, we demand daily sustenance from on high, we demand that our sins be forgiven, and finally we demand shelter from temptation and deliverance from evil. If the school of hard knocks has taught us anything, it would be this: never make unreasonable demands, don’t expect the impossible. Well, for man all these may seem impossible; but for God, everything’s possible! We shouldn’t, therefore, feel uncomfortable or embarrassed to recite this prayer, as it is the Lord Himself who teaches us to do so!

This point is recognised in the introduction spoken by the priest at every Mass before the community recites in unison the Lord’s Prayer, "At the Saviour's command and formed by divine teaching, we dare to say..." The phrase ‘we dare to say’ inherently recognises our insignificance before the Father. We are humbly admitting that it has nothing to do with us, in fact, it admits that it is not even something which we can ever hope to accomplish. The words convey a profound sense of unworthiness; we are in no position to make any claims or demands.

The whole phrase places the Lord’s Prayer in a different light – it is no longer to be seen as a cry of entitlement, a demand made on God to fulfill our petitions and wishes. But rather, it is a prayer of humility by someone truly unworthy to even stand before the august presence of God and yet dare to address Him with the familiar “daddy” and make a series of demands of Him. The catechism tells us that “Our awareness of our status as slaves would make us sink into the ground and our earthly condition would dissolve into dust, if the authority of our Father Himself and the Spirit of his Son had not impelled us to this cry . . . ‘Abba, Father!’ . . . When would a mortal dare call God ‘Father,’ if man’s innermost being were not animated by power from on high?” It is by placing ourselves into the position of a child, calling God our Father, that we open ourselves to the grace by which we approach God with the humble boldness of a little child.

This is how we should approach prayer. It should neither be some arcane magical formula that forces the hand of God nor just a mechanical and superficial repetition of words just to appease Him. Prayer should always be rooted in a father-child relationship where the child trusts that the father will always have his best interest in mind even if he doesn’t always get want he wants. The supplicant who comes before God doesn’t need to approach Him as a lawyer who comes before the judge, hoping to outwit and win an argument with the latter. He already knows that the Supreme Judge will always stand with Him and even stand in His place to take the punishment which he deserves.

There is a Latin maxim that addresses the centrality and priority of prayer in the life, identity and mission of the Church; “Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi, Lex Vivendi”, the law of prayer reflects the law of faith which determines the law of life. Too often it is the other way around. Our lifestyle choices force our beliefs to conform to them and thereafter affect the way we pray. But when it comes to us Christians, everything begins with prayer. Our lives must be conformed to prayer and not the other way. How we worship and pray not only reveals and guards what we believe but guides us in how we live our Christian faith and fulfill our Christian mission in the world. As much as we are sometimes taken up with the spontaneity of the praying style of our Protestant brethren, and many of us too are tempted to venture into some innovative and creative explorations on our own, we must always remember that the best prayer, or as St Thomas Aquinas reminds us, the most Perfect Prayer, is still the prayer not formulated by any human poet or creative genius but by Christ, the Son of God Himself. In a way, God provides us the words to speak to Him.

Thus, our ability to pray in this way can only come to us by the grace of God - it is only because our Saviour has commanded it and because we have been formed by divine teaching, that ‘we dare to say.’ There is no arrogant audacity in the tone of our voice or the content of our prayer. We take no credit for this prayer. All glory goes to God and to His Christ, Jesus our Lord. We are not the natural sons and daughters of the Heavenly Father. We have no right to address Him by this familiar name. All our words seem banal and fall empty in the light of the pre-existent Word. But because of Jesus through baptism, I have become an adopted child. The Father is revealed to us by His Son and we can approach Him only through the Son. Because of Jesus, my prayer now derives an amazing and miraculous efficacy. For that reason, we dare to call God “Our Father.” Through this prayer, the unapproachable God becomes approachable. The unknown God is made known. The strange and unfamiliar God becomes familiar and a friend. The prayer unspoken is already answered!

What's missing in your life?

Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

When the coronavirus pandemic first hit, I came to realise that I had taken many things for granted - a congregation at every Mass. The faithful could also expect a Mass waiting for them at every church and those who lived in urban areas could even pick and choose the time and place based on personal preference and convenience. But all that changed with the pandemic. Even when churches were reopened gradually, attending Mass was a privilege and a luxury because of the radical restriction of numbers and SOPs. I guess for all of us, the suspension of public Masses and closure of churches had helped us see what we had regularly taken for granted. We had received the Eucharist merely out of habit and could only appreciate its irreplaceable value when it was missing from our lives. Perhaps, God allowed this all to happen so that we might reevaluate the way in which we’ve been receiving the Eucharist.

This experience is not without precedent. There have been times throughout history when Christians were prohibited from worship. In the early centuries, attending Mass was not just a dangerous thing but life-threatening, not because there was a raging pandemic that threatened the safety and life of every congregant. Attending Mass could get you killed. In the Year 304, Christians of the northern African region of Abitinae gathered for Mass despite a prohibition on penalty of death. They were arrested and summarily sentenced to death. No one, neither old nor young, was spared. When confronted by the authorities about why they defied the Emperor, they replied, “Sine Dominico non possumus” – “Without Sunday, we cannot live.” Just like one cannot survive without food or oxygen, these Christians understood that they could not live without the Eucharist. They would risk everything, including their personal safety and lives, just to have a taste of the Bread from Heaven.

Can we live without the Eucharist? The pandemic has helped us become aware of how much we take the Eucharist for granted. When we do not eat, we grow weak and become sick. The lack of reception of the Eucharist makes us vulnerable to sin, we literally become spiritually dead. Without the Eucharist, we lose direction in life and we risk losing something far greater - eternal life, our immortal soul’s salvation.

The Solemnity of Corpus Christi was instituted in the 13th century to address this concern. It was a direct result of the private Eucharistic devotion and mystical experiences of a nun, St Juliana of Liège. When Juliana was 16, she had her first vision which recurred subsequently several times during her Eucharistic adoration. Her vision presented the moon in its full splendour, crossed diametrically by a dark stripe. This was not the dark patches that one can see on the moon surface on a clear night. It was something entirely different - unnatural.

The Lord made St Juliana understand the meaning of what had appeared to her. The moon symbolised the life of the Church on earth; the opaque line, on the other hand, represented the absence of a liturgical feast: namely, a feast in which believers would be able to adore the Eucharist so as to increase in faith, to advance in the practice of the virtues and to make reparation for offences to the Most Holy Sacrament. In other words, Juliana was shown what was significantly missing from the liturgical life of the Church.

When Pope Urban, who was personally acquainted to St Juliana, finally declared the Feast of Corpus Christi, he did so not because of any personal favour owed to this nun or because they both hailed from the same locality. Some questioned whether it was even necessary to add another feast since the Institution of the Eucharist is already celebrated on Holy Thursday.

