Humility blossoms in Generosity

Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Recently, I attended a friend’s sacerdotal anniversary celebration. I was given the honour to be seated at the main VIP table that was strategically placed at the very centre of the hall. Apart from the stage, all eyes were laser focused on this table and all who sat at it. If given a choice, I would have asked for an obscure table at the side. My request was not made out of humility but out of selfish convenience. It’s easier to make a bee line for the restrooms when you are at the side and no one would notice that you are attempting to make an early exit.

So, the advice provided by the Lord in today’s gospel with regard to etiquette behaviour at a wedding feast where we are invited as guests does not immediately strike me as self-deprecating. Some may even describe it as a cunning and manipulative way of getting upgraded instead of suffering the humiliation of being downgraded.

On this day, as we celebrate our Independence Day, though not exactly the foundation of our federal nation, and as we also celebrate our Parish Community as family, we are provided with a lesson on two important virtues which are essential to harmonious living and being neighbourly - humility and generosity.

In fact, these two virtues are intimately connected. Humility, a virtue often misconstrued, stands in stark contrast to entitlement, the enemy of generosity. Humility thrives in restraint, obscurity, and vulnerability, not seeking validation or retribution against those who have wronged us. It’s a hidden treasure of the soul, more intrigued by the inner sanctum than the spotlight. Humility lies down and waits—not in a defeated way but in a way that brings peace. People who have little patience have little humility. They feel entitled to instant gratification. When impatience begins to drain from us, we begin to listen. Humility can feel tiresome, but mostly when we are fighting it.

On the other hand, pride drives the need for entitlement. We give not out of the generosity of the heart but expecting something in return, which exposes false generosity for what it is - a self-serving attitude. If we do something good for others, it is not for their benefit but for ours and we feel upset when they show little gratitude or acknowledgement. Entitlement is the new disease of pride gone unchecked. Instead of rejoicing over the blessings which others have received, the sense of entitlement leads to resentment.

But our Lord tells us in today’s gospel that true generosity involves giving without the expectation of receiving anything in return. No strings attached. No quid pro quo. So often, our mindset is to give something in order to get something. We make friends because it is advantageous to do so. We give compliments to get one back. We love in order to be loved. No matter what it is, there’s often an expectation to our giving. But real generosity doesn’t have that same expectation. God gave us Jesus, not because we gave Him anything to deserve or earn this gift, but simply because He chose to do so out of the generosity of His heart. It was an intentional and loving gift—one that demonstrates true, unwavering generosity.

On this day as we reflect over our common citizenship and fraternal bond as sisters and brothers in the Body of Christ, let us make every effort to reject pride and entitlement, which are twin diseases that do not only eat into the very core of our being but also into the foundation of our society and community. In place of pride, let us seek humility. Instead of demanding something from the community, from the Church or from our country, let us be ever generous to see in what way can we contribute to the betterment of our society. Let us remember those immortal words of John F. Kennedy, spoken at his inaugural address as president of the United States: “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.” I would also add: “Ask not what your Church can do for you, ask what you can do for your Church.”

Are you saved?

Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Our Lord gives us a frightening parable of judgment in answer to the question: “Sir, will there be only a few saved?” You may think that this question is ludicrous, that it’s making a mountain out of a molehill. You may even volunteer to beat Jesus in giving the answer to this man: “of course not! Don’t you know that everyone’s going to be saved?” Although official Catholic teaching and Protestant understanding of salvation shares many points in common, this is where they defer – at least in popular imagination. Many Catholics believe that everyone is going to heaven while Protestants think that almost everyone, unless you are a true Christian believer, is going to hell.

When Protestants ask Catholics if they have been saved, the question would most likely be met with a stunned look on the part of the Catholic or an admission that he has never thought about this before. This comes as good news to the Protestant as he can now confidently proselytise the Catholic and ensure that the latter is saved by becoming a Bible believing, faith professing Protestant Christian. For many Protestants, one becomes a Christian by merely making a confession of faith in Jesus as Saviour and Lord. Baptism comes later but isn’t necessary for our salvation. I guess the reason why most Catholics are not prepared with an answer to that question is that salvation or rather, heaven, is something they often take for granted. Why worry about this moot issue when we can all get to heaven?

Perhaps, this common Catholic misunderstanding of universal salvation can be far more dangerous than the Protestant heretical position of being saved once and for all by grace alone. When you believe that salvation is guaranteed whether you’ve lived a good life or not in conformity to Christ’s teachings and God’s will, it is called the sin of presumption, which is a sin against hope. On presumption, the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches: “There are two kinds of presumption. Either man presumes upon his own capacities, (hoping to be able to save himself without help from on high), or he presumes upon God’s almighty power or his mercy (hoping to obtain his forgiveness without conversion and glory without merit).” (CCC 2092) When people are presumptuous, they are living in denial of the truth. And because they are living in denial, they will not repent of his or her own sin.

I have often tried to explain the Catholic position on salvation to both Catholics and non-Catholics by using this analogy of being shipwrecked in the middle of an ocean. We’re like the survivors of a shipwreck in a storm out in mid-ocean. Just imagine being in this situation. The nearest shoreline is just too far for even the strongest swimmer. You won’t be able to save yourself. The only way that we can get out of this situation is that we are saved. And the good news is that we have been rescued from drowning by the Lord Jesus Himself, our Saviour, and welcomed onboard the ship we call the Church. That ship is now taking us to a safe harbour — our home in heaven with God. For Protestants, being saved is the end of the story and they don’t even believe you need a boat for this. But for Catholics, baptism, being rescued into the ship is just the first step. But we’re not home yet.

You could say, then, that we’ve been “saved” in the sense of being rescued and taken aboard a safe vessel. But we can’t really speak of being “saved” in the full sense until we reach our destination. We must humbly admit that we haven’t yet arrived at final perfection. Meanwhile, we also must recognise the sobering possibility that — God forbid — we could choose someday to jump overboard again. Salvation isn’t guaranteed just because of something we’ve done in the past. We continue to have a free will, which is part of God’s likeness in us. So we still have the ability to turn away from God again. It’s a chilling possibility. But it shouldn’t make us perpetually worried that we’ll be damned despite our best efforts to grow in grace. We can be confident that God desires our salvation, and He’s faithful to help us. And He does so by providing us with the Sacraments. If we’re tempted to forsake Him, He’ll grant us the power to resist that temptation. He will even send a lifeboat to rescue us again through the sacrament of penance. Even so, the choice is still ours.

If we can’t be certain as to the final statistics on the population of heaven and hell, there are some things we can know with certainty because our Lord has revealed this to us, leaving no room for speculation.

