Twin Pillars

Solemnity of Saint Peter and Saint Paul

Today’s feast is an important one in our Church’s calendar but is not one which gets the attention it deserves because it’s not always that the twenty ninth of June falls on a Sunday. So, don’t be surprised and think this is a new celebration in view of the fact that we have a newly minted Pope. It is a feast of not only one but two Apostles of the Lord, in fact, described in Tradition and in our liturgy as the Princes of the Apostles. St Peter, whose birth name was Simon, is one of the Twelve. St Paul, though not one of the Twelve and not one of the followers of the Lord while He was still on this earth, is also regarded an apostle of the Lord by his own designation in his letters. Some mistakenly believe that Paul also underwent a name change after his conversion, but he actually had two names - Saul was his Jewish name and Paul was his Latin name, since he was a Roman citizen.

Though Saints Peter and Paul were not martyred on the same day, they lived and died as twin giants for one Church and share a feast day, befitting their friendship and their leadership. There is something wonderful in these two holy heavyweights sharing a feast, forever shouldering each other like brothers in their zeal for the Father and acting as twin pillars of the Church. One of the reasons, among many, why they were paired from the earliest centuries of the Church, is not because of their association and encounters recorded in the Acts of the Apostles and Paul’s letters, but because they served as a new paradigm for the refounding of the city of Rome, contrasted with another set of siblings - the legendary twin founders of the Eternal City who were said to have been raised by a she-wolf.

According to legend, Romulus and Remus, the former after whom the city of Rome was named, were abandoned at birth and cast into the Tiber River where they were discovered by a she-wolf who nursed them. When they grew up, the twins embarked on a quest to found their own city. Romulus and Remus disagreed about which hill to build their city on. Eventually, Romulus just started digging a ditch around the Palatine Hill and built a wall to mark the boundaries. Remus mocked his brother’s work, and in a fit of anger Romulus killed him and then buried him under the wall which Romulus erected around the city. The story is reminiscent of the first account of fratricide in the Bible; Cain killed his brother Abel. It is also ironic that Rome and her empire were founded on fratricide.

Now contrast this with the re-founding of Rome through the spread of Christianity by Saints Peter and Paul. Although both were unrelated and came from vastly different backgrounds and places of origin, they would find a common home in the city of Rome where both will be martyred. It is more than coincidence that their places of martyrdom and burial would be separated by the ancient wall which had separated the two ancient founders of Rome. St Peter would be martyred and buried within the walls while St Paul would be entombed outside the walls. Two eponymous major basilicas sit above their respective tombs.

Like Romulus and Remus, Peter and Paul too had their disagreements. If anyone had a cause for strife and division, it was these two. They had little in common. Paul was the chief persecutor of the early Christians led by Peter. Even after Paul’s conversion, there were also heightened moments of tension and disagreement between the two, especially on how Gentile converts to Christianity should be treated. In fact, Paul speaks of confronting Peter to his face for backtracking on an earlier decision to welcome these Gentile converts without condition. It took divine action to make these enemies into brothers. Peter and Paul were ultimately bound together in a bond stronger than blood: the love of Christ.

It is in this love that Peter and Paul had the foundation of their relationship. Through Christ, these two men were closer than twins in the womb. Peter and Paul are often depicted together in iconography in a circle, embracing one another in a brotherly hug with expressions of affection, like a pair of twins in the womb of their mother. This orientation is also reflected in the two Roman basilicas built over their tombs. Instead of just facing East, the direction of the rising sun from which the Lord is said to return, the two basilicas face each other across the Tiber - as if perennially yearning to be united in an eternal embrace. In contrast, images of Romulus and Remus, the mythological twins, are usually facing away from each other, as one ended up killing the other.

Peter and Paul remind us that brothers can be born from unlikely sources and that the spiritual bonds of fraternity can be stronger than blood ties. What is stronger than the blood which runs through our veins is the blood shed for us on the cross, a blood which has inspired so many Christians to give up their own life’s blood in knowing that eternal glory awaits them on the other side of the threshold of death. Peter and Paul were united in such a death as this. Early Christian tradition tells us they were imprisoned together for nine months before their martyrdoms on the same day. If the Old Rome was built on fratricide, brother killing brother, the New Rome and her Kingdom were founded on fraternal love, brothers dying for each other.

Today, the effigies of these two great Apostles stand as guardians to the entrances of the major Basilica of St Peter, as stone lions would in front of Chinese temples in the East. If the stone lions were meant to keep evil and inauspicious forces out, our two saints beckon to welcome pilgrims of the world to enter. A pillar must always have a partner, and so Peter and Paul are the twin pillars that hold up the doorway of the Church. So staunch are they that the rest of the faithful must celebrate their feast days together as one. They shared their life for the Faith, and so, to this day, they share it also in the observation of their glorious entrance into life eternal. As we celebrate the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, let us look to their model of fraternal correction and mutual love as we work to spread the gospel message in our own lives.

There can be no gospel without the cross

Twenty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Today’s gospel reading takes us to the structural centre and turning point in the Gospel of St Mark. It highlights this important truth in life - sometimes when you think you’ve got the right answer only to discover that you were wrong due to some prior presumption. In answering our Lord’s question, “who do you say I am”, St Peter gives the correct answer but we would soon see that he lacks complete understanding of what he had just blurted out.

He is like the blind man of Bethsaida whose miraculous healing had just taken place prior to this episode. No other miracle is like this one. The healing involved a two-stage process – a first part which was only partially successful while complete healing only took place after our Lord had spat into the eyes of the blind man (I understand that even the thought of someone spitting into your eyes will disgust you). The two-stage process was not the result of any inadequacy on the part of our Lord but was meant to be instructive. Peter and all the disciples, including us, are like that blind man. We too need to have our eyes of faith opened in stages, and this is what we witness in today’s passage.

