Hope will not disappoint

Second Sunday of Lent Year C

The word “hope” is thrown around a lot. “I hope I win the lottery!” “I hope that I do well in my exams!” “I hope that I get a raise.” “I hope Father’s homily will be short!” As you know from experience, most of the time you don’t get what you “hope” for. So, keep hoping!

For most people, optimism and hope are interchangeable, but are they really? The objects of both concepts are worlds apart. Optimism focuses on making this life and this world a better place. Nothing wrong with that, unfortunately the future and the outcomes of our actions are never truly within our control. We want things to be better. We want our problems to be resolved. We want crises to end. We want the best possible future for ourselves and our loved ones. But the best we can accomplish is to have strong aspirations. We can never guarantee their final outcome. The truth is that life is not a genie released from a bottle who can guarantee the fulfilment of all or any of our wishes.

On the other hand, Christian hope is different. It’s not wishing for good things with this life as our goal. The ultimate object of Hope like the other theological virtues of faith and charity, is God. As St Paul assures us in his letter to the Romans, “Hope will not disappoint” (Rom 5:5), precisely because God will not disappoint. Hope does not spring from a person’s mind; it is not snatched out of mid-air. It results from the promises of God. It is grounded in God, the God who does not break His promises, the God who remains faithful to His covenants, the God who surprises us with something greater than we can ever conceive or perceive, the God who will certainly and irrefutably never disappoint. This is what we see in the readings we have heard this week.

In the first reading, we have God promising to give Abram something which seemed humanly impossible to this old and childless man. God uses the stars to birth faith in Abram. Throughout Abram (who was later renamed Abraham) and his wife Sarah’s lives, God brought them into situations that stretched their faith and required the continued exercise of hope and trust in God. Abram had left everything he knew—his extended family, an assurance of wealth and stability in a well-established homeland —to follow a voice that called him by name into the unknown. Like a blindfolded trust-walk, Abram took step by step in the wilderness, moving forward in God’s plan for his life. When he started to question the journey, he simply needed to glance up to the stars to remember the One who showed him the expanse of the heavens and all the stars therein and then promised to make Abram’s descendants into a great nation as numerous as those incalculable stars. St Paul reflecting on this act of faith and hope wrote: “Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations” (Rom 4:18).

Abraham’s faith and hope did not require a denial of reality, nor would such a denial have been healthy. False optimism, on the other hand, does that. How many of us have been miserably disappointed because we have held on to some false optimism that eventually turned out to be a lie or a delusion? But here Abraham acknowledged his own personal and natural limitations (old age and barrenness) without weakening in faith. In some circles, the power of positive thinking and speech receives such an emphasis that people feel they cannot speak honestly about their circumstances. Positive thinking merely denies reality, it cannot reshape it nor create it. That isn’t walking in hope. Hope acknowledges the facts and then looks beyond them to the truth of what Scripture reveals about God, His power, and His ability to fulfill His word.

In the second reading, St Paul reminds us that our true homeland is heaven. Many have forgotten this. Too often today when people talk about “heaven” they mean a purely spiritual destination where spirits float around with God in the clouds. That’s a non-Christian hope. That “heaven” is not what we look forward to. In place of a heaven which means perfect communion with God, man has tried to replace it with surrogates, always looking for the elusive utopia, the earthly paradise of our own making. But any “earthly paradise” which excludes God from its definition, is a false paradise, and eventually would turn out to be a living hell. We need only look towards the “paradise” which both the Nazis and communist regimes attempted to create on earth. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches: “Hope is the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ's promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit” (CCC 1817).

Finally, we have the gospel passage which is St Luke’s account of the Transfiguration. This story appears in all the synoptic gospels and each version is always read on the Second Sunday of Lent. This event takes place as our Lord is proceeding to Jerusalem with His disciples to meet His fate - His atoning death on the cross which will lead to His saving resurrection. The Lord was transfigured so that “the scandal of the Cross might be removed from the hearts of his disciples” (Roman Missal, Preface for the Feast of the Transfiguration), to help them bear the dark moments of His Passion. The Cross and glory are closely united.

The transfiguration was meant to instil hope and strengthen their faith in the face of the Lord’s impending suffering and death. Even witnessing Jesus' tragic death, they were not to lose faith, knowing that suffering and death do not have the final say. That is why the message of the Lord’s transfiguration is so important. It offers us a glimpse into a different world - eternal life, the life of the resurrection, heaven itself. In the presence of suffering, we see our Lord’s glory, we see Moses and Elijah who were deemed dead or at least removed from our human existence, alive in God and we hope that one day we will be with them. This vision offers us hope as we journey through life, knowing that something beautiful awaits us after the trials of this world.