Firstly, Hell is real and it is everlasting. We may not hear much about hell these days and we may not even like to, but silence on the subject does not make the reality of Hell go away. Infact the denial of hell leads ultimately to the trivialising of heaven. But a healthy understanding of the pains and horrors of hell, will lead us to an authentic appreciation of the joys of heaven.

Secondly, life is a series of choices. We can either choose to take a) the difficult path that leads to the narrow gate and life, and b) the broad path which leads to the wide gate and destruction. The narrow path is the way of the Cross which our Lord undertook, and we must follow in our respective way. The second reading from Hebrews reminds us that the suffering we endure is not the result of a cruel sadistic God but because “suffering is part of your training; God is treating you as his sons.” It is a popular error of our time to believe that it does not matter which road one takes. Some believe that all roads are like spokes on a wheel, all leading to the same place—Heaven. In fact, we make choices every day that draw us closer to God or lead us farther away from Him. That’s why simply believing in Jesus isn’t enough. Friendship with God, like friendship of any kind, is more than just getting acquainted. It involves making a series of choices to love over the long term, so that a committed relationship grows. Faith is useless then, without good works. God must have our active cooperation, because both our mind and our will — the full likeness of God — must be renewed if we’re to be saved in the end.

Thirdly, there is an urgency to making the right decision. Time is of the essence. No time for procrastination or putting off what must be done today. Our Lord speaks of the time when the householder will arise, shut and lock the door. That corridor of opportunity will not always be opened and if mistaken that it is always open may lead to our destruction.

Finally, we must make our own salvation and the salvation of all those around us, our top priority in this life. As the old Catholic adage reminds us: “the salvation of souls is the supreme law!” Nothing else ranks anywhere close in importance—not health, wealth, career, popularity, possessions or acclaim by others. Know what you must do to be saved and work out that salvation in fear and trembling.

Today, let us not be guilty of the sin of presumption that Heaven is guaranteed no matter how or which way we live our lives. Truly, our Lord Jesus is the Divine Mercy. Truly, He wishes and desires for all of us to be saved. But more urgently, He wants us to understand that there can be no other way to salvation other than passing through the Narrow Door. He is that Narrow Doorway to Heaven. It is the Gospel of Christ, paid by His own blood on the cross. It is demanding. It demands that we make the ultimate sacrifice by turning our backs on all the false gods that have become the defining elements in our lives. It demands repentance on our part.

Proclaiming the Glory of God

Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Today’s feast does not sit well with Protestants. It will be no surprise that those for whom the bible is paramount, for whom nothing can be said without clear biblical justification, the doctrine of the Assumption is not something they are easy with. We use the gospel reading on the Visitation, because there is nothing in the gospels that describes the Assumption in the way that the Visitation is described. Elsewhere, Psalm 132, where the Blessed Virgin is interpreted as the “Ark of God” that is taken into heaven, is cited. Along with similar interpretations of Genesis 3:15, 1 Corinthians 15:54, and Revelation 12:1-2, this hardly amounts to an explicit expression of the dogma of the Assumption; on their own, they are not a ringing endorsement. So, why is this gospel passage selected for today? How do we draw a trajectory from the Visitation to that of the Assumption?

We know so little of Mary even from the few scriptural references to her. How could the Church, therefore, make this leaping conjecture to speak of her as the most honoured and glorified creature of God, exalted above all creation, and uniquely sharing the privilege of incorruptibility of her Son at the end of her earthly sojourn? I would like to propose that the answer to all these questions is found in the great hymn of Mary, the Magnificat, described by Pope Benedict XVI as a “marvelous canticle (that) mirrors the entire soul, the entire personality of Mary. We can say that this hymn of hers is a portrait of Mary, a true icon in which we can see her exactly as she is.”

The Blessed Virgin Mary confesses in the inspired hymn, guided by the Holy Spirit, that the source of her “greatness” and “blessedness” is not found in any personal merit but in God. She does not exalt herself as others are prone of doing but immediately the greatness of God when she hears of Elizabeth’s praise of her and the child within her womb. Just as the Magnificat is a song that glorifies and exalts God, today’s feast of the Assumption is an Opus Magnum to God who raises her up to share in His heavenly glory. 

The erudite Pope Benedict continues to explain: “Mary wanted God to be great in the world, great in her life and present among us all. She was not afraid that God might be a “rival” in our life, that with his greatness he might encroach on our freedom, our vital space. She knew that if God is great, we too are great. Our life is not oppressed but raised and expanded: it is precisely then that it becomes great in the splendour of God. The fact that our first parents thought the contrary was the core of original sin. They feared that if God were too great, he would take something away from their life. They thought that they could set God aside to make room for themselves.”

But this is not the case of Mary. She understood that her lowliness and littleness was the perfect occasion for God to exhibit His power and greatness. This was no virtue-signaling stemming from a misguided sense of false humility. Although what God had done and was doing in her life was radically new, because nothing like the Incarnation had ever happened or could ever be conceived, it was not a radical departure from what God had done in history and will continue to do until the end of time. The Assumption is precisely the best testimony and proof of what the Lord has promised to do in scripture and what Mary had sung in this song of praise. 

The difficulty of Protestants and other detractors in accepting the dogma of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary is that they often confuse this event with the Ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ. At a superficial level, one could say that the Ascension is recorded in the gospels while Mary’s Assumption isn’t. If the Bible was the only record of revelation, this would be irrefutable proof that the belief in the Assumption is untenable. Case closed. Full stop. But for us Catholics, the deposit of faith is not only found in written Sacred Scripture but also in oral Sacred Tradition, the former affirming the validity of the latter. Although there is no record of the life and death of Mary after the death, resurrection and Ascension of her Son, Sacred Tradition provides us with the source material to fill in the blanks. While the relics and tombs of the apostles were venerated from the earlier centuries, Mary left no first relic  of her physical body. But we honour the place where she was buried and just like her Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, the tomb is empty. There is no body because as the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches: "Finally the Immaculate Virgin, preserved free from all stain of original sin, when the course of her earthly life was finished, was taken up body and soul into heavenly glory, and exalted by the Lord as Queen over all things, so that she might be the more fully conformed to her Son, the Lord of lords and conqueror of sin and death."The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin is a singular participation in her Son's Resurrection and an anticipation of the resurrection of other Christians.”"

So, the real fundamental difference between the Ascension of our Lord and the Assumption of our Lady would be their respective causes. The Ascension of Christ was by His own power. Only Christ has ascended to Heaven. In the Gospel of St. John, Jesus told Nicodemus, ”No one has ascended into Heaven but he who descended from Heaven, the Son of man” (John 3:13). But the Glorification of Mary’s body and her Assumption was not by her own power, however. It was by the decision and act of God. So, to deny that it is impossible for Mary to be assumed into heaven both body and soul, is a direct affront to the sovereignty and power of God - to assert that God is powerless to do so.

