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.

The Truth isn't Nice

Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Many Christians, including Catholics (perhaps more so), actually believe that they are pretty good Christians and are guaranteed a place in heaven, since they are baptised (or as Catholics are fond of proudly but inaccurately stating: “born Catholic”). But the painful truth is that their version of the faith is very often one which is undemanding, customised according to their personal preferences, the dumb-down, no frills, bare minimum light version of the original.

The core teaching of this soft version of Christianity or Catholicism is the gospel of nice or ‘Moralistic Therapeutic Deism’, as one author coins it. Instead of a suffering Christ on the cross, the jovial image of Santa Claus or even a cuddly Care Bear has taken over as potent symbols of this new religion. The gospel of niceness has seeped into our own Christian culture and it has become indiscernible from the real thing. We are often too nice to say no, to question others’ opinions, to critique others’ decisions or to point out the obvious. We let people get away with stuff that is blatantly incorrect or wrong-headed, immoral or illegal, or sinful – we make excuses by being nice about it. We complain when canon law or liturgical rubrics are cited or implemented. In such a religious system, the following words and concepts are taboo and have been expunged from our vocabulary – sin, moral evil, and of course, “hell!” A God who is the personification of niceness will never tolerate hell! Never!

Here are some core beliefs of this new politically correct religion:

1. God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other.

2. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.

3. God is not involved in my life except when I need God to resolve a problem.

4. Since no one is really bad, and sin doesn’t really exist, everyone gets to go to heaven.

So, does hell exist? In the Gospel today someone asked the Lord, “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” This is a topic most Catholics are concerned about as well. It is a difficult subject to think about and we would rather not think about it if we can. Many Catholics believe everyone will go to heaven, and that there isn’t such a thing as hell. They believe that God is loving, forgiving, merciful and would never send anyone to hell. This view, however, is simply a personal opinion! It is not based on the catechism or the scriptures, which is most evident in today’s Gospel. In fact, this belief is called the sin of presumption.

Our Lord avoided a simple straightforward answer. And this wasn’t because He felt uncomfortable with the topic as modern people would. Instead, He began to lay out the high demands of discipleship, which is a way of stating that we should never take salvation for granted. He answered the question by saying that we should strive to enter through the narrow gate and adds this sobering but significant footnote, “many will try to enter and will not succeed.” The reason for this would be that many would prefer the easier and more convenient path. As Yogi bear would often exclaim, “why do more when you can do less?”

But our Lord lays out for us a choice between two paths in life. The first is the difficult path that leads to the narrow gate and ultimately to Eternal Life. The second is the broad and easy path which leads to the wide gate and a destructive end. It is a popular error of our time to believe that it does not matter which road one takes. What’s toxic about the denial of hell is that it suggests that God doesn’t much care what we do in this life as long as everyone’s enjoying it. That’s not Christianity, that’s hedonism, the worship of enjoyment and fun.

The ‘narrow door’ which the Lord speaks of, flies in the face of the core tenets of Moral Therapeutic Deism. It is a reminder that Christianity is not a ‘free for all’ ideology. It implies that there are boundaries, there are heavy demands, there are consequences to our actions, that living according to God’s commandments would mean that one must be open to admonishment. It suggests that one should not take salvation for granted and that damnation is very real for those who choose not to go through the ‘narrow door.’ Our Lord knew that “nice people” (or at least they thought so) would have Him crucified because what He taught them would not be deemed sufficiently “nice.” Our Lord went to the cross not because He was nice or He wasn’t, that is immaterial. He willingly accepted death on the cross because He loved His people “to the end”. Love is the ultimate criterion, and not whether people get offended or not.

In the final analysis, the gospel of niceness won’t do. It isn’t salvific. It isn’t Jesus’ message. In other words, it’s a false religion that makes us feel good about ourselves – the gospel of ‘shiok sendiri’. Admit it; part of the appeal of a gospel of niceness is that it makes us feel good about ourselves. This often translates into the gospel of comfort and convenience – we know that we have subscribed to it when we complain about the uncomfortable pews, the temperature in the Church, the inconvenience of parking and of course, the long services and homilies. If the gospel is that niceness is the solution, then we’ve missed the point. Niceness won’t save you. Comfort and convenience won’t save you. In fact, the only thing the easy and soft gospel of niceness will do is to ease you into hell. You won’t know what hit you till it’s too late. On the other hand, the life, suffering, death, burial, and resurrection of a crucified Christ will be our salvation. Anything else is an idol and a false gospel.

The Gospel of Christ, paid by His own blood on the cross, is demanding. It demands that we make the ultimate sacrifice by turning our backs on wealth, power and popularity, comfort and convenience, the false gods that have become the defining elements in our lives. It demands that we burn our bridges when we have resolved to follow Jesus on the road to Calvary. It demands that we store treasures in heaven where it cannot be stolen or suffer the ravages of destruction. It demands that we avoid seeking honour among men, but strive to become rich in the sight of God. It demands passage through the narrow door. It demands that we expose the lies which Moralistic Therapeutic Deism peddles.