At the beginning of this passage, our Lord asked two questions of the disciples: one concerning the view of the people regarding Himself, and another concerning the disciples' own view of Him. The first question elicited the current speculations that was circulating in the market of opinions - that He was John the Baptist back from beyond the grave, that He was Elijah who was expected to return before the arrival of the great and terrible Day of the Lord, and finally, that He was a prophet in the line of prophets from the Old Testament, just like how many had thought of John the Baptist. Never once is it recorded that the populace had even the slightest inkling that this is the Messiah. They thought of Him as one who was looking for another yet to come, and there is no indication that they ever got beyond that view.

But now our Lord cuts through the popular speculations and demands an answer from His own disciples. “But you … yes you … who do you say I am?” They could no longer hide behind the opinions of others. Our Lord now confronts them with this penetrating question which demands an honest answer. Their answer will either reveal their knowledge or expose their ignorance. The disciples had been the only ones privy to the secrets and mysteries revealed by the Lord. Peter's reply is immediate and definite: "You are the Christ." And this is indeed the correct answer. All that the Lord had done up to that point had been designed to lead them to this understanding of who He was, that they might then answer their own question.

"Christ" is simply the Greek form of the Hebrew word "Messiah". They mean exactly the same thing. And it is not a name, but a title. Jesus is His name, Christ is His office. And, in either the Greek or the Hebrew form, it means The Anointed One, or the One anointed by God. In the Old Testament there were two offices which required anointing: king, and priest. Our Lord, therefore, fulfils both roles but in a most perfect and unexpected way. And it is clear from what happens next that Peter’s and the other disciples’ understanding of the significance of this title is still not up to par. They were still stuck in their Old Testament categories and contemporary expectations of a political messiah whose mission was confined to the political liberation and restoration of the kingdom of Israel. For this reason, the Lord commanded them to remain quiet about this knowledge and not spread it because it would only fuel more false expectations of His mission.

We can see why the Lord did this, in the light of the story of the blind man which preceded this passage. This is that first touch, which opened their eyes to partial truth. They saw Him, but not clearly. They were astounded by Him, amazed and dazzled and fascinated, but not comprehending of what He really was like. They still require the second touch.

And the second touch came in the form of our Lord’s prediction about His passion and death. This was so essential to understanding His office and mission as the Messiah that our Lord repeated it three times, each time with additional details. In other words, to truly understand our Lord as the Christ, the long-awaited Messiah, the Anointed One of God, they must see Him in the light of the cross. This is where the image of the Suffering Servant mentioned in the first reading is woven into the prophecies of the Old Testament. The Saviour of Israel and indeed of the World, is also the One who comes not to be served but to serve and to give His life as ransom for many (Mark 10:45). And this time, He said all these things about His own passion “quite openly.” There was no longer any need for secrets to avoid confusion. It is clear that they understood what He said because Peter’s immediate response would be to attempt to convince our Lord from speaking in this fashion or even contemplating “political suicide”, which rightly earned our Lord’s rebuke: “Get behind me Satan!”

Peter and any of us speak with the voice of Satan whenever we try to reason away the cross or put forward a cheap form of discipleship which demands little or no sacrifice from us. This is what Satan attempts to do - present us with a saccharine saturated Christianity of nice platitudes, big promises of blessings, a final solution to all our troubles, but a path without the cross. Christianity without the cross is not Christianity at all, but a shabby, slimy substitute. The cross is what makes it Christian.

A gospel without the cross is a gospel of "self-sufficiency," "self-reliance." And a gospel of self-sufficiency is a gospel that claims to have no need for God or grace. Embracing the cross and following Christ means entrusting ourselves to His providence and care. It means placing our trust in Him and His grace rather than in our own resources, efforts and strength. The path of discipleship necessarily involves sacrifice. And sacrifice in order to be sacrifice needs to hurt. We often tend to shield ourselves and others from pain, failure, suffering, and setbacks, failing to realise that whenever we do so, we assume the position of Peter in wanting to avoid the cross. The cross in our lives does not spell destruction but actually entails salvation.

Giving the right answer is just the first piece of a puzzle. Living the right life is what completes it. This was the lesson St Peter had to learn and which each of us disciple-wannabes, must take to heart. The call to discipleship is radical and ultimately intertwined with the cross. The cross of our Lord Jesus is inseparable from the life of a Christian. We cannot claim to want to follow Christ if we are unwilling to renounce ourselves, take up our crosses and follow Him on the Way, which He has set for us. It goes without saying that Christ and the cross, are a package deal. But, instead of seeing it as a burden to endure, a peril to flee from or a curse which we cannot avoid, recognise the cross as the only way to salvation. There can be no resurrection if there was no cross. As St. Rose of Lima said, “Apart from the cross there is no other ladder by which we may get to heaven.”

Not on the Way, in the Way

Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Those who know me well would have heard me sing a parody of that famous song immortalised by Josh Groban, “You raised me up.” In my twisted version, the first line goes like this: “You raised me up and then you slammed me down.” This sounds much like what the Lord does to St Peter in today’s Gospel. Last week, our Lord gave Simon a new name, Peter, the Rock, on which He promised to build His new temple, the Church, and which will stand as a lasting and formidable bastion against the gates of the underworld. No greater honour could be paid to any of the apostles. That was his high point!

But this week, our Lord drastically changes His tune and utters one of the meanest put-downs and aims it like a knife at Peter. Peter’s fortune is reversed - in last week’s passage, he was raised up to the highest heavens and in this week’s episode he is cast down from the heights like Satan. St Peter is now the agent of Satan, the stumbling block to those who might come to profess the same faith. This unexpected transformation from building block to stumbling block, from an instrument to an obstacle, from a lieutenant of Christ to an adversary, comes quickly – so quickly, in fact, that the two passages occur back to back in one continuous narrative.