Although the Assumption of Mary and the Ascension of the Lord are two different events, both of them indicate a way of elevation for us, human and spiritual, to which we are all called. The beauty of these callings is that they invite interior growth, renovation and transformation in our lives. Furthermore, these celebrations of our Church remind us that “death” is not the end of our human story. Death is just a transition to the true life with God, life eternal in the fullness of God’s love.

 

At the end of Mary’s life on earth, Mary is taken up to heaven in body and soul. She, who never knew sin, was assumed into heaven and never experienced corruption. Mary, as the new Eve, fulfilled God’s plan from the beginning of creation. Mary always lived perfectly in the will of God. The handmaid of the Lord has laid down for us the perfect model of discipleship that we may follow. We are called to live in the will of God and we don’t have to do this alone. She is there to help us.

Here I am, send me

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

There is a tendency among many to be drawn to certain charismatic preachers and leaders. Can people be faulted for this? Who doesn’t want to be inspired or motivated or moved to tears or action? And whether one wishes to admit it or not, who doesn’t want to be entertained by amusing anecdotes and colourful illustrations? That is why crowds would throng to a rally or a preached mission whenever a popular and dynamic preacher is in town. But the readings which we hear this Sunday provide us with an important and necessary corrective - the gospel is always greater than its greatest proclaimers. An important truth that preachers, like me, should remember and need. “For what we preach is not ourselves,” wrote St Paul to the Corinthians, “but Jesus Christ as Lord” (2 Cor. 4:5).

The prophets of old like Isaiah and the great missionary apostles like St Paul and St Peter, were anything than rockstar-like celebrities of the faith. The quest for celebrity-like fame can actually be a distraction from the work of preaching the gospel. The habit of seeking ever-larger audiences through new technologies always runs the risk of trivialising the message, fueling the culture of celebrity, and losing sight of the everyday work of evangelisation.

In all three examples that are offered by today’s readings - Isaiah in the first reading, St Paul in the second and St Peter in the gospel - there is a keen awareness of their own personal unworthiness. Isaiah protests that he is unworthy to speak God’s words because he is a man of unclean lips. Paul claims that he is the “least among the apostles” and that he “hardly deserve the name apostle.” When Simon Peter discovered the enormity of what he has just witnessed, the Lord performing a miracle before his own eyes, he pleaded, “Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man.” None of these men stated a claim that they were entitled to the right of proclaiming the Word of God. On the contrary, all three clearly admitted their own disqualification.

Many of us would have similar sentiments and that is the reason why so many Catholics fail to undertake the work of sharing the good news with others. If you have ever felt that you were not good enough for God or the work He wishes to entrust to you, know this - you are in good company - because that’s just how Isaiah, St Paul, and St Peter felt when God called them.

Feeling inadequate before God is certainly understandable. In a way, this isn’t wrong. It’s a sign of humility to recognise our inadequacy before God. After all, God is God! He is perfectly good, perfectly righteous, and perfectly pure. We are none of those things. When we imagine ourselves before a being of such power and purity, we can’t help but feel small and unworthy by comparison. Yet, despite our unworthiness God continues to call us. Don’t take my word for it. Take God’s Word. He still chose Isaiah and Peter and Paul, despite their protestations of being unworthy. If it takes humility to recognise that we are unworthy, it takes greater humility to admit that it’s not about us! It’s all about God - the sovereignty of God and the freedom He exercises in choosing who He pleases even if the world or the person thinks nothing of it. It would be arrogance for us to question God’s choice.

This is why in our human frailty, we cannot just merely depend on our abilities and resources. We have abilities and we do have resources but we also have our limitations. But God supplements these with His abundant grace. This is what St Paul declared in the second reading: “I am the least of the apostles; in fact, since I persecuted the Church of God, I hardly deserve the name apostle; but by God’s grace that is what I am, and the grace that he gave me has not been fruitless.” Like Paul before his conversion, many of us continue to live in the delusion that we are self-made, that we have to chart our own destiny, orchestrate our own achievements, work hard to achieve our goals. But there is also grace that shapes and perfects us and as Paul so rightly noted, that it is by “God’s grace that is what I am.”

This is also what Peter experienced in the gospel. The dawn of his new life marked by the success which could only be brought on by the Lord’s miraculous assistance had to come after a long night of struggling and repeated failure. Peter would continue to experience this pattern in his own life. Whenever he depended solely on his bravado, his personal leadership skills, his speaking out of turn and jumping the gun, he would meet with failure and disappointment. Tradition tells us that this pattern continues even after the Lord had ascended and he had received the mantle of leadership and the gift of the Holy Spirit. But despite his shortcomings and failings, and in spite of it, our Lord would continue to return to him, renewing his election and commission. Peter too can declare with Paul that the Lord’s “grace that is what I am.”

Now many of us would argue that unlike Isaiah, we were not given a vision of heaven, or like Peter and Paul, called by the Lord personally to be His apostles. How does the Lord qualify us who are unqualified? The answer is simple and yet profound. The Lord continues to call and He continues to act and He continues to pour out His graces through the Church, especially through the sacraments. All of the sacraments are tangible means by which God imparts His intangible grace to us. Baptism is that first sacrament that binds us to Christ, Penance is the sacrament that restores us to union with Him when we have strayed, the Eucharist is what He chooses to sustain us with His own body and blood. That is why when people avoid the sacraments, they do not know what they are missing out. Just like the air we breathe is necessary for our survival, the grace we receive through the sacraments is necessary for our salvation. Without grace, we will perish.

But for all our dependence on grace, does it mean that we just sit back and do nothing? We are not Calvinist Protestants who hold on to the erroneous sola that only grace alone saves. St Paul was the greatest evangeliser the world has ever known, and he certainly worked hard at it. But he was only able to succeed by relying on God’s grace. This is the key: we can’t do God’s work on our own. Nor can we just sit back and be lazy Christians, relying on God to do all the work. The truth lies in the middle: we need to put forth effort, because God wants to work through us and in us, our will cooperating with His. God knows exactly what you are capable of. He knows exactly how strong you are, and how weak you are. He knows your knowledge and your ignorance. He knows your capacities and your limitations. And He says, my grace is sufficient for you (2 Cor 2:19). We just need to trust that the God who calls us will provide whatever grace is needed to answer that call. All we need to do is say, like Isaiah, “Here I am” (Is 6:8).

There is a moment that comes at every Mass, just before we receive Communion. The priest holds the consecrated host up before us and proclaims, “Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the Supper of the Lamb.” At that moment, like Isaiah and St. Peter, we find ourselves in the presence of divinity. We stand before perfect goodness. And if we feel unworthy before that presence… let us pray with earnestness and complete sincerity, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.” We acknowledge our sins and trust God to forgive us. We acknowledge our weakness and trust God to strengthen us. We have faith that God will accomplish His will through us and in humility we say, “Here I am; send me.”