Charity covers a multitude of sins; but it does not call evil good; it does not give excuses for inconsistencies; it does not hide the inconvenient truth with a dressed-up lie. Crookedness and worldliness are still crookedness and worldliness, sin remains sin even if you choose to sugar-coat it. In the final analysis, it is not love nor is it broad-mindedness, when we allow people to follow their own erroneous ways, paths that may ultimately lead them to destruction. It is always the loving thing to help people choose the narrow and hard path, which will remain unpopular, because the Cross will never be a popular option, but it is most necessary for our salvation.

Heaven doesn't require our imagination

Second Sunday of Lent Year C

God and the Devil, Heaven and Hell: these used to be the common themes found in almost everything ranging from cartoons to fiction novels, artistic masterpieces to the Sunday pulpit, as if these two themes are ingrained in the fabric of society. Nearly every human being holds some sort of belief system regarding heaven, hell, or both – you either believe in it, are ambivalent to it or scoff at it. A scathing judgment came from Stephen Hawking who argued that a belief that heaven or an afterlife awaits us, is a "fairy story" for people afraid of death. Perhaps you can recall these words from John Lennon’s song “Imagine”: “Imagine there’s no heaven; it’s easy if you try. No hell below us–above us only sky.” The song argues that if you can imagine away these unpleasant realities, we could create utopia on earth.

So, what happened to heaven and hell? In generations past it seemed the message of salvation could not be preached without the poignant illustrations of the glory of heaven promised to those who remained faithful to Jesus Christ, their Lord and Saviour, whereas the lake of fire is reserved for those who refuse to accept Him. But heaven’s gotten a bad press lately. We don’t believe in it like we used to. We don’t think about it very much nowadays. We’re all too busy making a living to worry about what happens after we die. We live, interact, work, and fall in love without any second thought of whether we will eventually end up in heaven or hell. Both heaven and hell are now used as metaphors to describe our present state, rather than two states after our death. Someone once put it this way, ‘For the unbeliever, this life is the only heaven they will ever know. For the believer, this life is the only hell we will ever know.’ Belief in heaven has taken a plunge because we are caught up with a utopian dream of establishing an earthly paradise. Salvation is no longer the desired goal. It has been replaced by therapeutic earth-bound substitutes – inner peace, happiness in the present life, longevity, health, wealth, wholeness of being, and solutions to our problems.

Are the likes of Stephen Hawkings and John Lennons of this world right, in disbelieving that there is life after death? Is heaven a mere delusion of those who cannot face death or the horror of this present life? Or is the belief in heaven rooted in reality and if it is, what has it to do with our present lives? Our readings today seem to say so. They partly lift aside the veil that separates earth from heaven and in so doing, they reveal the glory of the world as God created it. In the first reading, the ancient Abram who had lost all hope of producing a progeny who will ensure the continuation of his name, is provided a glimpse of heaven. In the stars, he is shown the promise of God that his descendants would be beyond his present imagining. In the second reading Paul exhorts the community in Philippi to “not give way but remain faithful in the Lord,” by reminding them that their “homeland is in heaven” and that Christ will “transfigure these wretched bodies of ours into copies of his glorious body.”

Finally, we have in the Gospel, Luke’s account of the transfiguration. The transfiguration occurs in a context where the Lord had just revealed to His disciples that He would be put to death in Jerusalem. His prediction of His imminent death was met with denial and even anger. They were shaken by the thought that their Master, the awaited Messiah, would meet such a horrific fate. This is why the Lord took them up to the mountain where, "he was transfigured before them." This experience of the transfiguration was, therefore, God’s way of delivering the disciples from a crisis of faith by providing them with a glimpse into the glory of heaven. When we have sight of the finishing line, the rigours of the race become less demanding and we gain a second wind.

The cause of a crisis of faith often arises from the way in which we see people and things around us. Death, suffering, separation seem to be defining moments in our lives. The disciples needed a vision from God’s point of view, to see that in spite of the death sentence hanging over the head of Jesus, God was still with Him, God was still in control of events, God would see to it that in the end, He would be victorious over His foes, even over death. In the Transfiguration, Peter, James and John saw that there was more to Jesus than what they could see and hear and touch; they got a glimpse of the future glory of the Lord’s resurrection. His death would not be the end; it would only inaugurate the beginning of Eternal Life. It would open the gates of heaven.

An important truth shines forth from the centre of this mystery. Glimpses of this transfigured world are not only good for our mental health but are essential for our salvation. They help us see through the illusions cast by the devil who constantly tempts us with his greatest weapon, which is despair. We are tempted to store up treasures in this world and to place our hopes in projects which can only disappoint us. Our dreams of an earthly utopia, where we will be shielded from all pain, trouble, and disappointment is merely delusional. Christians disagree with Hawking’s conclusion – heaven is not “a fairy-tale”, it’s the Utopian ideal that proves to be real. Heaven makes the journey worth travelling. Heaven provides the strength to bear the weight of our tribulations. Heaven keeps us on course, away from the distractions that tie us to this earthly life and its lies. Heaven must exist, or our present suffering will lose its meaning. Heaven must exist, if we are to persevere and keep running till we reach the finishing line.