What brought about this reversal of fortune for Peter? Having been identified as the Messiah, the Lord in today’s passage begins to spell out how He is planning to accomplish His work of salvation. The nature of His mission would entail suffering, rejection and death. It was clear to the apostles that Jesus was the Messiah. The notion that He was the suffering Messiah was much harder to digest. It required frequent repetition from the Lord to make real to their minds the thought that He had to suffer and be killed. It is no wonder that St Peter, who had just confessed that our Lord was the long-awaited Messiah, now pleads with Him to cease His madness, “Heaven preserve you, Lord,” or “God forbids!” “This must not happen to you.” The disciple who is meant to listen to the Master, now seeks to command the Teacher. St Peter found the cross offensive because he could not bear the thought that the Messiah, from whom he expected national deliverance, should be killed.

What Peter failed to realise is that the death of Christ was necessary, as the text tells us that “He was destined to go to Jerusalem.” The words “destined to go” imply a constraint, an imperative, a divine necessity. His death had been planned and willed by God through all eternity. The prophets had predicted it and He must fulfil it. Pope Saint Paul VI wrote: “In a mysterious way, Christ Himself accepts death... on the Cross, in order to eradicate from man's heart the sins of self-sufficiency and to manifest to the Father a complete filial obedience” (Apostolic Exhortation Gaudete in Domino, 9 May 1975). By willingly accepting death, the Lord carries the cross of all human beings and becomes a source of salvation for the whole of humanity. Peter couldn’t quite get it. None of the disciples could at this stage.

Our Lord’s reaction to Peter’s attempt to give Him guidance was as sharp as it was instantaneous: He turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle in my path, because the way you think is not God’s way but man’s!” The Lord notes that unlike last week’s passage, where our Lord affirms that Peter’s confession of faith was revealed by the Father, the source of this week’s statement was from Peter himself. What’s worse, is that this human opinion was being used by the devil to tempt the Lord to turn His back on the cross, to choose safety and honour, over suffering and sacrifice. This was the nature of the three temptations which Satan used on our Lord in the wilderness before He began His public ministry. Satan had returned to tempt our Lord in the person of Peter. Of course, our Lord will have none of it because He knew that glory comes only after sacrifice. As one of my seminary formators once told a group of us, “If you are not on the Way, you are in the way!”

This dramatic exchange between our Lord and Peter would have been accentuated by the stunning backdrop. The town is Caesarea Philippi, a town built and named by an heir of Herod the Great in honour of Great Caesar and yet Philip the Tetrarch arrogantly attaches his name to the title - Caesarea Philippi - Philip’s City of Caesar. The vassal seeks to rule his liege. The arrogance of Philip, a minor ruler, is pretty rich. Similarly, Peter in remonstrating with the Lord, seeks to lord over Him. Instead of renouncing himself and follow the Lord’s lead, Simon Peter seeks to have the Lord follow his instructions and lead.

If you find this parallel coincidental, consider now the geographical location. Caesarea Philippi is in the foothills of Mount Hermon, in a region currently known as the Golan Heights, previously Syrian and then occupied and annexed by Israel after a series of wars. But what was most imposing about this region and city is the enormous rocky outcrop on which the city is built. At the foot of this rock was a natural spring which was considered to be a sacred shrine dedicated to the god Pan, who had the appearance of a satyr - a half goat and half man creature - almost demon-like. So, the words of our Lord spoken here take on another level of meaning when one has a view of the surroundings where He spoke. The rock on which He would build His Church would no longer be this geological rocky formation but a man, a seemingly weak one at that - Simon Peter; and when He subsequently called out Simon Peter as “Satan,” our Lord would not have been referring to the demon-like pagan god Pan, but the very same man whom He had named “rock” just a few minutes earlier.

The passage ends with our Lord spelling out what a disciple of His must do. The fate of the Master must now be the fate of the disciple, for this is what it means to “follow” Christ. “If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me.” You see, the cross was not only for Jesus. It is ours too. The cross of Christ means your death and my death.

In the midst of the many voices clamouring for our time, our money, our allegiance and our attention, we are called to choose the cross, we are called to choose Christ, to the complete dispossession of all else. In His call to authentic discipleship, Christ challenges our most precious loyalties. As there can be no other gods before the God of Israel, there can be no other loves before Christ. The life you long for, the changes you want, come only through the cross — no other way! If you will live at the cross, the cross will take care of the rest. This is a great challenge for each of us.

The Cure D’Ars, St John Vianney, leaves us with this wonderful wisdom: “On the Way of the Cross, you see, my children, only the first step is painful. Our greatest cross is the fear of crosses. . . We have not the courage to carry our cross, and we are very much mistaken; for, whatever we do, the cross holds us tight - we cannot escape from it. What, then, have we to lose? Why not love our crosses, and make use of them to take us to heaven?”

You are Peter

Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

If you are an avid follower of the Catholic blogosphere, you would certainly get the impression that the Catholic Church is deeply polarised and is spiralling completely out of control. There was a time when you would dismiss all negative commentaries as conspiracy theories and that there is no reason to panic. But today, you would find it hard to allay their fears and anxiety. As many of you may know, we are heading into another critical moment with speculations and anxiety building up about the outcome of the greatly touted Synod on Synodality, with rumours that women ordination, married priesthood, same sex marriages are on their way in. The entire Synodal process, though praised by marginalised voices as allowing them to air their views, seems to have rendered our bishops impotent - with one commentator claiming that the bishops have been reduced to “note-takers, not teachers; recording secretaries, not guarantors of orthodoxy; messenger boys, not apostolic leaders.”

In the middle of this storm is the figure of Pope Francis. Borrowing the cliched line in the Spider-Man movie, with great power comes great responsibility. Shouldn’t he be assuming the bulk of responsibility for this seeming mess? Many today would like to see him take a more proactive role to clean up the mess they see in the Church.

For those who fall on either side of the divide, whether you are an avid Pope Francis fan or against his policies or those who sit at the sidelines watching the ensuing mayhem and internal conflict unfold, it is good to remember that the office of the Pope, who is the visible guarantor of unity within the Church, has always been a controversial and divisive one, especially during major crises in the Church’s long history. During tumultuous periods of the Church’s history, the great schism between the East and the West, during the time of the anti-popes, and in the aftermath of the Protestant Reformation, the Pope has been at the very centre of controversy and division. Some see papal authority as an overreached while others view him as the anti-Christ. Has St Peter’s successor finally fallen on the wrong side of God’s plan of salvation?