As the ups and downs of life continue, hope remains an important virtue for all of us. Hope can sustain us amidst the difficulties of life. There are times when the enormity of our pains and trials leads us to despair, questioning whether God sees our suffering and what His purpose is in it. But imagine someone showing you a glimpse of your future life beyond this world – a life in the presence of God, reunited with loved ones, free from suffering. Such a vision, however fleeting, can make a profound difference in how you view your earthly life and the manner in which you choose to live it. When our eyes are fixed on the light at the end of the long dark tunnel, even though that light may seem faint and tiny at times, the going gets easier and our strength to press on is renewed. As the Catechism says, hope keeps us from discouragement, sustains us when abandoned, and opens our hearts in expectation of heaven (CCC 1818).

God will provide

Second Sunday of Lent Year B

The faith of the protagonist in the first reading is legendary, so much so that his faith has been used as a model for Christians in the New Testament. Abraham’s walk with God began when God found him living in a pagan land and called him to leave his home and family to go to the place God would show him. After decades of walking with God, Abraham’s small faith grew through each high and low. He learned to trust God with his dreams and with his disappointments, with his gains and with his losses, with his successes and with his flops. In each stage, God proved faithful and Abraham’s faith took roots. And when his faith was firmly rooted in the Lord, God tested Abraham’s faith by asking him to make the greatest sacrifice of all - his son Isaac.

This is where we find ourselves in the story of Abraham. In the first reading, we have the moving account of God asking Abraham to offer his only son Isaac as a sacrifice. Abraham had waited decades for this miracle child. Right from the very start of his faith journey, God had promised to bless Abraham and to make his name great and blessed through his descendants. Now, how is this going to happen if God is going to take his only male heir? Abraham had been asking that same question for years when he and his wife Sarah remained childless until their old age. Yet, God has never disappointed in that first instance by giving him a child. So, now Abraham trusted that God will not disappoint him again.

At first glance, the story of Abraham and Isaac seems disturbing. Why would a loving God ask Abraham to sacrifice his only son in a manner similar to his pagan neighbours? Was He bringing unnecessary torment to a man who had already waited so long for a child? Upon closer inspection, it’s clear that God’s request to sacrifice Isaac was not unloving or capricious. Instead, it is a beautiful picture of Abraham’s faithfulness and God’s provision. In the past, Abraham had doubted God. He had tried to have children in his own way instead of waiting on God. By asking him to sacrifice Isaac, God was testing Abraham to see if he trusted Him. And he did: Abraham’s faith in God was so great that he was willing to give Him his only son, trusting that God could bring him back from the dead.

As God describes Isaac to Abraham, we hear Him describe His only Son, Jesus. The story of Isaac is both a picture of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his only son and a foreshadowing of God’s willingness to sacrifice His only Son for us. This was the Son that truly died and was brought back from the dead. The story of Abraham’s sacrifice, like no other, gives us a glimpse into what it cost the heart of God to sacrifice His only Son for us. Abraham’s story of the sacrifice of Isaac parallels Jesus in many ways. Both were well loved sons; both carried wood to the place of the sacrifice; both were promised that a lamb would be sacrificed, only for Jesus there was no ram in the thicket to take His place. He is the Lamb of God that would be sacrificed, the Lamb of God who would take away the sins of the world.

As we turn to the gospel, we see another set of parallels. This time, it is the disciples of the Lord who are being prepared for their greatest test - the passion and death of our Lord. The great reason for this transfiguration was to remove the scandal of the cross from the hearts of His disciples, that they will not lose faith and hope when they witness our Lord’s death. Unlike Abraham, their faith will falter. Unlike Abraham, they will flee the scene instead of accompanying our Lord to His great sacrifice. But because of the transfiguration and the resurrection, they will return.

As far back as our liturgical sources take us, we find the Church beginning Lent with the Gospels of Jesus’ Temptation in the desert and His Transfiguration on the mountain. Hence Christians’ Lenten experience replicates the God-guided experience of the people of Israel: their forty years of journeying in the desert, which tested their fidelity, and the community-founding theophany at Sinai which endowed them with the Torah of grace.

But there is also deliberate and stark parallelism between the story of the Transfiguration and our Lord’s Passion. The same three named disciples are handpicked by our Lord to be with Him and to witness both events, and on both occasions they remained confused. Our Lord was transfigured on one mountain and crucified on another. On both occasions, there is a revelation of our Lord’s identity as the Son of God. At the Transfiguration, it is God who speaks: “This is my Son.” But in the crucifixion, we find this idea finally taking hold and being repeated at last by a person. And what’s really remarkable, it’s not one of the disciples. It’s not even a Jew. He’s a Roman soldier. The enemy! The person, we least suspect. Declaring it at the point we least suspect. This Gentile centurion shows greater faith than even the disciples, because he alone witnessed the Lord’s death unlike His disciples.