The Best Wine for the last

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Every drinker would appreciate the wisdom found in this Bible verse taken from the Book of Ecclesiastes (9:7), “Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for it is now that God favours what you do.” Wine or alcohol can be a bringer of joy, albeit temporary. But when the initial momentary elation wears off, the mood can descend into tears, anger, and even violence... and don’t forget the massive hangover that is certain to follow. After the string of drinking parties stretching from Christmas to the New Year, it’s time to sober up. The celebration is literally over when “we have run out of wine”, money and leave!

The Bible treats intoxicating drinks ambivalently, considering them both a blessing from God that brings joy and merriment, and potentially dangerous beverages that can be sinfully abused. The wine in today’s gospel story bears the first sense. Thank God for that! The symbol of wine used with the theme of the wedding feast expresses the exhilarating joy of ‘the Hour,’ not just the hour of nuptial bliss for the couple, but the ‘Hour’ marking the decisive intervention of God and manifestation of His glory in Christ. This is the hour of Israel’s liberation. Her Saviour has come! But just when the celebrations were gaining momentum, it risked being turned into a disaster. The festivities encountered an untimely snag: “they ran out of wine.” The mother of Jesus announces the sobering news, “They have no wine.” For all those present, this would have sounded like a death sentence.

This incident is a very fitting illustration of the failure of all this world’s joys. As much as we hope for an inexhaustible supply of resources, as much as we pray that the party and the honeymoon will never end, we always end up with an empty casket after everything has been drained. We know what it means for the wine to run out. Sooner or later in every situation, in every lucky streak, in every relationship, in every type of human pleasure, the wine runs out. Our family members, one by one, leave the nest. Divorce or separation may come even after years of a happy married life. Our friends, with whom we've shared so many enjoyable times, slowly move away. Our motivation to work and to produce is soon replaced with fatigue and burn out. In the parish, the exodus of the young, and the gradual decline of the BECs seem to signal the death of a once vibrant community. In every human achievement, pleasure, and joy — the "wine" is bound to run out.

What do all these experiences tell us? Have we truly run out of wine? Has the party ended? Or are these scenarios merely pointing to the fact that we are often dictated by our subjective experiences, especially our emotions? It is interesting to note that our assessment of any situation is often dictated by our subjective experience. “How do I feel?” This is quite natural. The problem is that we often assume that our subjective assessment is conclusive and infallible. But our feelings say more about ourselves than objective realities. We confuse our emotional urges for the voice of conscience. In any event, emotions are always beyond our control and they never last. This kind of wine is inevitably doomed to run out.

Thousands of years ago, the people of Israel also thought that the destruction of their country meant the end of everything. They were mocked by their neighbours as the “Forsaken” and “Abandoned” People. Israel had only herself to blame for this due to her infidelity. But Isaiah in the first reading gives an entirely different ending to the story, an objective one as far as it is the vision of God. It is a message of hope. All is not lost because God will return to redeem them. They will be called by a new name; they will be called “My Delight” and “The Wedded” for God has taken delight in them again. God has renewed His covenant with them – He has wedded them again. What brought about this change? They finally realised that glory and blessings come from God alone. No human power, riches or glory will last. Eventually all these things will run out except that which is given by God.

Our most common folly is that we often realise this important point only too late, after our own resources have been depleted or exhausted. In our drunken merriment, self-absorbed in our own human achievements, we often fail to recognise that Christ is the true source of joy, an inexhaustible and irrevocable joy, unless we choose to ignore Him. He is not only the provider of the wine that will never run out. He is the Best Wine often mistakenly kept for the last.

Thus, we must guard against the deception of subjective assessment and be misled into thinking that this is the end, merely on the basis that we feel it is so. When we allow our subjective impressions to dictate our lives, it would only lead to chaos and confusion. Here, our Catholic understanding of the Sacraments is important. Sacramental theology speaks of an objective reality, which is the grace we receive in the Sacraments, that is not dependent on our subjective experience or our emotions. Christ is present, truly, really, substantially at every Mass and in the tabernacle whether you “feel” it or not. The truth that Christ is present here is a fact. Your feelings do not matter. “Facts have no feelings!”

Likewise, even when the parties to the marriage no longer feel anything for the other, this does not spell the end of the marriage. The subjective experience of the parties does not determine the end of the objective reality proposed by the sacrament. Objectively, Christ remains faithful; He continues to confer the necessary grace through the Sacrament of matrimony, and this ultimately defines the permanency of the marital bond. In another instance, even if everyone in the congregation felt listless and bored during the entire mass, or the priest was ill-prepared to celebrate the mass, the mass is still objectively the Sacrifice of the Cross. As the fate of marriages cannot be determined by changing sentiment, the victory of the Cross is not undone by our fluctuating moods.

So, what do we do when the wine runs out? What do we do when the thrill is gone? What do we do when the faith dissipates? Many look for substitutes, only to find themselves disappointed once again because the wine will also run out. ‘Running away’ is no solution too. Mary shows us the way. The strength of Mary’s faith is when she tells the servants to follow the instructions of her Son. We run to Jesus with faith that He can do even the impossible, even outmatching the miracle of transforming water into wine. Mary teaches us to come to Him in humble submission, ready to listen to what He has to tell us, even though it may go against our better judgment. So, when the wine runs out, don’t attempt to brew some more, don’t look for cheap alternatives and don't run away. It’s not over. The best wine has been saved for the last – it is Jesus.

You complete me

Twenty Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

For those who had lived through the 90s, Jerry Maguire must have been one of the most iconic romantic movies of all times. I know that most Gen Z’s would be scratching their heads, “Jerry Who?” It starred Tom Cruise, most famous for his looks than his acting skills, next to an almost unknown actress. The most famous tagline of the movie became one of the most popular “pick-up” lines used to express one’s undying love and desperate need for the other - “You complete me!” It sounds so awesomely romantic to literally be unable to live without someone because a part of you is missing. I mean, you can’t get more Romeo-and-Juliet than that, right? Like, let me drink poison if we can’t be together so I won’t ever have to live without you and I would literally rather die than live without you because You… Complete…Me.

The tagline may not have been that original as it draws inspiration from the Jewish mystical tradition, that each person possesses half a soul and it is only when they have found the other half of their soul in a person whom they will spend their entire lives with, will the two halves be reunited and made whole, thus the man and the woman “complete” each other. That’s a beautiful way of describing the complementarity of husband and wife but it is far from our Christian understanding of marriage and the person. A man does not complete a woman nor a woman a man in marriage. If this were so, then they can also choose to end this union as quickly and simply as they had sealed it. Rather, it is as our Lord reminds us, “what God has united, man must not divide.” We are, in fact, full persons, created in the image of God in need of no one but Jesus Christ. It is He who completes us!

