The Ultimate Reboot

Easter Vigil of the Holy Night

Some of you may know that I had just completed a cataract operation on both eyes. When the new multi-focal lens was inserted, I had issues adjusting to the darkened environment. I jokingly informed Fr Bonaventure that I’ve seen my last Easter Vigil Mass which begins in the dark and he happily quipped, “Yeah! I now have a chance to do the English Masses!” He was kidding as you can tell. The most unnerving part of the operation was to be told that a machine used for the procedure had to be rebooted. In fact, as my right eye was kept opened by a speculum whilst glaring into a blinding bright light above me, the only thing I could hear was my doctor telling the nurse and the technician to reboot the machine, not just once but several times until it finally restarted again. I’ve rebooted many devices in my life, my desktop computer, my laptop, my tablet and even my phone. Nothing comes close to this experience.

But after the agony of waiting for the machine to reboot, all the anxiety and discomfort and fears simply dissipated. With my cataracts removed, I now see with new eyes! That’s what Easter feels like - after a hard reset, the whole system gets rebooted, the whole fallen creation gets rebooted, the story of humanity which ends in failure gets rebooted. You need to end the cycle of sin and destruction before you can begin a new cycle of redemption and reconciliation.

Today we conclude this shortest and yet most intense and sacred time in our Church’s liturgical calendar - the Paschal Triduum. And though it may seem to be an ending, it is actually a beginning of many things. The Paschal Triduum is that hard reset and reboot which history and creation most needed. This should not surprise us as we had affirmed at the start of tonight’s liturgy, that Christ is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and end of all things. Beginnings and endings are not two realities but one in Christ. As T. S. Eliot poignantly writes: “And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time” (The Four Quartets, “Little Gidding”).

Everything about this vigil’s liturgy, “the mother of all vigils,” speaks of beginnings and endings, which takes us on a journey from birth to rebirth, from creation to re-creation, from darkness to light, from death to life. From the blessing and procession of the Paschal Candle, the singing of the Easter proclamation to our marathon set of readings, we are pulled into this journey of transformation, not as mere spectators but as participants. Our Gospel begins with these words: “on the first day of the week, at the first sign of dawn…” This is an extraordinary text – so subtle and sophisticated. But it begs the question: what does it mean? The answer is found at the beginning, in the first reading.

The first day of the week mentioned in the Gospel, corresponds to the first day of creation in Genesis; and the lighting of the Paschal Candle in the midst of darkness matches the first act of creation, where God created light out of darkness. St Luke’s recapitulation of the creation narrative goes on. In Genesis, God creates the first human being, the first man, but at Easter, our Lord Jesus emerges from the womb of the tomb to be the firstborn of the new creation. God created all things, including man, and when He was finished, He looked at all He had made, and declared that it was “very good.” His original creation, however, was sullied and damaged. Once Adam chose to go against God’s Will, sin entered God’s created world, and sickness, decay, and death were introduced to humanity. God’s creation has suffered sin’s effects ever since.

Fast-forward to the time of Jesus’ life on earth. God the Son, the Word of God, entered humanity as a child born of Mary. He was fully God and fully man. His mission was to defeat the sin and death which had entered humanity through Adam. This second Adam lived a sinless life, was condemned and executed as a criminal, and was buried in a tomb. Three days later, He rose from the dead! He was resurrected! His resurrection was the first phase of God’s new creation, God’s cosmic reboot! God created a new kind of human existence—a human body which was raised from the dead and transformed by the power of God into a body that is no longer affected by death, decay, and corruption. Pope Emeritus Benedict described the resurrection of Christ as “something akin to a radical evolutionary leap, in which a new dimension of life emerges, a new dimension of human existence. Indeed, matter itself is remoulded into a new type of reality. The man Jesus, complete with His body, now belongs totally to the sphere of the divine and eternal.”

But then, there is the second phase in God’s plan of recreation. As Christians and as part of God’s new creation through our baptism, we can look forward to the time when, upon Christ’s return, He will raise our bodies from the dead! We will receive resurrected bodies like His. In these resurrected bodies, we will clearly see humanity as God intended it to be.

God’s new creation will not end with the resurrection of our bodies but goes beyond that. The third phase will involve all of creation being renewed as well. When Adam sinned, God cursed the ground. The world was no longer the sublime place God made it to be. Sin changed that. But because of Christ’s death and resurrection, His victory over sin and death, God will renew the entire world - He will remake it into “a new heaven and a new earth.”

The new creation which we speak of, is not just some static and unchanging reality. As part of the new creation, God’s Spirit is regularly renewing us, changing us, helping us to put on the mind of Christ. Dear Catechumens, today is not the end of your journey. It is not graduation day. It is an ending of a period of preparation, but this is only a beginning. Today is the day you will experience a hard reboot of your lives. What is fallen, will be redeemed. What is disfigured by sin would be beautified by grace. Vision clouded by the spiritual cataract of sin, can be renewed. As you allow the Holy Spirit to guide you, you will continually grow and mature in your spiritual lives in order that you may be renewed and become more Christlike.

Each year, we recapitulate this Easter story and each year it recreates us. It returns us to the ground of our being. We are asked to die to ourselves so that we may be reborn in Christ. We are given the chance to start over. Every Easter, we are reminded that we can bring all that befalls us to be reintegrated, redeemed, and recreated as we bring it back to our living source: Christ yesterday and today, the Beginning and the End, the Alpha and the Omega; All time belongs to Him and all the ages, to Him be glory and power, through every age and for ever. Amen.

Inwards to Outwards, Downwards to Upwards

First Sunday of Lent Year C

People have often noted that our society has become increasingly Godless or more atheistic. Is this true? There are countless of studies done in the West that seems to support this proposition. When surveyed, the majority of individuals state that they don’t identify with any religion. As Chesterton said, “He who does not believe in God will believe in anything.” Just recently, Lady Gaga when receiving her Grammy award, proudly declared: “music is love,” perhaps a deliberate spin on St John’s declaration that “God is love.”

