We dare to say

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inspiration, Education and Freedom

Pentecost Sunday

It’s been 50 days since Easter, 49 days since the passing of Pope Francis and exactly one month since the election of a new Pope, Pope Leo XIV. Yes, I’ve been keeping count. Some can’t contain their exhilaration. Others are a little more cautious, observing a “wait-and-see” attitude. Still others remain disappointed that their preferred candidate wasn’t elected, though mostly hiding their disappointment publicly for fear of retribution or judgment. The question that was being floated before, during and even after the short conclave which elected the new pontiff has been this: what role did the Holy Spirit play in all this? Was it purely politics and human machinations or was this the result of divine intervention, the Holy Spirit at work in the Church?

It is not hard to come to such an assumption because if there is an implicit assumption that the Pope can be infallible (in whatever way that is claimed), then surely the election of the Pope must be equally infallible? It must be stated from the very beginning that we should not conflate the doctrine of infallibility with the election of the pope. The cardinals are not guaranteed infallibility. Furthermore, although secrecy is imposed on the participating cardinals under an oath that could lead to one’s excommunication, it doesn’t take much to assume that the entire conclave was conducted under a highly charged politicised atmosphere where much energy is spent on canvassing, persuading, negotiating, dissembling and organising. Is there even room for the Spirit to work?

On this feast of Pentecost, a feast that is specifically focused on the Holy Spirit, it would be good to understand how the Spirit works within the Church. Back to the question of the Holy Spirit’s role in the election of a pope, Pope Benedict XVI, while still Cardinal Ratzinger (and so cannot technically make any infallible pronouncement at this stage of his life), was asked by the Bavarian television: “Is the Holy Spirit responsible for the election of a pope?” Though not having the character of being infallible, his answer is perhaps the best answer we can have on the issue: “I would not say so, in the sense that the Holy Spirit picks out the Pope… I would say that the Spirit does not exactly take control of the affair, but rather, like a good educator, as it were, leaves us much space, much freedom, without entirely abandoning us. Thus the Spirit’s role should be understood in a much more elastic sense—not that he dictates the candidate for whom one must vote. Probably the only assurance he offers is that the thing cannot be totally ruined… There are too many contrary instances of popes the Holy Spirit obviously would not have picked!”

Then, Cardinal Ratzinger, provided us with three important points which apply to an election of a Pope, but I would also like to propose that these same principles can apply to how the Holy Spirit works within the Church in general, outside a conclave tasked with electing a pope. These three principles are control, education and elasticity.

The first principle is “control” or the lack of it. Although the word “inspiration”, used to speak of the source for both sacred Scripture and Tradition, suggests that it is the Holy Spirit who is the author and mover, He does so not in the manner of spirit possessions which the mediums of some non-Christian religions believe in. When the Holy Spirit “inspires” us, He does not take full control of our minds or wills as if we have to abdicate both and lose all consciousness or our freedom.

It is here that we need to make a clear distinction between prayer and magic and not confuse the two. It is all too easy to confuse prayer with magic. Magic is all about control – whether it is controlling our fate or our environment or even the gods. But prayer is not about control—it is the opposite. It is an act of surrender. It requires the surrender of our own will to the will of the Father. Discerning the will of God is not easy. We pray “Thy will be done” several times each day, but it never becomes easier to engage in the effort of discernment—of telling the difference between my will and Thy will.

This leads us to the second principle, which pretty much describes the mission of the Holy Spirit in today’s gospel - educator. Our Lord assures us that “the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything and remind you of all I have said to you.” The educator offers to teach, show, provide insight and wisdom. But, just as you can lead a horse to water but cannot make it drink, so the Holy Spirit offers H imself to the Church—but with preconditions. The first is that one prays. Prayer in practice is much harder than talking about it. It involves the sacrifice of time, the surrender of will, an abandonment of control, and the preferring of the slow, still, small voice. It also involves triangulation with the prayers of others.

Lastly, the answer of Cardinal Ratzinger helps us see that the relationship between the Holy Spirit and the Church is often elastic. It is not one where the Holy Spirit is the puppeteer and we are mere puppets in His hands. His direction, guidance and inspiration does not compromise our freedom. He gives us room to grow, to stretch, to discern the path that we must follow for our sanctification. We too must learn to give room to the unexpected, to spontaneity, to the Holy Spirit. Benedict’s notion of elasticity is wise and compelling. It combines the light touch of love with the firm grip of connection.

God will never let us go, never abandon us—but nor will He control us if we choose to wander. Benedict reassures us that God will not allow the Church to be utterly ruined. But He will allow us the scope to spoil it by our own wilfulness if we insist. How else do we explain the existence of some very poor popes who did great damage to the Church? As St Paul reminds us, where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more. It is the nature of God’s rescue mission that He can take the mess we make and reconfigure it into material for renewal, forgiveness and hope. That’s the “happy fault” sung by the priest during the Easter Proclamation, the Exsultet.

So, we rejoice that the Holy Spirit, the gift of our Lord to the Church, continues to inspire us, educate us and free us. The Holy Spirit will always act with Christ, from Christ, and conform Christians to Christ. It is the Holy Spirit who carries out Christ’s promise to Peter that evil would not prevail against His Church. Not that it could not spoil, corrupt, confuse or disturb. The history of the Church has been marked by many dark episodes when her shepherds and flock have given in to sin, sometimes to the most depraved kind of sin. But history shows that whenever the Church slips into corruption, God raises up saints and renews it afresh by enabling “the Church to grow young, perpetually renews it, and leads it to complete union with its Bridegroom.”

Come Holy Spirit and fill the hearts of Thy faithful and enkindle in them the fire of Thy love!

The Cursed and the Blessed

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Future is uncertain but the End is always near

First Sunday of Advent Year C

What would your response be if I were to tell you that we are at the cusp of the End Times, especially in view of the escalation of conflict between Ukraine and Russia, threatening to drag Europe, the United States and the whole world into a possible nuclear war?

Firstly, many of you would respond with incredulity and scoff at my announcement, thinking that I am either kidding, overreacting or out of my mind, and then proceed to live your lives business-as-usual.

Secondly, some would take advantage of the limited time still available to fulfil your life-time’s bucket list - eat, drink and be merry. Why waste the final hours, days and months of your life in idle living or useless worrying?

Thirdly, some of you would redouble your effort in putting your life and your household in order. Time to put in more effort in prayer, Mass attendance, and seek to make peace with those who have become estranged in past years.

Before proceeding any further, I would like to assure that I am deadly serious when I say that we are living in the end times. This is no bogey-man created by the Church to scare the unchurched and the nominal Catholics to return to the pews every Sunday. Neither, is this some symbolic event and its content require some form of de-mythologising. The world really will end! As the rock star lead of the Doors, Jim Morrison, assures us: “The future is uncertain but the end is always near.” The “End” did not begin today or in recent times or even in the past century. It began two thousand years ago with the first coming of our Lord. Our Lord’s death and resurrection was the beginning of the end, the sudden unveiling of God’s final purpose for His creation. We have been living in the end times since then.