Unlike John Lennon or other Hollywood celebrities who need to “imagine” how our world would look like without heaven or hell, we Christians have no need for flighty imagination. We have the Eucharist, a glimpse and a taste of heaven. The Eucharist is real. Jesus, truly and substantially present in the Eucharist, is real. To see this requires faith, not imagination. As St John Paul II once wrote: “Today, the Eucharist which we are preparing to celebrate takes us in spirit to Mount Tabor together with the Apostles Peter, James and John, to admire in rapture the splendour of the transfigured Lord… We, pilgrims on earth, are granted to rejoice in the company of the transfigured Lord when we immerse ourselves in the things of above through prayer and the celebration of the divine mysteries. But, like the disciples, we too must descend from Tabor into daily life where human events challenge our faith. On the mountain we saw; on the paths of life we are asked tirelessly to proclaim the Gospel which illuminates the steps of believers.”

King, Shepherd and Judge

Solemnity of Christ the King

Acknowledging Christ as King of the Universe seems easy enough. But how is He a king? The readings today provide us with two additional concomitant images: this King of ours is also a Shepherd as well as a Judge.

Out of these three images, King, Shepherd and Judge, the one which least sits well with a modern audience would definitely be that of Christ as Judge. We have no issues acknowledging that Christ is Lord and King of our lives, nor would any reasonable person reject the image of a kind and loving shepherd who tenderly cares for his flock. But the notion of Christ being the Supreme Judge flies against our modern sensibilities which frowns on any attempt by individuals or institutions to pass moral judgment on others.

But there is a great deal of hypocrisy at work here. Notice that those who profess and say that they strive to make our society more open, inclusive and tolerant have no qualms coming up with an array of insults and labels for their perceived ideological enemies. It’s quite rich to profess that one is striving to be non-judgmental whilst labelling others as Pharisees, sexists, misogynists, homophobes, xenophobes, fascists etc. Seems like “rules for thee but not for me.” This is the very definition of unfairness and also the very reason why we need a fair, just and objective Judge who can defend the truth and expose the lies. Our society, no matter how enlightened it may claim to be, cannot be trusted to make that final judgment.

The parable of the sheep and the goats is wonderfully simple: there will be judgment for all; all of us will end up in one of two destinations: eternal life or eternal punishment. Here, we are presented with the Catholic teaching of the Last Things: death, judgment, heaven and hell. But the parable is not about what heaven or hell are like. What the parable seeks to set out are the grounds by which the determination of each person’s destination is achieved. So, the parable is about who gets to go there and on what basis. The criteria is determined by Christ our Judge.

It is vital to understand that in first century Palestine, sheep and goats were basically regarded as the same animal, and were not distinguishable, as they are now. In the account of the first Passover, the Passover lamb, could have actually been a goat. ‘Take a lamb from the sheep or the goats’, they are told. Sheep and goats would graze together, only to be separated at the end of their lives. This tells us that ultimately God makes distinctions that we do not, and when those distinctions are made, there will be an element of surprise. Likewise, in the parable, no-one knows whether they are a sheep or a goat, and only God can tell the difference and He will sort us out in the end, like a divine Hogwarts sorting hat.

Even more important in this parable is the rationale behind the Day of Judgement. The parable makes it clear: where you go when you die depends on how you have lived. And the good guys are those who have shown compassion and care for the weak and vulnerable. It doesn’t require knowledge in rocket science to understand the basis of judgment: if you cared for them you will be saved, if you didn’t, woe betide you.

So, this parable is meant to provide us with an important lesson that the Last Things are certain – death is certain, judgment is certain, both heaven and hell are certain – and we should orientate our lives and make the correct choices in line with the intended final outcome. The Church views this as a serious obligation on her part to teach this. The importance of this lesson is demonstrated best during the period of the mediaeval Western Church, when the emphasis at funerals was that of judgment. Hell and purgatory were very much in evidence in the liturgy. Funerals became a public event at which the Church attempted to instruct the people about the Last Things, and artists depicted the torments of the damned and the rewards of the faithful. Similarly, ‘mystery plays’ portrayed the souls of the damned being dragged into hell, or purgatory, and Dante emphasised this in his Divine Comedy, which actually, isn’t that funny.

Over the centuries, as human society claims to have become more enlightened, we have witnessed a movement away from this traditional image of the End Times. For example, our funerals have come to look more like extended eulogies, celebrating the life of the person, canonising the virtues of the deceased, rather than an occasion to intercede on behalf of a sinner, pleading with God to pardon his sins. By obscuring the judgment of the soul at his death, we have done so to our detriment and his. For when the spectre of a final judgment is obscured from our vision, the consequences are dire.