It is good to return to what our Lord said in today’s passage. “You are Peter and on this rock I will build my Church. And the gates of the underworld can never hold out against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven: whatever you bind on earth shall be considered bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth shall be considered loosed in heaven.” Earlier, Peter had made a definitive declaration that Jesus is the Messiah of Jewish expectation and the Son of the Living God. In return, Jesus issues His own declaration that Peter is to be the foundation of a new and messianic temple known as the Church.

The dialogue begins with our Lord asking for a public poll: “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” Isn’t that often the way we define ourselves or rate personalities? Modern politicians often believe that the polls hold the truth. But are any of these polls conclusive? Just like real life, the opinion polls about the Lord are divided. There is no consensus as to the identity of Jesus, because His identity is the subject of revelation and not public opinion: “it was not flesh and blood that revealed this to you but my Father in heaven.” It is good to remember this when we wish to make an assessment about the papacy.

Our Lord then puts His own disciples on the spot and calls them to give a direct answer rather than relying on third party polls. This is a risky thing for both our Lord and His disciples. The disciples may not wish to end up offending our Lord by giving the wrong answer, and they could always hide behind the opinion of others. But St Peter makes this firm declaration of faith: “You are the Christ … the Son of the living God.” Peter did not only risk being humiliated by our Lord for giving the wrong answer but far more grievously, he risked being accused of blasphemy for calling Jesus “the Son of God.” But the response of Peter stands out amid the cacophony of conflicting opinions.

Just as Peter declares Jesus to be the “Messiah” and the “son of the Living God,” Jesus now returns the favour and declares Simon to be Peter, in Greek “Petros” or “Petra.” The title announces Peter’s unique role in God’s plan: “You are Peter and on this rock I will build my Church. And the gates of the underworld can never hold out against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven…” The Jewish expectation of the messiah was that he, like the original son of David (Solomon), would rebuild the Temple of the Lord. Rabbinical Judaism also believed that the foundation stone of the Temple capped off the shaft leading down to the netherworld. So, Peter is now given a comparable role in the living temple built by the Messiah, the Church, as the capstone or “rock” which seals off the forces of evil. Our Lord also entrusts Peter with the keys of the Kingdom. In the first reading, the possessor of the keys was the chief steward of the king; he was the senior official who held the most powerful government position in Israel under the king.

So, Peter and his successors were meant to be impregnable bulwark against the forces of evil and the gatekeeper who will ensure who gets into or is excluded, from the Kingdom. So, does our current crisis warrant that we question the words and promises of our Lord in today’s passage? Should the words of our Lord be read in a contingent way? Our answer must be a definite no and this answer is deeply rooted in our faith in Jesus Christ. Papal flaws are an opportunity to understand what the papacy really means, not to abandon it (or the Church).

What most Catholics fail to recognise is that throughout its 2000 years history, the Catholic Church has always been threatened with the risk of capsizing and many popes in the past and in present times have been subject to scrutiny and criticisms, some unfounded while others have some basis in reality. And yet, with all the odds stacked against these two institutions, both have somehow miraculously remained afloat! Saint Ambrose said: “The Church is like the moon; it may wane, but never be destroyed; it may be darkened, but it can never disappear.” When the Church is in greatest need, Christ comes to its help by miracles, or by raising up saintly men to strengthen and purify it. Yes, the Lord does not, and will not abandon His Church because the Lord always keeps His promises.

This is the meaning of the doctrine of “indefectibility”, a term which does not speak of the Church’s lack of defects but confesses that, despite all its many weaknesses and failures, Christ is faithful to His promise that the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. The Church's indefectibility, therefore, means that she now is and will always remain the institution of salvation, founded by Christ.

So please, my fellow Catholics, the proper response when reading headlines about the corruption or destruction of the Church due to the mismanagement by her leaders is not panic or rage or despair. Rather, we should never cease or slack in praying for our Holy Father, the successor of St Peter, and for the unity of the episcopate, the successors of the Apostles. Let us continue to hold firm to the promise of our Lord: “You are Peter and on this rock I will build my Church. And the gates of the underworld can never hold out against it.”

Leave me Lord! I am a sinful man

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

“Leave me Lord! I am a sinful man.” Part of Peter’s response, the part where he declares himself to be the sinner, would seem anachronistic to modern man, although they would both share a similar repulsion. In the case of Peter, the repulsion arose from self-loathing, fully aware of his own depravity. But modern man’s loathing of the sacred arises from his self-sufficiency. In a world where the individual believes himself to be close to divine, immortal, invincible, God and the realm of the sacred will both appear intrusive and be regarded as threats to man’s autonomy and dominance.

What is the fundamental position which separates the two? Modern man acts from a position of hubris, whereas Peter begins from a disposition of humility. The former behaves as if he is God, the latter recognises that he isn’t. In fact, there's a common theme running through all of today's readings – it is the sense of unworthiness. The unworthiness felt by Isaiah in the presence of the Lord; the unworthiness of St Paul even to be called an "apostle" and the unworthiness of St Peter - who is so acutely aware of his own weakness, that he asked the Lord to go away: "Leave me, Lord, for I am a sinful man." This unworthiness does not arise from a neurotically defective poor self-esteem but an attitude of humble honesty. And such humility and honesty predisposes Peter to encounter and experience the sense of the sacred.

The call of St Peter in Luke’s gospel provides us with a close-up view of the process of conversion. St Peter’s conversion moves through various phases - from the world of the profane to the realm of the sacred, from indifference to commitment, from aloofness to immersion, from moral ambivalence to repentance, and finally, from curiosity to genuine enquiry leading to enlightenment. But this story is only the beginning of Peter’s journey of discovery and transformation. From a man who prides himself in being able to set the course for his own life, to a disciple who will allow himself to be led by the One who transforms his life.