Jerry Maguire might be right about one thing—Yes, we are incomplete people. But it’s not because we’re unmarried or that we have yet to find the other half of our soul. It’s because God has “put eternity in the heart of man” (Ecclesiastes 3:11) and that “His invisible attributes…have been clearly perceived ever since the creation of the world” (Romans 1:19-20). Without Him, we are incomplete, lacking something, missing a critical part of our soul. Notice that when God is absent in our lives, we will always try to fill that bottomless hole and make up for that inexhaustible absence with other things - things which can provide temporary relief but continue to remind us of what is perennially missing and which can only be satiated by God and God alone. And until He is the one to fill that hole, you’ll be incomplete. If there is one line which can utterly beat the Jerry Maguire line it should be this famous quote from St Augustine: “(O God) you have made us and drawn us to yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.”

One of the ways our Lord completes someone is by giving him a “helpmate.” In response to Adam’s lonely plight, God created for him an “ezer” translated as “helpmate.” The English translation is inadequate and, in our day, we may use the word “helper” in the sense of a maid, a domestic helper. But that is far from the meaning of the Hebrew word used to describe the first woman in the first reading. This is not the only occasion where the Hebrew word appears. In fact, it appears 21 times in total in the Old Testament. In two cases it refers to the first woman, Eve. Three times it refers to powerful nations Israel called on for help when besieged. In the sixteen remaining cases the word refers to God as our help. He is the one who comes alongside us in our helplessness.

This last reference of the noun “ezer” provides us with the context of how to understand the other instances when the word is used. It does not suggest 'helper' as in 'servant,' but help, saviour, rescuer, protector as in 'God is our help.' In no other occurrence in the Old Testament does this refer to an inferior, but always to a superior or an equal...'help' expresses that the woman is a help/strength who rescues or saves man. The woman was not created to serve the man, but to serve WITH the man. Without the woman, the man was only half the story. She was not an afterthought or an optional adjunct to an independent, self-sufficient man. God said in Genesis 2:18 that without her, the man's condition was "not good." God's intention in creating the woman for the man was for the two to be partners in stewarding God's creation.

Therefore, all of you are to be a helpmate to each other for so much more than mere intimate friendship and companionship. The old penny Catechism reminds us that we are created solely for God and for heaven – to know God, to love Him, to serve Him and be with Him in Paradise forever. If this is life’s main purpose, and it is truly a tall order, then we seriously are in need of help. The good news is that God gives us that help, but He also provides help, for most people, through a spouse, a friend, a community member, or a priest. God has created each of us not as lone travellers but ‘indispensable companions’ in our journey to heaven. The purpose of that helpmate must be to help us achieve the main purpose of our lives NOT to accomplish our own selfish, self-centred and myopic agendas. We are to help each other worship, obey, love God and be with Him in Paradise forever. We are to help each other get to heaven. In the case of a marriage, if this doesn’t become a couple’s life project, they may actually end up dragging each other to hell.

Finding a lifelong friend or being married, doesn’t mean that you’ve exorcised loneliness into the furthest regions of the universe. The spectre of loneliness trails many good couples and plagues even the best of marriages and friendships. And loneliness may often tempt us to find false substitutes in adulterous relationships, pornography, addictions and workaholism. Where does such loneliness come from? Well, we return to the story in Genesis. In the beginning, it was a literal paradise of fulfilling relationships as God in an unhindered way walked with Adam and Eve in the garden and they enjoyed the fullest experience of intimacy with each other. But how did the demon of loneliness infect their hearts? Well, the simple answer is sin – disobedience to God’s will and purpose. Sin is refusing to allow God to “complete” us. Notice how Adam and Eve hid from God out of fear of getting caught, and Adam blamed Eve for his disobedience, which clearly drove a wedge into their flawless intimacy. And the deep fellowship on every satisfying level is now replaced by alienation, blame, distrust, and shame.

The lesson here is huge. Living a God-less life ultimately leads us to a love-less life. Living for what’s “best for me,” while ignoring the needs, wishes, and interests of others always brings alienation and aloneness. Thank God that He has made a way for us to restore relationships and to recapture a portion of the intimacy of Eden. When we follow the way of Jesus and live to love and serve others, aloneness gives way to intimacy and our self-serving acts of alienation dissolve into a profound bonding that reflects the complete and perfect harmony of the Three Persons of the Most Holy Trinity. Between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit there exists no conflict of will, no battle for dominance, no petty struggle to be identified or appreciated independently of the other. There exists only the perfect communion of love, and a blessed oneness of purpose and intent and action. Without Him, we will continue to be restless and listless, for only God can complete us, you and me.

Does God have favourites

Sixth Sunday of Easter
Lithuania-Poland Pilgrimage

Church of St Casimir, Swinice Warckie

We are in the spiritual hometown of St Faustina. It is technically not her hometown of birth as she was born and lived in the nearby village of Głogowiec. If you think this place is small, you should see Głogowiec. This is the very church in which she was baptised and where she received her first holy communion. If it were not for her, this little town would have been ignored by many world travellers and even by most people in Poland. It’s not Paris or New York, it has no fancy restaurants or buzzing night life, or must-see tourist attractions. But it has this singular honour of being the place where little Helena Kowalska was reborn, entered the church and became an adopted daughter of God. This alone would be the envy of many. Who said that God has no favourites?

Today’s readings force us to reconsider this burning question which would have troubled many: how come some people seem more privileged than others? The question actually avoids a more fundamental question which would appear to sound blasphemous if we were brave enough to ask it: Does God have favourites? Does He love some more than others.

We are assured by our Lord in His own Words, that He loves us to the same degree and manner as the Father loves Him. This is the extent of His love that He would send “His Son to be the sacrifice that takes our sins away.” Could we ask for more? But what is the true nature of this love? Does God’s love demand nothing from us? When we speak of God’s love as unconditional, we must understand that His love is not something which can be bought. It is not given to us as a quid pro quo, a reward for good behaviour, or payment for some devotion or sacrifice which we have made to earn that love. St John asserts that God loved us while we were still sinners. His love for us is not dependent on us being righteous or worthy. No sacrifice or price we are willing to pay would be sufficient to purchase it.

But it is not true to say that God’s love makes no demands on us. In fact, a great deal is demanded of us. And here we have it in both the second reading and the gospel that God’s love challenges us to a new way of life that makes certain demands of us.