If you have ever doubted God’s wisdom or questioned your faith because of some crises, do not lose faith but continue to trust in the Lord. Abraham did and he was rewarded. Beyond the scandal of the cross is the glory of the resurrection. We are assured as Abraham was, that God always provides. Like Abraham, we should have confidence in God, trusting Him with everything and being willing to sacrifice our best to Him. St Paul reassured us with the rhetorical question: “With God on our side who can be against us?” And the answer is no one and nothing! God not sparing His own Son for our sake is the pledge of His fidelity and love for us.

Though we may not fully understand His plans, God in His providence, supplies all our needs. We should never lose faith in His promises and Providence. Abraham says, “God will provide the sacrifice.” Not only did God provide a ram as a sacrifice for Abraham, but He provided a lasting sacrifice through His Son — for Abraham, and for all of us. All our Lord asks is that we have a trusting heart and be willing to “listen to Him.”

Uncovering Beauty

Feast of the Transfiguration

At the end of a tour of the Vatican Museum, tourists and pilgrims would be treated to one of the great wonders of the Catholic Church, the Sistine Chapel, with its most stunning and exquisite wall to ceiling murals painted by some of the greatest Renaissance artists that had ever lived. It is quite frustrating that what should take at least an entire day to appreciate and admire is often crammed into a 10 to 15 minutes experience during the peak hours of the visit. It is just impossible to take in everything and to focus on any particular scene for more than a quick cursory glance.

If I choose to highlight at least one scene due to the brevity of time, it would be indisputably Michelangelo’s Last Judgment which occupies the entire altar wall of the Chapel. It is a depiction of the Second Coming of Christ and the final and eternal judgment by God of all humanity. Due to the monumental scale of the work, it took four years to complete. After the death of Michelangelo in 1564, and as a consequence of the Council of Trent condemning nudity in religious art, the genitalia in the fresco, referred to as 'objectionable,' were painted over with drapery. For centuries, the original work of art remained hidden under layers of soot, dirt, grime and the censor’s concealing paint until the commencement of restoration works in the 20th century. After the cleanup, both the restorers and the world were surprised by the discoveries of what lay beneath. To the close minded, it could be described as medieval pornography. But to the enlightened, the original work of art could only be described as divine. The metamorphosis (the Greek word for Transfiguration) of this work of art, now unveiled its true beauty to an admiring world.

Likewise, the great event of the Transfiguration seeks to peel away at the mystery of the Passion of Christ. On the Mount of Transfiguration, we have a glimpse of the true glorious nature of the scene that took place on another hill, Calvary. It’s hard to make out the innate beauty and true nature of the crucifixion, especially when it is covered by all the blood, gore and horror of the event. The Transfiguration, however, allows us to see what really took place. The gospels attempt to do this by making striking similarities between the account of the transfiguration and the story of the cross: Both these scenes would have constituted an extraordinarily powerful diptych representing the high and low points of Jesus' life.

Our Lord takes Peter, James and John, His inner circle, with Him up the Mount of Transfiguration. On the evening of Holy Thursday, He will lead the same threesome to Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives to witness His passion. History repeats itself - the three disciples fall asleep on the Mount of Transfiguration as they did in the Garden of Gethsemane. Our Lord is transfigured on a mountain and crucified on another. Just as Jesus is flanked by His heavenly courtiers, Moses and Elijah, at the Transfiguration, He is placed between two thieves at His crucifixion. Although the disciples were enveloped with light on the Mount of Transfiguration, the whole land was covered in darkness at the Crucifixion. It is as if glory and suffering somehow belong together, two sides of the same coin. In the context of the deepest humiliation, pain and suffering, the true glory of Christ is revealed. It is as if human suffering is somehow itself transfigured by the God who came to redeem it; that somehow, the destiny of the Son of God fulfils the destiny of the human race; only through the suffering of death can we enter into glory.

How could Jesus’ ascent to the cross, a symbol of humiliation, be seen as a moment of glory? The answer lies in the scene of the Transfiguration. What is hidden to the eyes of those who witnessed the scene of the crucifixion is now revealed to the three Apostles and to all of us in the Transfiguration. The Transfiguration helps us to understand the Cross and Calvary would not be Jesus’ Alamo, the event commemorating His great defeat. The Transfiguration reveals to us what really happened on Calvary. Lifted up on a mountain, lifted up on a cross, lifted up as universal Saviour, Jesus truly ascended His throne of glory. The Transfiguration indeed reveals the true divine glory of Christ. Its purpose is to reveal to His disciples who Jesus is, and so to prepare them for the cross.

The Lord’s prophetic words that He would be tortured and killed in Jerusalem would have deeply troubled His disciples. A vision of the crucifixion might have evoked the feeling of despair in His disciples. It would have shaken their faith to the core. The mystery of redemption could have appeared to them as a defeat and the Messiah powerless. At a time of despondency and doubt, the three apostles’ witness to the Transfiguration was to strengthen the faith of the other disciples. And so, we finally come to the heart of this deliberate juxtaposition of the two scenes. No amount of intellectual explanation would have sufficed to explain the scandal of the cross and the suffering of Christ. God had to demonstrate it.

