Loving Judgment

Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

One of the most common accusations and attacks heaped by modern folks on Christians, especially Catholics, is that we are too judgmental. What makes this accusation most stinging is that we are rebuked with the assertion that “Jesus never judged anyone.” Is this a valid accusation? How should we respond to it? For many Catholics, the only way to deflect the accusation is to remain silent or adopt a relativistic approach to morality - “there is no right or wrong” or “there is no absolute truth,” or “it depends on how you look at it.”

But perhaps the most common argument to avoid being seen as judgmental is to cite our Lord on this issue. Didn’t our Lord Himself say: “judge not, that you be not judged?” (Matthew 7:1). Or perhaps His most famous warning on the hypocrisy of blind judgmentalism which we just heard in today’s gospel: “Why do you observe the splinter in your brother’s eye and never notice the plank in your own?” It is quite convenient to take this saying out of context but if we continue reading the rest of the text, we realise that our Lord is actually proposing to us a correct way of judging rather than forbidding all forms of judgment.

The first step in making a correct judgment is honest and humble introspection. “Take the plank out of your own eye first, and then you will see clearly enough to take out the splinter that is in your brother’s eye.” One cannot apply two standards: “Rules for Thee but none for me.” If we wish to judge others, we must be ready to judge ourselves, to honestly recognise and call out our own prejudices, biases, hidden agendas, and sinful thoughts and actions.

The second step is that we should avoid making quick, rash and premature judgment, to avoid “judging a book by its cover.” In the first reading, Ben Sira provides us with four illustrations or examples by which we should test someone’s worth by observing their speech. But in the gospel, our Lord while still affirming that one’s speech is an indication of what is in his heart, appears to move beyond speech to other aspects of a person’s behaviour: “every tree can be told by its own fruit.”

Finally, we must make a clear distinction between judging someone’s behaviour and judging the eternal state of his soul. Although as rational beings, we are capable of doing the first and should in certain cases, the latter solely belongs to God. We cannot claim to read the thoughts nor accurately discern the intentions of others. We can draw some conclusions from their actions and behaviours but we cannot claim to be certain of their guilt or innocence purely through speculation. Even courts acknowledge that one is innocent until proven guilty. Likewise, if we have to presume, we should always try to presume the best rather than the worst. Every good Christian should be ready to give a favourable interpretation to the speech, deeds and behaviour of another than to be quick to condemn them.

It is also important for us to distinguish between making a valid moral judgment and being judgmental. It is imperative that we learn to do the former as an exercise of conscience while making sure that we avoid the latter. Pointing out the truth is not judgmental. It is not judgmental to make a moral appraisal of whether a person’s actions are sinful or whether the person is likely culpable for them. Our entire justice system is dependent on this. The refusal to make such judgment would result in the collapse of the whole system and would be a travesty of justice.

Secondly, it is not judgmental to have a negative emotional reaction to what is objectively evil. Thirdly, it is not judgmental to act with prudence when dealing with someone who has cheated us or hurt us. We should not be so gullible as to trust everyone without reservation. We must take the necessary precautions to avoid further harm to oneself or others.

If we still seem hesitant about engaging in judging or correcting others, know that Jesus did it all the time; He showed us what we must do by His own example. When the apostles were afraid that the violent storm would lead to their perishing, Jesus rebuked them, “Why are you terrified, O you of little faith” (Matthew 8:26). This was a judgment. In a pointed attack on the duplicity of the religious leaders, Jesus called them a “brood of vipers” (Matthew 12:34). Another judgment. When saving the woman caught in adultery from being stoned by the religious leaders, Jesus showed her mercy yet told her to “not sin anymore” (John 8:11), recalling her past life and summoning her to a conversion of life. This, too, was a judgment.

If we can spare a soul from sadness, sorrow and despair by judging them and assisting them in converting from sin, then we have shown them great love. To not judge and to turn a blind eye to the grave sins of others is a form of false compassion and sinful neglect. True Good Samaritans take the time and effort to come to the aid of those who are suffering because of the assault of sin.

So, when faced with the immoral behaviour of others, how can we be sure to rightly judge behaviour? In our Lord’s own words, we must start by taking the plank out of our own eyes—by making sure we are doing the best we can to live lives of good example. We must also strive to form our consciences correctly, so we know sin when we see it, even in ourselves. Finally, we must not jump to conclusions about another’s culpability in sin. Take time to know all the facts while always presuming the innocence of the other until proven guilty. Doing all this will help to ensure that our admonitions are seen as the loving actions we intend them to be—meant to help our loved ones live their lives in ways that are pleasing to God. Only then can our efforts be effective in helping to take these ugly specks out of our brothers’ eyes.

The Cursed and the Blessed

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

What does a world without trust look like? If subjects no longer trust politicians and their leaders, our society would descend into chaotic anarchy. If consumers no longer trust that their data and money can be safeguarded, then the modern financial system could collapse. If litigants no longer trust the legal and judicial system, justice would be an elusive illusion. Marriages will breakdown, families will divide and communities would be perpetually splintered. Trust is the base layer of all human relationships. Without trust, there can be no value exchange, no community, no intimacy. It would seem that Confucius was right when he declared: “without trust we cannot stand.”

And yet, our Lord begins His soliloquy in the first reading with these words: “A curse on the man who puts his trust in man, who relies on things of flesh, whose heart turns from the Lord. He is like dry scrub in the wastelands…” Is God calling us to abandon trusting humans altogether? Is He advocating that we should be perpetually weary of the deceit and untrustworthiness of others? I believe reading the passage in its entirety will help us to understand these troubling and challenging words.

If we were to go to the beginning of this chapter in the Book of Jeremiah, which has not been included in our lectionary selection, the prophet correctly observes that “sin is engraved with an iron tool, inscribed with a flint point on the tablet of their hearts.” That hardened sin is why God is so harsh in His condemnation of Israel and it is sin which has rendered the heart “deceitful above all things and beyond cure.” So, what the Lord is warning us is to distrust sin which causes man to be deceitful. The problem with marriage that results in divorce is not the institution of marriage itself nor due to some inherent defect of the partners to the marriage, but sin which corrupts the heart and leads us to break covenant with each other. Sin makes the human heart inherently self-centered, unable to see itself accurately and correct itself.

On the other hand, the man who places his trust in God will not be disappointed or as the text of Jeremiah assures us, he will be “blessed.” The reason for this is that God is not only truthful, He is truth, and therefore, ever faithful, and borrowing the language of a marriage covenant, He is true to us in good times as well as in bad, in sickness and health, and unlike the partners to marriage, even death cannot separate us from the love of God. At the end of the day, our Lord is not advising us to treat every person with suspicion. No relationship can be sustained and no society can survive without learning to trust others. But trusting in others requires faith in someone far greater than them. We lay our hearts on the line knowing God is the only one who ultimately keeps them.

There is no greater proof of this proposition than the Catholic Church. Christ founded His Church on the foundation of weak men and where is the Church today? She remains standing despite centuries of persecution, ostracisation, schisms, heresies and bad shepherds. On the other hand, look at the empires, kingdoms and governments built by strong, talented and charismatic men. Where are they now? Most are in the dust and reduced to the pages of history books. One thing is true, our trust in God would not disappoint because God will not fail us. If men can betray us, break their promises to us, disappoint us with their failures, God will never do so. He can’t. It’s against His very nature. This is why St Paul can declare that “hope does not disappoint” (Rom 5:5), because that hope is founded on a God who will not disappoint!

So, we can now understand the simple binary picture painted in both the first reading as well as in the gospel, where our Lord Jesus sets out Luke’s version of the beatitudes matched by a set of woes or curses. Those whose hearts turn away from the Lord are cursed and those whose hearts trust the Lord are blessed. It’s as simple as that. There are just two kinds of people in the world—the cursed and the blessed—and the difference is whom they trust. In a world filled with differences and divided by those differences, that is a revelation. It’s not black or white, rich or poor, Jew or Gentile, male or female, old or young that ultimately matters. It is where the heart of each person places their trust.