We may be tempted (forgive the obvious pun) to focus merely on the temptations of Christ on this First Sunday of Lent, but the readings actually take us along another path of reflexion - what do we really believe in - the faith which we profess. You will notice that during the season of Lent and Easter, it is strongly recommended that the longer Nicene Creed is substituted with the shorter Apostles’ Creed. The reason for this substitution is not due to the brevity of the latter since our liturgies of Lent are typically lengthened by the Rites associated with the RCIA. The real reason is that the Apostles’ Creed is the creed used at baptism and the focus of both Lent and Easter is the Sacrament of Initiation, which begins with Baptism.

That is the reason why we have two ancient examples of professions of faith in today’s readings, the first predating Christianity, while the second is one of the earliest Christian creeds.

In the first reading, we have the ancient profession of faith which focuses on what God has done for the Israelites during the Exodus. Moses instructs the people that this creed is to be said by the priests when making an offering on behalf of the people, reminding them of the reason why the sacrifice is made. They should never forget that God is the very reason for their existence, their survival, and their freedom.

In the second reading, St Paul explains that the Christian profession of faith should focus on our belief in Jesus as Lord and what God has done by raising Him from the dead: “If your lips confess that Jesus is Lord and if you believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, then you will be saved. By believing from the heart you are made righteous; by confessing with your lips you are saved.”

Finally, in the gospel we come to realise that creeds are not just meant to be propositional (mere statements of belief) but are meant to be practical (to be lived out). Here we have the three temptations posed by Satan to the Lord. St Luke’s ordering of the temptations is slightly different from Matthew’s version (the second temptation is switched with the third). On the face of it, these three temptations appear to have nothing to do with our profession of faith but are in fact an inversion, a parody of our fundamental faith. Satan, the adversary of God and man, is attempting to lure our Lord into making a mockery of faith by professing a faith which places trust in His own resources and even in the devil, as opposed to placing our trust and faith in God. Before we affirm our faith in God, we must renounce our dependence on Satan.

This is the reason why during the rite of Baptism and the renewal of baptismal promises made at Easter and before one receives the Sacrament of Confirmation, the renunciation of sin is a necessary prelude to the profession of faith and both precedes the administering of the sacrament of baptism and confirmation. Because of the renunciation of sin and profession of faith, which forms one rite, the elect would not be baptised merely passively but will receive this great sacrament with the active resolve to renounce error and hold fast to God.

As I had mentioned earlier, St Luke’s ordering of the temptations differ from that of St Matthew’s. Unlike St Matthew, Luke concludes the list of temptations with the temptation that takes place within the Temple precinct and not on a mountaintop. Here, we witness the audacity of the devil to challenge God’s sovereignty, the ultimate basis of all temptations. These temptations are not merely luring Christ or each of us to place our trust in the cravings of the flesh or the material things of the world. Sin ultimately turns us away from God. The devil is actually selling us this lie - trust in your own desires, trust in your own power, trust in your own strength - because trusting in God is wholly insufficient! It is never enough!

The gospels in setting out these three temptations are trying to juxtapose to the experience of the Israelites in the wilderness with our Lord Jesus’ own experience. The three temptations of Jesus recall the three failures of the Israelites in the desert. Where the devil tempts the Lord to turn stones into bread, we see how the Israelites complained about the lack of food in the desert. Where the devil places our Lord on a mountain and promises Him lordship over the world if only He would bow and worship him, the Israelites questioned the lordship of God and instead worshipped an idol, a bronze calf. Where the devil tempts our Lord to test God, the devil had succeeded in getting the Israelites to test God while they were in the desert.

Satan was tempting Jesus to recapitulate the Israelites' lack of trust in God. Jesus would have nothing of it. In one of the most beautiful lines in Sacred Scripture, the letter to the Hebrews tells us, "We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathise with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet never sinned" (Heb 4:15). The story ends with our Lord’s victory. Temptation does not necessarily lead to sin. If we hold fast to the Lord, and rely on His grace and strength, we will be victorious. Lent is the season when we are called to recapitulate our Lord’s victory over sin rather than the Israelites’ failure. The Church aids us in the battle by recommending the three practices of Lent – fasting, almsgiving and prayer. The practices of Lent are the remedy to the temptations of the Evil One.

At the end of this Lenten season, we will celebrate and profess the mystery of faith - the death and the resurrection of the Lord. At Easter, the priest will invite you to renew your baptismal promises with these words: “Dear brethren, through the Paschal Mystery we have been buried with Christ in Baptism, that we may walk with him in newness of life. And so, let us renew the promises of Holy Baptism, which we once renounced Satan and his works and promised to serve God in the holy Catholic Church.” We turn away from being ‘inwards and downwards’ to being ‘outwards and upwards.’ Having rejected Satan and all his works and empty promises, let us with firm conviction profess our faith publicly in God the Father and His works, in God the Son, Jesus Christ, and His works, and in God the Holy Spirit and His works. Those works, which the Lord has begun in us, will continue in us throughout this season of Lent and beyond until the Lord completes it when we go forth to meet Him as He returns in glory.

The New Temple

Third Sunday of Lent Year B

For many Catholics, fund raising can sound like a dirty word. This aversion and resistance to fund raising activities is often justified by the following assumptions:

First, religion should stay clear of money matters and should be solely concerned with the spiritual welfare of its members.

Second, the Church already possesses a fortune evidenced by the size of the church and its many facilities. Somehow, the church has stashed away in some secret corner, a magical goose that can endlessly lay golden eggs.