Firstly, we are required to obey and keep His commandments. His commandments are an expression of His will and our refusal to obey those commandments (and we know that God’s commandments are always good and just) is rebellion against His will. To claim that we love God and yet oppose His will would be a lie.

Secondly, principal among God’s commandments is the commandment to love others: “love one another, as I have loved you.” This is the benchmark by which all love is to be measured. We do not just love those who have been good to us, who have treated us well, whom we are indebted to. Love extends even to those who have done nothing to deserve it, those outside our circle of friends and family, and even those whom we consider enemies. Of course, we are not commanded to “like” as “liking” or “not liking” someone is purely subjective. True love is never subjective. To love, instead, is to intend the wellbeing of the other person. And this is something which can be accomplished and measured objectively. This is why St John can argue that “Anyone who fails to love can never have known God, because God is love.”

So, back to our question: does God have favourites? In the first reading, St Peter says: “God does not have favourites, but that anybody of any nationality who fears God and does what is right is acceptable to him.” On the one hand, God does not have favourites. But like any good Catholic answer, there is always a “but,” which means the second part is quite the opposite of the first proposition. God does seem to favour “anybody of any nationality who fears God and does what is right is acceptable to him.” How do we understand this seeming paradox?

We know that God loves every single one of us, but does He love some more than others? If that were the case, it would mean that God has a limited amount of love, so to speak, which He has to portion out in chunks according to His preferences. 10% for you, 20% for Susan and Bob, and 50% for His favourite, Faustina! But God is infinite, and His love is infinite – no limits, no portions, no measuring sticks. God is love (1 John 4:8); His very nature is love. God loves everyone 100% which means that His love is total, absolute, unlimited for each of us.

So, God doesn’t dish out His love in different portions according to who He likes better. And yet, there is a difference involved. The difference isn’t with God, but with us. Each one of us is a unique creation, a unique person. My relationship with God will never be the same as yours, and yours will never be the same as anyone else’s. This is because we are spiritual beings, and each spiritual being is truly individual. Just as you and I can be very close friends with the same person, my friendship with that person will necessarily be different than yours, because you and I are different. God respects our individuality, and He rejoices in it (after all, that’s how He made us – unique!). And so, every person’s relationship with God will be unique. In heaven, we will all be saints, but no two saints will be just alike.

God calls each of us to follow Him, but in different ways, with different natural talents, with different gifts. As our Lord assured us of this in the gospel: “I chose you; and I commissioned you to go out and to bear fruit, fruit that will last.” Notice, He chose you, all of you and not just some of you! And each of us will respond with different degrees of generosity and faithfulness, so that His grace will bear more fruit, or less fruit in our lives.

So, should we be jealous if someone seems to have greater gifts than us? Should we be envious of St Faustina for her special relationship with the Lord and her mystical visions? It is not a sin to desire complete communion with God, but it is a foolish distraction to become discouraged or envious of someone else’s progress in holiness! When we run into other people or read about saints who experience a deep, intimate relationship with God, we are faced with a choice. We can either envy them this intimacy – becoming angry and vindictive towards them because they have achieved a degree of holiness that we have not achieved. Or we can emulate them – we can acknowledge the beauty of the holiness they have achieved and use their experience as a spur to our own efforts pursuing spiritual maturity. As we travel and visit the homes of the saints in this country whose landscape is rich with saints, may we choose to imitate the saints even as we admire and honour them. Let your discouragement be driven out by hope; let your frustration be banished by faith; and, let your frown be erased by love.

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.”

The Economics of the Cross

Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

One of the most common vices which has taken a firm grip on us is our penchant to whine and complain. Who hasn’t complained, grumbled and ranted about others or a situation? We constantly complain about our parents, our children, our spouses, our leaders, our bosses, our subordinates, our fellow church members, our priests, and of course, God - no one has been spared from our list of complaints. What underlies our disgruntled feelings, unbeknownst to most of us, is our sense of entitlement. But here’s the irony. We feel entitled to respect from others, often without giving respect in return. And worse-yet? We feel that God owes us everything because we feel that we’ve either earned it or deserved it.

The sense of entitlement rears its ugly head in today’s gospel parable. It is what transforms the initial sense of gratitude into a gnawing sense of resentment. The story is told by the Lord in response to Peter’s question. A modern rephrasing of Peter’s question would sound like this, “What’s in it for us?” Peter wanted to know what reward would be given to those who give up everything to follow Jesus. In a sense, Peter wanted to know what his entitlement is.

Yet there is something in Peter’s comparative attitude and his need for the assurance of reward that does not fit well with labouring in the Lord’s vineyard. If Peter is worrying about a poor payoff which does not match the sacrifice he is called to make, the Lord overwhelms him with vision of gratuitous abundance. To Peter’s self-serving motivations, our Lord proposes another paradigm, that of generosity – a generous heart is one filled with gratitude and sees everything as grace. A generous heart considers the struggles, difficulties, the welfare of others, instead of just focusing on the injustices that life has dished out to us.

The story starts out with a conventional plot, hiring day workers, which already suggests that they were unemployed till that moment. But it has an unconventional ending - people who worked the least got equal pay, and got paid first. The owner of the vineyard orders that all be equally paid a denarius, whether you had worked the entire 12 hours or less than an hour. Something immediately strikes us as wrong. Conventional social dealings would dictate that those who only worked one hour would receive a twelfth of what the first group agreed to. But there is a greater surprise. To add injury to the already incensed members of the first group of workers, the latecomers get paid first. The master’s generosity, which is a pleasant surprise to the latecomers, becomes a cruel disappointment to the early birds.

The dissatisfaction of the first group of workers is understandable. They had endured the unrelenting heat of the sun, the hot scorching desert winds throughout the whole day, while the others worked for far less during the cool of the evening. Economic justice would demand that “to every man (be given) what he deserves.” Weren’t these workers entitled to a larger pay-out and extra benefits for the time and effort which they had put in? Therefore, thinking in terms of standard social and economic conventions, they expected more. But was their complaint justified? Didn’t they get what they deserved, what they had agreed upon at the beginning, and even more than the prevailing market standards? The landowner’s offer of one denarius for a day’s work is indeed generous. They had accepted it happily at the beginning. Furthermore, where vineyard day workers were victims of an exploitive socio-economic system, the graciousness of the landowner to provide work opportunities to them at a wage that was unequal to their job, was not a sign of meagerness but rather generosity.

We, therefore, come to realise that the root of their indignation came not from an exploitive wage scale but from seeing the good fortune of others whom they felt were not deserving of the same. The landowner had not been unjust, he has every right to do what he wants with his money. The real problem is that the grumblers harbour envy. The master’s generosity is an expression of gracious freedom, not callous arbitrariness, while workers’ complaints are an expression of their loveleness, not of their unfair treatment.