The problem which many people face is that we tend to lose the momentum and urgency when the climatic conclusion of the end times seems to have been postponed. We start believing that it’s all a hoax, that the Church got it wrong, that Christ didn’t mean this when He spoke of it to His disciples. But the greater problem is that when we lose sight of the end times, we also lose sight of our ultimate purpose and destination in life. A society who has no vision of an eschatology where God would be victorious at the end, where the wicked would be punished and the innocent vindicated, where wrongs would be made right, where present sufferings would be justified, would be a society wrapped in despair and living without hope.

An incorrect eschatology can also lead to incorrect behaviour in the present times. The early Christian community, as evidenced by the writings of St Paul had similar experiences and responses to the end times announcement which they thought to be imminent - something that would take place in their own lifetime. So, some surrendered to an unbridled hedonistic lifestyle filled with “debauchery and drunkenness”, while others pursued an ascetic style of living, abandoning spouses and families whilst quitting their jobs. Both extremes were far from the ideal of Christian living which St Paul desired to instil in them.

St Paul does not suggest that Christians head for the hills, hunker down, adopt a “fortress mentality,” and start stockpiling food and weapons. As Paul sees it, end-time Christians are called to practice holiness and do good to others wherever and whenever they can. They are supposed to work the works of God “while it is day” (John 9:4). And his instructions have not grown obsolete and we would be wise to follow.

Firstly, news of the end times should not coarsen our hearts and lead us to become some stoic loveless persons. Rather, it should motivate us to increase our love for others. “May the Lord be generous in increasing your love and make you love one another and the whole human race as much as we love you.”

Secondly, our contemplation of the end times should also deepen our relationship with God as we strive to grow in holiness. St Paul prays that God may “so confirm your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless in the sight of our God and Father when our Lord Jesus Christ comes with all his saints.”

Thirdly, knowledge of the end times should not lead us to spiritual or intellectual idleness but actually motivate us to make progress in every aspect of our lives. We should always strive to improve ourselves and not settle for mediocrity, “to make more and more progress in the kind of life that you are meant to live: the life that God wants, as you learnt from us, and as you are already living it.”

As for our Lord, He speaks to His disciples about the need for vigilance and prayer as they wait for the coming of the Son of Man in glory. Though our Lord predicts a time of destruction and fear, and He acknowledges that many will be frightened by what they will be witnessing; His disciples are not to fear, but are to stand tall. Note that our Lord does not promise deliverance from anxiety or tribulations. He, however, encourages His disciples to pray for strength.

There are many reasons why it would be easy to feel overcome by the darkness of our present historical moment. At the threshold of global nuclear annihilation, with so many overwhelming unknowns, it is tempting for our waiting to turn to the apathy of despair, which waits because there is nothing else to do, nowhere to go—a kind of resignation that has stopped looking for new possibilities. What should we do and what can we do? Just as the early Christian communities did not find consolation in the promise of a utopia, nor escape through some other-worldly asceticism or hedonistic lifestyle, nor should we. Instead, we find in our Christian faith the means by which we witness to God's unfailing love for us in all circumstances. With His abundant grace, we should keep on loving, keep on living and keep on growing in holiness.

And so, we begin this holy season of Advent on a high note of hope, rather than despair. Our Lord’s predictions about the end times may sound dire, but in His person and in His message, we who hear Him can find strength and consolation. Like the first Christians, we may encounter events and circumstances that could lead us to despair. Through prayer, however, we find strength and consolation in the Lord’s words in today’s gospel: “Stay awake, praying at all times for the strength to survive all that is going to happen, and to stand with confidence before the Son of Man.”

A shepherd's work is never done

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Recently I came across this ditty which is made up of stanzas alternating between the voice of the shepherds and that of their sheep. It is interesting to see how the two perspectives are at variance. Here’s a sampling of the first two stanzas:

Shepherds:
Morning to dusk our watch we keep, tending our flock of precious sheep, near and far they love to roam, then one by one we count them home.

Sheep:
A shepherd’s work is never done while naughty sheep are having fun, high and low we love to roam, then one by one we come back home.

Although there is a tinge of realisation by the sheep (and perhaps subdued appreciation) of the thankless never-ending work of the shepherds, and the tale seems to end on a happy note when the sheep finally decide to return home, the naughty sheep persist in “having fun” and roaming “high and low” with little regard for the former’s sweat and toil. But what really surprises me about this song is the utter joy of the shepherds who seem to cherish and enjoy their work, without minding the long hours nor the delinquent wards under their care. No complaints, just pure joy which springs from the authentic love they have for their sheep.

Even as I read the lyrics of this song with amusement, there is a sense of guilt. I’m nothing like the shepherds in this song, what more the Good Shepherd, our Lord Jesus Christ, whom I am called to emulate. I want to be honest, the line which says “a shepherd’s work is never done,” most closely resonates with me but it sounds more like a complaint rather than a statement of fact: “no rest for the wicked.” Sometimes, attending to the needs of the congregation can be so tiring, especially those requiring high maintenance. And being an introvert, my social battery and energy levels dissipate at such speed whenever I am around people, which is to say most of the time. God knows that I need space and time for myself to recuperate and rejuvenate.

But today’s readings seem to throw another wrench into my plans to have a break and some down-time. From the first reading to the gospel, we see how our Lord doesn’t let up in caring and shepherding those in need. It is not that the human Jesus never tires. Just like the Energiser Bunny, even our Lord, fully human as well as divine, would suffer the fatigue that comes to all of us. But does He walk away? Does He give excuses by citing that He needs time to Himself? Does He abdicate His responsibility and push the load of His work to others? The answer is simply “no.”

You all may remember that the Fourth Sunday of Easter in each lectionary cycle is known as Good Shepherd Sunday. But today is an opportunity for all of us (and I’m including myself in this equation) to revisit the theme of the Good Shepherd and what it means to be sheep as well as shepherd in imitation of our Lord. These readings and the underlying message aren’t just aimed at us priests and lay leaders. All of us Christians are the sheep, and Jesus is the Shepherd. But you too are called to be shepherds in different ways - parents, leaders, service providers, teachers, employers, managers, just to name a few. Before we can be good shepherds who lead the way for others, we must first be sheep who know and follow the Shepherd’s voice ourselves.

From the first reading, we are assured that God, the good shepherd, will never abandon His people. In the face of human shepherds who had forsaken their flock, the prophecy of Jeremiah foretells a time when the Lord Himself will shepherd His people through His own shepherd, a king in the line of David. The promise shimmers between God as Himself the shepherd and His representative being the shepherd. We finally see the fulfilment of this prophecy in the person of Jesus Christ, the Anointed One of God who is God Himself.

Too often have we suffered abandonment in our lives at the hands of those whom we have trusted, those who have sworn to have our backs, to care for us, to protect us. And yet so many of us have known the pain of betrayal in the form of an absent parent, an absent mentor, an absent friend, or even an absent pastor. But here is One who will never abandon us no matter what the cost may be. He now calls us to follow Him and imitate Him in being vigilant at our station, to never abandon our post or abdicate our duty. We are called to be faithful shepherds just like Him, to be present, courageous and steadfast in guarding those placed under our care.