Notice how the story begins. Peter remains anonymous and indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd at the opening of the passage. We will only discover later that he is one of the fishermen who were washing their nets on the shore. He stands at a distance from the crowds who had gathered to listen to the Lord. Unlike those potential disciples who were swarming around the Lord, Peter remains aloof - perhaps indifferent to Jesus and His teachings; perhaps a little curious about the reason for the commotion; but he kept a safe distance from the Lord, at a time when social distancing wasn’t yet in vogue. There were enough things, more pressing things, to worry about in life, would he wish to complicate matters further by listening to an itinerant preacher.

If Peter was unwilling to take the first step to draw nearer to the Lord, the Lord would not miss this opportunity to take the initiative, to seek out Peter. This must have come as a shock to Peter but it would be too early and too blatantly rude for him to utter those immortal words: “Leave me Lord!” or “Leave me alone.” Now that they were literally in “the same boat,” Peter had no choice but to listen to our Lord teach the crowds. From being an indifferent bystander, Peter now graduates and becomes an unwilling audience. We are not told how the Lord’s words would have impacted him but we can speculate that it would have had some effect on him as shown in his willingness to heed the Lord’s instruction to put out into the deep and pay out the nets despite his better judgment and experience.

Our Lord does not foist His will upon Peter but awaits his response. The reward of Peter’s surprising obedience and docility would be the big catch of fish, which happened against all odds. He immediately recognised that this phenomenon was supernatural in nature. And the man who had little interest in the teachings of a religious teacher is overwhelmed by a sense of the sacred and makes this confession: “Leave me Lord! I am a sinful man.”

A scholar in comparative religion, Rudolf Otto, wrote a seminal work on this topic of what constitutes the holy or the sacred. He summed it up with a Latin maxim: “mysterium tremendum et fascinans.” His definition attempts to capture two distinct poles or movements. The first is Mysterium tremendum: a sense of something mysterious, overwhelming, and daunting which elicits from us a sense of diminution, humility, submission, and creatureliness. This is what Peter experienced as he felt repelled by his own sense of unworthiness. But there is also another aspect of the sacred – one which attracts, instead of repels. Mysterium fascinans: a sense of something fascinating, desirable, good, caring, and comforting which invites us into its fullness, fulfils us, and in so doing, produces a unique kind of spiritual bliss. For this reason, Peter was also drawn to the person of Jesus, willing to give up everything, including the security of his profession and even family, to follow the Lord on the path of discipleship.

Peter’s story is our story too. In order to be true disciples of Christ, we too must make that journey - from the world of the profane to the realm of the sacred, from indifference to commitment, from aloofness to immersion, from moral ambivalence to repentance, and finally, from curiosity to genuine enquiry leading to enlightenment. The more we grow in our understanding of God’s revelation in Christ, the more we become aware of our own sinfulness and shortcomings. And hence, the more we realise our dependence upon His forgiving grace.

Today, when the Lord looks into our hearts, He sees things we can't even begin to imagine, things which we would rather not want to see. He sees our weakness, He sees our unworthiness, He knows we will let him down - time and time again. But He's not interested in any of that, because He sees something more. He sees the possibilities. And though we can only see our own limitations and faults and be repelled by them, our Lord invites us to shift our gaze and look upon His beautiful countenance, where we can only see mercy, forgiveness, and love. Our sins may repel us from Him but His love draws us to Him, and His love is far stronger than our self-disgust, if we only allow Him the space to do what He must do. But He will not do it without our consent, for St Augustine rightly states: “He who created us without our help will not save us without our consent.”

Our Lord is waiting for your consent. Would you put out into the deep, to go where you have not gone before, to trust in His words rather than in your own experiences and resources? Often, it's when we are at our lowest, when we have failed, when we are most acutely aware of our weakness, that our Lord comes to us and works His miracles. And it's then we have to trust in Him, to launch out into deep water, knowing that it's not our strength or our talents that matter, but His. As we hear His words of invitation, let us tell Him: "Lord, I am not worthy, I am a sinful man/ woman. But do not leave me. Instead, only say the word, and I shall be healed."

Renounce yourself

Twenty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

St Peter’s confession of faith is not only the turning point in St Mark’s gospel narrative but also a turning point in his relationship with the Lord. The disciple’s identity and mission pivots on the identity and mission of the Lord. To follow Him, which is to say to imitate Him, requires that they first know who He is. But to grasp that Jesus is the Messiah, is not the same as understanding what it means to be the Messiah. What the Lord does or must do, they must follow. Here, we see a breakthrough, a burst of light, a moment of enlightenment. But with every breakthrough there must be resistance, and with light, comes the shadow cast by darkness. On the one hand, Peter, the representative of all disciples, gets it but moments later we realise that he still has much to learn, to grow in both understanding and commitment.

Instead of looking at the famous exchange between St Peter and our Lord, I would like to lead you to consider the teaching of our Lord in the last part of today’s passage. It was precisely Peter’s gross misunderstanding of this teaching, which got him into trouble.

The saying of our Lord here is perhaps one of His most ironic and paradoxical. Whenever we wish to win people to a cause, a party or a club, we point out the advantages they would gain should they join our group. No sane person would paint a dark sombre picture of your organisation and expect to get long lines queuing up to sign up. When our Lord wanted people to follow Him, He said some very strange words: "If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me."

The path to discipleship, therefore, requires three specific actions: self-renunciation, taking up one’s cross and following Christ.

Renouncing oneself seems counter-intuitive. Isn’t the goal of each person self-realisation, which is to maximise your potential and find the best version of yourself rather than to reject self? Over the centuries, we are offered an entire list of advice on how to advance ourselves. The man bent on pleasure says: "Enjoy yourself'”. The teacher says: "Educate yourself'”. The artist says: "Express yourself'”. The philosopher says: "Know yourself'”. The millennial says: “Be yourself”. But Christ says: "Renounce yourself'”.