But our Lord in the vision granted to St Juliana explained that: “Holy Thursday is more a day of sorrow than of joy,” since it coincided with Good Friday. Pope Benedict XVI also added that: “The Feast of Corpus Christi is inseparable from Holy Thursday, from the Mass in Caena Domini, in which the Institution of the Eucharist is solemnly celebrated. Whereas on the evening of Holy Thursday we relive the mystery of Christ who offers himself to us in the bread broken and the wine poured out.” But he adds, “on the day of Corpus Christi, this same mystery is proposed for the adoration and meditation of the People of God, and the Blessed Sacrament is carried in procession through the streets of the cities and villages, to show that the Risen Christ walks in our midst and guides us towards the Kingdom of Heaven.”

The Solemnity of Corpus Christi allows the faithful to look at Our Eucharistic Lord with a greater sense of appreciation for the Blessed Sacrament and to tell the world: “this is exactly what you are missing in your lives!” That is why this celebration is marked by Eucharistic processions. These processions specifically are a reminder that we are to share the gift of the Eucharist with the world and make a bold proclamation of our belief in the Real Presence. We cannot control how other people react to Jesus but we can control how we respond to indifference, and our response should ultimately be one of charity. Public processions provide us with an opportunity to be a faithful witness to Christ in a world that has become indifferent or in some cases hostile towards Him. We are declaring to the world: “Without Sunday, without the Eucharist, we cannot live!”

In a world so obviously confused about the nature and purpose of human life, where so many sense something deeply missing and struggle to grasp at straw to fill that empty space, the sacred liturgy rightly celebrated is a most effective tool of evangelisation. In the sacred liturgy it is our Lord Himself who speaks to us and whose grace is at work in and through us, perfecting our nature and transforming it so that it might participate in the very life of God Himself. Thus, the Mass brings our Heavenly Lord down to earth but it also takes us up to Heaven. When the Mass is celebrated with reverence, love and devotion it truly becomes the most beautiful thing this side of Heaven.

Bishop Athanasius Schneider beautifully describes the symbiotic relationship between the Church and the Eucharist: “The Eucharist is at the heart of the Church. When the heart is weak, the whole body is weak. So, when the practice around the Eucharist is weak, then the heart and the life of the Church is weak. And when people have no more supernatural vision of God in the Eucharist then they will start the worship of man, and then also doctrine will change to the desire of man.”

So, today, if you sense that there is something missing in your life, look no further - that something is a person: Jesus Christ. He comes to us in the Blessed Sacrament of His Body and Blood, to feed us when we are hungry, to quench our thirst when we are thirsty, to accompany us when we are lonely. He alone can fill the emptiness inside of us with joy, and by so doing, give our lives purpose and meaning.

Worship and Mission

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord Year C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

House of Bread

Christmas Mass During the Night

The gospel reading which we had just heard acts like a telescope. It begins by enlarging our field of vision by situating the story of Christmas within the larger story of human history featuring important luminaries, a Roman emperor and a provincial governor. Although, these may have been important figures in history, they are not the focus of our story. The telescope then contracts and becomes a microscope. A tiny place that wouldn’t have appeared on any radar or map is magnified. We are given an ‘up close and personal’ view of the most ground-breaking climatic event in human history - it is the story of how God, the Lord of Lords and King of Kings, is born in an obscure backward village at the fringes of the great and glorious Roman empire.

And then the storyline takes us from this tiny point of space and time, to the fields beyond this village and our vision is expanded once again to take in the whole host of heaven. We suddenly realise that our world and all its inhabitants, even the strongest and most powerful, are tiny specks of space dust in comparison to the immense universe, what more to the Most High God who created the stars and the heavens and who now chooses to hide in the flesh of a human child. No telescope nor microscope can detect, nor genius mind can wrap its head around this amazing phenomenon. You need another set of lenses to perceive and comprehend this. The lens of faith.

This is the mystery of Christmas - that the greatest gifts often come in small packages. Let’s be honest. Our ordinary experience of Christmas is nothing like this. Have you ever looked under the Christmas tree to inspect still-wrapped gifts and assessed the worth of their hidden treasures by size, shape and weight? As a child, I used to think, “the bigger, the better.” But over the years, I’ve discovered the wonderful reality that big things come in small packages. This couldn’t be truer as we celebrate the birth of our great King born as a tiny baby.

Our big story begins in a small place - in Bethlehem. It is understandable why Bethlehem had not appeared on the map of any geopolitical significance due to her size but she had also not been the subject of any major prophecy, with the exception of one. Micah, a contemporary of Isaiah, spoke God’s word to Israel at a time of great danger. Due to the sin of both Samaria (the northern kingdom of Israel) and Judah (the southern kingdom), the Israelites would suffer a devastating attack. Both the North and eventually the South would fall, and the ancient kingdom of Israel would be no more.

Into this dark, dangerous world Micah spoke not only words of judgment but of hope. This hope centres on this humble place: “Bethlehem Ephrathah, you are small among the clans of Judah; One will come from you to be ruler over Israel for Me. His origin is from antiquity, from eternity.” (Micah 5:2) Rather than hailing from mighty Rome, the so-called Eternal City, or Holy Jerusalem, where God’s own House - the Temple - was located, the Saviour-King would come from humble, seemingly insignificant and tiny Bethlehem.

It is in this small, ordinary village that we see the prophecy fulfilled, God’s love is manifested and His plan of salvation is revealed to us. Although, the parents of our Lord lived in Nazareth in Galilee, He was born in Bethlehem, not Nazareth, apparently according to the dictates of Roman rule. By the designs of divine providence, the empire is placed at the service of salvation. Had Jesus been born in a great city, men would have attributed his teaching or his success to his noble birth. But by being born in Bethlehem, He allows us to more easily discern that the power of God, rather than the power of men, is at work.

So, far from the corridors of power, Jesus Christ, descended from David through His adoptive father, Joseph, was born in Bethlehem. God Himself came to rule and rescue. He looked unimpressive. His birthplace was inauspicious. But this is always God’s way: through the weak and foolish message of the cross comes rescue from sin. Notice how God’s majesty and reputation are not diminished or compromised at all by introducing Jesus into the world through such a seemingly small place and inconvenient circumstances. Unlike humanity, God is never tempted to show off. Even in the simple birthplace of the eternal King of the Universe, God has allowed Himself to be approachable by all, especially the ordinary and small.

In Hebrew, Beth-lehem is two words and means “house” (Beth) and “bread” (lehem). Bethlehem literally means “house of bread.” It has this name of its location in the grain producing region of Old Testament times. Because of the fertility of its soil, which in Biblical times produced an abundance of grain and produce, the region surrounding Bethlehem was called Ephrathah. Ephrathah means “fruitful, abundant.” An appropriate birthplace for the One who, in stark contrast to emperors and kings, came to feed His people. Thus, St. Bede says, “The place he was born is rightly called ‘The House of Bread’ because he came down from heaven to earth to give us the food of heavenly life and to satisfy us with eternal sweetness.” The Bread of Life, lying in a manger, a feeding trough, in the House of Bread. It was in this town with such an evocative name that the One was born who said, “I am the bread which came down from heaven” and, “I am the bread of life.”