Third, Jesus shows us a perfect example of how we Christians should abhor the commercialising of religion by His action of turning out all the merchants and traders from the Temple precinct and then accuses them of turning His Father’s house into a market.

Our gospel story is often interpreted as testimony against materialism in religious practice. Religion is to remain radically pure in regard to the corruptions of commerce. Christianity is solely about faith. Money plays no role whatsoever. So, was our Lord’s action in today’s gospel passage a call to keep things simple and cheap, that the Church should avoid any effort to raise funds for its maintenance and activities? You will be surprised with the answer.

In case you may have noticed, the Gospel of John states that Jesus cleansed the temple early in His ministry, but the other gospels place the temple-cleansing near the end of His ministry. Only in John’s gospel do we have the Jews confront our Lord with this question: “What sign can you show us to justify what you have done?” And it is this question which opens the discussion on the significance of our Lord’s action in pointing to His own death and resurrection.

The Temple was the focal point of every aspect of Jewish life and identity. From a theological and liturgical perspective, for a first-century Jew, the Temple was at least four things: (1) the dwelling-place of God on earth; (2) a microcosm of heaven and earth; (3) the sole place of sacrificial worship; (4) and where there is ritual sacrifice, you would also need the priesthood. Therefore, sacrifices offered to God could only be made at the Temple and never elsewhere. This is also the reason why there were traders selling animals in the Temple because these animals were meant for the Temple rituals, offering and sacrifices. The moneychangers also served a similar role of exchanging the profane Roman currency, which was considered idolatrous and unclean with Temple coinage, the only currency accepted in the Temple.

But the temple was also a barometer of sorts for the health of the covenantal relationship between God and the people. Many of the prophets warned that a failure to uphold the Law and live the covenant would result in the destruction of the temple. In 587 B.C., the temple was destroyed by King Nebuchadnezzar and the Babylonians, marking the start of The Exile. Following the exile, the temple was rebuilt, then damaged, and rebuilt again. But even this second temple would be destroyed by the Romans in 70 AD. Was it in this context that we can understand the words of our Lord, “Destroy this sanctuary, and in three days I will raise it up”? St John gives us the answer: “But He was speaking of the sanctuary that was His body, and when Jesus rose from the dead, His disciples remembered that He had said this …”

Our Lord Jesus saw that all four aspects of the Temple were being fulfilled in Himself and in the community of His disciples. (1) His body is the dwelling place of God on earth - the meeting place between heaven and earth; (2) He is the foundation stone that would be the beginning of a new Temple and a new creation - the new heaven and earth; (3) He would offer Himself as the perfect sacrifice that will accomplish what previous animal blood sacrifices were unable to achieve - atonement for sin and communion with God; (4) and finally, Jesus is the High Priest of the new eschatological priesthood that could serve as the perfect mediator between God and man. Because of this, the old temple was destined to pass away, to be replaced by the new Temple “not made with human hands,” and the old priesthood with the new.

Was Jesus, in cleansing the temple, attacking the temple itself, and by extension, an attack on God as well? No. And did Jesus, in making His remark, say He would destroy the temple? No. But, paradoxically, the love of the Son for His Father and His Father’s house did point toward the demise of the temple. “This is a prophecy of the Cross,” wrote Joseph Ratzinger, who later became Pope Benedict XVI, “He shows that the destruction of His earthly body will be at the same time the end of the Temple.”

So, the new and everlasting Temple was established by the death and resurrection of the Son of God. Through our Lord’s death and resurrection, the place for encountering God will no longer be the temple but the risen and glorified Body of Jesus in the sacrament of the Holy Eucharist, where all mankind is united. With His Resurrection the new Temple will begin: the living body of Jesus Christ, which will now stand in the sight of God and be the place of all worship. Into this Body He incorporates men. This is what the Catechism tells us: “Christ is the true temple of God, ‘the place where his glory dwells’; by the grace of God, Christians also become temples of the Holy Spirit, living stones out of which the Church is built” (CCC 1197). Through baptism we become joined to the one Body of Christ, and that Body, the Church, is the “one temple of the Holy Spirit” (CCC, 776).

Finally, this story of the cleansing of the Temple also points to an important aspect of our spiritual lives, an element so relevant during this season of Lent - spiritual purification. Christ has come not only to “cleanse the Temple of Jerusalem,” but the temple of our own bodies, our lives. Our Lord’s purification of the Temple reminds us today of the need to purify our faith, to once again ground our lives on the God who shows us His power and infinite love on the Cross, the source of our salvation. Only by passing through the Cross will we reach the glory and joy of the Resurrection. The Lord Jesus comes into your life expecting to find a place ordered to the worship of the one true God, but what He finds is “a marketplace,” a heart that is divided by competing values and allegiances. Instead of a heart that is solely dedicated to God, Christ finds a place where things other than God have become primary. What rivals to the one true God have you allowed to invade the sacred space of your soul? Entertainment, leisure, material wealth, obsessions and addictions? How are these things enshrined in the sanctuary of your own heart leaving no room for God? During this Lent, let us reorientate our lives, consecrate our hearts solely to God and rid the temple of our own bodies of the idols to which we have foolishly given power and pride of place.

From Destruction comes New Life

First Sunday of Lent Year B

Such stark contrast! Our lectionary juxtaposes two extreme conditions, a deluge or great flood in the first reading, and an arid barren desert in the gospel. Too much water on the one hand, and too little to none on the other. Both conditions seem inhospitable and even humanly uninhabitable. What’s the connexion apart from being two extreme polarities? These two scenes draw us back to the beginning - to how it all began - to the story of creation. Most folks are familiar with the story of how God created the universe in six days and then rested on the seventh. But there are actually two and not one account of creation. Chapter One of the Book Genesis begins in a watery chaos and Chapter Two begins in a desert.