The second characteristic of the good shepherd comes from the second reading - we are called to be unifiers. In a hyper-polarised society, where we are often forced to swear allegiance to parties, factions and ideologies, and called to adjudicate between warring parties we must always stand with the Lord and for the Lord. And what does the Lord stand for? St Paul tells us that our Lord has come to bring peace and reconciliation among enemies. The two groups of Christians, sprung from Jews and gentiles, which formerly were so much at loggerheads, are united by the blood of Christ and the single Spirit to form the single New Man which is Christ’s Body, the Church. We as shepherds after the heart of Jesus must do likewise, constantly bringing people together rather than sowing division.

Finally, our Lord shows us in the gospel that shepherds like His disciples need time and space to be rejuvenated. When they return to give a report of their exploits after their first missionary expedition, our Lord recognises their human needs - they are weary, tired and hungry. Rather than subject them to more gruelling activity, He invites them with these words: “You must come away to some lonely place all by yourselves and rest for a while.” This is not any ordinary R & R, rest and relax, but necessary time to retreat and recollect (that’s our version of R & R), to spend time with the Lord in order to be rejuvenated, revitalised and re-created. Not only sheep need feeding. Shepherds need it too.

Though our Lord never said “no” to any cry for help or appeal for assistance as can be seen at the end of the gospel passage, He understands that Christianity is not just a non-stop flurry of activities. There can be no love of God, no true love of self, nor love of others, without that stillness and silence which makes us receptive to them all. Prayer is the fuel which powers our sense of mission. Without it, we would be running on empty, the shepherd’s work would feel like a heavy chore rather than something to be cherished and celebrated.

So, even as we struggle to imitate our Lord as a good shepherd, to be faithful to whatever and whoever has been entrusted to us, to not abdicate our responsibilities for selfish reasons or choose to flee when things get tough and rough, it is comforting to always remember that we are sheep who have a Shepherd who is always there for us, strengthening us, guiding us, protecting us and cleaning up after us when we have made a mess of things. He is that Shepherd whose “work is never done.”

The Asceticism of Love

Ash Wednesday

For many, today’s date is unmistakable and if you have a loved one, forgetting that it’s Valentine’s Day is unforgivable. But even if today doesn’t happens to be Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, our liturgical calendar actually honours two other saints, St Cyril and St Methodius, and not the eponymous St Valentine. Valentine’s Day has been largely relegated to a secular feast of mushy romantic ideals and practices.

Chocolates, flowers and candlelight dinners are things we normally associate with the secular representation of the feast of this Catholic saint who is patron of marriages and romance. The ascetic practices we practice in Lent and which we have heard in our gospel today, hardly sounds romantic at all, if anything, they seem utterly Spartan and ascetically bleak. But love is actually at the heart of these Christian ascetical practices. Love is never about seeking our own happiness but the happiness of the other even at the cost of sacrificing our own. It is this ascetical aspect of love which is missing from so many modern conceptions of relationships resulting in selfish individuals looking for love but finding none, at least none which perfectly matches this self-absorbed notion of romance.

Asceticism? “Isn’t that like wearing hair shirts and whipping and punishing yourself? Does the Church still teach that?” Simply put, asceticism means self-sacrifice. It means denying yourself physical pleasures and conveniences even when you don’t need to. What the Church requires are spiritual athletes not couch potatoes. Christians do not practice asceticism because we see physical goods as evil. On the contrary, asceticism guards against valuing the goods of Creation so much that we disdain the Creator. Like all spiritual practices, asceticism should be motivated by love. Asceticism does not spring from some form of sick masochistic self-hatred, but rather it is the sacrifice offered out of love for our Lord Jesus who showed the extent of His love for us by dying for us.

As we begin our Lenten ascetic practices of prayer, fasting and alms giving, let us be conscious of the true reasons for our actions.

First, asceticism combats habitual sin. If you struggle to control your desire for something you tend to abuse (food, drink, sex, comfort, etc), practising self-denial is like building your spiritual muscles against it. St Paul writes, “I discipline my body and make it my slave” (1 Corinthians 9:27). The word here for “discipline” carries violent overtones, literally meaning “to beat” or “to batter.” We’re called to show our body who’s boss. The purpose of fasting, for instance, is so that one can train his appetites by habitually telling them “No,” even in regard to lawful earthly goods, like food or conjugal relations. That way, when a sinful temptation stirs up the appetites, the body has been well-trained to obey its master, the sanctified rational mind.

Second, asceticism builds the virtue of temperance. Temperance is the virtue that balances our desires for physical goods. When our desires are out of balance (a condition of Original Sin called “concupiscence”), we need to reset the balance with self-denial. Our Lord Jesus teaches us: “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth…but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21)

Third, asceticism protects you against the excesses of the culture. Like the culture the early Christians lived in, our modern culture has deified entertainment, luxury, and physical pleasure. While Christians can give lip service to resisting these temptations, the truth is that we’re immersed in this culture and it’s difficult not to be transformed by it. Asceticism helps us to set our hearts on the greater goods and to resist laxity of heart and open our hearts to be transformed by grace.

Fourth, asceticism moves our hearts away from selfishness. We live in air-conditioned comfort, even in our cars. We get used to having entertainment literally at our fingertips. Everything in our lives is built around convenience, entertainment, and comfort. Self-sacrifice prevents our modern lifestyle from sinking too deeply into our hearts.

Fifth, asceticism can be an act of love. If fasting and making other sacrifices are going to make you more cranky and irritable, if you continue to judge your neighbour for their lack of devotion or dedication to these ascetic practices as you have, then you have missed the point. These practices should enlarge our hearts, not shrink them. To know whether we’ve been doing it right is to examine the fruits of our practices. Have we grown in our love for God and neighbour?

Sixth, asceticism should lead us to interior conversion rather than multiply our practices as a kind of performance. Let us pay heed to the warning of our Lord Jesus Christ in the gospel, that we should not practice asceticism so that “men may see you” but rather, be content that “your Father who sees all that is done in secret will reward you.” Asceticism provides us with new lenses to see things unlike how the world sees. St Paul puts it this way: “We do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:18)

In our consumeristic and materialistic culture, this programme of spiritual exercise is both unpopular and difficult. If these practices sound intimidating, think of the physical regiment many people keep to stay fit and healthy. If one can endure such hardships for a temporal good, a healthy life, one must then appreciate the value of spiritual exercises that will gain us, with God’s grace, eternal life. These habits of self-denial, which include prayer, fasting and almsgiving can strengthen us, by God’s grace, to aim our desires at unseen realities and reap the radiant joys of heaven, even now. When done out of love, instead of burdensome obligation or as performance, these ascetic practices will do much to help us advance spiritually. This is the path of spiritual athleticism and Lent is as good a place as any, to start our training.

Are you listening?

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

For those who complain that God isn’t speaking to them - and I’m not referring to the delusional types who hear voices inside their heads - this Sunday’s readings remind us that God is always speaking, but the real issue is this - are we really listening? God’s Word is contained in sacred scripture and sacred tradition. How many of us take the trouble to put aside some time every day to study it, to meditate upon it and to apply its message to our lives? And I don’t mean to shame you to take out your Bible or your Catechism and read a few paragraphs today. I will be happy if you could do it every day.

More often, if we don’t hear what someone is saying, it’s because we don’t want to hear it. It’s called selective hearing. Whether it’s ignoring emails, screening phone calls and texts, staring at the screens of our devices while someone else is talking, or simply putting headphones in and cutting ourselves off from the world – we all practice selective hearing, even when we know we shouldn’t.