First, immorality and sin are normalised with no accountability to God.

Secondly, we attempt to find perfect solutions to every problem in this life because we have stopped believing that Christ is the Final Solution and His solution would only be made manifest at the Last Judgment.

Thirdly, we eventually grow desperate and fall into despair when we recognise the folly of our solutions and the continued prevalence of injustices in this world.

Finally, we neglect our duty to pray for the dead. We forget that the dead do not need our praises. They need our prayers.

As you can see, contemplating the Last Judgment is not all just dark and dreary and feeds on some morbid Catholic preoccupation with death and destruction. Contemplating the Last Things gives us a renewed ability to rely on the hope that there is a Final Solution and only in Christ will we find it. He offers us the hope of the resurrection.

For those who wonder whether it makes any difference to be good in this life or if our wicked deeds will have any consequences, be certain of this truth: the wicked “will go away to eternal punishment, and the virtuous to eternal life.” Ultimately the road of human life divides into two, one half splitting off towards a punishment that never ceases and the other towards an undying life and an unquenchable love with the Lord in His kingdom. This is no empty promise nor toothless warning. Let us not treat these words lightly because they were spoken by the One who is King of the Universe, the Shepherd who pastures His sheep, seeks out the lost, bandage the wounded, the Judge who will separate the sheep from the goats. If we are prepared to take His words seriously, we should therefore live accordingly.

The Master's Generosity

Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

This being the second last Sunday in Ordinary Time, we are treated to the longest parable in the Gospel of St Matthew. Trigger warning: a long gospel reading deserves a longer homily.

The plot line is familiar but its message is surprisingly more familiar. You would have heard it repeated over pulpits, in Sunday School classrooms, and homes. Its most common interpretation could be summed up simply as “use it or lose it”. In other words, a person’s gifts, abilities, and talents are to be used or that person will suffer their loss. If this is the point of the story, the message should simply be one which calls us to work harder, apply our talents and resources in a more productive way to produce a better outcome.

But if the gospel is to be considered in the context of the other readings for this Sunday, you would realise that this story is so much more than a lesson in capitalism or a motivational anecdote meant to stir us to use our personal talents. By the way, the word “talent” used here has nothing to do with a person’s personal endowment and ability. It’s used as a measure, in this case, a measure of money. So, what is the context of the parable? Our Lord was responding to His disciples’ questions concerning the timing of the destruction of the temple, the sign of His return, and the end of the age. The parable is about the Last Judgment!

In the context of His Second Coming, Our Lord is teaching His listeners to be prepared for His return. The heart and the point of this parable, that all too often is overlooked, is that preparation must be made for His return by first responding to Him by faith. The reason, as the second reading tells us, is that “the Day of the Lord is going to come like a thief in the night.” Because the time and day of the coming of the Lord is unpredictable, we must always be prepared.

Outward actions are used in this parable as mere reflexion of the faith (or the lack of faith) of the three servants. This faith is not some vague, ethereal religious notion focused on some intangible God. Instead, this faith rests upon the very person, character, integrity, and words of the Lord Jesus Christ. And just like other teachings of our Lord in the Gospel of St Matthew, faith expresses itself in action. Mere platitudes, like calling out “Lord, Lord” would be insufficient. A man of faith must put his faith into action, just like a man who must build his house on a solid foundation of good works rather than empty words which shift like sand.

After depositing different sums of money with his three servants “each in proportion to his own ability,” the master in the story leaves for a faraway country. The parable records no instructions from the master to his servants, yet there is a clear implication that along with the money, the master also transferred responsibility to them.

Just like the bridegroom who was late in last week’s parable of the ten bridesmaids, the master’s return in today’s story is delayed. Once again, we see the distinction made between the sensible servants and the foolish one. The first two servants take their responsibilities seriously, invest the money that had been entrusted to them, because they know that they would have to give an account to their master upon his return. They were the ones who had chosen to remain vigilant, to “stay awake.” But the third servant was negligent and instead of confessing his mistake, he shows further insolence by accusing his master of being a harsh man. The one who is being judged turns on his judge and accuses him of being unjust. That’s irony for you.

This is the pivot of the story. The servant returns the one talent to his master with an interesting indictment. He accuses his master of being a hard man, one who reaps where he did not sow. The servant is accusing his master of being an exploiter of other people’s labour. The servant then gives the excuse that, motivated by fear of his master’s wrath, he hid the talent.

The master does not defend himself, but rather answers the indictment with a staggering counter indictment. He accuses the servant of being wicked and slothful. Certainly, being lazy is an understandable accusation. But in his own words, the servant also admits that he failed to do anything with the money given to him because he was fearful. He was afraid of failure. He was afraid of the judgment of his master. But was fear the real reason or just an excuse?