And so, we have in the first reading an account of God renewing His covenant with Noah in the aftermath of the flood. The flood itself portrays a return of the earth to the primeval state of Genesis where darkness, water, and wind covered the earth. The great flood is a testament to God’s hatred of sin and His determination to wipe it from the face of the earth. God blows a “wind” over “the deep” and “the waters” recede. When at last the flood subsides, the ground is dry and new vegetation is springing up. The barriers set in place by God at creation are restored - the dry land is once again separated from the waters. The occupants of the ark, both humans and animals, step on dry land and life begins anew. If the precreation scene in Genesis Chapter One begins in pitch darkness, this beautiful scene in the first reading is bathed in light - no stormy clouds in the sky but a bright sunny day with a rainbow crowning God’s redeemed creation. It is a picture of perfection, but not yet. That would have to wait until the Son of God becomes the Son of Man and seals a new covenant with humanity with His own blood instead of the sacrifice of animals as was done by Noah and the ancestors of old.

Let us not forget that the first flood swept away the evil from the surface of the earth, but not from the hearts of the ark’s passengers. So an even greater act of salvation was needed, one that was more radical, that penetrated to the very “root” of evil. God Himself enters into our world in the form of a man and engages in hand-to-hand combat with the father of lies. For sin to be rooted out, repentance is necessary. And so the rallying cry of God’s ultimate champion is “Repent, and believe the Good News.”

If the first reading calls us back to Chapter One of Genesis, the gospel story alludes to and reverses what takes place in Chapter Two and Three: the planting of the Garden in the midst of a barren desert, the creation of man, the first Son of God, and His subsequent temptation and fall. Here in the gospel, there is no garden - Paradise has been lost and all creation has been rendered a barren wasteland by man’s sin. But instead of succumbing to the ancient serpent, our Lord Jesus triumphs over Satan. Instead of enmity between man and the animal kingdom, we already see the beginnings of a reconciliation as wild beasts gather around the Lord. If one man wrought humanity’s downfall, another man, the perfect man, the one whom St Mark at the very beginning of the gospel identifies by His rightful title, the Son of God, will lead humanity in its ascent to the heavens.

The wrestling match is won by the Son. This, however, is not the decisive battle. By means of the cross, the sign of this New Covenant, our Lord Jesus decisively vanquished sin and its patron, letting loose from His pierced side a stream that was more powerful than the ancient waters traversed by Noah and Moses. The fathers of the Church saw in those two streams of blood and water, the birth of the Church through the sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist. In Christ’s death and resurrection, creation is healed and reborn. The key for us to now participate in this recreation is repentance. Repentance begins the path to redemption and to sanctification. Repentance leads to conversion and conversion leads to baptism.

Through repentance, faith and immersion in these mighty waters of baptism, not the waters at creation or at the great flood but the waters that flowed from our Lord’s death on the cross, sin can finally be scoured not just from the skin but from the heart. In the second reading, St Peter explains that the water of the flood - “is a type of the baptism which saves you now, and which is not the washing off of physical dirt but a pledge made to God from a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ…” Baptism means burying the old man with Christ and emerging from the womb of the Church as a new creation, sharing in Christ’s resurrection. Lent is therefore the intensive preparation for those seeking baptism at Easter and an opportunity for the rest of us who are already baptised to recall our baptismal identity by renewing the promises made at our baptism.

This is what Lent is all about. It is a time when we remember the death that brings new Life. Just like Noah, his family and the animals at the moment they stepped out of the ark, would have been surprised by what they saw, this Lent too holds many surprises for us. We can either look at the destruction wrought by our sin, mourn the loss of all the things that have been taken from us or we had to give up, or we could behold a new world, a new creation before us. What was once a barren desert, watered by God’s graces, would now be teeming with life. For the great paradox at the heart of Christianity, a mystery we celebrate every Lent and Easter, is that a Death was the remedy for death. It was in losing His life that Christ brought new Life to the world. In the words of the Byzantine liturgy, “He trampled down death by death.” In the greatest paradox of all, our Lord changed death into a means of life, an ending into a new beginning. What was once our doom is now our salvation. “The time has come and the Kingdom of God is close at hand. Repent, and believe the Good News!”

Give me a drink

Third Sunday of Lent Year A

Conversation starters come in various forms, shapes and sizes. From mundane topics like the weather to more animated divisive issues like politics, conversation starters have always played an important role in setting the tone for social interaction - its success and failure has always depended on saying the right things at the right time and in the right company. Who could have guessed that a topic on water and thirst could lead to such profound theological depth in this exchange between the Samaritan woman and the Lord. The hot and dry desert climate must have given the word ‘thirst’ an intensified meaning and made this a “hot” topic.

Our Lord appears on the scene, apparently thirsty, asking for a drink. Pause for a moment to take that in - Jesus thirsts – also one of the last words He utters from the cross. It is consoling to note that God thirsts for us, for our liberation and our salvation. But the story soon ironically evolves into a tale that focuses on the unquenchable thirst of the woman, a thirst that cannot be sated by her unending search for love, acceptance, spirituality, and faith. This would only be possible with Christ.

At one juncture of this long conversation, the Lord would ask the woman: "If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, 'Give me a drink,' you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water'. The Samaritan woman’s response to Jesus is filled with sarcasm and incredulity, 'Sir, you have no bucket and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?' Our Lord is unperturbed and replies. 'Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty.' Who could refuse a promise like this, especially the prospect of not having to lug home a heavy bucket of water from the village well? It is no surprise that she then softens and finally concedes, 'Sir, give me this water.” Did she really understand what she was asking?