Our Lord’s birth in the manger of Bethlehem happened only once, but the even more powerful event of His offering of Himself in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass occurs over and over again, day in and day out, from the rising of the sun to its setting. Once, He hid in “a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” Now He hides in the form of Bread and Wine which we partake at the altar. For this child born in Bethlehem was no ordinary mortal nor even a great hero. The last part of Micah’s prophecy provides us with the clue as to His true identity: “His origin is from antiquity, from eternity.” The prophet is hinting that Jesus’ origins are not just Davidic but divine. He is God the Son, and as God, He has no beginning. He has always existed. His origin is not only from antiquity but also “from eternity.” This is what the angels announced to the shepherds in the fields: “Today in the town of David a saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord,” and with them let us praise God singing: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace to men who enjoy his favour.”

Listen and See

Thirty First Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

What connects the first reading to the gospel is that fundamental Jewish statement of belief which provides us with the first part of the daily prayer of every Jew. “Sh’ma Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad.” “Listen, Israel: the Lord our God is the one Lord.” If one were to understand the two-fold commandment of love which follows this statement, one needs to unpack and grasp the width and depth of this profound and supreme testimony of the Jewish faith, and by extension, the Christian faith.

The Hebrew word “Shema” translated as “listen” or “hear” deserves our attention. It is no coincidence that the first of the Apostles, Simon Peter, takes his Hebrew name from this word – “Shimon”. That is irony for you. Although, Simon Peter responded to the call of our Lord by listening, it would appear that his listening was often selective and did not lead him beyond a superficial and shallow understanding of our Lord’s identity and his mission as a disciple. His listening would be impaired until he “saw” the Risen Lord with his own eyes. This seeing would complete his listening.

But let us go back to our original verb. Listening goes beyond exercising one’s auditory sense. Listening must lead to understanding and understanding to acceptance. For the Jews, it shaped both their culture and world-view. This is how Moses describes the supreme revelation on Mount Sinai: “Then the Lord spoke to you out of the fire. You heard the sound of words but saw no form; there was only a voice” (Dt 4:12). There was a profound difference between the two civilisations of antiquity that between them shaped the culture of the West: ancient Greece and ancient Israel. The Greeks were the supreme masters of the visual arts: art, sculpture, architecture and the theatre. Their culture focused on sight. Jews, as a matter of profound religious principle, were not. God, the sole object of worship, is invisible. He transcends nature. He created the universe and is therefore beyond the universe. He cannot be seen. In fact, it was strictly prohibited to make a visible representation of God.

The God of Israel reveals Himself only in speech. Yes, His presence was sometimes mediated by angelic beings and natural and supernatural phenomena like a pillar of cloud and fire, a flaming bush, lightning and thunder. But though these pointed to God’s power and sovereignty, they were never understood to be a visible manifestation of God, just signs of His presence. Therefore, the supreme religious act in Judaism is to listen. Ancient Greece, on the other hand, was a culture of the eye; ancient Israel a culture of the ear. The Greeks worshipped what they saw; Israel worshipped what they heard. We Christians, thankfully, are heirs of both culture and our liturgy perfectly expresses both paradigms. Both hearing and seeing mark the two pillars of our sacramental economy and the Holy Mass.

When God chooses to reveal Himself to us, He is revealing His will for us, He is giving us His Law. The primary meaning of the word Torah is the Law! It would seem to follow that a book of laws or commandments must have a verb that means “to obey”, for that is the whole purpose of an imperative. Yet there is no verb in biblical Hebrew that means to obey. The closest word to obedience is “listen.” Where there seems to be a lacunae in the Hebrew language, the word for “obedience” in Latin binds the two concepts - “obidere” means “to listen, to submit and to be responsible.”

Despite its intense focus on Divine commandments, the Jewish faith is not a faith that values blind, unthinking, unquestioning obedience. There is no true listening or authentic obedience, if we do not internalise the commandments. The God of revelation is also the God of creation and redemption. Therefore, when God commands us to do certain things and refrain from others, it is not because His will is arbitrary but because He cares for the integrity of the world as His work, and for the dignity of the human person as His image. He reveals His laws to us, He commands us to obey, because He loves us, and He wants us to make love the foundation of our entire being and way of behaving and relating.

This is how we must understand the two-fold commandment of love. It is insufficient that we hear the command to love God and neighbour and profess it with our lips and then claim to know it. Listening must lead to understanding and understanding lead to acceptance, but such acceptance must be shown forth in action. To prove ourselves to be good listeners, it must be “seen” in our actions.

That is why it is not enough that our Lord enunciates the commandment of love and commands us to listen. That is the theory. He then demonstrates the perfect fulfilment of this commandment through an example which can be seen - His own death and resurrection. On the cross, we hear His words of complete abandonment and obedience to the Father and on the cross, we saw the most powerful testimony and evidence of His love.

This is how we should treat the commandment of love as how the Jews treated the Shema. It is the greatest command and the first prayer a Jewish child was taught to say. God gave His people the Shema and instructed them to recite it daily, memorise it, meditate on it, teach it, instruct it, put it on their clothing and post it on the doorframes of their home. God wanted to remind them of loving God with all their heart, soul, mind and strength every time they woke up, put on their clothes and entered or left the home. It is the quintessential expression of the most fundamental belief of Judaism.

Likewise, for us Christians too. Love must be the quintessential expression of the most fundamental belief of Christianity. For the Jews, following the Law or the Torah was their way of expressing this fundamental commandment. But for us Christians, we fulfil this commandment by imitating Christ. Our Lord is essentially saying, “to follow Me is to love God and to love others.” In the Gospel of John, our Lord tells us, “A new command I give you: love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are My disciples…” (John 13:34-35). The newness of this commandment is not found in its content but in its standard. Christ is the new standard. He is the Incarnation of love whom we can listen to and see. And therefore, if we wish to love God and neighbour, we should love as He did.

So be it!

Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

“Amen”, perhaps the most common Hebrew word apart from “Alleluia” used by Catholics. We utter it at the end of every prayer, we insert it in the comments of social media as if it is some kind of religious “like” click, and we utter it before holy communion just after the priest or the extraordinary minister of holy communion holds up the consecrated host and announces, “the Body of Christ.” Our repetition and common usage have certainly resulted in many trivialising the true significance of this simple and yet deeply profound word. Amen means “so be it.” Or another way of saying “it is true” or “I agree.”

Amen is thus an acclamation of faith and commitment, just like how Joshua insisted that the Israelites must renew and restate their commitment to the covenant. He declared openly to the people: “as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord,” which inspired the people to also make their own commitment and promise: “we too will serve the Lord, for He is our God.” In a way, both Joshua and the Israelites were giving their assent of “Amen” to the covenant, undertaking to serve the Lord.

The scene in the first reading is deliberately chosen as a parallel to the gospel. Just as Joshua challenged the Israelites to make up their minds whether or not they intended to remain loyal to the Lord, in the same way our Lord challenges the disciples at the end of the Bread of Life discourse to make up their minds if they wish to stick with Him regardless of the mass exodus of others bailing out when push comes to shove. The similarity is not only a challenge to loyalty, but specifically to covenant loyalty, to not only assent to what He has taught but to His very person. Can they and will they accept the truth that Jesus is indeed the Bread of Life from heaven and unless one eats His flesh and drinks His blood, they will have no part in His life? It is the final ultimatum given to them.