In a modern culture that prizes individualism, perhaps one fear looms largest when we hear the call to “renounce yourself”: the fear that we will lose everything. We will be deprived of everything that makes me, “me”. Our dreams will be trashed, our desires blunted, our personality erased. We will become one more drop in a sea of endless grey.

But these fears have no basis. Our Lord assures us that when you deny yourself, you will not lose yourself. On the contrary, you will find yourself. Renouncing ourselves as the Lord’s disciples, will not diminish us. In fact, we will get a surprising upgrade. The life we find on the other side of self-denial may look far different from the life we’ve always known. But it will not — it cannot — be worse. It is a life where we gain a hundredfold more than we are ever willing to give up (Mark 10:30). It is a life with Jesus: maker of all beauty, redeemer of all brokenness, fountain of all joy. What is being renounced is not our best self, but the fallen untamed self that seeks after its own pleasure and selfish goals, the self which leads to destruction rather than salvation. When we renounce this part of ourselves, we are saying “no” to the devil: “Get behind me, Satan,” and we are saying “yes” to Christ and the salvation He offers.

After renouncing self, the Lord invites us to take up our cross. A cross is never a burden when it is taken up willingly. The problem is that we erroneously label so many things in life as crosses - when they are merely annoyances or inconveniences or things which we don’t like. What is worse than the rejection of the cross is the trivialising of the cross. Many people interpret a “cross” as some burden they must carry in their lives: a strained relationship, a thankless job, a physical illness. With self-pitying pride, they say, “That’s my cross.” When everything appears to be a cross, the real cross we must carry for Christ’s sake loses its value.

The cross which our Lord carried to Calvary, the cross on which He was nailed to and died upon, is no mere symbol. It was real. Though some Christians were privileged to be martyred in the same manner, most of us will not see this kind of death. But the point is clear. The cross represents death, not just mere inconveniences or hardships, or even a person or situation in your life. To take up your cross is the readiness to surrender everything and die to oneself, in following the Lord. Here’s the clue that distinguishes the cross from other false substitutes. The cross has to be taken up freely and willingly. This is what the Suffering Servant in Isaiah’s prophecy, which we heard in the first reading, does. He is not a reluctant victim but rather one who willingly accepts the abuse that is heaped on him, “I offered my back to those who struck me… I did not cover my face against insult and spittle.” It cannot be forced upon us. We can, therefore, choose to flee from it or choose to bear it as a trophy, a badge of honour, because we are now sharing in what the Lord endured for us.

The last part of the formula to become a disciple of Christ is found in these two familiar words, “follow me.” These two words together form a command found thirteen times in the Gospels. The words mean, immediate detachment from personal interests and attachment to Christ. “Follow Me” is a call to imitation. To be a Christian means to be of Christ, to be like Christ, to be configured to Christ, in that His identity and mission become ours. We become an “alter Christus,” “another Christ.”  But “follow me” is also a call to obedience. It is no mere invitation, but an imperative command. Those who heard the words of Jesus immediately left everything to follow Him. It was a costly decision for them. There is no genuine Christianity without obedience to Christ. The rich young man heard the call and realised that Jesus was his rightful Lord and Master, but he refused to follow Him. The true disciple does.

Giving the right answer is just the first piece of a puzzle. Living the right life is what completes it. This was the lesson St Peter had to learn and which each of us disciple-wannabes, must take to heart. The call to discipleship is radical and ultimately intertwined with the cross. The cross of our Lord Jesus is inseparable from the life of a Christian. We cannot claim to want to follow Christ if we are unwilling to renounce ourselves, take up our crosses and follow Him on the Way, which He has set for us. It goes without saying that Christ and the cross, are a package deal. But, instead of seeing it as a burden to endure, a peril to flee from or a curse which we cannot avoid, recognise the cross as the only way to salvation. There can be no resurrection if there was no cross. As St. Rose of Lima said, “Apart from the cross there is no other ladder by which we may get to heaven.” Such is the power of the cross we embrace.

From a Chicken to a Rooster to a Phoenix

Easter Sunday

In the West, it is common to find an ornamental rooster perched on top of a weathervane. Equally common, but lesser known and not so noticeable, would you find this bird placed on top of the steeples of churches. There are many anecdotal, and perhaps even apocryphal stories of how the bird got there, ranging from how one Pope decreed it to be placed on church tops as a symbol of Saint Peter’s betrayal, to how Protestants used it to distinguish their churches from those of the Papist faith, which they despised. Neither accounts can be wholly verified. If we could, perhaps we have found a basis for ecumenical agreement - the rooster!!!

Today, I would like to speak of this bird as forming two book ends, or some scripture scholars would say, the inclusio and conclusio, to the story of Christ’s death and resurrection. A rooster’s crowing stands at one end - it would mark the beginning of our Lord’s Passion, the point where Saint Peter denies our Lord and flees the scene. And similarly it would be at cock crow, or as the gospel passage says, “very early” on Easter morning, when Peter will return to the tomb, this time running in haste to verify the report of the women.

After Peter’s denial something changed. Something died in him. It was a turning point moment for Peter. Peter’s own bold confidence and strength were killed. He knew he was sand, not “the unmovable rock.” He realised that he is not a noble rooster strutting around in pride but a cowardly chicken, scurrying for cover. That’s why he went outside to weep after his denial. He ran away because he knew what and who he was. A sinner in need of forgiveness! But this would also be the beginning of Peter’s conversion. His cowardice would awaken him to realise that he was not self-reliant. He was not a self-made man. Never was. Everything about him depended upon Jesus, His Lord and Saviour.

That is why Peter ran to the tomb on Easter morning. He had to know and to see for himself that Christ had risen from the dead. On the night of his betrayal, he fled the scene and hid himself. He did not even witness the Lord’s execution but heard reports of it. Now that he had received news from the women who went to the tomb, that His Lord may actually be alive (or the body stolen), nothing could keep him from running like a little child filled with excitement and hope. Is it true? Could it be true, what our Lord had promised He would do, that is, He would rise again on the third day?