The depth of the well is a good starting point to speak of the gravity of the spiritual thirst of the Samaritan woman and that of every soul. In the ensuing debate of which is the greater shrine, the Samaritan one built close to the site of the historical well or the Jerusalem Temple - the Samaritan woman argues the pre-eminence of the Samaritan site by praising the greatness of Jacob, the giver of the well. As far as the Samaritans were concerned that well contained holy water, because historically identified with the ancestor of her race – their national hero. But irony is apparent once again. If we would run a contest for the most passionate and thirsty individual of the Old Testament, Jacob will make the top three. Who else cheats his brother and father for his inheritance, works fourteen years for the woman he loves, wins a wrestle match with the Angel of the Lord and sires the nation that delivers the Messiah?

But then Jacob’s well is unable to solve the ‘unquenchable thirst’ of the Samaritan woman, indeed of every soul. Jacob’s well is a picture of the waters of this world. It speaks of every natural pleasure and ‘painkiller’ for the soul ever invented. Be it the best of technology, most advanced device, latest political ideology, entertainment, immorality, intoxicant or pornography. The waters of this world cannot quench the profound thirst of the human heart. Quoting Jesus ‘whoever drinks of this water will thirst again.’

In 2011, Pope Benedict addressed a crowd of a half million young people in Sydney, Australia, on the occasion of the World Youth Day. He was keenly aware of the spiritual thirst of the many souls gathered there, some who had travelled long distance to catch a glimpse of the Pope, many fuelled by curiosity and the perennial thirst for an answer to life’s mysteries. Pope Benedict told them that "in so many of our societies, side by side with material prosperity, a spiritual desert is spreading: an interior emptiness, an unnamed fear, a quiet sense of despair. How many of our contemporaries have built broken and empty cisterns (cf. Jer 2:13) in a desperate search for meaning?" No doubt about it, our wells are indeed deep! The great catechist then identified the things we are thirsting for: love that endures, opportunity to share gifts, unity based on truth, communion that respects the freedom of the other person. These can be summed up as thirst or longing for three things: goodness, beauty and truth, the three transcendentals. But, said the Holy Father, instead of goodness, beauty and truth, what our society offers is choice, novelty and subjective experience. Those things are not bad in themselves, but to stop there is like substituting the authentic goldmine for a poor imitation, to settle for a depleting source of water rather than for an endless supply of living water from the Source itself.

God created man with the capacity to worship Him and the need to be in fellowship with Him. Science fiction writer, H. G. Wells, writes that every person has a “God-shaped vacuum in his heart - a void that only God can fill.” St Augustine puts it this way, “My soul is restless ‘till it rests in Thee.” As you all know, the life of Augustine is a replay of the life of our gospel’s protagonist, the Samaritan Woman. Behind Augustine is a succession of desperate searches for fulfillment: excessive pleasures, false religions, philosophies, dissipation and distractions—futilities that left him so weary of himself. At the very moment when his yearning led him to desperation, circumstances led his eyes to a passage in Scripture – to the one thing, no, to the one person who could heal his weariness and satisfy his longing thirst, Christ.

The depth of the well proves a challenge to anyone who has no recourse to a rope and a bucket. The well becomes a most suitable symbol of the human soul. But the good news is that you do not need a rope or a bucket to reach the living water which our Lord promises. The well from which this living water flows is the unfathomable depths of God’s love. And so buried deep within us is this spiritual aquifer – it is the place of deep communion between God’s spirit and ours. It lies hidden beneath layers of superficiality, our preoccupations with all things material and tangible, our dalliance with world delights and pursuits, our ambition for power and mastery. Though too deep for us, our wells are never too deep for Him. We only have to ask, “Master, give me this water,” we are assured of a drink from the well of God’s immense riches which promises life and immortality. Thereafter, we shall never be thirsty again.

Sainthood is within our reach

Solemnity of All Saints

One of the most common complaints I get from well-meaning Catholics who wish to see the Catholic Church become more inclusive and tolerant, a “big tent” organisation that takes in all and welcomes all, is that the Church seems to be too overly demanding and the bar which she sets is so exceedingly high, only perfect saints would make the mark. Robert Hugh Benson, the Anglican priest who converted to Catholicism, sets out this dichotomy: “one-half the world considers the Church too holy for human life, and the other half, not holy enough. We may name these critics, respectively, the Pagan and the Puritan.”

Against the pagan who accuses the Catholic Church of being over excessively demanding and against the puritan who claims that we will never be good enough for God, the Church actually teaches that though all have received the universal call to holiness at baptism, all have the potential and the means to become saints through sacramental graces, we continue to acknowledge that we are sinners, striving and struggling with temptation and the entrapments of sin, and therefore, constantly in need of redemption.

A saint is not someone who has never sinned but someone who refuses to be defeated by sin, refuses to allow sin to have the last word or plays hapless victim, because he or she believes in the power of redemption by the One who died on the cross to atone for our sins and who even now leads us on the path heavenward. A Saint understands and accepts the power of grace that “love covers over a multitude of sins” (1 Peter 4:8) and where “sin abounds grace abounds much more” (Romans 5:20).

Saints are made, not born. Although one’s discipleship must deepen during the course of a Christian’s life through a slow process of conversion and growth in sanctity, he or she must be a thoroughly converted Christian disciple before he or she can become a saint. Acknowledging that we are “works in progress” is never in contradiction of the fact that we are called to “perfection.” The error of our modern times is that so many seek to give excuses for our mediocrity by canonising it, by making mediocrity the new benchmark of all aspects of life. We forget that we are made to be saints, being “half-baked” just doesn’t cut it. The saints remind us that perfection in terms of holiness is possible and attainable, even though it may take a life time of surrendering to God’s grace as we progress in discipleship.

In life, we often look up to certain celebrities as our heroes, idols, hoping and aspiring to become more like them. For us as well as for the saints, there is one model par excellence – it is Christ. By honouring the saints and by desiring to become more like them, we are aspiring to imitate what they hold up to us for our emulation – Christ Himself. This is what the beatitudes present to us - an image of Christ who chose to be poor, to be meek, to share our sorrow, to be a peacemaker and to suffer persecution for the sake of righteousness. And if we wish to become more Christ-like, we must then imitate Him by living out the beatitudes.