And this is what constitutes the mystery of Christianity - It attracts people not so much by its delicate and sophisticated intellectualism, nor by the brilliant oratory of its preachers, nor yet by the beauty of its rites. Christianity revealed to the human soul a new world, an eternal world, a world of divine light – that which not a single religion or philosophical system could give. It reveals to the world the beauty and sweetness of the divine mystery of its Saviour albeit hidden in human flesh and adorned with the tattered flesh of broken humanity. Here then is the greatest paradox of all - the glory of God revealed in Jesus, and especially in that which seems to be most inglorious. To the outward eye this was the uttermost in degradation, the death of a criminal. To the eye of faith, it was (and still is) the supreme glory.

We need to have before us the Transfiguration so that we may have a glimpse of the end of the story, the dawning glory of Easter, in order to be sustained in the midst of the darkness, pain and isolation that we must endure throughout our walk through the valley of the shadow of death. In the Transfiguration we taste the sweetness often hidden in the bitterness of failure, suffering and pain. In the Transfiguration we behold the beauty and glory often covered beneath layers of soot and the grime, concealed by the awful and scandalous experience of humanity’s suffering! In the Transfiguration, we finally receive the answer to the inexplicable mysteries concealed by death, an answer that can only be found in the Resurrection!

As the First Preface for Dead recited by the priest at a funeral Mass, we acclaim: “In Him who rose from the dead, our hope of resurrection dawned. The sadness of death gives way to the bright promise of immortality. Lord, for your faithful people, life is changed, not ended.” And though none of us have witnessed the resurrection of the body, we acknowledge and confess this to be true because of what the Apostles had witnessed at the Transfiguration.

Heaven keeps us on course

Second Sunday of Lent Year A

Most of us start off our Lenten journey by making big and ambitious resolutions - we will stop smoking, stop drinking, stop watching seedy movies over Netflix, we resolve to go vegan for the next 40 days, we will make sure we attend daily Mass and the list goes on. It’s one thing to feel energised at the start, but it’s another thing to sustain the momentum. This seems to be a reflexion of life too. There are lots of things we set out to do early in life or at significant moments of transition, resolutions to amend our lives and better ourselves, promises we make to God and others that we will be “the better man” or the better woman,” only to find all the initial enthusiasm fizzling out as time passes and as the painful reality sets in.

We soon realise that both Lent and life demand more than just quick spurts of speed to the finishing line. It often feels more like a long distance marathon stretching on-and-on with no sight of the end. How do we sustain our resolve for the long haul? This Sunday’s readings provide us the encouragement needed to persevere, not just for Lent but also for life, especially when the going gets tough, the obstacles seem too daunting, and the end of our trials seem beyond the horizon of our vision.

In the first reading, God promises Abram that he will be rewarded with endless blessings, blessings that will continue to be poured on him in all future generations, if Abram is willing to give up the security of his homeland and the support of his countryman for the unknown. In a fierce and arid land, where he will now become a wanderer and stranger, with no family or even children to support him in his old age, it must have taken great faith on the part of Abram to believe in the words of God. Faith in God’s boundless Providence rather than in our own strength and resources is what is needed to sustain us to the very end. Our strength may give out, our resources may run out, our circle of support may leave us, but God’s fidelity to His promises will never waiver.

From the patriarch’s utterly obedient willingness to leave everything behind - country, father’s house, kinship and familiarity - issues forth the promise of universal blessing. In other words, only when Abram is willing to surrender his limited possessions or blessings, can he fully experience the divine blessing God intends for him. No pain, no gain. This is what the Transfiguration reveals.

In the second reading, St Paul writes to Timothy and exhorts him to “bear the hardships for the sake of the Good News, relying on the power of God who has saved us and called us to be holy – not because of anything we ourselves have done but for his own purpose and by his own grace.” Paul is telling us that sharing in his sufferings and in the sufferings of Christ, we are doing so not to earn salvation (as one would be rewarded for a meritorious act) but as a response to the grace of salvation which “had already been granted to us, in Christ Jesus, before the beginning of time, but it has only been revealed by the Appearing of our saviour Christ Jesus.” This again is what the Transfiguration reveals. That victory stands in the middle of defeat, glory in the middle of humiliation, and life in the middle of death.

Finally, we come to the story of the Transfiguration in the gospel. It is important to note that we would hear this story, told by the different Evangelists, every Second Sunday of Lent. It provides us with a kind of teaser of how the story of Lent ends, a needed motivation, since it is easy to just give up before we even get to hear how the story plays out in the events of Holy Week. As the story of Holy Week progresses, we see how the crowds gradually leave our Lord and turn against Him. Even His own disciples flee at the very end when our Lord is arrested. They will be denied the privilege of witnessing our Lord’s resurrection because they had refused to witness His passion and crucifixion. But though none was there to see our Lord resurrect and emerge from the tomb, here at the Transfiguration they get a glimpse of our Lord’s true glory. This experience of the Transfiguration was, therefore, God’s way of delivering the disciples from a crisis of faith by providing them with a glimpse into the glory of heaven. When we have sight of the finishing line, the rigours of the race become less demanding and we gain a second wind.