And it’s not a new phenomenon – Israel, in Samuel’s time, had a severe case of hearing deficit. It wasn’t that God wasn’t speaking; they still had the Law given to Moses to provide them with guidance, but neither those tasked with preaching it nor those tasked with listening were doing their job. Take for example the sons of Eli, Hophni and Phineas, who were all anointed priests of the Lord. Instead of preaching and teaching God’s Word to the people of Israel – as they were called to do – his sons were notorious for stealing from the portion of sacrificial offerings offered to God and for sleeping with the women who served at the tabernacle. But the most egregious sin was their refusal to listen to anyone who tried to correct their sinful ways.

As a result of the obstinacy of the religious leadership, God decided to give them the silent treatment. Since Israel had stopped listening, so God stopped speaking. That’s what it means when it says, in those days the word of the Lord was rare; there were not many visions. God wanted to speak to His people, to lead them, discipline them, forgive them, comfort them but because they refused to listen to Him, God refused to speak. It was the worst judgment possible.

And so enters Samuel, who is apprenticing with Eli his mentor. God calls Samuel to replace these hopeless ministers who have stopped listening to His Word. There is only one simple criteria – he must be willing to LISTEN, put it into practice and communicate it faithfully.

We turn to the gospel as we see the Word Incarnate finally emerging and the various peoples responding to His Word by learning to listen. We have the Baptist’s disciples listening to their master as he identifies Jesus as the Lamb of God and then they decide to follow up with their own investigation. They heard and heeded our Lord’s invitation to “Come and See” and was transformed by that encounter. Now having heard and encountered the Word personally, and not just come to know of Him by hearsay, they began to share the Word with others. We see this ripple effect finally reaching Simon Peter. His brother Andrew comes and shares his experience and thereafter took Peter to meet the Lord. Peter’s name serves as an apt conclusion to this whole episode. Simon (Shimon) in Hebrew means hearing or listening. Though the name was a real name and not just a symbolic one, St John the Evangelist weaves it beautifully into his narrative to summarise the process and dynamics of discipleship - the disciple is one who listens and puts into practice what he has heard.

So, God continues to speak to us through His Word. And His Word is not just found in a book, but in a living breathing person, our Lord Jesus Christ. We should have no excuse to not listen. And yet, we can find a load of excuses not to listen. I guess that busyness is easily the number one excuse for not hearing, not meditating, not praying, not taking time to study God’s Word. But busyness is just a cover for the real reasons. One common reason is pride. Pride that wants to say, “Listen up, Lord, I’m speaking” rather than “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.” Others don’t listen because they are angry with God, and so we choose to give Him the silent treatment. Or maybe our problem is just sheer laziness. Bibles, study guides, online formations – and more – are all easily accessible, but we’re just too lazy to make use of them.

And yet, God in His grace, continues to speak. God is more persistent than we can ever imagine. He hasn’t taken His Word from our lives – in fact, just the opposite, He speaks to us in more places and ways than ever before. In spite of our selective listening, and in spite of our sinfulness, God continues to speak to us for only one reason: Love. God’s Word has the power to do what none of the other voices in the world can do: He transforms us so that we not only want to listen, but we are emboldened to obey. St Paul reminds the Corinthians in the second reading that after having heard the Word, they can no longer go back to their previous depraved lives. Living such a life might not always make sense. But it is God’s Word – the only voice we can trust in this noisy world, and which can set us on the right and straight path to holiness.

Finally, all this begs the question: What does it mean to listen to God?

The first step is to stop talking. It is amazing how God can speak to us when we shut up. Fr Bona has been reminding me to this ever since I was discharged from the hospital. If you want to heal quicker, learn to be quiet. Shut up! If you want to be more attentive to God’s word, learn to be quiet.

We can also listen to God intently through scripture. There is a time for studying the Word to have a better grasp and understanding of the text. But the Word of God is also meant to be prayed. As much as we admire the Protestant’s proficiency in quoting scriptural texts, our Catholic exposition and appreciation of the bible cannot be done in isolation and apart from our liturgy, as our liturgy is deeply scriptural and our scripture is profoundly liturgical. We listen and comprehend the Word of God most deeply when we do so in prayer and worship.

Finally, listening to God also requires patience. Patience teaches us humility and docility - humility to recognise that God sets the pace, not us; and docility to submit in obedience to the Word. The Latin root for the word “obedience”, “obedire”, simply means “to listen” as the Apostle James reminds us: “you must DO what the Word tells you and not just listen to it and deceive yourselves.” (James 1:22) Listen! Do! Believe and Live!

There can be no Christmas without Mary

Fourth Sunday of Advent Year B

When most people are asked, when does the Church commemorate this momentous event in salvation history where the Uncreated Word became flesh, the most common answer would be: “Christmas!” Christmas is the feast of the Incarnation. But I guess most people, especially in this day and age when abortion is widely promoted in many countries, we have forgotten that life does not begin at birth but at the conception of a person. One could choose to deny this on ideological grounds because it is inconvenient and challenges our selfish motives, but this truth is irrefutable when we witness a convergence of biology and theology which affirms this truth.

So, on this last Sunday of Advent, and in fact for this year at least, the last day of Advent, before we transition into the Christmas cycle this evening, the Church’s lectionary provides us with this beautiful gospel passage which narrates the Annunciation of the Archangel Gabriel to the Blessed Virgin Mother of our Lord Jesus Christ. The connexion between these two events - the moment of conception and the moment of birth - could not be made any clearer with the juxtaposition of these two events. The Feast of the Annunciation which the Church celebrates on the 25th of March is as much the Feast of the Incarnation as it could be said of Christmas.

A cursory reading of both the first reading and the gospel will let you see how the prophecy of Nathan to King David in the Old Testament that his house and sovereignty will always stand secure and his throne be established for ever, is being fulfilled in the story of the Annunciation, as explained by the Archangel Gabriel: “The Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David; he will rule over the House of Jacob for ever and his reign will have no end.”

In Hebrew, there is no specific word for a king’s palace or the Temple of God. The palace of the king is simply described as the King’s house as the temple is God’s house. So, the idea of “house” is deliberately ambiguous when spoken in reference to David as it could refer to both the dynastic line of David or to the palace in which he lives. Furthermore, in the first reading we see an ironic reversal in that God promises to establish a house for David even as David promises to build a house for God, an offer which God declines. David, ashamed that he was now living in an opulent “house,” would not allow God to suffer the humiliation of occupying a nomad’s tent. He thought to honour God by building God a house fitting for His glory and dignity. But God reminds David that since God has provided the latter with all the essentials of accommodation, God Himself is in no need of a human dwelling. No human hands can build a house that is ultimately suitable for God save for one that is built by God Himself. Even King David acknowledges this in Psalm 127: “unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labour in vain.”