It is clear from today’s passage that many chose to walk away. If the Lord had just met their material needs of having a leader and an endless supply of food, they would have been happy to follow Him. But in matters of faith, unlike a democracy, we don’t get to choose our Messiah. God chooses those whom we need, very seldom not those whom we want. He’s the anointed One of God whom God calls, chooses and sends. Even as our Lord begins to describe the type of Messiah that He is, the people are not able to accept Him on these terms. They find His teachings “intolerable” and refused to accept them.

Over the years, we know of many Catholics, fellow parishioners who have chosen to walk out of church and to walk away from the Catholic faith. There is a myriad of reasons or excuses given. They have been insulted by someone; they have had their requests turned down; certain rules do not square with them; the music for the Masses and the homilies are boring and not engaging. Ultimately, any one of these things are deemed “intolerable,” and so they choose to leave.

Often, as a parish priest, I have been advised and told by others to address their concerns and accede to their requests, to somehow bend backwards, if necessary, to get them to return. Reaching out to those who are lost or who have chosen to walk away must always be a priority as we are called to seek the lost like the good shepherd after the heart of Jesus. But if this means lowering the bar of morality, bending the rules, stifling the teachings of the Church and making exceptions for the sake of friendship alone and nothing else, I too have made my decision and have taken a stand. I will not back down because Jesus did not. He didn’t pull back His challenging words, in fact, He chose to double down! Ultimately, I would work to convince these people to return for only one reason - only Christ, the Holy One of God, the one truly, really and substantially present in the Eucharist, can offer us “the message of eternal life” and “food which endures for eternity”. And if they should return and remain with the Church, that should be the only reason that matters.

You too may be considering leaving for one of many reasons. When people speak of being upset and disappointed with the Church, they are most likely expressing their disappointment and anger with members of the Body of Christ, the Church. This could mean any other person sitting in the pew, or a person serving in the parish or even the priest. But I would like to repeat one important truth which St John Paul II taught in his encyclical “Ecclesia de Eucharistia”: “The Church draws her life from the Eucharist. This truth does not simply express a daily experience of faith, but recapitulates the heart of the mystery of the Church… For the most holy Eucharist contains the Church's entire spiritual wealth: Christ himself, our Passover and living bread.” If you choose to walk away from the Church, you are walking away from Christ.

Today, our Lord is asking you and me the same question He asked Peter: “What about you, do you want to go away too?” Simon Peter answered, ‘Lord, who shall we go to? You have the message of eternal life, and we believe; we know that you are the Holy One of God.’ Thank you, Simon Peter. Thank you for asking the question that matters most. And thank you for giving us the only answer which matters most.

Before we receive our Lord Jesus Christ who is truly, really and substantially present in the Eucharist, we too are given an ultimatum - we are challenged to make an assent of faith, a declaration of our commitment to our Lord and an acceptance of what He tells us as true. Our “Amen” is not a demand that Christ and the Church must comply with our every demand, whim or fancy. Saying “Amen” means that we will accept the Lord on His terms and commit ourselves to transformation just as how bread and wine is changed into the Body and Blood of Christ. “Amen” is saying “I will change!” Saying “Amen,” means we assent to our faith with our head and heart and will, that what we are about to receive is truly, really and substantially the Body of Christ. Not only do we believe in the real presence but we also commit ourselves to living and acting as Jesus did and does. St Augustine tells us: “You reply ‘Amen’ to that which you are, and by replying, you consent... Be a member of the body of Christ so that your ‘Amen’ may be true!”

Real Food and Real Drink

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bread which is Flesh

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

It is said that the New Testament is concealed in the Old and the Old Testament is revealed in the New. This is never clearer than when studying the Eucharist throughout Scripture. The juxtaposition of the gospel with the story of the Exodus continues. As the Israelites complained in the desert that they had no food to eat nor water to drink, the crowds here begin to complain about our Lord’s audacious claims that He is “the bread that came down from heaven.” It must be noted at this stage that the crowds’ main objection was not that our Lord claimed to be the new Manna.

Their main objection at this stage, as in other parts of the gospel, had to do with His origins. The Lord claims to have come from heaven. But this was a necessary claim in the schema of claims which our Lord had made and will be making. Only by coming from God, could He reveal things about God known to Him alone and only if He came from God could He offer them life here and in the hereafter. But these claims were too much for His audience to stomach. Their incredulity is supported by the fact that they thought they knew His parents, His family, and His all-too human origins. “Who is this upstart who now claims to come from heaven?”

Before our Lord moves to explaining how He is indeed the Bread from heaven which they must eat if they wish to enjoy everlasting life, He provides a fourfold path to receiving His message. They must acknowledge that they are being taught by God, hear His teaching and learn from it and finally, believe in Him. This Bread from heaven sounds like the Divine Logos, the Word, introduced by St John in his prologue to his gospel: “In the beginning was the Word: the Word was with God and the Word was God.” Jesus is indeed the Word of God and our response must be to acknowledge that He comes from the Father, listen to Him, learn from Him and finally believe in Him.

So, far this claim that our Lord makes is still somewhat acceptable. For Israel, the manna as food provided by God Himself had stopped when they took possession of their land, but a new “bread from heaven” continued in the Law - God’s revelation to His people. The Israelites believed that through the Law, God was literally “feeding” His people. In their minds, our Lord was merely applying the same principle to Himself. In other words, they thought that our Lord was merely suggesting to them to consume His wisdom as spiritual nourishment.

But the Word is not just a concept to be heard like the Old Law. This Word has become flesh and here our Lord proceeds to lay down the foundation of His Eucharistic theology - this Word is also the Bread of Life from heaven and “anyone who eats this bread will live for ever; and the bread that I shall give is my flesh, for the life of the world.” In this way, our Lord is saying that He has not come to annul God’s former gifts, whether it be the manna or the Law, but to bring them to completion in Himself. The manna in the desert, though it appeared miraculously, could not offer eternal life, but our Lord being “the living bread which has come down from heaven” can now offer them this gift. He is the perfection of the gift of God to Israel.

Our Lord dismisses all suggestions that He is speaking metaphorically with the last statement which closes today’s segment of the discourse: “the bread that I shall give is my flesh!” “My flesh!” If our Lord had kept to speaking of Himself as Bread, they would not have had such a violent reaction but now when the Lord speaks of His flesh as real food (and next week, He introduces His blood as real drink), the very thought of cannibalism was the most revolting thing imaginable for a people who were obsessed with dietary restrictions and ritual purity.

His listeners were stupefied because now they understood Jesus literally—and correctly. In next week’s installment, He will again repeat His words, but with even greater emphasis. When our Lord refers to Himself as a vine, or a door, or any other metaphor, no one is offended, has trouble understanding, or leaves Him. It is only when He says they must eat of His flesh that many are shocked and compelled to abandon Him. This tells us that the disciples understood our Lord to be speaking literally and not figuratively. Whatever else might be said, the early Church took these words literally. St Justin Martyr, wrote, “Not as common bread or common drink do we receive these; but … both the flesh and the blood of that incarnated Jesus” (First Apology 66:1–20). St Cyril calls the Eucharist “the medicine of immortality.”