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

An important truth shines forth from the centre of this mystery. Glimpses of this transfigured world are not only good for our mental health but are essential for our salvation. They help us see through the illusions cast by the devil who constantly tempts us with his greatest weapon, which is despair. Our dreams of an earthly utopia, where we will be shielded from all pain, trouble, and disappointment is merely delusional. Unlike utopia, heaven is real. Heaven is not the elusive Promised Land which the patriarchs and Israelites sought for generations, but an eternal reality awaiting us at the end of our earthly journey as long as we remain faithful to God and stay on course. The disciples saw it, or at least a glimpse of it in the Transfiguration. We too see it at every Eucharist where mere bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ, truly, really and substantially. Every Mass gives us an experience of “heaven on earth!” Heaven makes the journey worth travelling. Heaven helps us to see that giving up all our worldly securities is worth the sacrifice. Heaven provides the strength to bear the weight of our tribulations. Heaven keeps us on course, away from the distractions that tie us to this earthly life and its lies. Heaven must exist, or our present suffering will lose its meaning. Heaven must exist, if we are to persevere and keep running till we reach the finishing line.

Heaven doesn't require our imagination

Second Sunday of Lent Year C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Pinnacle of All Sacrifices

 Second Sunday of Lent Year B

The theme of sacrifice lies at the very heart of salvation history. One could, of course, summarise salvation history as the greatest love story ever told. But there can be no true love without sacrifice. There can be no true sacrifice if we cannot part with what we most love in life. From the start of this amazing story, we see God sacrificing His absolute sovereignty by granting to man the divine spark - his free will - the ability to reject God’s will and offer of love. Man lost everything (or almost everything) that had been given to him because he refused to sacrifice the one thing which God had given to him - his will in humble obedience. He had the freedom to submit to God and the freedom to disobey Him, and man chose the latter.

In a primordial age of innocence, when the taking of life whether by humans or animals (who were both vegans) was prohibited, God sacrificed the life of an animal to clothe both Adam and Eve. One could say that in this act, we do not just see a concern for the modesty of the first couple, but a sacrifice, albeit imperfect one, to redress the loss of innocence and immortality due to man’s sin. In this act, we can hear the distant rumblings of the perfect storm that will come when God sacrifices His only begotten Son to redress man’s sin. Subsequently, the tragedy of life taking, not as sacrifice, but done out of selfishness and envy continues in the killing of Abel by Cain. The sacrifice of Cain was rejected by God whereas Abel’s gift was accepted because Cain was unable to sacrifice his best to God whereas Abel could.

In the first reading, we see Abraham being told to sacrifice his first born son which was a gift from God. Isaac was Abraham’s last hope of ensuring that his legacy would not be forgotten. There is absolutely nothing more precious to Abraham than his son. Indeed, to give up his son would be to give up himself. And yet, this is what God had required of him and Abraham, though heartbroken, had willingly offered to sacrifice his son. But at the very last moment, God provides a substitute for his child. Isaac’s life is spared and the ram takes his place.

This is the true nature of a sacrifice to God. God deserves everything because He has given us everything. So ancient peoples instinctively knew that authentic sacrifice could never be just a casual nod to God. The sacrifice owed to the Creator had to be big and precious enough to represent our entire lives. And it is here that we find the true meaning of sacrifice. It is not what we can offer to God that can constitute the perfect sacrifice pleasing to Him because whatever we possess is already God’s gift to us. The truth is that we can offer nothing to God of ourselves that would be “big” enough. But the pinnacle of all sacrifices is what God had offered to us. He offered to us His only begotten Son.

That is why St Paul writes in the second reading, “Since God did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up to benefit us all, we may be certain, after such a gift, that He will not refuse anything He can give.”

The compelling image of Isaac carrying the wood of the sacrifice up the slope of Mt. Moriah in the first reading should tip us off that this story points beyond itself to a future sacrifice beyond all comprehension. The ram caught in the thicket is not the true substitute, and the true sacrifice does not take place upon Moriah. It is the Lamb, not the ram, God’s Son, not Abraham’s son, who will be the ultimate offering. Like Isaac, Jesus carried the wood of the sacrifice up the slope of Mt. Calvary. But unlike Isaac, Jesus did so freely, knowing what that sacrifice would cost Him. And His sacrifice accomplishes what no animal sacrifice possibly could – the eternal salvation of all willing to accept this free gift of love.