For the one who protests that holiness is beyond his reach, that holiness is for losers who seek to deny their humanity, who thinks that sanctity means virtue signalling, who believes that he is an incorrigible sinner beyond repair or redemption, he is making one of these declarations:

That redemption is a fantasy, which also means that our Lord died in vain and His mission was a failure;

That one doesn’t wish to follow Christ, for this is what becoming a saint means - becoming more Christ-like.

That this life is all there is to it, that there is no destiny prepared by God beyond a life of sin and strife; a destiny beyond our imagining - eternal life within the light and love of the Most Holy Trinity.

Acknowledging our vocation to become saints is not living in denial of our fallen nature and propensity to sin. We all fail, sometimes grievously. But, that is no reason to lower the bar of expectation. We seek forgiveness and reconciliation, and try again. Lowering the bar of spiritual and moral expectation demeans the faith and demeans us. Catholics today are capable of spiritual and moral grandeur, and indeed want to be called to that greatness. That is what Vatican II meant by the "universal call to holiness," and that is what is available to all of us in the Church, who dispenses graces through the sacraments.

Sanctity is available. And sanctity is what will transform a loser into a winner, a victim into a conqueror, a sinner into a saint. As Leon Bloy, the French Catholic novelist, so famously wrote: "The only real sadness, the only real failure, the only great tragedy in life, is not to become a saint."

Earth Wind Fire Water

Pentecost Sunday

The Holy Spirit, the Third person of the Most Holy Trinity, being pure spirit, would be the hardest member to picture in our mind’s eye since He, unlike the Second Person, was never incarnated in human form, or like the First Person, the Heavenly Father, has no equivalence in our human experience. Cardinal Ratzinger, who later became Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, would, therefore, write, that we “cannot reveal the Spirit directly, so all we can do is try, by means of images, to lead toward what is meant.”

The most common symbolic depiction of the Holy Spirit would be that of a dove, since it has a strong scriptural basis in the event of the Lord’s Baptism. But the first reading, which gives us the sole account of the event of the Pentecost, provides us with four elemental symbols: earth, wind, fire and water. Fans of the eponymous soul funk band of the 70s would be thrilled to know this. If you are from a different era, ignore my digression.

Earth. Wind. Fire. Water. The four classical elements of the universe were originally conceived by the ancient Greek philosopher Empedocles, five hundred years before Christ, and popularised by Aristotle. Of course, we are not going to dispute the error and the naïveté of the ancients in postulating this simplistic explanation that the entire universe is made up of these basic building blocks. We are not going to split hairs, or to be more precise, split atoms to refute this ancient science. On this feast of Pentecost, we are invited to consider them as entry points into the story of divine love and presence, that encompasses all creation.

The association of these four material elementals with the ephemeral Spirit, points to something foundational to our Catholic perception of the universe - we speak of the Sacraments as outward signs of inward grace; the invisible spiritual realm hidden within and being expressed through the visible and material realm.

The first element is earth. At first appearance, this seems to be the furthest idea from the Spirit since earth is the most solid of the four elementals. But earth is the first element the Creator used as He conjoined Himself with His creation to produce His greatest masterpiece - man. The word “human” comes from the Latin word “humus,” and is a direct reference of how God formed man from the earth, and breathed life and His Spirit into this lifeless clay, to create man. Each of us, members of the human race, earthy beings and yet privileged creatures because we are endowed with an immortal soul, are indeed fitting temples of the Holy Spirit. Just as God breathed life into earth to make man; at Pentecost, God breathes His Spirit into the earthen hearts of the disciples, infusing them with new life and making them into His new creation.

The element of earth also reminds us that the Jewish festival of Pentecost or Weeks (since it is made up of seven weeks, a sabbath of a sabbath) predates our Christian celebration. The three great pilgrimage festivals were all harvest festivals and Pentecost was the thanksgiving for the grain harvest. The feast also commemorated the giving of the Law or Ten Commandments to Moses at Sinai. But now, instead of the gift of Law, God has given us a far greater gift, that of the Holy Spirit who writes His law, not on tablets of stone (earth) but in our fleshy hearts. Instead of thanksgiving for a harvest of grains, today is a day of thanksgiving for a harvest of souls incorporated into the Body of Christ, the Church.

The next element is wind. There is nothing subtler than the wind, which manages to penetrate everywhere, even to reach inanimate bodies and give them a life of their own, as we see in the vision of the valley of dry bones (Ezekiel 37). In Hebrew, the word for Spirit, Ruach, could also be translated as breath and wind. The first mention of Ruach in the Bible is in the very first chapter of Genesis (1:2): “And the earth was a formless and desolate emptiness, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit (Ruach) of God was hovering over the surface of the waters.” In the theophanies of God, reference is often made to wind - either as in the form of a storm, a strong gale or even a gentle breeze. Our Lord in speaking to Nicodemus about the Spirit tells him: “The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit” (John 3:8). And then “when Pentecost day came round, they had all met in one room, when suddenly they heard what sounded like a powerful wind from heaven …”

After the wind, came the fire, produced by the confluence of matter and energy: “something appeared to them that seemed like tongues of fire; these separated and came to rest on the head of each of them. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak foreign languages as the Spirit gave them the gift of speech.” The liturgical colour for Pentecost is red, the colour of fire and blood and the symbol of love. This is also reflected in the traditional prayer to the Holy Spirit, “Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of thy Faithful; and enkindle in them the fire of Thy love…” It is a dangerous prayer, if we stop to think of it, because the Spirit’s fire is pure energy that melts the alloyed heart and purifies it for love.