If you still can’t see the difference in this morally ambiguous world of ours, Jeremiah sets it out in stark contrast. He describes what being “cursed” means with an image of a bush in the desert, where there is no steady water supply. Such a person will live on the edge of existence, always thirsty for more water, always on the verge of dying, so that when water finally comes in the form of an occasional thunderstorm, it won’t lead to a good harvest or abundance. Such a person will survive, but just barely. Life will be parched and lonely and unfruitful at its core.

And then Jeremiah describes what “blessed” means with the image of a tree planted by a stream that never dries up. Because its roots are sunk deep in the “spring of living water,” the person who trusts in the Lord does “not fear when heat comes,” “in a year of drought.” His life is always verdant, and he continually bears fruit. So, he does not live in fear and worry. Life is abundant for the person whose heart trusts in the Lord, rather than in human beings.

So, how do we grow in trusting God rather than in ourselves and our resources? The answer is prayer. When man works man works but when man prays, God works. The self-sufficient man does not pray because he sees no need for prayer. The mystic and saint, Padre Pio puts it in the simplest terms: “Pray persistently, daily, and with love. Pray in the face of every challenge, every crisis, every failure, every cross. Pray, and hope, and don't worry, and by the power of the Holy Spirit, we shall renew the face of the earth.” Don’t let prayer be your last resort when all else fails. Begin every venture, every decision, every challenge with prayer. Do not just do your best and let God do the rest. Let God be the fuel, the guide, the inspiration and the object of everything you do.

To sum it, let us listen to the words of this spiritual author, Thomas a Kempis who gave us this classic literature on spirituality, The Imitation of Christ:

“Vain is the man who puts his trust in men, in created things.
Do not be ashamed to serve others for the love of Jesus Christ and to seem poor in this world. Do not be self-sufficient but place your trust in God. Do what lies in your power and God will aid your good will. Put no trust in your own learning nor in the cunning of any man, but rather in the grace of God Who helps the humble and humbles the proud.”

Don't Worry! Be Happy!

Third Sunday of Advent Year C

Christmas is just over a week away, and for many the air of excitement is just plain electrifying. For most of us, we can’t wait for it to happen! And yet, this season often ushers a troubling sense of melancholy. For many, they know that this should be a season of rejoicing but it doesn’t always feel this way for one reason or another. The children have left for overseas and the home feels like an empty nest. A particular loved one that had always been part of our annual Christmas celebrations is no longer here and it just doesn’t feel the same. Anxiety building up over the future - rising expenses, financial instabilities, a recently diagnosed ailment that could worsen within weeks and months. The call of today’s liturgy to “rejoice” seems to ring hollow. Is the Church calling us to excite ourselves, some form of self- delusional “syiok sendiri” (self-induced elation)?

The readings exhort, in fact, they command us to rejoice by using an entire list of synonymous verbs to express that exuberance: shout for joy, shout aloud, exult with all your heart, sing and shout for joy, give thanks to the Lord and who can forget St Paul’s “be happy!” In fact, Paul’s words in the second reading sound like that famous song by Bobby McFerrin, “Don’t worry! Be Happy!”

The Joy which the liturgy and readings speak of is not something which comes upon suddenly and instantaneously, like a shot of adrenaline or dopamine. This joy isn’t a sudden outburst. It has been building within us, the closer the Good News has drawn. This is the joy of all the ages bursting and singing forth, building up over the centuries, prophesied by the prophets, announced by St John the Baptist, knowing the Good News that is about to be bestowed upon us all. It can hardly be contained. In fact, it can’t be.

In the first reading, the prophet Zephaniah commands Jerusalem to rejoice and gives the reason for it. “The Lord has repealed your sentence; He has driven your enemies away. The Lord, the king of Israel, is in your midst; you have no more evil to fear.” Yes, we should have every reason to rejoice and celebrate because our Lord has forgiven our sins; He has removed the curse of Original Sin that laid like the Sword of Damocles over our heads; He has defeated our enemies - sin, death and the devil. But there is more. Zephaniah adds that God rejoices over us! With gladness! “The Lord your God is in your midst, a victorious warrior. He will exult with joy over you, He will renew you by His love; He will dance with shouts of joy for you as on a day of festival.” God is rejoicing over us and that should be a great reason if any for us to rejoice.

St Paul in the second reading lays down the reason why he wants us to be happy. Let’s start with the flip side of happiness which is unhappiness. What is the main cause of unhappiness? Paul tells us that it is anxiety - worries. We worry because we lack trust in God. And worry leads to unrest and the lack of peace which eventually leads to unhappiness. And that is the reason why St Paul tells us that the path to happiness is praying and placing our trust in the Lord: “There is no need to worry; but if there is anything you need, pray for it, asking God for it with prayer and thanksgiving, and that peace of God, which is so much greater than we can understand, will guard your hearts and your thoughts, in Christ Jesus.” Notice that Paul doesn’t promise that we will get what we prayed for. Our true reward, the answer to our prayer is the “peace of God, which is so much greater than we can understand.”

This is the reason why we can still rejoice when things do not seem to be going our way or according to our plans, when we are facing one crisis or another, when we have suffered loss and are experiencing loneliness and alienation. Because as long as we do not lose faith in God and continue to persevere in pray, the “peace of God, which is so much greater than we can understand, will guard your hearts and your thoughts, in Christ Jesus.” Peace is not the absence of conflict or problems. Peace involves presence rather than absence. It comes with the acknowledgement that God is in our midst, “a victorious warrior. He will exult with joy over you, He will renew you by His love; He will dance with shouts of joy for you as on a day of festival.”

And finally, we come to the gospel and the final herald of joy, St John the Baptist. John doesn’t strike us as a Pollyanna-like optimistic figure. In fact, he strikes us as quite the opposite. Solemn, sombre and rigidly kill-joy. Unlike the other two figures we encountered in the first and the second reading, John does not burst forth in a cheer leader’s rallying cry exhorting us to rejoice. On the contrary, he provides strict moral guidance to his audience to share, to avoid greed and intimidation and then uses apocalyptic language of judgment to speak of the One who is coming, one who is superior to John and who “will baptise you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing-fan is in his hand to clear his threshing-floor and to gather the wheat into his barn; but the chaff he will burn in a fire that will never go out.”

The idea of judgment - separation of the wheat from the chaff and the destruction of the latter - does not naturally inspire joy. And yet St Luke describes this message as “good news”! And it is good news because it expresses the fundamental preparatory work of John - calling his listeners to repentance, to separate themselves from the chaff of sin. And before we think of the image of fire pointing to the eternal hell fire which all damned unrepentant souls must endure for eternity, we must also remember that fire represents the Holy Spirit which we receive in Baptism and a greater outpouring at Confirmation. Fire too represents the purgative element of God’s love, refining us, purifying us, restoring us, beautifying us. The prophet Zephaniah alluded to this in the first reading when he prophesied the Lord’s coming into our midst to “renew” us by His love.

So, as the weeks of Advent draw to a close and the days and nights of December lead us closer to that solemn night where our Lord and Saviour was born in the City of David, let us not choose to wallow in self-pity or crippling worries. We are commanded today to rejoice, and we do so not by finding substitutes to Christ in the form of intoxicants or other means of entertainment. Lasting joy cannot be found in any human pursuits but in God alone. He alone gives us the joy we seek.

How have you loved?

Thirty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The three readings we’ve just heard today seem to make strange bed-fellows. The first reading provides us with the criteria of a perfect wife, the second is St Paul’s exhortation to be ready for the Lord’s Second Coming because it would be as surprising as a thief who pays a visit in the night and finally, we have the gospel parable that many often take as a wise piece of advice to invest well and use our talents productively. What seems to be the underlying theme in all three readings? We already have a taste of it last week. It is wisdom. As wisdom distinguishes the perfect wife from other women, so should wisdom distinguish the disciple of Christ from others as he awaits the return of the Lord.

The Book of Proverbs gives us this earthy advise - “Charm is deceitful, and beauty empty; the woman who is wise is the one to praise.” Charm, personality and appearances may win you many friends and ensure that you ascend the ladder of success, but none of these traits can ensure that you would be ready to face the Lord’s judgment at the end of this age. Only acting wisely and preparing prudently can ensure that we can “stay wide awake and sober.”