But this spiritual food which our Lord wishes to give us is also food meant as provision for the journey of life. The scene of Elijah in the first reading being fed by the Angel is often seen by the Church as an Old Testament allegory of the Eucharist, especially when the Eucharist is given as “viaticum.” “Viaticum” literally means food “to take with us on the journey.” The Latin word once denoted the provisions necessary for a person going on a long journey—the clothes, food, and money the traveller would need along the way. The viaticum was vital provision for an uncertain journey. Fittingly, the early Church employed this image to speak of the Eucharist when it was administered to a dying person. The viaticum, the bread of one’s last Communion, was seen as sustenance for Christians on their way from this world into another, “food for passage through death to eternal life.”

The journey of life is never easy. It is often a long trek, sometimes through the bleakest of landscapes, towards the promised land, our Heavenly homeland. Sometimes we give way to the longing for the comforts of culture’s captivity and drown in the world’s materialistic allures. Sometimes we yield to the temptation like Elijah to sit beneath the broom tree of despair and wish for death. But today’s readings remind us that even in our weakest moments, even in our darkest hour, even when we stumble and grumble, even when we sometimes lose sight of the goal, God does not forsake us. Christ continues to feed us with this divine food, giving us strength to endure. It is the food that will serve us “when all else fails.” And so, we do not lay down to die; we walk on, from exile toward home, from shadows and appearances to beholding God face to face.

Food that endures for eternity

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Since last week, our lectionary seems to have taken a detour, a necessary one, away from the Gospel of St Mark. For the next few weeks, we will be treated to the Bread of Life Discourse found in Chapter 6 of John’s Gospel which follows John’s account of the miracle of multiplication of loaves and feeding of the multitude. If the account of the Last Supper in the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke provide us with the “when” was the sacrament of the Eucharist instituted, John Chapter 6 provides us with the answer to “what” and “why” was it instituted. But all three synoptic gospels also provide us with a similar clue as to “what” was instituted when they all recorded our Lord as saying: “this is my Body” and “this is my Blood.” Of course, it can be argued and has been argued by the Protestants that our Lord was speaking metaphorically. But to dispel all doubts about what our Lord meant by these words, we have to turn to John’s gospel and to this chapter in particular.

The discourse begins with a parallel made between the manna which God gave to Moses and the Israelites in the desert and what our Lord had just done when He miraculously multiplied the loaves of bread and fish to feed the multitude. But that is not the only parallel. In fact, the underlying parallel which the people were seeking was to determine if our Lord was the new Moses.

Last week’s gospel concluded by telling us that the Lord literally had to run away from the crowds before they could make Him their king. And our gospel today begins by telling us that the people were looking for the Lord to see if He was the earthly messiah they were waiting for who would be a king and lead them; for they believed that when the messiah would come, he would act like a New Moses who would feed and save them from their oppressors as Moses did. But when they found the Lord, He immediately dispelled their expectations, “I tell you most solemnly, you are not looking for me because you have seen the signs but because you had all the bread you wanted to eat.” If we were part of the crowd, these words would have stung us to the core. It is true that we are often ruled by our stomach and other baser instincts than we are of spiritual values. Case in point – if you want a good turnout at a church event, make sure you provide good food – preferably free!

Our Lord, continues to clarify His true mission and what He can really offer them: “Do not work for food that cannot last, but work for food that endures to eternal life, the kind of food the Son of Man is offering you, for on him the Father, God himself, has set his seal.” Our Lord is telling them that they shouldn’t seek Him out just because they want more earthly food, or an earthly king and leader, but they should actually come looking for Him because He can give them food that endures to eternal life; which only He alone can give.

Not satisfied, His audience, just like the Israelites of old, asks our Lord for another sign, they want Him to work another miracle to show and prove that He is the Messiah in order for them to believe, apparently the multiplication of the loaves wasn’t enough and they were simply not listening to what He had just said! The benchmark for this sign which they demanded must be one that can rival the miracle of manna from heaven which Moses had performed. For them, there has been no greater miracle in Israel’s collective history than the mysterious bread which seemed to have dropped miraculously from the heavens and saved them from extinction by starvation. And in their limited reasoning, they saw Moses as the hero behind this miracle.

Our Lord then makes a correction and provides this reality check - Moses isn’t the real catalyst of this miracle but God. Our Lord clarifies: “it is my Father who gives you the bread from heaven, the true bread; for the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” It seems this time, our Lord’s words hit home, and His audience consumed it lock stock and barrel. They immediately request that He gives them this bread always.

But nothing prepared them for what is to follow. They were not ready for our Lord’s next explanation. “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never be hungry; he who believes in me will never thirst.” It is clear that He was not going to repeat the miracle of manna but rather offering Himself as the solution. This is the first time that our Lord introduces Himself as “the bread of life” but it would not be His last time. It would serve as a refrain throughout the discourse in Chapter 6 and we will get to hear it again for the next couple of weeks.

So, in contrast to the story of Moses and the manna in the first reading, we have in the gospel something far greater and more superior. It must be noted that God did not just provide bread as food for the Israelites in their sojourn in the desert. He also gave them meat, in the form of the flesh of quails. The manna appeared in the morning and the quails in the evening. Now, let us look at what our Lord did, not just in the miracle of multiplication but also at the Last Supper when He instituted the Eucharist. Our Lord uses the understanding of the Manna to teach that God wants to give us in the Eucharist, the new Manna, the true bread from Heaven, which will give life to the world. For it is not just a coincidence that the miraculous food God regularly gave the Israelites in the desert was flesh and bread. In the Eucharist, though it has the appearance of bread, it is truly the body and blood, the living flesh of our Lord Jesus Christ.

And like the Manna, the Eucharist will not be ordinary bread, or bread that they would recognise, but unlike the manna it will not be temporary, only last for a time, but the Eucharist, the new bread of life, will endure to eternal life. And so, the people ask our Lord to “give them this bread always”. And our Lord answers them, “I am the bread of life”. Jesus is declaring to all the world, “I am the new Manna, I am the bread that will be given for the life the world.”

And so, my brothers and sisters, even though the Eucharist looks like ordinary bread, it is not. And although some might think our Lord was only speaking metaphorically, He wasn’t. It is clear that the Manna, just as the Eucharist, was not a metaphor, or a figure of speech. For the Israelites testified that the Manna was not a metaphor, but it was real food that was eaten and which sustained them until they reached the Promised Land. For us, the Eucharist too is real food, but in a so much more astounding way. The Eucharist is the Body of Christ and it will continue to sustain us spiritually in this earthly exile of ours until we reach our heavenly homeland. So let us take the Lord at His word, let us believe by faith that Jesus is as He says He is, the bread of life which will give eternal life to the world, and that anyone who comes to Him and believes in Him will no longer hunger or thirst for any other paltry substitute.