Notice that the master does not accuse him of being fearful but accuses him of being “wicked.” This seems strange and disconnected with the other accusation of him being lazy or the servant’s excuse of being fearful. But the master’s accusation exposes the real reason for the servant’s inaction. Fear was not the true motivation of the wicked servant but was merely the excuse he used. Contempt for the master was the servant’s true motivation. This accusation provides us with the key to understand it. The parable is no longer a story about self-effort, but rather a story about the motivation of the servant’s heart.

In stark contrast to the other two servants who recognised the master’s generosity, the wicked and lazy servant could only see the negative side of his master’s character and maligned him as being a “hard man”, reaping where he did not sow. His phenomenal lack of gratitude, his resentful skewed vision of reality, his fear of failure, his reluctance to take responsibility for his own laziness would condemn him. They are clear incriminating proof of his lack of faith in the Master. Because of this, he could never share in his master’s happiness.

With this pivot in the story, we realise the focus on the story is not the various responses of the servants but rather the master’s true intention as shown in his commendation of the first two servants by inviting them to “come and join in the master’s happiness.” The great prize of the parable is relationship, to be in the presence of the master, or Christ Himself, and to share in His joy. Thus, the focus of the commendation to the faithful servants reveals the master’s desire to bring his servants into a new relationship with him. Those who were once called servants would now enter into his joy. This is what God wants of each of us. He wants us to be with Him in paradise forever. This is how salvation looks like. On the other hand, the servant who found no joy in the master’s presence and actions, endured it grudgingly, and treated his master with contempt, would receive his just reward: he will never share in the master’s happiness. For the third servant, being in his master’s presence does not bring happiness. On the contrary, the experience is excruciating. This is how hell looks like.

What about us? The Lord has given us the supreme gift of His grace, an invitation to salvation, to share in His happiness. We are left with an option. Do we accept the invitation and respond to it with grateful hearts, or do we reject the invitation to share in our Lord’s happiness by our contempt for Him? To those who demonstrated faithfulness, more will be given in the form of grace and a closer relationship to the Lord. But for the one who has no faith, who does not appreciate the gifts of grace and salvation, will lose everything, including a share in the master’s happiness. We can either show gratitude or contempt for God’s gifts; have a share in the promise of salvation, or lose it altogether by our contempt.

Be Wise and Stay Awake

Thirty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

As we approach the close of the liturgical year, our readings begin to take on an Advent-like theme: watchful vigilance in preparation for the Lord’s Coming. That is why the Lord closes with this warning, “So stay awake, because you do not know either the day or the hour.”

What does it mean to stay awake? Our Lord cannot be intending this to be taken literally to suggest that Christians should be perpetual insomniacs. For those who have had the experience of keeping vigil to watch over a loved one who is sick, or to view your favourite football team play in the wee hours of the morning or to catch the final results of an election, despite our best efforts to keep alert, sleep still overtakes us. We fall asleep out of exhaustion but also out of disappointment. We fall asleep because we have lost hope to hold out a little longer.

Today’s parable describes the sleepiness that spreads through the community that tires of waiting for the Bridegroom. It should be a night of celebration and joy because the bridegroom is finally returning. But instead, the night becomes frustrating because he is late in coming, just like us when things don’t happen as we had hoped – when God doesn’t work according to our schedule and our Lord does not arrive when we want Him to. This was the experience of the early Christians in Thessalonica to whom St Paul addressed in his letter. St Paul wanted to assure them that the coming of the Lord was certain, and no one would miss out on it.

Coming back to the parable. Notice that all ten bridesmaids got drowsy and fell asleep, the foolish as well as the sensible. For a parable which ends with our Lord’s exhortation to stay awake, it would seem strange that all ten bridesmaids slept on the job. It is as if to say that falling asleep is inevitable, a fact of life. It is not avoiding sleep that differentiates the wise from the foolish. So what sets the sensible apart from the foolish?

The difference is in the extra supply of oil the sensible ones brought and the lack of preparation on the part of the foolish ones who did not expect that they had to wait long. By preparing themselves, the five sensible bridesmaids are allowed to join the groom and enter into the wedding feast. But what about the foolish bridesmaids? Why are they judged harshly? The problem of the foolish virgins is not sleepiness but something more fundamental. They were simply unprepared for the long haul. The shutting of the door is an indication of final judgment: there is no longer any way for them to get into the kingdom once the window of opportunity closes. This is an ominous reminder that life is decisive. On this side of death, we are given countless opportunities to repent, amend our ways, change the direction of our lives. But at death, the deal is done. At death, we can no longer rectify the mistakes of the past. We would have to live for eternity with the consequences of our life’s decisions.

It doesn’t take a genius to make out the symbolism of the various characters in the parable. The bridegroom is Jesus, the bride is the Church and the ten bridesmaids are representing the Christian members of the Church. But what about the oil? It is interesting to note that in Greek, the word for “oil” is a play on the word for “mercy.” Oil is what the Good Samaritan uses to heal the wounds of the man who was robbed by brigands. Oil was also used by Mary to anoint and consecrate our Lord, in preparation for His death and burial. St Augustine tells us that the oil represents “good work”. This explains the reason why the sensible bridesmaids could not share their extra oil with the foolish ones since good works are personal to each of us. We cannot be taking credit for someone else’s good works.