Actually, this is what the whole story is about. From Genesis to Revelation, the theme is the astonishing love of God. The love of the Father for His Incarnate Word: “This is my Son, my Beloved” (Mark 9:7). The love of the Father who sacrifices that beloved Son for us (John 3:16). The love of the Son who leaves behind the glory of heaven and the brilliant cloud of Mt. Tabor for the agony of Calvary. Though it is we who owe everything to God, it is He who sacrifices everything for us. Our love for Him can only be a faint echo of His generous and unstoppable love for us.

This, therefore, is the true meaning of Lenten sacrifice. We renew and deepen our dedication to Him, and express that by sacrificing something meaningful to us. We should give Him not just our spare change, our left overs, our discarded possessions or our half-hearted commitments. He deserves so much more for what He has given us. He deserves our all. We can give Him our all by heeding the Father’s call in today’s gospel. Notice that God did not just demand from us something so trivial as giving up chocolates or Netflix or our favourite computer game. But, after identifying Jesus as His beloved Son, He did give us a very clear command. He said “listen to Him!” This is where Adam and Eve failed. They failed to listen to God’s command, to not eat of the fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. They listened, instead, to their own pride and to the serpent’s lies, and the rest is history.

It is so simple and yet perhaps one of the most difficult things to do: to listen to Him, to the One who is the Beloved Son of God. And this is what we must do. This is what we hear at every Mass because the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is the bloody sacrifice on the cross at Calvary transfigured.

Pope Francis in one of his Wednesday audience catechesis speaks of the sacrifice of the Mass in this fashion: “This is the Mass: entering into this passion, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus; when we go to Mass it is as if we were to go to Calvary, the same. But think: if we at the moment of Mass go to Calvary – let us think, using our imagination – we know that the man there is Jesus. But, do we permit ourselves to chatter, to take photographs, to treat it a little like a show? No! Because there is Jesus! We would certainly stay in silence, in tears and in the joy of being saved. When we enter in Church to celebrate Mass, let us think this: I enter Calvary, where Jesus gave His life for me. And in this way the spectacle disappears, the chatter disappears, the comments and these things which distance us from that beautiful thing that is the Mass, the triumph of Jesus.” At every Mass, we witness the greatest sacrifice of all - Jesus sacrifices His life on the cross and we hear the words of the Father at the transfiguration once again: “This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to Him.”

A Glimpse of Heaven

Second Sunday of Lent Year A

Whenever I am invited to celebrate mass in another church that does not have air-conditioning, languishing in the sweltering heat with perspiration streaming down my forehead and my soaking wet shirt sticking uncomfortably to my body, I would recall the times when I used to celebrate multiple masses on a Sunday in such similar conditions without complaining. In my youthful arrogance, I would often silence parishioners who complain about the heat with this line, “You have to have a taste of hell, in order to appreciate the pleasures of heaven.” But having been accustomed to the air-conditioning in both JCC and KA, I have come to question the wisdom of my own words. “Hot as hell” still tastes like hell; nothing like heaven at all.

Today we have the familiar scene of the Transfiguration. This event is narrated from the disciples’ point of view: Our Lord was transfigured “in their presence,” Moses and Elijah “appeared to them,” the cloud “covered them with a shadow,” and the heavenly voice addressed them. Clearly, this entire event was meant “for them,” in order to deepen their understanding of Christ’s identity and mission at this critical juncture of their apprenticeship. The event took place near the end of our Lord’s public ministry and served as a prelude to His journey to Jerusalem. Our Lord had been preparing His disciples by predicting His own death, not just once but three times. They will soon face the supreme trial of faith - their Master will be betrayed, arrested, condemned and crucified. Here Jesus gives them an opportunity to see His glory. That is, they were given “a glimpse of heaven” to prepare them for the “horrors of hell.”

To understand this scene, we would need to go back to the Old Testament – a different mountain with different actors. In Exodus 24, Moses led three of his close associates up Mount Sinai covered by God’s glory in the form of a cloud where God spoke to Moses. After this spectacular encounter, Moses returns to his people transfigured, with his face shining because it reflected God’s glory. These parallels reinforce a familiar theme of Saint Matthew: Jesus comes as a new Moses to deliver God’s people – but Jesus is far greater than Moses. If Moses received divine revelation at Sinai, Jesus Himself is the Revelation. Jesus is no mere human mediator like Moses; He is the Son of God, He possesses a glory that Moses only saw.

In seeing this, Peter proposes, “Lord, it is wonderful for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three tents here, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” In the face of a future wrought with suffering, for Peter, this was an oasis, a welcome escape from all the trials and sufferings ahead. A welcome retreat from the cross. A safe haven from suffering. Or at least he thought.

Little did Peter realise that these “tents” were meant to be temporary. The tents recalled the Feast of the Tabernacles, the autumn harvest festival in which the Israelites dwelt in makeshift tents for seven days, commemorating how God’s presence dwelt in the Tent of Meeting, and how the Israelites themselves dwelt in tents during the Exodus on the way to the Promised Land. They lived in tents because they were on a journey. The desert was not their home. The Feast of the Tabernacles also pointed to a future fulfillment, anticipating the time when the nations would come to Jerusalem to worship the Lord as king in an eschatological feast.