Mary is indeed the house of God, not built by human hands but shaped and created by God Himself. Our Eastern brethren pays her the greatest honour by describing her as the one “made more spacious than the heavens” or in Greek, “Playtera ton ouranon.” The Universe we know about is mind-bogglingly big. Yet, we recognise that God is far greater than that. The universe, for all its vastness, remains finite. God, on the other hand, is infinite! But here is the great mystery we celebrate today – God who could not be contained in His created universe chose to be contained in the tiny womb of this human being. Thus, we call Our Lady “more Spacious than the Heavens” because she held in her womb Him who holds the whole universe. She succeeds where the whole universe fails.

The veil which separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the Temple Complex was embroidered with symbols of the cosmos, in a way indicating that the temple was a microcosm of the universe, the house of God. When the veil was torn in two on Good Friday at our Lord’s death, it was symbolically the end of the cosmos as we know it. During the time of our Lord’s birth, the temple was already an empty husk, the ark of the covenant, the throne of God, had already been lost during the Babylonian invasion and the first destruction of the Temple. Furthermore, in the mystical vision of the prophet Ezekiel, the shekinah, or God’s visible glory, had already departed. But here, we see the glory of God, the Holy Spirit and the power of the Most High will once again overshadow the “house” of God, not the Temple but Mary - she who is the ark of the new covenant, she who is more spacious than the universe.

So, on the eve of the day we commemorate how the Author and Creator of the Universe entered into our created universe as a child, it is fitting that the Church reminds us of how this happened. It was not by accident, nor is the instrument by which this occurred insignificant. Without Mary’s fiat to the Archangel Gabriel, we would not be celebrating Christmas. There is no Christmas without Mary.

Mary is indeed a cosmos to herself with Christ as its solar centre. Mary is indispensable to the story of salvation and the story of Christmas because without her, Christ’s birth could not have taken place. The pre-existent Word could not have become flesh if not for her fiat. Christ could not have been born without her free consent. The Mother of God, she who is “made more spacious than the heavens,” stands between the heavens and the earth and serves as a bridge between. Let us therefore ascend to the heavenly heights and enter into the Holy of Holies. Let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, the Heavenly Jerusalem, for Our Lady, the Blessed Virgin Mary, the true House of God has already bridged what was previously impassable. Through her co-mediation, she has allowed us to approach what was previously unapproachable and to comprehend what was previously incomprehensible. Let us take her hand as she leads us to the manger and beyond to the cross.

Rejoice! Indeed the Lord is near!

Third Sunday of Advent Year B

As that 60s Christmas song claims, “it’s the most wonderful time of the year.” But is it? It is true that for most people, there are many reasons to revel in the season - the exhilaration of Christmas shopping and carolling, the excitement of receiving gifts, partaking in family reunions, enjoying year-end holidays and taking the necessary break from work and school. But it can also be the season that creates much stress, anxiety and even depression. When more is expected, there can be more reasons to fail. Add to this natural predilection for disappointment and failure would be a global inflation gone out of control, a country with an uncertain and worrying political future, two major conflicts threatening to escalate into another world war.

Against this tide, not just a tide but a tsunami of despair, today’s liturgy shouts out this refrain: “Rejoice! Exult for Joy! Be happy at all times!” Our senses seem to want to shout back: “What’s there to be joyful about?” “Is the Church blind?”

And yet on this Sunday, the Church’s liturgy demands that we rejoice: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice!” These words are a paraphrase of the passage from St Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians which we heard as our second reading. Indeed, the Third Sunday of Advent is called “Gaudete Sunday.” “Gaudete” is the Latin word meaning ‘rejoice.’

What joy can there be in the midst of so much pain, suffering, gloom and darkness? It is certainly not the joy that emerges from some false optimism on our part that things are going to get better – too often, we can attest to this, things in fact get worse. Neither is it the joy that comes from creating an illusory world in our minds where pain and suffering is denied. So, what is this joy which the readings are speaking of? So, why should we be happy, and be happy “at all times,” albeit in good times or bad, in sickness or in health? St Paul tells us that this rejoicing is required of us simply “because this is what God expects you to do in Christ Jesus.” And the Church adds in her liturgy, “Indeed, the Lord is near.” The answer lies in Christ. True lasting joy is found only with God in Christ.

We are called to rejoice, because the Lord is coming – He is coming to save us, to liberate us, and to give us new life. Many of us may be experiencing some form of darkness in our lives. We find ourselves in the midst of problems without any apparent solution. We see ourselves ‘captives’ of our difficult circumstances, there seems to be no way out. Our hearts may be broken because of rejection or we have been hurt by the actions and words of others. We see ourselves poor, hungering and thirsting for friendship, understanding and a sense of belonging. Some of us find ourselves trapped in the darkness of sin.

If we see ourselves in any of these situations, rejoice and be glad, because the readings promise good news. This is the promise of God, as St. Paul tells us in the second reading: “God has called you and He will not fail you.” God is always faithful. God keeps His promise. God will not fail you. And what is this promise? The prophet Isaiah announces that the coming of the Lord’s anointed messenger will mean healing and liberation to all who are poor, broken-hearted, oppressed, and captive. The Good News is that which is announced by John the Baptist in the gospel – the Anointed One has come - Jesus has come – He is the Light of the World – and He is waiting to enter into your hearts and into your lives once again.

Therefore, we Christians anticipate the End Times not with fear and trembling, but with rejoicing. St Paul reminds us in the second reading, “Be happy at all times, pray constantly, and for all things give thanks.” Like the prophet Isaiah in the first reading, the thought of the “end times,” of Christ’s coming, should be met with euphoria, “I exult for joy in the Lord, my soul rejoices in my God!”

Sometimes we have an image of John the Baptist as an austere ascetic. In depicting the Baptist in this fashion, we tend to forget the joy that is associated with his entire life and vocation. It was him who leapt for joy in his mother Elizabeth’s womb when she encountered the Mother of the Word Incarnate. In the fourth Gospel, St John speaks of the source of the Baptist’s supernatural joy - it is the joy of the best man, who rejoices greatly at hearing the bridegroom’s voice. And thus, his humility opened a space within him for true joy, the kind which comes from the real presence of the Lord. So it can be, for each one of us.

Thus, John stands as a sign for us today on Gaudete Sunday. He points out for each one of us the path to lasting joy, not just a forgery or a fading type of joy. We should imitate his lifestyle of self-emptying – a life marked by humility – we prepare for the coming of the Lord by always holding on this basic principle that defined the Baptist’s life and mission, “He must increase and I must decrease.” Despite the difficulties he encountered, the harshness and austerity of his life, his imprisonment and execution at the hands of a local tyrant, John understood that as his own light dimmed and faded, another light was coming, the true light was coming to illuminate the darkened world and cast aside the shadows of sin. The Baptist only caught a glimpse of the first glimmer of light before the sunrise. We, on the other hand, have the privilege of knowing and witnessing that sunrise at Easter. We can, therefore, know no lasting peace and joy, unless we come to know Christ, the true Light of the World, and allow the light of His grace to transform us.

So, this Sunday, Gaudete Sunday, Rejoice Sunday, becomes another opportunity to be joyful, indeed it is a joy that is greater than it was in the days of the prophet Isaiah or in the days of John the Baptist. What they could only envision in a time of prophecy, we now experience in a time of reality. In just a matter of days we will celebrate the Feast of the Nativity of the Lord. But we do not just commemorate the past. The Liturgy anticipates the future, the coming of our Saviour, our Liberator, the Christ who will bring to completion the good work He has begun in us. For this reason, Holy Mother Church commands us in the imperative – “Rejoice”! Notice that this is a command, not a suggestion. “Gaudete in Domino semper: iterum dico, gaudete: Dominus prope est.” “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Indeed the Lord is near!”