It is here that we see the radical difference between their sense of justice and that of the landowner, who symbolises God. The parable thus shows that God’s justice is not according to man’s calculations. God’s justice bestows mercy on the hapless and rebuffs the proud claims of merit. In contrast to human justice which rewards “every man what he deserves,” the divine principle of justice accords “to every man what he needs.” This is the economics of the cross. Our Lord Jesus died on the cross for us not because we deserved it. He died for us because we needed His perfect sacrifice of love. Thus, the bestowal of grace is not correlated to the work done – the sacrifice made, the amount of prayers offered, the expanse of one’s missionary efforts. It flows from the nature of God who is good, loving and gracious. Grace operates on the basis of the free choice of God, who dispenses his gifts with generosity.

Our society has truly been infected by an epidemic of envy and complaints. Rather than blaming God for the injustices in the world, the parable calls for honest self-examination – have we truly allowed our obsession with self-interest to dampen our joy and blind us to the needs of our neighbours? Pope Francis rightly states the problem in the second paragraph of Evangelii Gaudium, “The great danger in today’s world, pervaded as it is by consumerism, is the desolation and anguish born of a complacent yet covetous heart, the feverish pursuit of frivolous pleasures, and a blunted conscience. Whenever our interior life becomes caught up in its own interests and concerns, there is no longer room for others, no place for the poor. God’s voice is no longer heard, the quiet joy of his love is no longer felt, and the desire to do good fades. This is a very real danger for believers too. Many fall prey to it, and end up resentful, angry and listless.” (EG 2)

The generosity of God should always awaken us to greater mercy, compassion and generosity, rather than be a cause for complaint and grumbling. At the end of the day, for Christ’s disciples, all rewards are really “gifts” or expressions of divine favour and not earned “wages” or “mercy”. Don’t ask “what’s in it for me?” but rather, “What’s in it for the other guy?” That is a hard lesson to learn, because oftentimes when we go to God in prayer we think we deserve something from Him. We believe He owes us something. The same goes with service offered to the community of the Church. This parable is a painful but necessary reminder that what we receive from God is an undeserved gift. The Church owes us nothing. God owes us nothing. In fact, we owe the Church and God who works through the Church, everything.

A wise priest once gave me this potent piece of advice, “in God’s business, rule number one is that no one works for himself. Everybody takes care of somebody; in that way, all our backs are covered. If you doubt this kingdom paradigm, you will never be happy… so instead of looking at your neighbour as a nuisance and a burden, pray that he be your opportunity and strength.”

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.

Wisdom and Freedom

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Today’s gospel is made up of two parts. And if you really take a second closer look at both parts and consider the implications of what the Lord is telling us, both are equally inexplicable.

God does seem to be a Divine Troll who likes to play cruel tricks on us by “hiding these things from the learned and the clever and revealing them to mere children.” To find a clue to this paradoxical statement, one must go back to the primordial garden of Eden where Adam and Eve were permitted to eat all the fruits of the fruit bearing trees in that garden save and except, for the fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Despite this warning, our first parents disobeyed the clear and unambiguous instructions of God and consumed the forbidden fruit.

One may think that God’s verdict is an overreaction to a petty crime. But when examined closely, the story reveals the same theme which our Lord wishes to convey in the first part of today’s passage. True wisdom, “knowledge of good and bad,” can only be arrived at by humbly submitting to God and never apart from Him. Adam and Eve sought autonomy from God in making future moral judgments and this was their biggest mistake, the height of human folly. As the Psalmist reminds us: “The fool says in his heart, “There is no God”” (psalm 14:1; 53:1).

St Paul draws upon this reasoning when he concludes in his letter to the Romans that those who live unspiritual lives (lives without God) will die, whereas those who live spiritual lives, will live. The former may think themselves clever and wise in the ways of the world but would be proven the fool when they stand before God spiritually bankrupt.

We live in two worlds, the visible and the invisible. But all too often we focus so much on what we can see and hear that we neglect the world of the Spirit. It is in this invisible interior world that we see God more clearly. I’m reminded of the story of how St Brigid, one of the three patron saints of Ireland, performed a miracle by healing the blindness of an old and holy nun so as the latter could view a most beautiful sunset. After having admired God’s creation for a few moments, the holy nun turned to St Brigid and made this request: “Close my eyes again dear mother, for when the world is so visible to the eyes, God is less clearly seen to the soul.”

So, when God conceals something behind the veneer of mystery, He does so not out of spite or cruelty. He hides that which is most valuable because the things which are easily accessible often lose their value in our estimation. Familiarity breeds contempt while mystery heightens our desire for it.

We must now turn our attention to the second part of our Lord’s teaching. Some may think that this second half is preferable to the first part, since our Lord has promised us rest and that He will remove our burdens if we were to only come to Him in trust. But a closer look at the words of our Lord will also result in something no less befuddling than the first part.

Don’t you think it’s a little bit strange that the Lord’s idea of getting us to rest in Him involves putting on a yoke? A yoke was not created for rest; it was created for work. It literally has nothing to do with rest at all. When our Lord invited the weary and heavy laden to come to Him and find rest, we would expect Him to say something like; Take off that yoke you’re wearing — you don’t need it anymore! But Jesus’ solution for yoke-weariness was not to cast off the yoke entirely; it was to yoke ourselves to Him, to walk in step with Him, to work in sync with Him.

What is the yoke of Christ? The yoke came to be understood by the Jews as a metaphor for the Law. The Jews would use the yoke of the Mosaic Law to pull their life and everything in it along. It left them, however, tired, worn out, and burned out on a religion which laid on more burdens than lifts them. The yoke of grace which our Lord offered was contrary to the yoke of the Law. It was a move from depending on one’s own efforts and ability, to depending on God’s grace and power. This is a different kind of yoke, one perfectly fitted to support and aid us in fulfilling His purpose for our lives. That doesn’t mean being yoked to Christ will always be comfortable, but it’s not supposed to crush us either. You see, that when we are yoked to Christ, He carries most of the weight. He makes Himself become a beast of burden, a donkey like what we heard in the first reading, to bear us and lead us to victory and rest.

Today, most of us don’t suffer under the yoke of the Law like Jesus’ listeners did, but we have other yokes. Chief among these I would suspect is the yoke of performance, the yoke of living up to other people’s expectations, real or imagined. For example, we want to be the best parents possible, so we look for the ideal parenting methods. How our kids turn out is the measure of our parenting success (we think), so we stress out about every little thing they do wrong or might do wrong. Or perhaps we want to be the best at our jobs, so we take on more and more responsibilities because we are afraid that saying no means we might fall behind, lose some of our perks, or be overlooked for the next raise or promotion. Eventually, the overwhelming demands on our limited time and energies render us incapable of hearing the voice of God because we don’t even have time to stop and listen.