The final element is water. Water holds such rich symbolic meaning and purpose for us. It strikes the balance in life like nothing else—too little is parched desolation, too much is drowned destruction, but in its fullness, water offers a life-force. In the Gospel for today’s Vigil Mass, our Lord says “Rivers of Living Water shall flow from within him” who believes in me. After they were filled with the Holy Spirit, the disciples left the Upper Room and began to proclaim the Gospel. And on hearing their words, 3000 were baptised that day. From the very day of Pentecost, the Church has celebrated and administered holy Baptism. Indeed St. Peter declares to the crowd astounded by his preaching: “Repent and be baptised every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.” With every baptism comes the reminder of the first Pentecost.

The Spirit comes to us today as wind, fire, and water, seeking to shape the earth that we are, into a new creation which we became at our baptism. But our earthen hearts are dry due to sin, resistant to God’s re-shaping, and need a little erosion through the water of the Spirit. Too often, we are consumed by a life that is not of the Spirit. We are fleshly creatures possessing a fleshly mind, meditating on the things of this world while attempting to justify our disordered love for them. Rather than hardening ourselves, trying to become what we want to be, we must remain pliable, open, and responsive to the creative activity of God: we must learn to ‘relax in the hands of God, to let God be the creator. For as we yield to God and allow the Spirit to wash over our muddied self with His divine wind, fire, and water, we will be shocked to find that the deeper He works to erode us, the stronger the rivers of living water will flow through us.

Earth, wind, fire, water. Four elements to ground and inspire and transform and mediate the grace of God for the people of God. For the gift of new life on this feast of Pentecost, for the gift of creation and our participation in it, for the gift of connexion as with one another, and with God who suffuses the whole of creation and community with the divine spirit of Love, for these gifts, may God’s holy name be praised. Come Holy Spirit, Come!

Firstborn of the New Creation

Easter Vigil in the Holy Night 2022

Today we conclude this shortest and yet most intense and sacred time in our Church’s liturgical calendar - the Paschal Triduum. And though it may seem to be an ending, it is actually a beginning of many things. This should not surprise us as we had affirmed at the start of tonight’s liturgy, that Christ is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and end of all things. Beginnings and endings are not two realities but one in Christ. As T. S. Eliot poignantly writes: “And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time” (The Four Quartets, “Little Gidding”).

Everything about this vigil’s liturgy, “the mother of all vigils,” speaks of beginnings and endings, which takes us on a journey from birth to rebirth, from creation to re-creation, from darkness to light, from death to life. From the blessing and procession of the Paschal candle, the singing of the Easter proclamation to our marathon set of readings, we are pulled into this journey of transformation, not as mere spectators but as participants. Our Gospel begins with these words: “on the first day of the week, at the first sign of dawn…” This is an extraordinary text – so subtle and sophisticated. But it begs the question: what does it mean? The answer is found at the beginning, in the first reading. We are, therefore, asked to contrast the first line of our Gospel passage with the first line of our first reading from Genesis, the very beginning of our story of salvation: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.”

The first day of the week mentioned in the Gospel, corresponds to the first day of creation in Genesis; and the rays of the dawning sun matches the first act of creation, where God created light out of darkness. Tonight’s liturgy, which began in darkness is also shattered by the light of the Paschal candle.

John’s recapitulation of the creation narrative goes on. In Genesis, God creates the first human being, the first man, but at Easter, our Lord Jesus emerges from the womb of the tomb to be the firstborn of the new creation.

God created all things, including man, and when He was finished, He looked at all He had made, and declared that it was “very good.” His original creation, however, was sullied and damaged. Once Adam chose to go against God’s Will, sin entered God’s created world, and sickness, decay, and death were introduced to humanity. God’s creation has suffered sin’s effects ever since.

Fast-forward to the time of Jesus’ life on earth. God the Son, the Word of God, entered humanity as a child born of Mary, without a human father. He was fully God and fully man. His mission was to defeat the sin and death which had entered humanity through Adam. This second Adam lived a sinless life, was condemned and executed as a criminal, and was buried in a tomb. Three days later, He rose from the dead! He was resurrected! His resurrection was the first phase of God’s new creation. God created a new kind of human existence—a human body which was raised from the dead and transformed by the power of God into a body that is no longer affected by death, decay, and corruption. Pope Emeritus Benedict described the resurrection of Christ as “something akin to a radical evolutionary leap, in which a new dimension of life emerges, a new dimension of human existence. Indeed, matter itself is remoulded into a new type of reality. The man Jesus, complete with His body, now belongs totally to the sphere of the divine and eternal.”

But then, there is the second phase in God’s plan of recreation. As Christians and as part of God’s new creation through our baptism, we can look forward to the time when, upon Christ’s return, He will raise our bodies from the dead! We will receive resurrected bodies like His. Our bodies will not have the weaknesses they have now but will have the full power the human body was meant to have. In these resurrected bodies, we will clearly see humanity as God intended it to be.

God’s new creation will not end with the resurrection of our bodies but goes beyond that. The third phase will involve all of creation being renewed as well. When Adam sinned, God cursed the ground. The world was no longer the sublime place God made it to be. Sin changed that. But because of Christ’s death and resurrection, His victory over sin and death, God will renew the entire world - He will remake it into “a new heaven and a new earth.”

The new creation which we speak of, is not just some static and unchanging reality. As part of the new creation, God’s Spirit is regularly renewing us, changing us, helping us to put on the mind of Christ. Dear Catechumens, today is not the end of your journey. It is not graduation day. It is an ending of a period of preparation, but this is only a beginning. As you allow the Holy Spirit to guide you, you will continually grow and mature in your spiritual lives in order that you may be renewed and become more Christlike.