Let us now turn to the famous parable of the talents in the gospel. Unlike what most people think, this is not a parable about how we should use our gifts, skills or talents for the betterment of the church. This is a common mistake among modern readers unfamiliar with the meaning of a talent. We think that the word “talent” in this passage means a person’s skill and ability. Only in St Matthew’s version of the parable, is the parable correctly named because only here in this gospel do we have mention of the monetary currency as talents.

A talent in this context is a measurement of weight, and the value of any talent depended on whether it was gold, silver or copper. Nevertheless, a single talent was a significant amount of wealth by any measure. A talent of gold was equal to the annual tribute of a medium sized province to the Roman Empire. So, the monetary trust given to each servant - five talents to the first, two to the second and one to the third - would have been staggering - an extremely great endowment, even for the last guy who just got one talent.

We must remember that this is an eschatological parable, which means it is about the end times. The message is simple but demanding: readiness for the Lord’s coming requires both foresight and an investment of effort on the part of His disciples. A disciple of the Lord does not just idly wait for the Master’s return, wasting his time without paying attention to his own spiritual growth and hoping that he can just make up for lost time at the end or defend his actions or inactions with some lame excuse. In all these parables concerning the end times, just like what we heard last week, there is a distinction made between wise and foolish behaviour and a stern reminder that there will be an accounting - the wise who were prepared are rewarded and the foolish would be punished.

So, the parable goes beyond the purpose of encouraging a prudent use and nurturing of one’s personal endowments. Like the other parables preceding it, we have here once again a cautionary tale, an ominous warning, our actions, our attitudes, our behaviour in relation to the Lord have dire consequences. In a world where many deny the existence of hell and have projected their own prejudices unto God, making Him out to be some Teddy Bear, who only gives hugs and never reprimands, these parables are potent reminders that we should never take God’s mercy for granted, and that we should never postpone and delay what changes that need to be done today. His coming will take all of us by surprise “like a thief in the night.”

Our Lord has entrusted the treasures of the Kingdom to us by calling us to be His servants. Whatever has been given to us, we will have to render an account for the way we have lived our lives on the graces and blessings we have received. Though a charming personality and a beautiful appearance may get us what we want in this life, it would not be enough for what is to come. Only by wisely investing our gifts and turning a profit of spiritual growth over to the Lord at the end of our earthly life, will we enter into the joy of His Kingdom and hear these infinitely consoling words, “Well done, good and faithful servant; you have shown you can be faithful in small things, I will trust you with greater; come and join in your master’s happiness.”

First Holy Communion Postscript

Here’s a little story for our children who will be receiving First Holy Communion today. This is a story about St Tarcisius, the patron of altar servers, but I would like to add that he would be a good patron for those receiving their holy communion for the first time.

Tarcisius was a young boy who lived during a time when it was dangerous for Christians to be seen practising their faith and worship publicly. Masses were celebrated secretly in the catacombs, the tombs where dead people were buried. If you were caught practising your faith as a Catholic, you would not only be thrown into prison, but you would also be executed in a most horrific way, being burned alive or thrown to the animals to be eaten.

One day, a group of these Christians who were awaiting their execution made an appeal to the Pope that they wanted to receive holy communion, the Body and Blood of Jesus before they died. The Church calls communion viaticum, which actually means food for the journey – the journey to death and through death. It is indeed a great privilege and blessing to receive Jesus before one dies. But it was dangerous for any adult priest to be seen bringing communion to these Christian prisoners because it would raise a lot of suspicion. So, they decided to send a young boy and Tarcisius volunteered to bring holy communion to the condemned.

But on the way, he met with some of the youth from his neighbourhood who demanded to see what he was carrying. The Holy Communion was safely wrapped in a cloth. But Tarcisius refused to let them see it because he knew that Jesus in the Holy Communion was the greatest treasure that he had to keep safe. So, the boys began to beat him. He was beaten up so badly that he would die from his wounds. But Tarcisius kept the Holy Communion in the firm grip of his hands and refused to relent. A soldier, who happened to be a secret Christian, passed by and found Tarcisius dying. Tarcisius gave the communion to the soldier and disclosed his mission. He told the soldier to carry Jesus to the prison on his behalf, and then he died.

The life and death of Tarcisius shows us that Jesus, especially in the Eucharist, is our greatest treasure, more precious and valuable than all the riches of the world. God entrusted the Body of His own Son to this young boy as He entrusts it to you today. Tarcisius’ life and death shows us that the most important question that Jesus will ask us when He returns is not, “How much money have you made?” but “How have you loved? How have you cared for and served others?” This is what we must do whenever we receive Jesus in Holy Communion. We are called to become more like Jesus, to love like Jesus, and to be ready to sacrifice everything like Jesus. Jesus tells us: “Greater love than this no man has, than that a man lay down his life for his friend.”

Wisdom and Good Deeds

Thirty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

We have another parable from St Matthew’s gospel. This time it is that of the ten bridesmaids who fall into two categories. A distinction is made between the sensible and the foolish ones. What differentiates one group from the other? The sensible ones treasure wisdom while the foolish ones show disdain for it. What is this wisdom which some yearn and seek while others ignore and reject?

Wisdom or Chokhmah, according to Hebrew understanding, is not just intelligence or theoretical or philosophical concepts regarding the nature of things. Wisdom is a direct attribute of our Divine and Eternal Lord. When applied to man it is the ability to judge correctly and to follow the best course of action, based on knowledge and understanding. As opposed to the Greek idea of wisdom, Chokhmah is practical. Wisdom leads to right action. It grants a person the ability to see something from God’s viewpoint. That is why a rejection of wisdom is not just a matter of rejecting reason and logic but rather, the rejection of God.

In the wisdom literature of the Old Testament, such as the example taken from the Book of Wisdom in the first reading, God’s infinite wisdom is personified as a woman. The association of divine wisdom with the feminine is not accidental. The relationship between a wife and her husband is the reflected spiritual relationship between Israel and God. The Law and the Prophets provided the wisdom writers with many feminine images (including homemaker, counselor and wise woman, and lover) that influenced their use of female imagery for divine wisdom. The maternal aspect of wisdom comes to the fore. Just as a mother would be the first teacher for her children, guiding them and tutoring them, wisdom literature was written to teach young male students how to function in society and find meaning and order in the world.

In the first reading, we are assured that people have access to common wisdom, which is described as being right out there on the street—out in public. It is in the forest; it is in the city; it is on the job—it is everywhere! We are surrounded by it! While wisdom belongs to God, it can be pursued and in fact pursues individuals. This is why St Paul can make the accusation that the Gentiles who do not have the law are a law unto themselves when they do what the law says is right (Romans 2:14). Their own conscience bears them witness that they understand what is right and what is wrong (verse 15)!

As we turn to the Gospel, we see how our Lord uses this principle of wisdom in a novel way. Wisdom is now the prerequisite for salvation, being admitted to the eschatological wedding banquet, whereas those who had ignored her counsel would be denied entry.

The storyline is simple enough. The parable takes place within the festive and joyful context of a wedding, yet the final message is a sober exhortation to be properly prepared. It relates that ten young maidens, bridesmaids, were outfitted with torches/lamps and oil, were awaiting the arrival of a bridegroom. Notice the feminine and the lover-bride motif in this parable, both being traditional symbols of wisdom. Five of the maidens, the wise ones, had extra oil with them, the others, foolish ones, did not. When the time of the bridegroom’s arrival finally draws near, the foolish ones needed more oil and asked the wise for oil; the wise refused and sent the foolish ones to buy their own. Meanwhile, the wise ones went in with the bridegroom to the wedding feast and the door was locked. The foolish ones returned and were turned away. Thus, the parable ends with our Lord’s admonishment to stay awake, to be prepared.