When we pull the burdens of life by the yoke of our own performance, then performance sets the pace. We race faster and faster, trying to outdo our last personal best or to measure up to the expectations of others. But when we take on the yoke of Christ and let Him lead, He determines the pace, and we find that His grace makes up what we lack.

So, in these two principles laid out in the Gospel, our Lord presents us with the paradox of Christian discipleship in a nutshell. The wisdom of God may seem foolish in comparison to all the cunning wiles of the worldly and unspiritual people of this world, and yet it is the only wisdom that can guarantee our salvation. The man who counts himself wise in the ways of the world may end up the fool in the after life because the wisdom of God has been hidden from them, as a result of their own choice in pursuing worldly riches.

Likewise, in wishing to be truly free, we must not cast off everything in pursuit of libertine hedonism but instead humbly submit to the yoke of Christ which is light and easy. The yoke of Christ is perfectly fitted to support and aid us in fulfilling His Father’s purpose for our lives. It’s not always comfortable, but that’s not the point. It is always what I need for the path He wants me to walk. Under the yoke of grace, I rest content with where I am right here, right now, weaknesses and all — as long as I am walking close to the Lord Jesus, knowing that with Him, in Him and through Him, I will be led to greater heights.

The Hospitality of God

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

What seems to be the most common comparison made between Catholic parishes and Protestant churches is that the former lack the warmth and hospitality which you can readily experience in the latter. This too has often been cited as the main reason why these Protestant churches appear to be more attractive than their Catholic counterparts. So, is offering better hospitality the solution to getting our Catholics to stay put and to attract more new members?

Hospitality in the ancient world was much more than politeness or friendliness. In an age when inns were few and far between, travelers had to rely upon the hospitality of strangers to aid them in their journeys. Hospitality was also a way to survive in a culture where political boundaries were in constant flux.

Before dismissing this as pure superficiality, let us consider what the readings have to say about hospitality? It is clear that hospitality is more than just a five-star personal butler service by your team of wardens, or getting a Louis Vuitton door gift bag when you are identified as a first timer, or you are feted with a standing ovation by the whole congregation or a cheerful welcoming ditty led by the choir. Hospitality means more than welcoming people and making them feel at home. It means more than being friendly and generous, especially toward strangers. The theme of hospitality in the readings is more nuanced.

In the first reading, we have the story of how a pagan, a Shunammite woman, shows remarkable hospitality to the prophet Elisha and is rewarded with “a prophet’s reward,” the gift of life to one who was barren, the epitome of God’s graciousness. Though not part of the biblical account, a Jewish midrash narrates how Elisha performs a second miracle which resurrects this woman’s son at her behest when he died prematurely due to an accident. In another midrashic account, the son of the Shunammite woman comes back to life twice, once when he dies in the field and Elisha revives him, as is related above; and a second time, after the death of Elisha when his corpse comes into contact with the prophet’s bones. So, the story is not just an illustration of the promise of our Lord in the gospel, that “anyone who welcomes a prophet will have a prophet’s reward; and anyone who welcomes a holy man will have a holy man’s reward” but also a prefiguration of the greater “reward” which the Lord promises to all who welcome Him and His disciples, which is the gift of the resurrection.

This is what St Paul wishes to convey to the Romans in the second reading: “When we were baptised in Christ Jesus we were baptised in his death; in other words, when we were baptised we went into the tomb with him and joined him in death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the Father’s glory, we too might live a new life.” By our baptism into Christ’s death, His death becomes ours. Christ’s story becomes our story. Christ’s strength becomes our strength. Christ’s body becomes our body. Christ’s risen life becomes our risen life. This is the greatest gift of hospitality - salvation. And for this reason, those who welcome us also welcomes the One who sent us because they will be welcoming Christ. We, by virtue of our baptism, are that other Christ!

And finally, we come to the gospel. Christ is the ultimate paradigmatic model of a virtuous life. Christ is not just one priority among many. He is the priority which supersedes all other priorities - in fact, He is the absolute priority over the closest family ties, over life and finally over possession of one’s own self. But this priority comes with a unique privilege and reward - the servant or envoy is placed on par with the principal. How the servant or delegate is treated is equivalent to how the principal is treated. There are not two different standards, one for the subordinate and one for the superior, but one single standard for both. This is at the heart of the mystery of Incarnation - that God became man - and this too is the very essence of the mystery of redemption - Christ took our place on the cross, and by His resurrection, we who die in Him will also rise with Him. The glory which He reaped on the cross and by His death is for us to enjoy too.

So, one can see that hospitality goes even deeper than good manners and kindness shown to a stranger or a visitor. It is, in effect, what God has done in the person and work of Jesus Christ for the salvation of His bride. In fact, the whole of the bible and salvation history can be understood in terms of divine hospitality. From the moment God placed Adam in a garden which the latter had not planted, to how He showed hospitality and offered protection to Abraham and his family, to how God gave the Israelites the Promised Land to call home, to finally preparing the heavenly city of God that welcomes and provides eternal sanctuary to the righteous, we see scriptures revealing to us the primordial hospitality of God, in contrast to the inhospitality brought about by man’s sin.

We see a similar pattern in the life of Christ. The inhospitality that Jesus encounters from the time of His birth, when there was no room for Him in the inn (Lk 2:7), and when Herod tried to do away with Him (Mt 2:13), He continues to encounter throughout His entire lifetime. He came to His own, and His own people did not accept Him (Jn 1:11). Our Lord counters the inhospitality of the human heart with the hospitality of His heavenly Father. In the light of the crucified and risen Christ, the community of Christian faith proclaims that God, the Host of the world, has given us His Son and Spirit, to transform an inhospitable humankind into His own hospitable image and likeness.

So, in a world of deep and divisive hostility like ours today, we truly believe a recapturing of the understanding and practice of biblical hospitality to be a key component of renewal of our parishes. Hospitality is not optional to the Christian life. Our souls are measured by, among other things, how faithfully we provide hospitality to others. According to Christ, it is one of the conditions for salvation: “I was a stranger and you made me welcome” (Mt. 25:35). We might tend to think of hospitality as the sole realm of the minister of hospitality or front desk parish secretary. But the warmest greeting by a warden can be immediately undone by a parishioner’s harsh word or dirty look. The only way parishes become beacons of hospitality is for all of us to make hospitality our responsibility. When everyone in a parish is welcoming, serving, blessing and being blessed, offering others the greatest gift which is the gift of salvation, then we can be sure that when we meet Jesus, He will show us the greatest hospitality by saying, “Come, O blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world” (Mat 25:34).