When Little becomes Abundant

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

There is this wonderful line which could only emerge from the inspired genius mind of St Augustine: “The New Testament lies hidden in the Old and the Old Testament is unveiled in the New.” This is what we see in our lectionary’s juxtaposition of the first reading and the gospel. Both readings provide us with two incidences of miraculous multiplication of bread, the first implicit, while the latter clearly more explicit by virtue of its scale. Elisha multiplied 20 barley loaves so as to feed 100, with some even left over. But in the Gospel, our Lord multiplies 5 barley loaves and feeds 5,000, leaving 12 baskets left over. We’re talking serious one-upmanship here!

What does the multiplication story of Elisha in the first reading and our Lord Jesus have in common is their seven-part movement in the narrative: a crisis arises due to shortage of food, a chanced character volunteers to make an offering of meagre means, the protagonists issue a command to feed the crowds with these limited resources, followed by incredulity, a second command is given, the feeding takes place and finally, there is food left over. Both narratives fit nicely into this 7-part template. But there is no equivalence. What our Lord does, out matches what is done by Elisha and in fact by Moses who fed the Israelites with manna from heaven. This is no mere coincidence.

Christ brings to complete perfection what had already been prefigured in the Old Testament. That is why we should not easily dismiss the Old Testament as historically obsolete or mythical stories. To know Christ in the fullest sense (sensus plenior), then, we must read not only the New Testament, but also the Old. Our Lord Jesus is not just another great prophet in a long line of prophets but He is of an entirely different category which surpasses all that has preceded Him. If the prophets of old had only communicated the Word of God as mediums of transmission, Jesus is the Word of God in the flesh.

Both stories begin in a context of hunger. Few understand the depths of hunger. Becoming hungry for most of us is a matter of choice. Fasting and dieting are deliberate choices. But one must also consider the hunger of millions of people in the world: “the siege of the poor”. They have no choice but to be hungry.

But it is the hunger of such as these that reminds us that life begins with hunger and to be alive is to be hungry. The dead do not experience hunger pangs any longer. Some people are so hungry that for them God cannot but have the form of a loaf of bread. It is no wonder that in both stories of multiplication, we are reminded that the paradigm which God shows us and which we must imitate is giving and not hoarding. That is why the Lord commands His disciples to count the cost of what is to be given and to make an inventory of what they possess.

The miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and the fish, therefore, shows us that the Lord is not concerned with the quantity of the bread; what He desires is that the bread be shared. The hunger of others has rights over me. It never ceases to amaze me at how much energy we put into making excuses that we don’t have enough to share with others. According to a mysterious divine rule: when “my” bread becomes “our” bread, then little becomes enough. Hunger begins when I keep my bread to myself, when I choose to hold on to my bread, my fish, my assets. In contrast to our penchant to be calculative, our Lord shows us another way of being wholly generous because we have received so much from Him. The fact that there were twelve baskets of leftover food is a reminder to us that His grace is aplenty and that it is free.

Because of this last point and for this reason, the seemingly logical explanation of this miracle being the result of the crowds sharing their personal stash of food is untenable. This is not just a story of sharing but one of revelation. Only God could complete such a feat. As God rained down manna in the desert, Elisha increased his meagre supply of bread to feed the hundreds and now our Lord multiplies the bread and fish to feed the multitude of thousands, none of these events could have happened without God’s intervention. It is simply not possible for the disciples or the people to feed themselves or each other. They could not heal themselves or each other. But God can and God does.

So, the grain of truth that confronts us in today’s readings is that we are subject to limitations. We are not able to do everything, we are not able to help everyone, we are not able to save everyone. But that does not absolve us from doing something or helping someone. When we entrust the little that we have to God, He will ensure that our efforts would not be impeded by our limitations. On the other hand, these stories remind us that for a miracle to happen, it is not about God creating something out of nothing. God takes what we offer Him and ensures that it is always enough for us to share it with others, with much more to spare.

Our financial resources, talents, and holiness are clearly inadequate to meet the needs of a hungry and confused world. But what else is new? This gospel commands us to offer these resources anyway, trusting that God will multiply them. Don’t just take my word for it. See it happen at every Mass. In the Eucharist we bring the very ordinary work of our hands, bread and wine, and join to this the offering of our very ordinary lives. Through the invocation of the Spirit and the Word of God, this offering is changed into the Body and Blood of Christ, the Bread of Life and the Cup of eternal salvation. Likewise, we offer Him the work of our hands and our broken humanity, and He transforms these things into perfect humanity and life-giving divinity. And with this He not only feeds us but empowers us to feed the whole world. When “His” bread becomes “our bread”, then little becomes abundant!

The Perfect Sacrifice

Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ Year B

Many a young child’s dream and ambition of becoming a doctor had been dashed by one simple fear - they were haemophobic. Not “homophobic” but “haemophobic”, the fear of blood, wounds and injuries. So, if you happen to have this sad condition, today’s feast and its readings, if you had really listened and paid attention to every word, may make your stomach churn. What unites all three readings is the mention of blood and bodies? Today’s feast is definitely a bloody affair!

Why is blood and a corpse involved in today’s feast? It would be stating the obvious that we are speaking of the blood and body of Jesus Christ since this is the proper name of this feast. But to understand why our Lord would sacrifice both His Body and Blood, we would need to understand two concepts in the Bible, that of sacrifice and the covenant.

The idea of sacrifice arises from the first and the highest duty of man, which is to hand himself over, to surrender, to submit himself to God. This sacrifice involves two parts - first, an interior and invisible offering of ourselves to God; and second, this offering must be outwardly and sensibly signified. In other words, one cannot sacrifice by merely intending it and making a mental offering to God. This must be matched by an external sign which signifies and makes visible that internal sign. This is fundamentally the basis of our sacramental theology - outward sign of inward grace.

What the Pharisees were guilty of and which our Lord condemned was that they had confined their sacrifices to outward show but lack the interior disposition necessary to make a true offering of oneself. Virtue signalling is a modern term coined for this. Today, the tendency is reversed. Many modern Christians argue that good intentions are enough and we should disregard external rituals and practices which are considered showy and frivolous. This would explain why so many Christians have abandoned the Holy Mass and even removed the altars from their sanctuaries.

But, for the Jews, the shedding of blood and the immolation (or killing) of the animal was necessary for the atonement of one’s sins. This was not just something which man cooked up in his sadistic blood thirsty mind but was in fact commanded by God. According to Hebrews (9:22), “Without the shedding of blood there is no remission.” By the very act of offering and giving these animals over to death, men acknowledged that they themselves were deserving of death because of their sins; and in this action, they expressly admitted, that did God will to judge them as their sins deserved, He could in justice inflict death on them. These poor animals would literally be the “scape goats” that take away the sins of the world. But the sad truth, as Hebrews tells us, is that these animal sacrifices could not remove the stain of our sins, nor could they reconcile us with God. A far greater and more perfect sacrifice was necessary.