This story begs the question, “Why would the five maidens not share their oil?” This appears selfish, so why are they called “wise.” First, while it is not clear whether they were carrying lamps or torches (the Greek word can mean either), they would need oil, either to fill the lamps or to apply to the rags used for torches. On the human level, these five maidens had foresight; they had not only made immediate plans but had also planned for any eventuality, including a long wait, and they knew they might not have enough oil to last the night. But this logical explanation is inadequate for us to discern their behaviour. If the bridegroom is Christ, however, and the wedding feast is the end-time banquet, we have a clue to unravel the conduct of these maidens.

In the Sermon on the Mount, the Lord tells His audience that they are “the light of the world.” He encourages them: “Let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in Heaven” (5:14-16). Light is not just a metaphor for evangelisation, but we see in these words of the Lord a clear connexion between light and good works.

At the end of the Sermon, our Lord says: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” (7:21) – this saying reinforces the truth that deeds are necessary to enter the kingdom. At the end of today’s parable, the foolish bridesmaids make this request: “Lord, Lord … open the door for us.” The repeated petition, “Lord, Lord” allows us to connect this to the necessity of good deeds in verse 7:21 in the Sermon on the Mount. Finally, a later Rabbinic text, Midrash Rabbah, uses “mixed with oil” to refer to the study of the Law combined with good deeds.

And so, the oil for the lamps/torches was meant to signify good deeds. Then it is clear why the five sensible bridesmaids could not share their oil with the foolish ones; these latter would need their own good deeds. No one can borrow the good works of others to make up for the good works they’ve failed to do. Its merits are non-transferable. Each person must, as St Paul wrote, “work out [their] own salvation with fear and trembling” (Phil 2:12). Wise are those who understand this. Foolish are those who don’t.

Chapter 9 of the Book of Proverbs, a reading read during the Feast of Corpus Christi, describes how Lady Wisdom has built her house, set her table and invites her guests to a special banquet. The Eucharist is meant to empower all of us who dine in wisdom to go into the world with the Life of Christ we have received. To faithfully partake of the supper of the lamb in His flesh and blood is to be sufficiently prepared and to have opened the door to wisdom in the Holy Spirit. Let us all pray to receive Christ today and as we return to our seats in our time of thanksgiving after communion, let us ask Him for the gift of wisdom to know how to do His will in our particular life’s calling. With the fuel of Holy Communion, let us keep the flame alive in our hearts as we await our Lord’s coming, not idle but committed to a life of good works, so that we may shine the Light of His Gospel on the world.

A Banquet for all peoples

Twenty Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The significance of a meal can never be overstated. It is clear that food is more than just essential for our species’ survival. For survival needs, people everywhere could eat the same food, to be measured only in calories, fats, carbohydrates, proteins, and vitamins. But a meal is also an important social event. We celebrate weddings, anniversaries and birthdays with a meal. We honour and remember our dead at wakes and funerals with a meal. We conclude business discussions and seal contracts over a meal. We deepen bonds of friendship over a meal. There is something magical, even mystical about meals. It is no wonder that a priest who was an avid promoter of basic ecclesial communities (BEC) often joked that the acronym BEC should stand for Best Eating Club, alluding to the food potlucks being the most popular reason why Catholics decide to gather in small groups, if for no other reason.

The first reading provides us with a description of a sumptuous feast of “rich food” on an unnamed mountain which marks the end of a period of mourning. Most scholars agree that the prophet Isaiah was painting a picture of restoration for those of the House of Judah who had been taken into exile after the fall of Jerusalem to the invading Babylonians. The exiles were returning home and God was going to enter into a new relationship with them. The scene recalls another banquet that took place on another mountain. In Exodus (24:1-11), Moses and the seventy elders whom he has chosen, go up to Sinai, the mountain of the Lord, where they feasted. It was not just a social celebration but a covenant meal, sealing their relationship with God who had brought them out of Egypt and had blessed them with the Law, food and water.

But the time of the restoration of Israel in Isaiah’s prophetic vision would not only be a time of a New Exodus but also a time of Conquest. The banquet celebrates God’s ultimate victory over suffering and death, where He “will destroy Death for ever” and “wipe away the tears from every cheek” and “take away His people’s shame everywhere on earth.” It will be a banquet which is not only confined to the leaders of Israel as during the Exodus, nor even confined to the Jews. It would be a banquet which the Lord prepares “for all peoples.” And this meal would be held in plain sight and not hidden behind the walls of the Temple where the Jewish performed their rites in secrecy, nor behind the veil which concealed the Holy of Holies.

What the Old Testament promises, the gospel fulfils and we see this in the person of our Lord Jesus Christ. Our Lord Jesus often finds Himself in the middle of a feast. He also seemed to enjoy a hearty meal and did not refuse any opportunity to dine with His hosts and guests. Table fellowship among the Jews was a big deal. Pharisees did not dine with people whom they regarded were below their stature because they saw each meal as “eating with God.” This is where our Lord was subject to their ire because He frequently feasted with disreputable folks like tax collectors and sinners. He concluded His public ministry and inaugurated His passion with a meal. The communal meal did not only provide our Lord with an opportunity to provide teaching to those who were in attendance but was also the subject of His teaching parables. Today’s parable of the wedding feast is one such example.

Notice that Isaiah’s covenant meal has now morphed into a wedding banquet in our Lord’s parable. We already see the typology of a wedding and marriage in the Old Testament writing of Hosea, Isaiah, Jeremiah and the Psalms. The covenant between God and Israel is often described as a marriage and Israel’s apostasy is seen as infidelity of the bride towards her spouse. Our Lord now strings together these related themes of an eschatological or end times banquet, a covenant meal and a wedding feast in this compelling parable of judgment.

Our Lord describes the Kingdom of Heaven as a wedding banquet thrown by the king for his son to which the king’s subjects are invited. Two groups emerge - those who actually attend the feast and those who do not. Perhaps the most important feature of this parable is the invitation. Though this is a wedding banquet, the bride is significantly missing from the narrative and the bridegroom, the son of the king, is not an important character in the storyline even though the banquet is held in his honour. This would suggest that the focus is not on the wedding between the bride and the bridegroom but on the king’s invitation.

The focus of the parable seems to be on the response made to this invitation, rather than on the feast itself. A rejection of a king’s invitation to such an important event was unimaginable because it would be political suicide and yet we find the invited guests turning down the invitation not just once but twice and on the second instance, even abusing and killing the king’s emissaries that had been sent to them to persuade them to reconsider the invitation. The first time could be seen as a grievous insult, but the second rejection was an outright act of rebellion. One can then understand the king’s violent response in putting down this rebellion.

When the first group of invited guests were “found to be unworthy”, that is they failed to respond to the invitation, the king sends a second set of servants to gather “everyone.” The Greek word translated into “everyone” suggests “outsiders”, those at the fringes of society. But even though the king seems to have lowered the bar in terms of who gets to attend his son’s wedding banquet, it does not mean that all and sundry would get to enjoy the “sumptuous banquet” of “rich food” and “rich wine.” One man was expelled because he was not wearing the proper attire. Could we be excluded from salvation for one such petty reason as improper dressing? Perhaps, we can find a clue to this symbolism when we heed the words of St Paul that we too must, “clothe ourselves with heartfelt mercy, with kindness, humility, meekness and patience. Bear with one another and forgive whatever grievances you have against one another.” (Colossians 3:12-13)

We finally come to the final saying of our Lord in this passage: “For many are called, but few are chosen.” To describe it as cryptic would be an understatement. It is definitely not suggesting that salvation is for an elite few. Personally, I am comforted by such passages as 1 Timothy 2:4, where Paul says that God “wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of truth.” So, what does this sentence mean? Saint Jerome says that, “The chosen are those who accept the call and do not reject the invitation, like the first guests, or who do not accept it fully, like the man who comes to the dinner but does not dress in the proper manner.”

Our God came to earth and became one of us in the person of Jesus Christ to prove His love for us and to extend a personal invitation to each and every one of His sons and daughters, to come and join Him at the banquet table that He has prepared for us in His heavenly Kingdom. It is an open invitation. Salvation is not something we earn. It is an invitation that we are free to either accept or reject. Merely claiming that we have received the invitation is no guarantee that one is able to partake in the wedding feast of the kingdom. That invitation must be accepted, not just on our own terms but on God’s terms. So, it is crucial to remember that salvation won by Jesus for the sake of all is not applied automatically; it requires that to attain Eternal Life each individual must, to the extent of his or her understanding, accept and live in the grace won by Christ. We must take care to “clothe ourselves with heartfelt mercy, with kindness, humility, meekness and patience.”