The scene of the Transfiguration was not meant to be permanent, at least not for now. It was meant to reveal to them that the disciples were on a journey, an Exodus that would lead them not to an earthly promised land but to a heavenly one where their temporary tents would be exchanged for permanent homes. And to get to that Eternal Homeland, they had to accompany their Master to pass through the doorway of the cross. One cannot understand the event of the Transfiguration without seeing it in the light of the Crucifixion. For the Son of God on the mountain of transfiguration is the same Son of Man who will suffer and be killed on Calvary. The Transfiguration was not meant to be the climax of Jesus’ ministry. The Benedictine liturgist, Dom Prosper Gueranger tells us that “this transfiguration of the Son of Man, this manifestation of His glory, lasted but a few moments; His mission was not on Tabor; it was humiliation and suffering in Jerusalem.” And there is where they and we must go.

The text also tells us that “a bright cloud covered them with shadow.” In the Old Testament, one of the visible manifestation of God’s presence was in the shape of a cloud. God guided the Israelites in the desert in a pillar of cloud. His presence rested on the portable temple known as the Tent of Meeting in the form of a cloud. At Sinai, the cloud overshadowed the mountain when Moses received the Ten Commandments. Later, the cloud would also fill the Temple in Jerusalem at its dedication by Solomon. However, in the sixth century BC, the prophet Ezekiel received a vision that the glory of God left the temple and the city of Jerusalem because of the people’s sinfulness. Since that time, God’s presence had not been visibly manifest to Israel. But the prophets envisioned the return of this cloud to God’s people in the last days. The same glory of the Lord now descends upon the mountain of transfiguration.  Jesus, and not the cloud, is the visible sign of God’s presence. He is the glory of God who has returned to His people.

Indeed, in this one instance of transfigured clarity, Peter sees the humanity of Jesus suffused with the eternal glory of God, and in that instant Peter glimpses the mystery of our faith: God became like us, that’s what Peter sees; so that, we might become like God, that’s what Peter eventually learns. The light that radiates from Jesus’ flesh is the same light that spoke the universe into creation. It’s the same light that the world awaits with groaning and labour pains and sighs too deep for words. It’s the light that will one day make all of creation a burning bush, afire with God’s glory but not consumed by it. The transfiguration therefore anticipates our flesh being remade into God’s image so that we may be united with Him. Just as Christ’s humanity is transfigured by glory without ceasing to be human, so too will our humanity be deified, without our ceasing to be creatures. That’s the plot of scripture. That’s the mystery of our faith. This is what makes the suffering of the cross bearable. Without a vision of heaven, our painful experiences in this life would remain hellish and unbearable. And this is the reason why at every Mass, we have a glimpse of heaven. Eucharistic adoration is an invitation to a transfiguration experience. You see, heaven is not just a destination, it is also a motivation. The Eucharistic transfiguration, this desire for heaven, helps us to overcome all fear of suffering for the sake of Christ.

The Christian life is not about going back down the mountain. Rather the entire Christian life is a sort of ascent, venturing further and further up the mountain, to worship and adore the transfigured Christ and, in so doing, to be transfigured ourselves. But if we have accompanied our Lord up the mountain of transfiguration to witness the glory that awaits us one day, we must first accompany Him up the hill where He offers His life in atonement for the sins of the world. But now we do so with less trepidation. Once we have tasted heaven, we would be able to face the torments of what seems to feel like hell. Let us not be discouraged by the ugliness and suffering of the world that does not recognise or accept us, but rather “let us bear the hardships for the sake of the Good News” and persevere in love through holding the vision of a transfigured life before us. For as St Paul tells us (Rom 8:18), “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed to us.”

The Cross awaits us everywhere

Second Sunday of Lent Year B

Today, the Church wishes to take us on another journey with Christ but provides us with a radical change of scenery. From last week’s dreary oppressively harsh conditions of the desert of Temptation to this week’s stunningly beautiful mountain of the Transfiguration. I don’t think any one of us can read this unusual account without his mind being flooded with questions. What is this strange glory that shown on the face and the garments of Christ on the mountain top? And why did Moses and Elijah from the Old Testament appear with him on the mountain? And why did this voice come suddenly from heaven in the brightness of a cloud? And why was it that Peter and James and John alone of the disciples were chosen to view this event and why were they there?

Our first question is: What is this glory that appeared on the face of Christ on the mountain top? All three of the evangelists Saints Matthew, Mark, and Luke — record this account, each with minor differences. But all of them agree that Jesus selected these three disciples and led them apart unto a high mountain. Why were they there? St Mark in his signature abbreviated style provides no clue but St Luke tells us that the Lord had gone up the mountain to pray. And as the disciples were watching him, “there in their presence he was transfigured: his clothes became dazzlingly white, whiter than any earthly bleachers could make them.” St Mark’s mention of earthly bleachers emphasises the unusual nature of this manifestation, a shining forth of supernatural light that could not be caused by any natural phenomena. They were witnessing the uncreated glory of His deity shining through His humanity.