When this parable is read in the light of the entire gospel of St Matthew, the correspondence between the oil, light and good works becomes apparent. For example, in the Sermon on the Mount, our Lord compares good deeds to the light of a lamp that must “shine before others” (5:16). Later in the sermon, our Lord speaks about Christians who say, “Lord, Lord,” but who fails to do the will of the Father (7:21). Light is also mentioned in the first reading taken from the Book of Wisdom. It describes “wisdom is bright, and does not grow dim. By those who love her she is readily seen, and found by those who look for her.” The wisdom spoken of here is not just scientific or philosophical knowledge acquired by study and learning. Rather, it is the reflexion of God’s own Wisdom, the Wisdom by which God creates the world and guides humanity. So, a wise man is one who knows and does the will of God.

The parable thus urges the disciples to persevere in good works in accordance with God’s will. It is one thing to make a strong start in the Christian life, to believe in Jesus, commit oneself to a life of repentance, and to carry a torch for Christ, as did all ten bridesmaids. But this commitment must be sustained over time. There is a danger that any of us can grow tired of doing good. One’s enthusiasm for works of righteousness can run out. Disappointment can set in and we grow spiritually lazy.

That’s when the extra oil is necessary for the long run. The Christian journey is not a 100-metre dash. It’s a 1,000 km marathon. Sustaining our faith with prayer and the sacraments, persevering in spite of the odds, refuelling our fervour for Christ, are the things needed to get us past the finishing line. Only those who do so will be recognised by the bridegroom and welcomed into the nuptial celebration of the kingdom.

At the end of the day, the call to “stay awake” is not so much a call to wakefulness, to fight sleep, but rather a call to spiritual vigilance. One makes oneself ready for the Lord’s arrival by dutiful fulfilment of responsibilities. Failure to exercise diligence is dangerous in the spiritual life. The Christian life requires a life-long commitment and not just sporadic shows of piety. After all, no one knows the day or the hour when the bridegroom will come. But we can be certain of this: The night cannot last forever; the Bridegroom will return. Do not put your lamps away in a closet but have them on hand and lit. Prepare for that extra supply of oil because you can never have “too much” of it. Never tire to do good, even if the world says that it’s foolish and pointless to do so. “So stay awake, because you do not know either the day or the hour.”

Come to the Wedding

Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Deprive a camel of water for a week, and you would see the poor thirsty creature race to the nearest drinking hole to get its first sip of water. One would imagine that after three months of lockdown and being deprived of the Eucharist for the longest time imaginable, many Catholics would be rushing back for Mass and clamour to get a taste of the Eucharist. But this was not so. It began with a slow trickle and then the numbers plateaued. Ironically, those who really wanted to return were told to wait - the high-risk members of our community, the elderly. Many were willing to risk infection and even death in order to get a taste of the Eucharist but were told to be patient and to wait until it was safer to return. And here’s the other irony. Just as we have gradually made allowance for the elderly to return with extra precautions, we are seeing a second surge which has resulted in another suspension of Masses in the Klang Valley. Back to watching live-streamed Masses and spiritual communion. That is Murphy’s Law for you.

My fear is that with this second shut down of churches and suspension of public Masses, this may be the final nail hammered into the coffin of many Catholics who no longer feel any urge or see any need to return for Mass. There is a likelihood that when we finally decide to reopen, few would heed the call to return for Mass. Sounds very much like today’s parable.

The Lord compares the kingdom of Heaven to a king who gave a wedding banquet in honour of his son. Those who were invited refused the invitation. He sent out other servants a second time with special instructions to say: "I have my banquet all prepared, my oxen and fattened cattle have been slaughtered, everything is ready. Come to the wedding.” But they took the invitation lightly. Many just gave light reasons to excuse themselves from the banquet.

It is easy to make a connexion between the wedding feast and the Eucharist, given the similar scenario we are facing - many have been invited but few have heeded the call. But the parable points to something bigger - the Heavenly Banquet. Heaven is, of course, the ultimate prize. Yes, it is a great opportunity to get back to attend Mass but our ultimate hope is directed to our perfect, eternal fulfillment — to heaven, that is. And in a way, there is a connexion to the Eucharist because the Eucharist is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet, or as St John Chrysostom beautifully puts it, “heaven on earth.” So how we respond to this earthly invitation to participate in Mass, is ultimately connected to our response to God’s invitation to participate in His heavenly banquet. If you want to get to heaven, start by coming for Mass.

Many who have chosen to stay away have done so for valid reasons. After making a risk assessment as it should be, they have decided to avoid the crowds, at least for now. But others I guess have few, if no good reasons at all to stay away. We are reminded of the guests in today’s parable. They took the invitation lightly. Now, it's not that they had some other pressing matter. No, they simply had their priorities wrong. They gave little value to the king’s invitation. Other matters, even the most trivial, seem more important. Their sin was their indifference to God's call to live for Him, to make Him their chief end in life, not themselves.