The Mystical Winepress

Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

If you are a wine connoisseur, a drive through the wine producing regions of France like Burgundy and Bordeaux would not only be a sight to behold but also provide many happy wine tasting opportunities. The road trip, however, could also prove to be a painful reality-check. Not all luscious vineyards translate into rich delicious vintage. Behind the veneer of tasty looking grapes hanging like a cornucopia from their vines could be a season of sour grapes.

The prophet Isaiah introduces the first reading as a love song sung for the sake of his friend (in some translations called “the beloved”), concerning his friend’s vineyard. Yet any romantic expectations on the hearers’ part are soon dashed as the love story the prophet sings swiftly turns sour, literally. The prophet describes how his friend had laboured hard to prepare the land for a good harvest: “He dug the soil, cleared it of stones and planted choice vines in it. In the middle he built a tower, he dug a press there too. He expected it to yield grapes, He dug the soil, cleared it of stones but sour grapes were all that it gave.” What a tragic disappointment! The voice of the friend shifts into the voice of the prophet, and finally takes on the voice of God. “The inhabitants of Jerusalem and men of Judah” are called to judge between the vineyard and Him. The theme shifts from a rustic agricultural setting with romantic undertones to a legal court case. The honeymoon is over, the divorce has begun!

We can immediately detect the pain and frustration in God’s rhetorical question: “What could I have done for my vineyard that I have not done? I expected it to yield grapes. Why did it yield sour grapes instead?” The crop of sour grapes is not of His doing because God has done all that is necessary to produce a healthy crop. The sentence pronounced upon the vineyard swiftly follows. Its hedge and wall of protection will be destroyed and it shall be rendered a wasteland bearing thorns and thistles, parched for lack of rain. In the destruction of the vineyard the painful themes of the Fall in Eden are recalled: thorns and thistles will grow where once a well-watered and beautiful garden lay.

If the hearers of Isaiah’s parable were in any doubt, its point is made explicit in the conclusion: “the vineyard of the Lord of Hosts is the House of Israel, and the men of Judah that chosen plant.” The indictment is summed up with a deft poetic twist: “He expected justice, but found bloodshed, integrity, but only a cry of distress.”

Apply the parable of the vineyard to the nation of Israel. God gave His people every advantage and opportunity to repent. They were His chosen nation. They were His beloved Bride and He was Israel’s Bridegroom. Countless times they turned away to serve and follow other gods. With all the work God had put into His vineyard—the people of Israel—He should have been able to expect them to yield a harvest of righteousness. Instead of clusters of sweet grapes, the nation could only produce sour grapes. Time after time, in His love, God called them back. The people couldn’t do it. They kept messing up the plan. Much of the first reading is a warning and being a warning, it is also meant for us too.

Let us now consider our Lord’s updated version in the gospel. Read alongside the first reading, it is very clear that the Lord Jesus intends His hearers to hear His parable against the background of Isaiah’s parable. While clearly standing in line with Isaiah, our Lord offers a new and surprising twist. Once again, it is the fate of the vineyard of Israel that is in question. However, here it is not principally the vineyard itself or the vine of Israel that is judged, but the wicked tenant farmers to whom the vineyard had been entrusted. It is not that the vineyard is failing to produce sweet grapes, but that it is being controlled by tenants who deny the vineyard owner its harvest and treat his emissaries violently. They finally even kill the owner’s son to rob him of his inheritance. These wicked tenants are the sour grapes in Jesus’ story.

The effect of Jesus’ reframing of the prophetic narrative is to shift the emphasis: it is no longer the vineyard itself that is the focus of the divine judgment, but the wicked tenants, who are refusing to give the vineyard owner its produce. The judgment that will befall the vineyard will not be the destruction of the vineyard itself, but the dispossession of the wicked tenants.

In a further twist upon the tale, our Lord introduces the character of the beloved son. He ultimately becomes the victim of violence. The language used by the wicked tenants when they plot the murder of the rightful heir directly recalls the language of Joseph’s brothers when they sold him into Egypt (Genesis 37:20): “This is the heir. Come on, let us kill him and take over his inheritance.” Joseph, sent by his father to inspect the work of his brothers, was violently rejected yet went on to rule over the entire land of Egypt. So the rejection of the beloved Son in Jesus’ parable is the prelude to a radical turning of the tables: as in the case of Joseph, this story of a beloved son who becomes a victim ends dramatically—with the resurrection. Jesus “was the stone rejected by the builders that became the keystone.”

Now try to picture yourself as that vineyard. Look at the way God has carefully prepared things in your life up to this point. He planted faith in your heart at baptism. He nursed and cultivated and pruned your life of faith. The soil of His Word and Sacraments are there. He provides ongoing nutrition and water through opportunities to use the means of Grace. He speaks His law to wound and convict hearts, and pours out the Gospel to soothe and heal.

And what does He find? Let us hope and pray that He does not find sour grapes. Have we been sour grapes? Despite the surpassing goodness shown by our Beloved God in every area of life, do we still complain that His blessings haven’t been sufficient? Instead of clusters of sweet grapes of gratitude, have we only produced sour grapes of resentment and a bloated sense of entitlement? Instead of clusters of sweet grapes of His people living in peace and harmony with others, has He found the sour grapes of envy and strife and jealousy just like the wicked tenants? Instead of clusters of sweet grapes of forgiveness and kindness displayed among His people, does He only see the sour grapes of impatience and lack of forgiveness?

But the image of the vineyard does not only allude to us. It also points in the first place to Christ, the Bridegroom, the Mystic Winepress and Sacred Vintage. One of the most popular motifs in religious art in the Middle Ages was the depiction of our Lord as the mystic wine press. In most of these images, our Lord Jesus is being pressed down by a cross-like contraption in the shape of a wine press. Blood flows from Christ's wounds into the basin below to form the wine. Christ Himself has become the grapes by which through His passion and death produces the Wine. His sacrifice on the cross has produced the sweetest vintage that promises Eternal Life to those who have the privilege of drinking it. It is a powerful Eucharistic image. Instead of wine produced through the fermentation of grapes, our Lord offers us His own Body and Blood in the Eucharist. At every Eucharist, we encounter Jesus the true Vine, the fertile vineyard that produces the richest and sweetest crop. With the Psalmist, let us tell Him: “we shall never forsake you again; give us life that we may call upon your name.”

Patience is Divine

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

After having listened to complaints from parishioners for the past nineteen years, I’ve come to realise that one of the most common requests is that I should summarily reprimand and dismiss all the ‘troublemakers’ in the parish. However, my usual reply is that if I were to act on every complaint, including the complains I get about the complainers; then I would end up sacking over 90% of the people in the parish! I guess this phenomenon goes beyond the parish. We seem to have a natural human desire to root out and destroy all that troubles us. We want to look for the final solution to all our problems. But in attempting to get others cancelled, we end up cancelling ourselves. Or in wanting to destroy evil, we end up wreaking more destruction. Perhaps, the best example is found in Hitler’s Final Solution – millions of Jews and others had to die in this mad search for perfection. The very defenders of peace eventually turned into the greatest perpetrators of violence.

Strangely, it is not the Hitlers, the Pol Pots, the Maos or the Lenins of this world that are solely guilty of such horrendous crimes. The trait is also present with many well-intentioned activists, visionaries who believe that it is incumbent upon them to fix the problem wherever and whenever they see fit, whether it be in society, the Church or the world. Some people just can’t stop themselves from meddling. We have to fix it; get rid of the undesirables. Do it our way. The problem with 'people with a cause', is that they often do more harm for their cause than if they did nothing at all. Trying to bend the world or reform the Church or shape others according to the way they see it. So they spend a great deal of effort and time trying to control what can’t be controlled. Even though their original motive may have been noble, they actually make things worse, whilst trying to make them better. Instead of building God’s Kingdom, they end up building their own. We mess things up when we choose to get in God’s way.