But in the gospel of St Mark, the Transfiguration is certainly meant to point also to the Parousia, Christ’s return in glory at the end of time. In Chapter 9:1, just before the Transfiguration, St Mark has our Lord make this prediction, “Truly, I say to you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the kingdom of God come with power.” St Mark puts the account of the prediction and the Transfiguration right together and he shows us that the Transfiguration is a fulfillment of what Jesus said, what he meant when he said, there are some standing here who will not taste of death before they see the kingdom of God come with power. And that’s our first clue as to the meaning of this strange event. For it obviously then is a picture of the coming kingdom. A little foretaste granted to these three disciples by which they leaped over the intervening centuries and were, as it were, present at the coming of Christ in his second return to earth. The transfiguration looks forward to the hour of His return.

Here’s our next question: Of all the significant figures in the Hebrew Scriptures, why was it Moses and Elijah in particular that showed up here with Jesus? Why not Abraham? Or David? Or some of the other worthies of the Old Testament. Well, Moses was believed to have single handedly written the Law; Elijah represented all the Prophets. So, when God’s voice from heaven said about Jesus “Listen to Him!” that indicated that the Law and the Prophets must now give way to Jesus who will replace the old way with the new way. He is the completion of the Law and the fulfillment of the prophecies in the Old Testament. The Law and the Prophets are swallowed up in him. That all they have to say to mankind, is included, and added to, in the expression in the life of the Lord Jesus, in the humanity of Jesus of Nazareth.

Now, one last question. Why is that Peter and James and John are the disciples chosen to see this and to learn this lesson? Why them? And the answer very briefly is this. These are the only three men among the disciples who before this had openly and vocally avoided the principle of the Cross. Our Lord had foretold many times that He would have to suffer and die but His disciples never wanted to hear about it.  Peter so belligerently denied that He undergo such suffering that Jesus had to rebuke him on the spot, identifying his mentality with Satan. And therefore Peter was included in this group because he’d rejected the Cross. How about James and John? In Chapter 10, we see how they shamelessly tried to wrangle out of our Lord, seats of honour on His right and His left. They were certainly not thinking about the cross but perhaps, thought of the Lord ascending His throne of glory. Again, our Lord had to introduce a corrective. The seats of honour are for the Father to assign but every disciple is called to drink from the cup of the Passion, every disciple must be prepared to take up his or her cross and follow the Lord on the road that leads to Calvary.

Therefore, these three men all shared something in common. They all had a skewed idea of glory, an idea which had no place for the cross. In fact, all three had turned their backs to the Cross. And as such, they were rejecting the very thing that would have ensured them eternal glory. All three would have longed for redemption but failed to see that redemption taking place through the cross. The full realisation of the redemption of the bodies will be in the resurrection of the body, not merely in a transfiguration. And there can be no resurrection without the cross. That was why the Lord brought these three up the mountain. Through the experience of the transfiguration, Peter, James and John were given a glimpse of heaven in order to strengthen them for the terrible struggles and suffering that was yet to come. Peter, James, and John needed the glory of Tabor before enduring the horror of Golgotha. The Transfiguration of Christ is preparation for the Cross. His Disciples are in need of this strengthening, in order to face the Cross of their Teacher, as well as their own crosses.

There’s a mistaken idea about Christianity today that because Jesus went to the Cross, we’ll never have to. Nothing could be further from the truth. Each of us has a cross to carry. As Thomas a' Kempis reminds us, “The cross, therefore, is always ready; it awaits you everywhere. No matter where you may go, you cannot escape it, for wherever you go you take yourself with you and shall always find yourself.”  The great spiritual master then adds this wise piece of advice, “If you carry the cross willingly, it will carry and lead you to the desired goal where indeed there shall be no more suffering, but here there shall be. If you carry it unwillingly, you create a burden for yourself and increase the load, though still you have to bear it. If you cast away one cross, you will find another and perhaps a heavier one” (The Imitation of Christ, Book II, chapter 12).

How do we know this to be true? Well, our Lord has shown us in the example of His own life, His death and His resurrection. He went to the Cross in order that we might go with him there. And on through that Cross to the Resurrection beyond. The transfiguration of Jesus on Mount Tabor tells us that the glory of the resurrection will only take place through the sufferings of Good Friday. The transfiguration teaches us that the experience of the cross is necessary in order for Easter to take place. You can’t have the glory of a Resurrection morn without the darkness of a crucifixion. And so as we accept the death of our own plans, our own agendas, our own need to be in control, then beyond lies the power and the glory of what we can only glimpse as a shadow in the transfiguration — a restored humanity which we’ll share with him in glory when He returns in all His splendour, power and glory.