Before considering that far greater sacrifice, it is necessary to look at another purpose of such blood sacrifices. Blood and sacrifice were also needed in the sealing of covenants. Ancient peoples did not just resort to lawyers and their penmanship to enact pacts with each other. Pacts and covenants were sacred affairs and to make them lasting and their breaking almost impossible, the gods were invoked to not only stand as witnesses to these agreements between mortals but to also be a party to them.

So, from the very beginning, the patriarchs entered into covenants with God by making animal sacrifices - Noah, Abraham and Moses just to name a few. The Mosaic covenant which we heard in the first reading required that the blood of the sacrificed animals be sprinkled on the altar, the tabernacle as well as the people. Just imagine the climatic scene in Stephen King’s Firestarter, where the protagonist Carrie is drenched in pig’s blood. In fact, everything that is to be used in the ritual sacrifice had to be cleansed with blood, not water. Can you picture a more bloody scene than this and happening in the sacred Temple of all places? With the use of blood in the sealing of the covenant, God, in essence, was declaring He would give His life if His promises were broken. There could be no greater encouragement to believers, since God is eternal and can no more break an oath than He can die.

All of these things were only “copies,” or “shadows,” of the better and more perfect covenant to come. The lives of animals could never remove sin; the life of an animal is not a sufficient substitute for a human life. The blood of bulls and goats was a temporary appeasement until the final, ultimate blood covenant was made by Jesus Christ Himself – the God Man. In the second reading, the author of Hebrews tells us that “the blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer are sprinkled on those who have incurred defilement and they restore the holiness of their outward lives; how much more effectively the blood of Christ, who offered himself as the perfect sacrifice to God through the eternal Spirit, can purify our inner self from dead actions so that we do our service to the living God.” Furthermore, Hebrews adds this claim: “His death took place to cancel the sins that infringed the earlier covenant. The shadows became realities in Christ, who fulfilled all of the Old Testament blood covenants with His own blood.”

We often forget that the Eucharist is the sign which signifies the new covenant of Jesus, and because it is a covenant, it also makes demands of us. Whenever we partake of this sacrifice and covenantal meal, we are declaring what Moses did in the first reading, but in a far more intense and firmer way: “We will observe all the commands that the Lord has decreed.” This becomes a real challenge to your average cafeteria Catholic, and there are many who fit this label. What is a cafeteria Catholic or using a metaphor closer to home - an economy mixed rice Catholic? A cafeteria Catholic is typically defined as one who picks and chooses what Catholic teaching he wants to believe. But the truth of the matter and a bitter pill to swallow, is that Catholics are not free to choose which teachings to obey. The faithful must give “a religious submission of the intellect and will” to the teachings of Christ and His Church. First and foremost, would be the faithful celebration of the sacraments of the Church according to their proper rubrics (rules) and not just adapt and make alterations which suit the celebrant’s preferences. It is hard to justify when claiming that one values Christ but chooses to ignore or reject what His Church teaches. Eschewing cafeteria Catholicism might satisfy our appetite temporarily, but only the full banquet prepared by the Lord can fill our souls.

True Victimhood

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

The first reading and the gospel both present us with two polar opposites of how we view ourselves and others, which ultimately defines the way we relate. In the first reading, Job sees himself as a victim of circumstances and perhaps even God’s seemingly capricious unfairness. He has lost everything - his wealth, his family and his health - all are common denominators of one’s personal happiness and success. As he moans, groans and rants, he speaks from a place of entitlement. Did he not earn God’s favour by living a righteous life? This is not the same Job whom the Lord praises at the beginning of the story because at that point of time he lacks nothing, nor is this the Job who is enlightened by these series of tragedies and ensuing debates with his friends who emerges vindicated at the end of the story. In this passage, Job’s experience mirrors many of ours. We praise God for His blessings when life has been good to us, but the moment these favours are withdrawn, we immediately descend into petulant rantings of a spoilt entitled child.

In the gospel, we are given two positive examples - one is the mother-in-law of St Peter and the other is our Lord Jesus. But to add contrast to the story, we are also presented with the negative examples of the crowds who come to the Lord for healing and together with the disciples form a cohort of entitled persons, believing themselves to be uniquely deserving of the miracles of the Lord and would not wish to share Him with others. In contrast to this second group, note how Peter’s mother-in-law made no demands of the Lord but was most willing to serve Him the moment she recovered. There is no sense of entitlement but rather a sense of service to others springing from gratitude. Her actions merely reflect that of our Lord’s ministry, who tells us that His primary mission and duty is to preach the gospel of the Kingdom, to offer the gift of salvation to others, for this is the reason why He came.

So, this question is now placed before us as a choice: do we live for ourselves with a sense of entitlement, or do we live for others with a sense of duty and responsibility? Most of us would be conflicted. St Paul, however, resolves this tension within his own life and ministry. In the second reading, Paul writes: “I do not boast of preaching the gospel, since it is a duty which has been laid on me; I should be punished if I did not preach it! If I had chosen this work myself, I might have been paid for it, but as I have not, it is a responsibility which has been put into my hands. Do you know what my reward is? It is this: in my preaching, to be able to offer the Good News free, and not insist on the rights which the gospel gives me.” He rejects the sense of entitlement and embraces the responsibility which has been placed on him to preach the gospel and he claims that carrying out that duty is itself, his reward.

This tension exists even till today. Our culture today, is a battle ground between the values of entitlement and the values of duty or responsibility. The person with a sense of entitlement believes: everything that happens should somehow benefit them. Anything unfavourable or unfortunate that happens in life is happening “to” them. They constantly see themselves as poor victims. The person with a sense of responsibility believes: it’s their duty to deal with whatever comes up, to be accountable, and to accept all of the consequences of their own actions. The person with a sense of duty lives for others. They do not ask: “what’s in it for me?” but rather, “how can I help and be of service for others?” The model for this sense of duty is our Lord Himself.

Our Lord is often described in our liturgical text as both Priest and Victim. But what does it mean to be a Victim, in the sense of being Christlike? The victim here is a reference to the animal sacrifice or holocaust offered by the priests in the Temple to atone for the sins of men. It was meant to be a sacrifice of atonement, to take our place in receiving God’s judgment and punishment. But until the time of Jesus, no animal sacrifice was capable of accomplishing this despite the number of animals being killed to appease what seems to be a blood-thirsty God. But all this changed when God Himself offered His only begotten Son as the sacrifice. Jesus is the perfect sacrifice or Victim, because He alone is “spotless and unblemished”.

In the Eucharist, Christ victimhood is at the heart of the Sacrifice of the Mass. The Bread which is consecrated during Mass is called the Host, which is derived from the Latin “Hostia” which means Victim or Sacrifice. See the connexion? So, whenever we participate in the Holy Mass where the Host is offered and consecrated, and whenever we receive that consecrated host in Holy Communion, we too partake in the victimhood of Christ, a victimhood which atones sins and redeems us from the devil. Christ’s victimhood is a victimhood for others, rather than the sordid victimhood of a culture of entitlement which only seeks to benefit oneself.