I believe that one of the major reasons why people take lightly the invitation of the Lord is because they have little appreciation of the value of heaven and little understanding of the horrors of hell. When you lack appreciation or understanding of an object, it holds little appeal for you. That is why it is important to remember that today’s parable is a parable of judgment, a parable which addresses the importance of decisions, decisions with eternal consequences.  A decision whether to attend Mass or not, is not just a trivial matter which has little consequences. On the contrary, our decision has dire consequences – it points to our ultimate destiny and end. We are either setting out a path for heaven or for hell.  Hell is an eternal state of alienation from the vision of God and Heaven is an eternal banquet given in honour of Christ.

Our eternal salvation is not about being a nice guy. If being a nice guy was sufficient to get to heaven, we would be making a mockery of the lives and deaths of the great martyrs of the Church throughout the centuries who suffered much and sacrificed their lives for the sake of the salvation of souls of future generations. The standard by which all of us will be judged will be the love that appears to us from the cross. Heeding our Lord’s invitation means following Him on the path to the cross. Our Lord reminds us that the gate is wide and the road broad that leads to perdition and those who enter through it are many, but how narrow the gate and constricted the road that leads to eternal life, and those who find it are few (Mt 7, 13-14).

But it is not only a lack of appreciation for heaven and hell which may lead to our ruin. What condemns us is our utter ignorance of the true value of the Eucharist. The food that will be served at the wedding banquet, the fattened calf that was sacrificed, is none other than the Bread of Life, Christ Himself, which is the food that is given at every Mass. And that is why it is so important to spend the rest of our lives disposing ourselves towards the Bread of Life and to hunger for it continually. We cannot live without the Eucharist.

It is understandable that many have decided to stay away because the obligation to attend Mass on Sundays and holy days of obligation have been temporarily suspended during this time of pandemic. As Catholics, we all know that attendance at Mass every Sunday and on holy days of obligation is an obligation rooted in God’s commandments and Church law, but we have to get to the point where it is no longer an obligation. Please don’t misunderstand what I am trying to say here. I am not suggesting that this rule should be reformed. Rather, I am saying that we have to get to the point where we simply cannot miss Mass because our hunger for it is so great, it's no longer an external law outside of us, but has become an interior law, compelling us from within, just as hunger propels us to eat in order to live.

It is true that none of you are momentarily able to attend Mass until the risk of transmission is brought under control. But when public Masses resume, many of you may not be able to return right away. You might need to exercise caution for yourself or those you love. You might need to keep watching from a distance for a while. But when the time is right, it is my prayer that you can and must, gather again with the people of God. After all, every Mass is ultimately a taste of heaven. Scripture’s vision of heaven doesn’t look like a quarantine, a livestream, or a Zoom call. It’s a “face to face” encounter with the Risen Christ and a reunion with the saints and the angels. In the life to come, we won’t be socially distanced and segregated in mansions of glory, but living and working and loving and serving together in a new world where righteousness dwells. So, once we know it’s safe, wise, and no disservice to our communities, let’s gather together again in person and continue to do so until the Lord gathers us again on His mountain, where He will prepare for us a banquet of rich food and fine wines, where He will remove the mourning veil and destroy Death forever, where He will wipe away the tears from every cheek and take away our shame. Indeed, we will acknowledge Him as “our God, in whom we hoped for salvation; the Lord is the one whom we hoped.”

Get the Hell out of here

Twenty Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Hell is not a topic many people today are comfortable hearing about. Many modern folks, both religious and irreligious, find it unpalatable. In fact, of all the doctrines of the Catholic faith, hell is certainly one of the most neglected. Perhaps we have never, or hardly ever, heard a homily about hell. And the reason is simple: many struggle to understand how a God described as loving, merciful and forgiving can assign certain souls to Hell forever. No matter that the Doctrine of Hell is taught extensively in Scripture and quite a lot by our Lord Jesus Himself, the doctrine does not comport well with many modern notions and emphases of God, and, hence many think it has to go, and some even think that it has finally been buried by the Church.

Indeed, we live in a world which denies the existence of hell, a world which refuses to believe that eternal punishment is a real possibility. Perhaps we ourselves have fallen into this temptation at times. But notice the contradiction that often afflicts many of us. Even if we do not admit the reality of hell or if we do, we do not think that we will going there, we might still be inclined to reserve damnation to a select few, to those particularly horrible sinners – terrible murderers, war criminals, and our enemies. It’s easy to say to these kinds of people: “Go to hell!” Hell is for people like them, hell is for monsters, and if they don’t end up in hell for their crimes, then there is simply no justice. In doing this we separate ourselves from sinners, we exempt ourselves from God’s judgment but we make hell a place for “them”. But then we have a parable like in today’s Gospel. Lazarus goes to heaven and the rich man goes to hell.