Today’s parable is bent on frustrating these would-be Saviours of the world. The message goes against the grain because it seems to be soft on evil. In response to the servants’ desire to root out the darnel, to fix the problem, the Master orders, “Let them both grow till the harvest.” This is a stunning proposal: Just leave the weeds alone? You mean, “Let them have their way?” On the surface, the parable seems to be calling for passivity in the face of evil or worse, the tolerance of evil. Why would the master say what he said to his servants?

The counsel of our Lord is prudent. It is a reminder that life can be messy and we need not and should not, play God or vigilantes. Since this is God’s Kingdom, He should be in charge. He sets the agenda, He lays out the path, and He determines the deadline. The problem is that the difference between the wheat and darnel is not always going to be obvious, and that there is potential danger of mistaking the good for the bad, the will of man for that of the will of God.

Whether we would be willing to admit it or not, both wheat and darnel may be mixed up within every person. Goodness and evil, love and hate, prosperity and adversity, joy and sorrow all are so intimately intertwined. We may risk getting rid of the good in our zealous desire to root out the bad. Destroy the possibility of evil and you also destroy the possibility of goodness. What may seem to be a mess may actually be God’s way of providing a solution. The perceived curse is actually a blessing.

The patience of the farmer in letting the darnel grow on until harvest time, exemplifies the infinite mercy and wisdom of God toward sinners. The parable reminds us that sinners are to be dealt with patiently, it offers us assurance that in the end God’s way will be victorious. That one day “the virtuous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father”. The darnel could not change its nature, but the sinner can change his ways and God gives him every chance and every help to do this, up to his last moment of life. But in the end, there will be Judgment. God is never soft with evil or sin, but He is ever patient in providing opportunities to the sinner to repent. The sinner who chooses not to repent, however, will have to face judgment because the God of Mercy is also the God of Justice. Without Justice, His mercy would be vacuous.

We must learn a double lesson of patience from this parable. First, to be patient with those who make our spiritual progress more difficult for us—they are actually helping us to be better Christians if we bear with patience the injuries they inflict on us. Second, we must try to imitate the patience God shows in His dealings with sinners. Such patience, however, can never be interpreted as mere passivity. I don’t think God wants us to wait ‘patiently,’ twiddle our thumbs and do nothing. We should never tire of striving against evil. While we must not approve of evil deeds or sins of others, we must still look on them as our brothers and sisters and do all in our power to put them back on the right road to heaven. We can do this by our good example, and by fervent prayer for their conversion. Always remember that it is an act of mercy to admonish a sinner and correct error.

When you take a closer look at what is happening in the world, in society, in your family or even in the Church, do not panic when you only perceive chaos. God remains in charge. Everything may seem to be getting completely out of control. But God remains in control. God does not only tolerate the messiness but in fact subverts the messiness and uses it as the raw material of His Kingdom. He often chooses and uses the defective, the rejects, the marginalised, the sinners to be His instruments of grace.

We long for the time when the Kingdom will be complete, but that perfection would not be found in any earthly or human constructed Utopia. For now, we have to recognise that this is the way that God creates and works, and brings good life. God allows the mess. He demonstrates the value of the mess through the death of His Son on the cross. At the moment of the crucifixion, it becomes clear that evil is utterly subverted for good. The Kingdom is built on the blood of martyrs, rather than on success stories. Let us never forget that persecution cannot destroy the Church, it can only make her stronger.

Touch these wounds

Second Sunday of Easter Year A

Our story provides us with a paradoxical contrast - closed doors but open wounds. How we wish it was the other way around? The idea of closed doors suggests that it is a done deal, there is no longer any room for negotiation, that time has run out. In the synoptic gospels, we have the parable of the ten bridesmaids, five wise and the remaining foolish, with the latter being turned out of the party because of their folly and lack of preparation. When they returned from their shopping trip, they were confronted with the painful reality of closed doors - they were too late and judgment has already been delivered.

We can imagine a similar scenario in today’s passage. The disciples of the Lord could only live with regret - the regret of following a man who could have been the Messianic King, the regret of not following Him to the very end, the regret of turning their backs on Him, with one denying Him and the other betraying Him. The closed doors symbolised their predicament. They had closed the doors of their hearts to their master and now they deserved to have God closed His doors of mercy on them, or at least this is what they thought. Despite the doors of the Upper Room and their hearts were shut and locked, the Lord Jesus came in anyway. The stone which blocked the tomb could not keep Him in. Neither could these flimsy wooden doors keep Him out. That is the power of Divine Mercy.

Several things happened on this day. Our Lord breathed the Holy Spirit on to His disciples and offered them the gift of peace which the world cannot give. Our Lord offered them pardon and mercy for their betrayal, courage in place of their fear, peace to their troubled hearts, and the Holy Spirit, the advocate to be their “forever” companion. But there was one more thing He offered them on this day. He offered them the gift of His wounds, the one thing which would have shamed them to their core, because these were the most condemning evidence of their lack of commitment and cowardly betrayal.

Christ came to these disciples with His opened wounds. He could have concealed them under layers of clothing, He could have cauterised and healed them without leaving any trace of a scar. But He left them visible and opened. The Glorified Lord carried the marks of His passion. His resurrection did not obliterate these signs of His great act of self-sacrifice. This is because the wounds of His crucifixion are the means by which we are saved. In the words of the prophet Isaiah, “whereas he was being wounded for our rebellions, crushed because of our guilt; the punishment reconciling us fell on him, and we have been healed by his bruises” (Isaiah 53:5). We cannot know who Jesus is without seeing His wounds. We cannot understand Jesus without understanding the significance of His wounds. His identity is tied to His passion and death. His wounds are the marks by which humanity is reconciled to God. His wounds are a testimony to the mercy of God towards humanity, a mercy beyond our comprehension. You have to see it to believe it.

Those wounds on the Body of the Glorified and Risen Lord teach us several things. First, they show that this Jesus is not a ghost but a real flesh-and-blood Person. Second, they serve as powerful reminders of the great love of God for us, a love so great that in Christ God died, so that our sins might be forgiven. Third, those wounds illustrate the continuity between the earthly life and ministry of Jesus and His eternal high priesthood, by which He lives to make continual intercession for us before His Heavenly Father (cf. Heb 7:25).

It is not by accident that St Thomas comes to faith, not by simply seeing an apparition of Jesus, but only after being instructed to pay heed to those sacred wounds, which are not scars of defeat and ignominy but, as the medieval mystic Julian of Norwich puts it, noble “tokens of victory and love.” This is why medieval art will show Christ at the Last Judgment showing us once again those sacred wounds. What purpose do they serve? When we meet Christ face to face on Judgment Day, He will look just as He did during that first Easter season: We will behold Him in glory, but a glory that still teaches us the price of sin. Seeing His wounds on that day will bring us to the full awareness of what our sins have done and this will either move us to loving gratitude as expressed by all the saints in heaven or to utter shame and unrepentant guilt in the fires of hell. No one can stay neutral in the face of these wounds. We will either experience mercy and forgiveness or be condemned to despair by our shame and guilt.

But our Lord’s wounds are not confined to the visible parts of His body, His hands and feet and His side which would have necessitated the lifting of His tunic. The biggest wound is the wound to His heart. In his account of the crucifixion, St John alone among the evangelists tells us: “One of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water.” (Jn. 19:34) This was a pivotal moment of revelation for St John. The wound at His side was not a superficial flesh wound. The spear penetrated deep into the very core of our Lord - His heart.

What we can only imagine with our mind’s eye is now made visible in the iconic image of the Divine Mercy. The image opens a mystical door into the inner core of His being, allowing us a peek into what remains a mystery. It shows the pierced heart of the Lord from which the streams of red and white light flow, representing the blood and water which the evangelist saw. This is the grace of salvation flowing upon humanity. The piercing of the heart was the means by which the floodgates of mercy were opened upon a sinful, broken and suffering humanity. The piercing of our Lord’s heart gave us the two foundational sacraments which made the Church and makes us members of the Church - Baptism and the Eucharist.