The Victimhood of Christ is the necessary antidote to the malaise of victim mentality we see in today’s culture, a mentality that is extremely tempting and popular today. Today, claiming the status of a victim grants one status, power, and moral high ground. It conveys the moral certainty that one is automatically right. Now even the smallest offense is trumpeted all over social media. Social media has raised ranting and complaining to an art form. “Victims” feel extremely entitled and have become extremely unforgiving. Even mild or merely awkward remarks are interpreted in the harshest way possible and as aggressive attacks on the purported victim.

How different is this false victimhood from the true victimhood to which Christians are called. The image of Christ as victim runs throughout the Christian theology, hymnary, and scripture. First, Christ was a true victim in what He suffered. He did not experience some imaginary suffering or claim that mere words are violence. On the contrary, He suffered the worst and cruelest humiliation and death and yet found it within His heart to forgive His enemies.

Second, He suffered for others. He called Himself the Good Shepherd and said He would lay down His life for His sheep. And then He did it. The modern victim suffers nothing for no one except himself. The smallest slight becomes a reason for seeking revenge.

Our Lord also suffered in silence. Pilate even prodded Him, urging Him to denounce or contradict His accusers. He invited our Lord to proclaim His innocence, and our Lord would not do it. Isaiah prophesied this moment when he spoke of the Suffering Servant, “He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth” (Isaiah 53:7).

A Christian is called to accept true victimhood, and with humility. We are told we must take up our crosses and suffer with our Lord. And not only with Him but like Him. As parents, spouses, children, brothers, sisters, and friends, every Christian is to be a victim - not of the entitled and demanding type but of the self-giving and sacrificial type like Christ. To be willing to suffer for others, to forgive, and to do so quietly and with dignity.

In the Beginning

Christmas Mass During the Day

Catholics attending this Mass or a later mass today are often surprised by the Gospel reading. There doesn’t seem to be anything Christmasy about this Christmas Day gospel reading. There is no mention of a manger, a stable, shepherds, of Magi, of angels, of Bethlehem or, very surprisingly, of Mary and Joseph. If you came last night, you would not have been disappointed. But this morning’s Gospel starts in a manner which doesn’t seem to be in synch with the season: "In the beginning was the Word," and it continues to speak only of the Word of God. So why is this a Christmas Gospel reading?

Up until the liturgical reforms of the post-Vatican II era, the Prologue of St John’s Gospel, the text we just heard was and is still proclaimed at the very end of every Traditional Latin Mass, thereby earning for itself the misnomer ‘the Last Gospel.’ According to one source, the Last Gospel was inserted here to counter the heresy (prevalent among clergy at the time of its introduction) of denying the Incarnation, and therefore the divinity of Jesus Christ. It was to assure the congregation that the priest who had celebrated Mass was not a heretic and thus the Mass was valid. Phew! The priest by reading this passage publicly attests to the orthodoxy of his faith. Whatever may have been the original reason for its insertion, it is a beautiful paradox that the Last Gospel of the Mass takes us back to the beginning, for it opens with the words "In the beginning."

The tradition of reading the prologue on Christmas Day has survived the liturgical reform. Though the practice of reading the Last Gospel at the end of mass has been discontinued, it did serve the purpose of climaxing every celebration with the compelling and beautiful truth of the Incarnation, the dogma that speaks of the act and decision of the Second Person of the Trinity, the Son of God, becoming man – the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. The prologue situates the Christmas story outside the confines of human history. In fact, it provides for the words and works of the Incarnate Word an eternal background or origin and proceeds to proclaim His divinity and eternity. He who "became flesh" in time, is the Word Himself from all eternity. He is the only begotten Son of God "who is in the bosom of the Father." He is the Son "consubstantial with the Father," He is "God from God, Light from Light, True God from True God." He is the Word "through whom everything was made”… “and by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary, and became man.”

This focus on the Incarnation and the Divinity of Christ reminds us that we are not celebrating the birthday of a celebrity, or a great hero, or a sagely guru, or an illustrious prophet. We are celebrating the birth into human history of the Divine and Eternal Word, the Son of God, the One from whom and in whom all things were made. "The Son of God became man", St Athanasius explains, "in order that the sons of men, the sons of Adam, might become sons of God.” With all the gift-giving, merry making, commercialisation of our feast, it is quite easy to forget this very central truth.

While our culture is very open to the likes of Superman, Thor, Spider-man and other “super-beings” who are fictional, it is ironic that man regards the Incarnation, the fact of an Omnipotent God choosing to become mortal, a strange and unbelievable idea. There has been increased hostility and opposition to the biblical doctrine of the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ, and consequently the rejection of His divinity. In history there have been those who have sought to sacrifice either the deity of Christ (e.g. the Ebionites) or remove His humanity (e.g. the Docetists). In modern times, there has been a bold attack on the doctrine of the incarnation. The great quest of liberal theology has been to invent a Jesus who is stripped of all supernatural power, deity, and authority. They are not reinterpreting traditional Christology. They are simply abandoning it.

The doctrine of the Incarnation is central to a Christian celebration of Christmas, a truth that is currently under attack. The doctrine of the Incarnation is one which is vital to the Christian faith because other doctrines will stand or fall with it. We cease to be Christians the moment we deny that Jesus is God. Our believe that He is God sets us apart from other religions.

Perhaps the best way to underscore the importance of the doctrine of the Incarnation is to consider the price for putting it aside. Nowhere is it more beautifully and succinctly articulated than in the Catechism of the Catholic Church which lays down these various reasons for the Incarnation thus pointing to its central significance:

· The Word became flesh for us in order to save us (CCC 457).

· The Word became flesh so that thus we might know God’s love (CCC 458).

· The Word became flesh to be our model of holiness (CCC 459)

· Finally, the Word became flesh to make us ‘partakers of the divine nature.’ (2 Peter 1:4)

Can we truly celebrate Christmas and at the same time deny both the humanity and the divinity of Christ? The answer to that question must be a decisive ‘No’. Those who reject these truths empty our celebration of its essential content – Christmas is not just a celebration of the birthday of our founder, a sentimental reason for gathering as a family, an occasion for gift-giving and carolling, a cultic act to proclaim the legendary charity of Ole St Nicholas. For us Christians, Christmas must always be a celebration affirming our belief in both the divinity and humanity of Jesus Christ. He is fully God and fully Man. The Incarnation does not stand alone as a doctrine that can be severed from the rest. On the contrary, it is an irreducible part of the revelation about the person and work of Jesus Christ. With it, the Gospel stands or falls.

It is often the case that we are invited to admire the humility of our Lord Jesus Christ as He chose to be born in the spartan conditions of a cave or stable in Bethlehem. But this morning’s liturgy also invites us to humbly kneel in adoration before the One who chose to kneel before His disciples to wash their feet. It’s time to rescue this Feast of Christmas from all that sentimental sugar coating. It is the Feast by which we affirm once again our belief in His divinity. Together with Pope Benedict, we affirm that our “Faith is simple and rich: we believe that God exists, that God counts; but which God? A God with a face, a human face, a God who reconciles, who overcomes hatred and gives us the power of peace that no one else can give us.”