In another fictional story set out in one of C.S. Lewis’s books, The Great Divorce, the souls of various people from hell take a bus ride to heaven.  In this fiction, the denizens of hell have the opportunity to turn away from the sins that led them to hell in the first place.  But they do not take advantage of this second chance because they have been shaped to the core of their being by ways of thinking and acting that turned them away from God, others, and their own true selves. Their damnation was not the result of an arbitrary judgment; instead, it was a reflexion of the reality of who they had become by their own choices. As C.S. Lewis said in the book: “There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, 'Thy will be done,' and those to whom God says, in the end, 'Thy will be done.' All that are in Hell, choose it.”

The rich man in today’s parable is such an example of a man who had chosen hell Now, nowhere is it suggested that he was a bad man by the world's accepted standards. For all purposes, he may not have gained his wealth in a dishonest manner nor deliberately mistreated poor Lazarus. What, then, were the sins that led to his damnation? It would appear that the rich man’s over absorption in self prevented him from seeing others. He was afflicted by the tragic disease of egocentrism which plagues so many unbeknownst to them. He passed Lazarus every day, but he never really saw him. He was too much absorbed in himself to be able to see. He was condemned because his selfishness caused him to lose the capacity to sympathise. There is nothing more tragic than to find a person who can look at the anguishing and deplorable circumstances of fellow human beings and not be moved. And when he called for mercy from Father Abraham, he made no confession and did no repentance.  He may have had second thoughts about wanting to warn his brothers, but it was too little and too late. The gulf that divided heaven and hell could not be crossed, because as Lewis suggested the gates of hell are locked on the inside. The rich man had done that by the decisions he made in life. He had shaped his “hell” decisively by his actions, decisions and omissions.

It must be remembered that the point of the parable is not that the rich will be damned and the poor will be saved.  There is nothing wrong with wealth, especially when it is shared with others and used for the common good. But, we may end up being tempted to focus on ourselves, and to allow our wealth, possessions, and successes in this world to keep us from our final goal. For if we love ourselves, our pleasures, and our status more than God and neighbour, no matter how much or little we have, we have already shut ourselves out of the kingdom. 

Neither is the point of this parable one which shows God delights in sending souls to hell. The parable is told by the Lord as a warning, precisely to keep His listeners from hell. The last thing on God’s mind is to keep us apart from Him. You see apart from the parable, there is another gulf - a gulf between God and man. This gulf originated in the man’s sin and not in God’s choice. Yes, God, is like the rich man in one sense, rich in grace, rich in love, rich in mercy. Humanity is the Lazarus, poor in spirit, covered with the sores of sin, lying at the gates of God's throne, begging for the crumbs of God's grace. Man, like Lazarus, was too weak to bridge the gap. Even the best among men could never hope to narrow that rift: no patriarch nor prophet nor priest nor animal sacrifices could close that gap. It was impossible and impassable. Only God could accomplish this. The beauty of the Christian gospel is that God, the divine Omnipotent One, rich in Mercy and Goodness, is not like the pathetic rich man of the parable. It had been His intention from the beginning to bridge the gulf and He did so by sending His only begotten Son into this world, to assume our human condition and finally to offer a sacrifice of His own life on the cross. That cross is the boundless and unbreakable bridge of God's love connecting time and eternity, a humanity poor in sin and a God, rich in graces.

This is how God wishes for each of our stories to end. To be enclosed not just in the bosom of Abraham, but to be embraced in His loving arms for eternity. But in order for the story to end this way, He has given us the freedom to choose, and so we must choose a life of compassion instead of indifference, a life of love instead of hatred, a life of gratitude instead of resentment, a life of mercy instead of unremitting judgment. We can choose to build the prison of “hell” in our lives, brick by brick, stone by stone, chink by chink, or we can choose to make our communion with God and others a lifetime’s project which will last for eternity.

In the end we have to be clear: Hell exists. It has to exist for we have a free choice to make, and God will respect that choice even if he does not prefer our choice. You and I are free to choose the Kingdom of God, or not. God loves us and does not want us to go to end up in hell but He also respects our freedom. The parable of Lazarus and the rich man makes it clear that our choices lead ultimately to a final and permanent choice wherein our decision is forever fixed.  We may be tempted to deny that hell exists, but our Saviour didn't. He lived proclaiming the truth of its existence and He died to make sure no one would ever have to go there. If we deny hell's reality, we trivialise His mission and jeopardise our own. If we fail to make use of the many opportunities accorded to us, we render the bridge that He has erected over that gulf meaningless. The time of being alive in the flesh, this is the time for repentance. This is the time for the doing of good works. You can’t do any more when you’re dead. You can’t change what your judgment will be.

To be sure, hell is a tricky subject. It's not something we should delight in or even enjoy talking about. It is, however, part of the reality we must face at the end. If we don't warn people about it, we may find ourselves in the very same position as the rich man – who thought only of warning his loved ones and others when it was too late, for ourselves and them.