So, the rooster is not just a symbol of Peter’s failure, it is also a herald of Christ’s triumph. Just like the ambivalent cross, once a symbol of shame and failure, but at the hands of the Lord, a symbol of Christian glory, the cowardly chicken on Thursday night is transformed into the majestic rooster on Easter morning. Yes, the rooster is the symbol of Peter, not just of his failure but also what happens to every Christian because of our Lord’s resurrection - like Peter, like a rooster we are called to be heralds announcing the dawn, announcing the arrival of the day after the night, the arrival of good after bad, life after death.

But there is something more to be said about the rooster on this Feast of all feasts. The cock on the weather vane always faces into the wind, so it’s a symbol of the way Christ faces into the sins and dangers of the world. Our Lord invites us to share the same direction, the same orientation. We are to stand with Him, even if it means standing against the world and its distorted self-aggrandising, self-absorbed values. The key to this experience is following the Way of Jesus and abiding in Him always, even if that Way ultimately leads to the cross. It is at this moment that we realise that the innocuous rooster is actually a magnificent Phoenix, another symbol in the early Church of Christ. Just as a Phoenix is reborn and rises from the ashes of its destruction, Christ too has risen from the dead. If we have chosen to die with Him, we will then rise to new life with Him.

It is for this reason that Saint Augustine calls us an Easter people and Alleluia is our song. Pope St John Paul II tells us, “Do not abandon yourself to despair. We are the Easter people and Hallelujah is our song.” We are the Easter people who believe that the cross transformed all suffering and pain, and the Resurrection secured the promise of eternal life. As St. Augustine sums up the idea of being an Easter People: “Let us admire, congratulate, rejoice, love, praise, adore; because through the death of our Redeemer we are called from darkness to light, from death to life, from exile to home, from grief to everlasting joy.”

Yes, today on Easter morning, if you have heard the rooster’s crow, know this, though it reminds us of our failures, our betrayals and our sinfulness, that we are a Good Friday people who turned our backs on the Lord, we would also hear in that very same cock crow, the grace of God to sinners. The rooster is both an image of Peter’s failure, our failure, but also Jesus Christ's triumph. This Easter don’t just walk. Don’t put it off till tomorrow. Don’t hesitate at the door. Don’t hide like chickens. But run, run with the love of Saint Mary Magdalene, run with the zeal of Saint John and enter the empty tomb with the courage of Saint Peter. And like a rooster bursting with joy as it welcomes the Dawn, shout at the top of your voice, “Christ is Risen! He is Risen Indeed! Alleluia!”

Choose Salvation and not just Safety

Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

I will not lie to you. I will not paint a rosy picture of what’s in store for every Christian who desires to live up to his or her name. The truth is simply this: being a Christian is really hard. So much easier to go with the flow, to fit in, to accommodate and follow how the world thinks, and does things. Try to go against the flow, and you would most likely get hit or be thrown under the bus. It is Venerable Fulton Sheen who tells us, “Today the current is against us. And today the mood of the world is, ‘Go with the world, go with the spirit.’” But the good bishop reminds us that “dead bodies float downstream. Only live bodies resist the current.”

This is the dilemma faced by St Peter in the gospel. To choose safety over risking losing everything. To either flee from the cross or embrace it. Peter chose safety over risk, flight over fight, and he will repeat this mistake at the very end of the gospel story when his Master gets arrested. What made his cowardice more pronounced in today’s passage is that he is trying to convince the Lord to do the same.

Just last week, Peter identified Jesus as the Christ, the Son of God; and the Lord announced that God had revealed this truth to him. On that basis, our Lord called Peter a “rock”, and promised to use him as a foundation to build His Church. Jesus even conferred the keys of the kingdom, a symbol of His authority on Peter. But this week, the mood changes. Peter’s rock melts and becomes jelly. What happened? Our Lord predicts and discloses to His disciples that He must suffer greatly, be rejected by the religious authorities, and be killed before rising from the dead. There is no glory without the cross. It’s confounding and downright frightening.

Peter then takes our Lord aside and tries to remonstrate with Him. We would imagine that Peter is being respectful and does not wish to challenge the Lord in front of the others. But the phrase “taking Him aside” has a more profound nuance. The phrase is more accurately translated “took possession,” as in the case of a demoniac possession, taking control of a person’s will and rendering him powerless. This is the action of the diabolical. This is what Satan attempted to do at the beginning of the gospel when he took our Lord aside and tempted Him with various paths that will lead our Lord away from His mission and the Cross. Peter now stands in the place of Satan and does the same. Peter is an obstacle to our Lord’s mission and tries to convince Him to abandon the means by which our Lord will achieve His mission by proposing a safer way, one which requires little sacrifice, one which has nothing to do with the cross.

But our Lord clarifies, “If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me. For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it.” It’s the cross which will define the disciple, not just the ability to do good deeds or spout correct doctrinal statements about Christ or God.

This is the lesson the apostles and all followers of Jesus would have to learn. When we cling tightly to life and comfort in this world, when we prioritise safety over salvation, we risk losing out on the real life God desires to give us. Peter, out of misguided love, proposed exactly that. Jesus had to correct him, out of true love, and call him back to allegiance to God’s way. As the apostles would soon learn, the path to glory, for Jesus and for us, must pass through Calvary, it cannot avoid the Cross. To avoid the cross would be to stand in the way of Jesus. Our place as His disciples, is to follow Him from behind, not stand in His way. And the crosses that we carry are not proof of God’s absence or powerlessness, but where God’s power can be found.