The Sound of Silence

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

In every concert piece, there is a portion of the score which builds up to a crescendo, followed by a moment of silence where all the instruments are paused at once. It may only last a beat or two and then the strings would quietly start again. That silence is a powerful moment in the piece. That silence isn’t a random absence of sound; it is placed there by the composer as a key part of the music. It is essential to the movement and feel of the piece. The lack of sound almost seems to be a sound in itself. Perhaps, this could be the hidden meaning behind that Simon and Garfunkel classic, The Sound of Silence.

The first reading is particularly poignant, as it provides us with a strange but insightful theophany - a manifestation of God to the prophet Elijah during one of the darkest moments of his life. Elijah had fled a murderous pagan Queen who sought revenge for the death of her pagan prophets on Mount Carmel. From the dramatic and climatic battle with these prophets which proved victorious for Elijah because God had fought on his side, Elijah fell to the lowest moment of his ministry where he wished for his own death as an escape from misery. But God sent an angel to console him and lead him to another mountain, Horeb. On Mount Sinai in the Old Testament, God had revealed Himself to Moses. God had hidden behind dark clouds lit up only by streaks of lightning and the sound of deafening thunder. We see something similar in the first reading - wind, earthquake and fire. But ironically, God is not found in the strong wind, earthquake, or fire. Elijah recognises God’s presence in “the sound of a gentle breeze” or in some translations, “the sound of silence.”

The gospel passage also draws our attention to the sound and power of a storm contrasted by the silence at the end of the story. Having performed the great miracle of the multiplication of loaves and the feeding of the multitude, our Lord refused to allow the disciples to bask in the glory of His miracle. He Himself chose not to. Instead, our Lord chose to withdraw into the hills to be alone with His Heavenly Father, to commune in silence. But the noise would pursue His disciples even when they were far out in the sea away from the crowds. The noise of positive approval of the crowds was now replaced with the noise of a crisis, the noise of fear.

When our Lord came walking on the waters in their direction, the storm had not yet calmed. Despite what they witness, their fears and doubts seem more overwhelming than their faith in God. But there is a glimmer of hope. St Peter seeks to take a first step in faith. He requests our Lord to help him walk on water too. As long as Peter kept his eyes on Christ, he was able to walk unhindered through the stormy sea; as soon as he let his eyes wander away from Christ to examine the intimidating waves and listen to the sound of the strong winds, he began to sink. It was not the noisy raging storm around him which caused him to sink but it was the noise in his heart which stopped him from trusting and listening to the Lord.

Finally, the Lord steps into the boat and the evangelist tells us, “the wind dropped.” The noise fell into silence again. Our Lord had restored calm. Our Lord had silenced the noise in the surrounding storm and the storm within the hearts of His disciples. Once more we see the power of silence.

Many of us too, experience the sound of silence in our own lives. The silence is disturbing and unnerving. Perhaps we’ve prayed and prayed and still no answer comes. Maybe we’ve been in a long season of waiting and the silence grows increasingly loud as the days wear on. Or maybe we find ourselves in a spiritual wilderness where the fog of doubt and uncertainty is thick. We feel all alone. Abandoned. Forgotten. And the silence makes us think God has turned and simply walked away. We start to think He’s given up on us and begin to wonder if we should too.

The problem isn’t with God but with us. It is we who have the wrong assumption about God’s silence. Perhaps God’s silence isn’t silence at all. Perhaps what seems like silence is actually an important pause in the score of our life. Because it’s often in the quiet where the real work takes place. We see this truth in the darkness of the womb, a child is knit together. And in the quiet of each night, while all the world sleeps, our bodies and minds continue their labours, drawing breath and circulating blood and firing synapses. In the tomb, where the body of Jesus was laid after His crucifixion, He descends into Hades to rescue the faithful dead unnoticed by the world, which believes that they have killed Him. God is at work, God is always at work, even in the silence. God is at work especially in the silence. Often, the silence is His work.

I once encountered the deafening silence of God as I was discerning my vocation to the priesthood. I had decided to clear my doubts and seek an answer by undertaking a personal retreat at the seminary. After four days of spiritual direction, personal prayer and silence, the answer did not come. As I drove back alone to KL, I was overwhelmed by an immense sense of loss and sadness, and it was at this moment I had an epiphany. The Lord had indeed answered in His silence. In that long drive home, I realised that He had given an answer to my question: “Lord, if it be your will take this cup away from me.” His silence was the answer I needed though it may not have been the answer I expected or wanted. The cup may have tasted bitter at the first sip but would soon yield a full body of sweetness over the years. God answers even in His silence and His ways are always wise and above and beyond our wildest dreams.

There is good in quietly waiting on the Lord. There is good in the silence. Silence forces us to hear things we can’t hear in the storms and cacophony of life. It makes us sit and notice those things we often avoid or drown out with busyness and other distractions. The silence gives us an opportunity to take an honest look at ourselves. To see what we truly love and trust and hope in. To perhaps realise how fickle our hearts are and how far we’ve wandered from God. To see the lies we’ve long believed and lived by. And, ultimately, to grasp just how much we need God’s grace poured out in our lives. Then, like the flash of light in the darkest night, God breaks the silence. The Spirit prompts our hearts and reminds us of what is true. And we realise God has been there all along.

It is good and comforting to remember that the sound of God’s silence will not last forever. It is but a pause used for His good purposes in our lives. One day, all the silences of life will find their place in the score of our lives and we’ll hear it played out in its completion. We’ll hear the most beautiful composition ever played, the song God wrote before time began, the song of redemption. So, despite the raging storms around us, let us keep our eyes and our hearts fixed on Him knowing that with Him, we will not drown, our ship will not capsize and the ranging winds of the storm will drop. Despite the noises of confusion without and within, if our hearts are united to His, we will hear His voice even in the midst of the sound of silence.

Pray, Act and Be Sent

Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The evangelist paints this poignant picture of the Lord and how His shepherd’s heart is moved with pity when He sees the crowds “because they were harassed and dejected, like sheep without a shepherd.” Our Lord is describing the condition of man apart from God, he is like “sheep without a shepherd.” The Jewish people of that day did indeed have some kind of spiritual guides and shepherds, namely the scribes, priests, Levites, and Pharisees. Yet for the most part they were worthless.

Then our Lord uses another imagery, He moves from a pastoral to an agrarian metaphor: “the harvest is rich but the labourers are few.” Both imageries evoke two different but not unrelated pictures: a neglected flock of sheep, and a harvest going to waste for lack of reapers. Both imply, not only a pitiful plight of the people, but a blameworthy neglect of duty on the part of their religious guides.

So, what is the solution? What can we do in such a dark situation where the problem seems so much larger than any solution we can muster? It is common for many to feel hapless and powerless and merely resign themselves to the dire situation which is beyond their control. Rather than what most people would do, which is to just feel sorry about the other’s predicament, our Lord goes beyond mere sentiments and good intentions. He prays and He acts.