Devotion to the holy image of the Divine Mercy as our Lord communicated to St Faustina is not just confined to His handsome and beautiful visage. It is also an invitation to gaze upon His wounds, both visible and hidden. Contemplating the wounds of Jesus can move cold and obstinate hearts. It can bring about conversion. It can open doors that are sealed shut by our obstinacy. It can heal wounds that have been opened by our sins and the sins of others.

As the Lord said to Thomas, He says to us, “Put your hands into the holes that the nails have made.” These holes are the wounds by which we are saved. These holes are the wounds by which we are healed. These holes are the means by which My Divine Mercy will be poured forth upon humanity. Don’t be afraid to touch these wounds and believe. Touch these wounds and be moved. Touch these wounds and hear our Lord’s accompanying words: “Peace be with you”, “your sins are forgiven” and “I am sending you.” Touch these wounds and like Thomas, bow in adoration while professing: “My Lord and my God... I trust in you!"

Engraved in Love and Mercy

Fifth Sunday of Lent Year C

Familiarity with this story has made most of us inattentive to gaping holes in the narrative.

First, this famous incident took place within the precinct of the Temple, and this is no insignificant detail. Why would this woman be brought into the precinct of the Temple, even if this took place in the outer Court of Women? Shouldn’t the scribes and Pharisees who were most careful about matters concerning ritual purity know that to have a public sinner dragged into the compound of the House of God would be a great affront to God Himself?

Second, who was this unnamed woman? Is she the same woman in Luke 7:47-49 who entered the house of Simon the Pharisee and bathed the Lord’s feet with her tears? And to think that this woman was forgiven once and now caught in another compromising situation? Shouldn’t she deserve a more severe punishment for this repeat offence?

Thirdly, and this may seem oddest of all - the Lord’s parting words to this woman are, “go away, and do not sin anymore.” Curiously, Saint John does not report any penitential resolve on the part of the woman. Although the Lord also does not condemn her, neither does He absolve her of her sin.

But the fourth mystery of this story is one which has puzzled most scholars and commentators, and given rise to many speculations - what was our Lord writing on the ground? One common answer was that He was writing the names of the men, many of whom were standing in the crowd accusing this woman, guilty of having committed the act of adultery or fornication with this woman. This is a plausible answer as no one can commit adultery or fornication alone by himself or herself - it takes two to tango. This may be reminiscent of the prophet Jeremiah’s scribbling the sins of the Israelites.

But there is also another possibility offered by St Thomas Aquinas. He sees in this woman a symbol and representative of sinful humanity, and like fallen humanity, she is in need of mercy, even though her accusers demand justice. There seems no way out. According to St John Paul II, her accusers “intend to show that (Christ’s) teaching on God’s merciful love contradicts the Law, which punished the sin of adultery with stoning.” How can God be just and yet merciful toward our fallen human race? But then something wonderful happens. Jesus bends down and begins to write in the earth. And this is all done in silence. What does this mean?

St Thomas Aquinas, with the keenness of his mystical insight, says that this action signifies that God in His mercy is stooping down to assist sinful humanity. In fact, he says, that whenever Jesus stoops down, this signifies an act of God’s mercy, and that whenever He stands up straight, this signifies an act of God’s justice. For the Greek word for justice literally means, “uprightness.” It is the same word in the Greek for what Jesus is doing by standing upright. But what does the writing in the earth signify? The Greek word there is katagraphein. It is a hapax legomenon, which is to say that it is a unique word which appears only once in the New Testament, and that is here. It doesn’t exactly mean “write”—that would be graphein—but katagraphein means “to engrave.”

What was our Lord “engraving”? We return to the Old Testament to see how God engraves the commandments with His finger in the tablets of stone. So the Fathers of the Church say that the Lord is here writing the commandments into the earth. But according to St Thomas, this act also signifies the mystery of the Incarnation—when by the finger of God, the Holy Spirit, the eternal Word was written into our human nature, as Isaiah the prophet once wrote: “Let the heavens rain down the Just One and the earth bring forth a Saviour” (Isa 45:8). The earth is a fit symbol for human nature since God had shaped the first man from the earth. And all this is done in silence to signify the ineffability of this mystery. It is as if Jesus is saying to the scribes and Pharisees: “Yes, according to Moses she ought to be condemned and stoned to death, but now through the Incarnation, mercy has been made available to her. Therefore, there is now hope for sinners.” Jesus is the perfect sin offering, the Lamb of God, who truly takes away the sins of the world.

But the scribes and Pharisees do not understand the mystery, and they break the reverent silence with a cacophony of cries: they want justice, they want blood. And as they continued to ask Him, our Lord stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” By straightening up, our Lord is now signifying that He is dispensing justice by passing judgment. They have asked for justice and justice they will receive, but now it is they who also stand accused. Our Lord does not pass judgment on this woman but on her accusers. But let us be clear that the Lord does not make excuses for the sins of this woman. He does not deny that she deserves death, but He adds to this that so do these scribes and Pharisees. Mercy is never given to the deserving. It is always offered to the undeserving, if it is to be mercy.

But what happens next? Our Lord stoops down again, as if to offer mercy to the newly accused. And this time He begins to write again, but the word now is graphein. He is not engraving but simply writing lightly in the earth, and as you all know, that whatever is written in sand, is malleable and can be easily erased. And the Fathers of the Church tell us that now He is writing their sins, but lightly as if to indicate that these can be easily wiped away, if only they will accept that they too need God’s mercy. How often do we fail to grasp this? How often have we etched and engraved the sins of others in our hearts as we refuse to forgive them but we forget that our sins are so quickly and easily absolved by God, as would writings in the sand be simply erased with a sweep of the hand?

Then what happens last of all? Our Lord stands up again to render His judgment, a judgment both just and merciful: Our Lord looked up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, sir.” And she is right - all her accusers have fled the scene in shame - they who deserve God’s judgment had been reminded by the Lord that they too have been recipients of His mercy. How could they demand a different standard for this woman? The woman now stands upright because she has been justified by the mercy of Christ, not because she was justified by her own merits. Hence, she hears the sentence: And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you … go away, and do not sin anymore.”

St John Paul II provides us a perfect conclusion to this story: “This Gospel passage clearly teaches that Christian forgiveness is not synonymous with mere tolerance, but implies something more demanding. It does not mean overlooking evil, or even worse, denying it. God does not forgive evil but the individual, and He teaches us to distinguish the evil act, which as such must be condemned, from the person who has committed it, to whom He offers the possibility of changing. While man tends to identify the sinner with his sin, closing every escape, the heavenly Father instead has sent His Son into the world to offer everyone a way to salvation… On Calvary, by the supreme sacrifice of his life, the Messiah will seal for every man and woman the infinite gift of God's pardon and mercy.”

Love demands judgement

Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Fr Bonaventure and I take frequent jibes at each other, with criticisms ranging from external appearances to annoying personal quirks. I guess it’s the price we pay for staying together and it keeps Brother Jonathan entertained with our daily Laurel-and-Hardy antics. Married couples would know what I am talking about. At close proximity, every wrinkle would look like a ridge of the Grand Canyon, a blemish like a black wormhole in deep space and a mole like the planet Jupiter. Of course, this is all hyperbole.

We often protest at how others are being judgmental. We hate being judged. But the truth is that, everyone expresses some form of judgmentalism. Accusing someone else of being judgmental merely exposes our own judgmentalism. Aren’t we judging the other when we accuse them of being judgmental? Of course, many of us are fond of excusing ourselves. It’s always “Rules for Thee, but not for me!” But the bigger question should be: “Can we judge without being judgmental?” And the answer is “we most certainly can and we should”.

Firstly, we make judgments all the time. It’s part of being human. If I see water falling from the sky, I make a judgment, “It’s raining.” If I see an attractive girl, I make a judgment, “Wow! She’s really beautiful!” When we choose which outfit to wear for the day, we are making a judgment. All this is stating the obvious, of course. But we also make judgments with regards to what we consider “good” or “bad” for us or even for others. I don’t smoke because I know it’s bad for my health. That’s a judgment. When you see your young child run into the street, you will stop her for fear that she may get run over by a car. That’s making a judgment. But let’s take this a step further. If I see my friend’s husband sleeping around with other women (provided that I have clear proof and not just making a conjecture), can I make a judgment that this is not good for his marriage and family, and that it is not morally good for him too? Can adultery ever be a good thing or is it neutral? And if it is always a bad thing, wouldn’t that be making a judgment?