Real Christians embrace the cross. They don’t flee from it, give excuses for it, or find softer substitutes for it. Renouncing oneself and taking up one’s cross is more than giving up something. It’s not like your little Friday or Lenten sacrifice where you deny yourself chocolate or alcohol or sugar or coffee – basically anything that makes life pleasurable. Denying yourself isn’t an invitation to a private spirituality. It isn’t a form of spiritual masochism. No. It’s a call to live in God’s way, even at the cost of death. As our Holy Father, Pope Francis, reminds us, “There is no negotiating with the cross: one either embraces it or rejects it.”

Being a Christian is hard, but it has its rewards. In fact, the reward for being aligned to God’s ways instead of man’s ways, is far more precious and valuable than anything we can hope to possess and achieve in this life. When our Lord gives us a promise, better believe in it, especially when the going gets tough, when you feel all alone and alienated in your struggle to be faithful, when you are hit on all sides by those who will try to convince you that you are wrong. And this is what He promises, “For the Son of Man is going to come in the glory of his Father with his angels, and, when he does, he will reward each one according to his behaviour.”

Between a Key and a Rock

Twenty First Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

A senior priest once told me that one of the most visible symbols of a parish priest’s authority and power is the number of keys which he possesses. One key to lock and unlock every door on the premises. Interestingly, I inherited a big set of keys when I came to Jesus Caritas. Some, I have absolutely no idea which door it opens. If keys make me an important person, the same could be said about St Peter. St Peter is often depicted as holding a single key or a pair of keys. One key (the gold one) symbolises his spiritual authority and the other, his temporal authority.

It should be noted that when Christ turned to St Peter and said, “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven”, He was not speaking in a vacuum. At the start of the Bible, Man is placed in a garden and given the task of guarding it. But Adam was guilty of dereliction of duty. Caught off guard, he allowed the serpent to enter the garden and deceive his wife. In failing to guard the garden a chain reaction was triggered, resulting in the Fall. Man had been entrusted as the guardian and steward of Eden. By failing in his stewardship, the keys to the garden were taken from him and given to the angels. It was now the angels’ duty to lock the garden to intruders, as they brandish a sword of fire at the doorway of Eden. And it was they who were given the privilege of delivering the Law, a role originally reserved for Man. So, here in the gospel, our Lord returns the keys to St Peter, the very keys which Adam lost.

There is another reference to keys and it is found in Chapter 22 of the Book of the Prophet Isaiah, which we just heard in the first reading. Here, it involves the story of Eliakim, who prefigures Peter, just as King David is a type of Christ. The previous steward, Shebna, just like Adam, had been removed from office for dereliction of duty. He is now to be replaced by the faithful Eliakim. The reading then provides us with a job description of the position of steward. His function was namely this: to reside “over the house” of the king (that is why he is known in Hebrew as “al-bayit”, which literally means the one in charge of the house/palace), ruling in the place of the king when the latter was absent. This sacred stewardship allowed the vicar of Judah’s king to open what others had shut and to close what had been opened. Additionally, the position of steward was an established royal office; it was to have successors.

This background is critical if we are to understand the role of St Peter. The gospel cannot be read in a vacuum. Neither can we understand the role of Peter without grasping the role of the chief steward and his keys. But the point of the story is not the keys, but Peter himself.

The naming of St Peter is a crucial part of this story. Peter’s original birth name is Simon, but our Lord gives him a new name (Peter in Greek or Cephas in Aramaic). The fact that he had his name changed by Christ is significant. A select number of individuals in the scriptures had their names changed by God, including Abraham and Jacob. These were individuals who were set apart for significant roles in redemptive history. Not only was the naming noteworthy, but the name itself was remarkable. Peter was given a name signifying an attribute almost exclusively attributed to God. “The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation. He is my stronghold, my refuge and my Saviour (2 Samuel 22:2-3). Peter was the first human person in scriptures to bear the name. And the name itself points us to a deeper meaning of Peter’s role. It is upon “this rock” that Christ will build His Church.

In the New Testament, we see the primacy of St Peter depicted in a number of passages. In Luke chapter 12, Christ tells a parable about a group of faithful servants. At the conclusion of the story it is Peter who asks the question of whether this parable is intended for the Apostles. Christ then states, “Who then is that faithful and wise steward, whom his master will make ruler over his household...” Peter is the “faithful and wise steward” made ruler of Christ’s household, the Church. In the gospel of St John, during the Last Supper the disciples argued over who was the greatest amongst them. Christ redefines greatness as measured through serving. He then calls on Peter to serve his brethren by strengthening them. Christ is expecting Peter to hold things together after His departure. And finally, in Acts of the Apostles, we see Peter’s role at the Council of Jerusalem. As the discussion wore on between the two rival camps, the debate became increasingly heated. The entire ruckus came to an abrupt end when Peter rose and rendered his decision. Peter put all the parties to silence when he judiciously administered the keys, making a binding, doctrinal declaration. The storm had come, the winds had blown, but the Church remained safely moored to the chair of Peter.

At the end of the Sermon on the Mount, Christ makes the statement that the wise man will build his house on the rock. There are multiple interpretations to the text. One application is that Christ is the Wise Man as He builds His house (the Church) on the rock, Peter. Remember, it is Christ that is doing the building when He states in the same gospel, “I will build My Church”. Building His Church on Peter does not contradict having the Church built on God (the ultimate Rock), on Christ, His Word, the Apostles or even Peter’s confession. Peter’s office, teaching, authority and confession are based in Christ and therefore have the authority of Christ. To knowingly reject Peter, is to reject Christ.

When conflicts arise from within or from without, many have often speculated that this would be the end of the Church. But as Catholics, to even consider this thought would be to doubt the promise of Christ to Peter. Rather, we should be confident that the Church, built by Christ on the rock, will weather the storm. The house that falls apart or slips from its foundation proves that it was a poorly built house, of poor workmanship and therefore never built by the Divine Carpenter. Such edifices are man-made. But the Church, built by Christ on the rock of St Peter and his successors, protected by the keys of the kingdom, is one that will last the test of time and will weather the inevitable storms “and the gates of the underworld can never hold out against it.”