Prayer must always come first instead of being a last resort. We often buy into the lie that prayer is a backup plan when all our resources are exhausted and plans fail. But, prayer should always be the first thing we must do in any situation. Since the harvest belongs to the Lord of the Harvest, we are commanded to pray that He would send workers to reap His harvest. The English translation “send” does not do justice to the original Greek word. The Greek is much more forcible, it is that He would push them forward, compel them and thrust them out; it is the same word which is used for the expulsion of a devil from a man possessed. It takes great power to drive a devil out, it will need equal power from God to drive a Christian out from his comfort zone to do his mission.

Prayer is never a replacement for action. It does not push the buck to God so as to exonerate one from taking responsibility. Our Lord acts and answers the very prayer which He tells His disciples to do. He tells His disciples to ask the Lord of the Harvest to send more labourers and He as the Lord of the Harvest now sends them out.

The scene of our Lord calling the Twelve and sending them out with authority recalls the scene in the first reading, where God calls Moses to ascend Mount Sinai to receive the Law from God. But instead of Moses, we have here, someone greater than Moses. In fact this is the Word that leapt down from the heavens, this is the One whom Moses encountered in the clouds that covered the mountaintop, and from His hands, Moses received the Ten Commandments, the One who is the author of that Law. In the case of Moses, the rest of Israel had to remain at the foot of the mountain and only Moses was given safe passage. But now in this scene, our Lord summons the Twelve to come to Him, they will be the foundation of the new Israel, an Israel that will not be kept at a distance but a new Israel who will have God in their midst.

The new Israel is the Church, “a kingdom of priests, a consecrated nation.” The Greek word for Church is Ekklesia which comes from the Greek verb, ekkaleo, which means “to summon” or “to call out.” And so we see here our Lord summoning the Twelve and they come to Him. It is a reminder that to be a member of the Church is a vocation. God takes the initiative by calling us, we merely respond. The Church is not man-made. It is God-initiated. If it was man-made it would not be worth our time and effort.

The mission of the Twelve and that of the Church is two-fold. First, they are called to be with the Lord, to be His companions. That is essential. What they are to be and what they are to do, would ultimately be defined by their relationship with Christ. Without Christ, they are nothing. They were to be with their Lord not only in the mountain-top periods, but also during the worst of times in which He was abandoned, mocked, rejected and crucified. Ultimately, they were with Him after the resurrection as eyewitnesses of the Risen Lord who had defeated death. The testimony of these Apostolic witnesses was necessary to confirm that the Church which is built on Apostolic foundation is not just a human organisation but the mystical Body of Christ.

The second part of that mission is to preach the Good News, which includes the liberating power of the gospel to set mankind free from evil. The Church is essentially missionary. She exists to preach the gospel in both word and deed. When the Church ceases to preach the Word and substitutes it with some social justice advocacy and work, she ceases to be the Church. When this happens, she is no different from any other NGO. She will be doing good work, no doubt about it, but it would be the work of man for men, not the work of God - Opus Dei - for the salvation of souls.

Were these men called to lay the foundations of the Church exceptional by any standard? Hardly. Our Lord called men, not angels. They came from different backgrounds, with different personalities, and yet they were all chosen to serve the Lord in a unique and special way. For the most part, these men were average, ordinary men. In fact, their résumés would not have landed them lucrative or influential positions among society. Many of them proved to be failures and even one, was responsible for betraying our Lord and another denied Him at His hour of need. As someone once said, “the Lord doesn’t call the equipped or those with abilities; He equips the called, and seeks availability.”

And so, as we are often disappointed and sometimes even scandalised by the conduct of the members and leaders of the Church, we must remember that the Church, the beautiful Bride of Christ, His Mystical Body, is also a Church made up of sinful and imperfect members. But knowing that should not deter us from running into her arms and seek her loving care. For to turn our backs on the Church, would mean to turn our backs on Christ who called us to be His faithful companions to carry on the mission of preaching the gospel to the ends of the earth. And the Church continues to do this because she is not man-made, but divinely instituted!

So, when we witness bad shepherds who neglect their duty and abuse their flock, what should we do? Harbour resentment, trash the Church or turn our backs on the Bride of Christ? The answer can be found in listening to our Lord and imitating what He did - pray that the Lord of the Harvest will send more labourers; and then listen to His call, to His command to “go... and as you go, proclaim that the kingdom of heaven is close at hand. Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils. You received without charge, give without charge.”

Wait and Pray

Seventh Sunday of Easter Year A

The first reading situates us within this week that lies between the Ascension of the Lord and the Descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Nine days of waiting. Nine days of continuous prayer - the first novena of the Church (the word “novena” is actually derived from the Latin root which simply means nine). After the rigours of the Lenten fast and penance and the feasting of Easter, these nine days seem to be a most welcomed respite from all the liturgical hustle and bustle for those who have been engaged but it can also be annoying for those who feel an itch for more activity and hate the idleness which they associate with prayer and all things churchy. For the latter, prayer doesn’t seem to count as a fruitful activity. Real Christians should be out on the streets working, not confined to their rooms like cowards praying.

But is prayer a cop out for those who shirk their social responsibilities? Is it idle activity for those who are unable or unwilling to take responsibility to resolve their own issues? Why would our Lord ask these disciples to wait and pray? Let’s go back to that first novena between our Lord’s Ascension and the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Put yourself in the middle of this frightened and confused band of apostles and disciples. They had seen the Lord suffer and die, but then He rose and appeared to them, demonstrating His power. He commissioned them to carry the message of eternal and abundant life before ascending into heaven, leaving them with marching orders. Icons of this scene show the disciples with their feet and bodies facing outwards, ready to take the gospel beyond the borders of Judea, to Samaria and even to the ends of the earth. But then the Lord also told them to take pause, to not “leave Jerusalem, but to wait there for what the Father had promised.” If some of you may think that novenas are superstitious activities for the simple-minded who still believe in tooth fairies and Santa Claus, remember that the first novena was ordered and instituted by none other than the Lord Jesus Christ Himself. That first novena would be the prototype for all other novenas.

What would have happened if they had given up and left? We can only speculate. If they had left, they would never have been present to experience the Pentecost. And without the Pentecost, the gospel would not have been carried to the ends of the earth. In fact, the entire New Testament may never have been written and the Church would not exist today. Imagine that! But, the persistence of Christ’s followers and His mother to wait for the promise, ended in fulfilment. On the Feast of Pentecost, tongues of fire appeared on each of their heads declaring the coming of the Holy Spirit and the Church was born.

The lesson learnt from the first novena instituted by the Lord is that prayer is about waiting. Prayer requires faith; faith requires patience; and patience requires waiting upon the Lord. To wait patiently for God is to trust in God’s unfailing love for us. To wait upon the Lord is to recognise that He is our Lord and Master. How God does His will is up to Him. We cannot control God or tell Him how to accomplish His plan. He will do His will in His way. Prayer is not a sign of weakness. Prayer is a conscious choice of admitting that we can’t do it alone. It is an act of vulnerability that connects us to God and others. It puts us in a position of strength, not weakness. One of the greatest and most damaging lie we can believe is that we can do it on our own. Prayer dispels that lie and frees us to lean on someone else when it seems unbearable or impossible.