It is clear from these few examples, that making a judgment is something necessary and is essentially what makes us human. However, though we may make judgments about things, situations and a person’s actions and words, we are in no position to judge their motive or the interior of a person, the heart. Only God can make that judgment. Our Holy Father, Pope Francis gives us an important reminder, “Each person’s situation before God and their life in grace are mysteries which no one can fully know from without.”

Today, we live in a culture that promotes and preaches non-judgmentalism, by which they mean one can never impose one’s own set of morality on another. We would agree that we should not be judgmental, if this means not judging someone’s intention or soul, as we were privy to this. But to choose to suspend all judgment is simply wrong. Judgment is necessary especially when love demands it. And this is love: to will the good of another. Being free of sin and on the road to salvation is the ultimate “good” for the other. Sitting back and saying nothing, however, is not the loving thing to do. Indifference does not equal love. We can be nice and polite to people who make bad choices. We may even tolerate their decisions. But do we really “love” them? In the end, such a mentality of “tolerance” encourages us to be unconcerned about the people around us and neglect our responsibilities toward them.

But that’s not how our Lord lived. Our Lord was anything but indifferent to others. He didn’t say, “who am I to judge? … whatever works for them … different strokes for different folks!” Saying that our Lord never came to judge is one of the most grievous but popular false caricatures of Him. In a way, we are choosing to make Jesus in our image and likeness so that we may justify our actions and make ourselves feel better about our behaviour and lifestyle.

On the contrary, our Lord shows us the two essential sides of love, a soft side of mercy, compassion, and acceptance, and a firm side that constantly calls us to conversion. Truth is not the antithesis of Love or vice versa. Charity seeks truth and truth serves charity. On the one hand, our Lord loved everyone, even in their weaknesses – He came for sinners. On the other hand, our Lord persistently challenged people to repent from evil. And He did this because He loved them and knew they would be happiest when they live according to God’s plan. And that is why admonishing the sinner is a spiritual act of mercy, and not meanness.

At the end of last week’s Gospel, our Lord challenged us: “Be compassionate as your Father in Heaven is compassionate!” True compassion must always be at the heart of judging. That is why it is so important that we recognise and address the plank in our own eye before taking issue with the splinter in our brother’s eye. Our Lord is not asking us to disqualify ourselves from making any judgment, since no one is perfect. Our Lord is setting out a vision of the integrity between what we are and what we say. Being judgmental is actually being inconsistent. We claim the right to judge others but we refuse to be judged. If we face the truth about ourselves (the so-called “plank” in the eye) and acknowledge our own daily struggles with sin, we are less likely to set ourselves up in judgment over others in a “judgmental” sort of a way. If we recognise how much we need God’s mercy, then our hearts will be much more compassionate when we encounter other people’s faults. St Bernard tells us that, “if you have eyes for the shortcomings of your neighbour and not for your own, no feeling of mercy will arise in you but rather indignation. You will be more ready to judge than to help, to crush in the spirit of anger than to instruct in the spirit of gentleness.”

We are called to be judges, but all too often we are unfit to judge. But nevertheless, we must judge between good and evil; we cannot shirk our duties to correct error and to rebuke sin in others. In fact, our Lord gave us an important cue with regards to making judgments – “every tree can be told by its own fruit” which repeats a theme found in the first reading. We can and we should judge, but if we are to judge, we do so based on the actions and words of the other rather than presume that we can read minds and hearts. If we are to judge, let us first judge ourselves. And just as we are called to correct, we must also be open to correction ourselves. Above all, if we are to judge, let us do so with compassion and love, “in the spirit of gentleness”, knowing that all of us would have to meet our Lord on the Last Day, who sits in judgment over both the living and the dead, and He will judge us by using the same measure which we have applied to others.

Stay awake, Pray always and Stand confidently

First Sunday of Advent Year C

I know it’s Advent and you would be expecting me to say something about the spirit of this season, but the terse three-part command issued by the Lord at the end of the gospel draws us back to the evening of Holy Thursday, to the scene of our Lord and His disciples gathered together in the Garden of Gethsemane. This threefold command almost seems reminiscent of what the Lord had expected from His disciples.

In that Garden, our Lord asked His disciples to “stay here and watch with Me”, but when He returned, He found them asleep and caution them “Watch and pray, lest you enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Matthew 26:41).  Earlier, He had taught them: “Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before others, I will disown before my Father in heaven.” And yet at the end, one of His disciples would betray Him, another deny Him while others fled instead of choosing to “stand with confidence before the Son of Man.”

On all three accounts, the disciples had failed. Nothing we do can change that. No one can re-write history. There is no turning back the clock. What is more important is that we should know where we are going and that will affect the choices we make. The disciples eventually redeemed themselves or to be exact, they were redeemed by the Lord.

Likewise, the season of Advent provides us with a similar opportunity to redeem ourselves by preparing ourselves for the Lord’s coming - will we succeed where the disciples failed? Will we be able to stay awake, praying at all times for our survival and salvation and finally, stand confidently with Christ if we find ourselves on the hot seat?

If you are nervous and uncertain as to whether you are able to withstand the test and pass where the disciples had failed, you have every reason to do so. Listening to our Lord’s ominous warning, it would appear that there is plenty to be anxious about. “There will be signs in the sun and moon and stars; on earth nations in agony, bewildered by the clamour of the ocean and its waves; men dying of fear as they await what menaces the world, for the powers of heaven will be shaken.” When you begin to examine each of the items on this list, however, you would soon realise that this is not just something that will happen in the future; these things are happening to people right now. Instead of just being crippled by fear, our Lord tells us that the true object of our focus should be Him: “Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory.” Troubles coming our way is certain. But our Saviour’s coming “with power and great glory”, that too is most certain.

This is what Advent should mean for us. It is a time for us to be filled with new hope, new courage without putting on blinders and pretending that the mess we see in the world is not real. We are not asked to ignore or deny the reality of suffering, evil or death. In fact, we are asked to affirm these things while also recognising that there is something here far greater than suffering, evil and death. Therefore, Advent is a time for us to be reassured that the darkness that overshadows the present moment, whether from sin, sickness, poverty, sorrow, weakness or failure, will be dissipated and driven away by the Sun of Justice, the Word-Made-Flesh.

Advent is not a season of false hope. We are not getting ready for some improbable, imagined event that exists only in fantasy. Our hope is based on the assurance that our God is coming. He has, in fact, already come among us in our own flesh. He has already loved us beyond death, has overcome sin and evil, and has seeded us with the hope of Eternal Life. And that is why our Lord can say this to us with such confidence: “When these things begin to take place, stand erect, hold your heads high, because your liberation is near at hand.”

Advent days are not to be wasted in spiritual idleness, in distracting ourselves with busy activity nor in fruitless worrying. We should use these advent days to stir up this hope in a fearful world, to cultivate that seed of hope to full bloom. We know that the Lord has come... we are certain that the Lord will come. And for us, that does not mean waiting in fear and dread for doomsday. We do believe in the Second Coming of Jesus and that is why we should stand erect, hold our heads high, because our liberation is near at hand.

We are not spending four weeks just to welcome again the "baby Jesus". We are trying to drive away the shadows of sin and despair, so that we can open our hearts and minds and lives to the overpowering light of the incarnate Son of God made man. We want to use this sacred time to deepen our understanding of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. We need to realise again how fully He has entered into the very fabric of our lives. We want to allow Him to transform every facet of our human existence, so that in all things we think, speak, choose and act, as redeemed children of God. Our coming Christmas celebration has to include all of this. So, if you’ve drawn up a bucket list of things-to-do before Christmas, don’t forget the following, place it at the top of your list:

“Stay awake, praying at all times for the strength to survive all that is going to happen, and to stand with confidence before the Son of Man.”