But waiting on God can be the most difficult, and perhaps the most confusing part of the prayer process. We live in a world of instant everything. We value speed. This is true not only in our culture at large, but in our spirituality and prayer. We rush through our prayers because we have other more urgent matters to attend to. We look for the shortest masses. The quicker, the better. Many rush off immediately after communion or before the final blessing and announcements. Yes, waiting in prayer is not an easy kind of prayer to practice. When we pray, we want to see results; and we want to see them now! And if that answer doesn’t seem to be forthcoming, we begin to wonder if God has abandoned us or if He really cares about us at all. We fail to recognise that when you treat prayer as if you have the right to tell God how to do His work, you will be disappointed. God does not take instructions. We wait, He doesn’t. But when you realise that God’s ways are not your ways, that His ways are superior to your ways, you will not be thrown off balance when circumstances seem to be leading you away from God’s will rather than toward it.

Something happens to us in this kind of waiting. There is purpose in waiting. Waiting on God forces us to look to Him. We are brought to attention. The prayer of waiting draws us into a place of stillness and quietness before God where we open our hearts to listen and receive the good gifts of guidance, wisdom and blessing. Waiting in prayer expands our hearts to accept God’s will instead of pushing for our own agenda. When we wait with hope it is like sitting in the dark of night before the first rays of dawn appear. We know that dawn will come, yet we cannot hurry it. We can watch and wait with hope to receive the first lights with joy.

Waiting gives God the opportunity to redefine our desires and align our purposes and vision with His. What appears from the earth-perspective to be a delay on God’s part is really the time when God is working behind the scene, beyond our senses. During the waiting time, we are operating by faith. Trials cause us to persevere by deepening our knowledge of God and relying on Him more intentionally. That is why in the midst of our daily frenzied activities, our Christian life needs to include times of contemplation and prayer to simply be with God in the stillness and to wait upon Him in loving anticipation of what He would do with us.

Waiting as an essential element of prayer, helps us not to treat novenas and other special prayers as quick fixes. As Jesus told His disciples, we must pray constantly and never give up (Luke 18:1). Sometimes we have to pray for a long period before we see any results. Why? We don’t know. As much as we grow impatient, we need to recognise that His timing is an astounding thing. What we do know is that Jesus always has our back and He knows what’s best. We mustn’t become disheartened or give up saying novenas because we don’t immediately see the fruits of our labour. The Blessed Virgin Mary and the apostles obeyed the Lord’s instruction to wait and pray, and scripture tells us that their fidelity and vigilance finally paid off.

May our waiting and our praying make us more open to receiving the Holy Spirit and more capable of showing the grace of God in all that we are and all that we do.

Returning from exile

Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed

There’s something pitiable about the person who lives in exile. To be in a faraway place when your heart is back home can be a severe punishment and a source of discouragement. The closest many of us have been through this experience is when we were sent to our rooms by our parents as punishment or when we were separated from our families and loved ones by thousands of miles due to travel, studies or work. The feeling of homesickness is a clear symptom of someone in exile, but most of us are assured that the feeling will pass because reunion is within reach.

The people of Isaiah’s day, to whom the first reading is addressed, knew that feeling well. Theirs was the plight of the exile. They’re a long way from home, and they have “miles to go before they sleep.” But unlike many of us who are certain of a time when we will be able to return home and reunite with our loved ones, these people who lived in exile were living in the anxiety of an uncertain future. The way home seemed closed and all prospects of reunion appear to have disintegrated. The spectre of living and dying in a foreign land was very real.

For this reason, the prophecy in Isaiah 25 is to them an infinitely consoling song of liberation—an Old Testament Magnificat that anticipates real hope for a bright and glorious future. The hymn breaks into the text unexpectedly, celebrating the end of the humiliation that have befallen the Jews for so long. God is clearly on the move, having subdued the enemies of Israel and having promised to restore them to a place of peace and prominence once again. With God, even the worst exile, which is death, is only temporary. This prophecy celebrates the end of darkness and death for the covenant people.

“On this mountain,
the Lord of hosts will prepare for all peoples a banquet of rich food.
On this mountain he will remove
the mourning veil covering all peoples,
and the shroud enwrapping all nations,
he will destroy Death for ever.
The Lord will wipe away
the tears from every cheek;
he will take away his people’s shame
everywhere on earth,
for the Lord has said so.”

The marvelous truth is that Israel as a nation will rise again from the dead.

As is often the case with Old Testament prophecies, God, the divine Author of scriptures, could see more than the earthly author. It is not difficult to capture glimpses of a greater event and miracle in this passage—the bodily resurrection that awaits all believers at the end of the age. In fact, when Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 15:54 that “death is swallowed up in victory,” he’s citing Isaiah 25:8. When John writes in Apocalypse 7:17 that “God will wipe away every tear from their eyes,” and again in 21:4 that God “will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more,” he’s surely alluding to the same prophecy. Isaiah’s original vision exceeds all expectations.

Whereas, the Jews looked to the fulfilment of this prophecy to take place “on this mountain” and saw Mount Zion, on which Jerusalem is built, as its fulfilment, they failed to recognise that the focus of the prophecy is not the “mountain” but the “Lord of Host” who prepares the banquet, destroys death and restores our communion with God. Christ, Our Lord and Saviour, is the fulfilment of that prophecy, as we see in today’s gospel passage. In the story of the widow of Nain who is grieving over the death of her son, the encounter with the Lord Jesus turns the grieving ceremony into a celebration of life and joy, it is He who removes the mourning veil from her, who wipes away her tears, who destroys death and finally restores her son to her. She did not have to ascend the mountain to experience the fulfilment of Isaiah’s prophecy; the mountain, Jesus, had come to her.

On this day when we commemorate all the faithful departed whom we had lost over the years, we do so not with broken hearts nor in hopeless despair. Just as how our Lord commanded the dead son of the widow to rise up, it is our hope and prayer, that our Lord will command all the faithful departed who have died in His peace, to rise up and have a share in His glory won for us on the mountain where He was crucified.

We live as a people of hope because we believe that humanity’s exile to this sin-scarred planet of crime, cruelty, injustice, and death will one day come to an end. Like Israel of old, we may continue to fail and fall in many ways, we will continue to lose our loved ones to death and one day too, we will have to reckon and accept our own mortality, but God is still God, and we can be certain that He will keep His promises:

• He will prepare a feast for His people.

• He will destroy the corpse’s shroud that enfolds us all.

• He will swallow up death forever.

• He will wipe away the tears from our faces.

• And He will remove His people’s disgrace from all the earth.

In other words, death itself will be exiled forever, and the people of God will finally be home. And the authority for such a great hope is that the Lord Himself “has said so”.

Our duty is to continue to pray for the dead, for the souls in Purgatory, and we do this, not because they need our prayers but because this is what the Holy Spirit has taught us to do. It is a gift of God, to allow us to share in His work in bringing His people to perfection. Purgatory is where souls are prepared for heaven, it is where the work of God which begun in their lives would be completed. It is the “processing centre” where exiles are prepared for their final homecoming to heaven. God wills that we should share in this work through our prayers. And by praying for them, we are attesting to the truth, “life is changed, not ended” at death.