Each year, we recapitulate this Easter story and each year it recreates us. It returns us to the ground of our being. We are asked to die to ourselves so that we may be reborn in Christ. And though we may sometimes feel as if we are caught up in a maelstrom with our world spinning out of control, remember this: the forces of chaos and death did not triumph over Jesus and His community. On the contrary, it is Christ who emerged the clear victor. And because of this, we are given the chance to start over. Every Easter, we are reminded that we can bring all that befalls us to be reintegrated, redeemed, and recreated as we bring it back to our living source: Christ yesterday and today, the Beginning and the End, the Alpha and the Omega; All time belongs to Him and all the ages, to Him be glory and power, through every age and for ever. Amen.

Liquid Tomb and Font of Life

Feast of the Baptism of the Lord

The muddy yet calm waters of the river Jordan would have posed little threat to the crowds which gathered there to listen to this prophetic figure, with some acceding to be baptised by him after listening to his message of repentance. The contrast of this rustic scene dominated by water, with what many experienced a few weeks ago is stark. A week before Christmas, torrential downpours resulted in unprecedented floods leaving a massive trail of destruction, over 70 thousand persons displaced and casualties. The floods did not just destroy the personal belongings of the victims and deprived them of their homes and livelihood, but also cut them off from basic necessities like food and electricity, and ironically, a clean supply of water.

Water is arguably the most important natural resource in the entire world. All life depends on it. On the other hand, water may be a terrifying life changing force when it comes in the form of hurricanes, floods or tsunamis. Because of its universal nature, it is not surprising that water plays a central role in the Bible as well.

The story of creation in the Book of Genesis is preceded by an editorial note on how the pre-creation cosmos was covered by a watery chaos. One of God’s primary works in creation was to set boundaries and limit the destructive power of water. It is not surprising that man’s rebellion against God’s authority by sinning would be reflected in the great deluge that would destroy the entire world. The floods are just a natural outcome of man seeking to go beyond the limits and boundaries set by God. In contrast to this chaotic and destructive side of water, the Book of Exodus gives us that foundational story of the liberation of the Hebrews from slavery in Egypt, when they crossed the Red Sea. The waters, although proving destructive to the Egyptians, also served to be the instrument of salvation for those favoured by God as they embarked on their journey to freedom and a new-found covenantal identity with God.

The juxtaposition of these two experiences of water, reminds us that water can be both life-giving and destructive. And there is no better place to find these two elements together than in the Sacrament of Baptism. This was excellently expounded by Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI in the first volume of his monumental work, Jesus of Nazareth: 

“On the one hand, immersion into the waters is a symbol of death, which recalls the death symbolism of the annihilating, destructive power of the ocean flood. The ancient mind perceived the ocean as a permanent threat to the cosmos, to the earth; it was the primeval flood that might submerge all life . . . But the flowing waters of the river are above all a symbol of life.” 

Just like water can be both life-giving and death-dealing, baptism has a similar effect on us - it kills original sin and it gives us new life – life of being adopted sons and daughters of God.

But here also lies the problem with Christ seeking baptism. If Christ is the truly sinless One, if He is the Son of God, He is in no need of baptism because He has no need for repentance nor adoption. But the Lord chose to submit Himself to John’s baptism as an expression of His fundamental submission to the Will of the Father and His complete identification with sinners. By submersion in the waters of the Jordan, our Lord publicly associates Himself with those who need repentance and forgiveness, although He has no need of it in actuality. He is already embracing the enormous weight of humanity’s sinfulness, just as He will do again in a definitive and final way on the cross. The mysterious events at the Jordan River already foreshadow the saving acts of Christ’s death and resurrection. The submersion of Jesus in the baptismal waters of the Jordan River prefigures His death on the Cross.

Pope Benedict notes that the icons of the Eastern Church visualise this intrinsic connexion between the Baptism of the Lord and the Paschal Mystery by depicting the waters of the Jordan “as a liquid tomb having the form of a dark cavern, which is in turn the iconographic sign of Hades, the underworld, or hell.” Just as the Lord descends into the swirling waters of death at His baptism, He goes down to the netherworld after His crucifixion to rescue the souls of lost humanity.

In this downward descent, this complete identification with sinners, we grasp the radical humility of our Lord Jesus Christ. He is the One who empties Himself, not clinging to His equality with God but becoming a slave for the sake of our salvation. God could have saved us in any manner that He chose, but He seems to embrace the most difficult and arduous way — the path of Incarnation and accompaniment.

Christianity is the only world religion that believes the omnipotent and mysterious God humbled Himself to become one of His own creatures, embracing the fullness of our humanity in order to redeem us from inside our own nature and condition. The Church has never gotten over the wonder of this divine condescension. We celebrate the Word made flesh, not only in the glory of Christmas, but in the fullness of the liturgy, prayer and moral life of the Christian tradition.

Drawing profound parallels between the Lord’s baptism and our own, we can see that, just as the Lord Jesus is revealed as the Beloved Son at the Jordan, so, too, we receive a new identity in baptism, as adopted children of the Father. Jesus Christ freely shares His very nature with us through the transforming waters of baptism. At the moment of our spiritual rebirth in the font, the Father beholds us with delight, exclaiming, “You are my Son, You are my daughter, the Beloved; my favour rests on you.” Christianity first and foremost, is about whom we have become in Christ, before it is about what we do or how we act.

Just as our common baptism draws us into the very life of being sons and daughters of God, our ordination as priests draws us into the Paschal experience of Christ. We too are called to experience death and new life each day. And this is what Fr Dominic and I must do tomorrow. We are called to die to our attachments to the parish we’ve called home these past few years, so that we may experience a rebirth in the new parishes where we will be posted this coming Monday. As you await your new pastors, I can’t help but see the parallel with today’s Gospel passage which began with this observation by the evangelist: “a feeling of expectancy had grown among the people.” As John the Baptist’s ministry ends with his arrest and Christ is thrust to the fore, both of us too must also take our leave, as your new pastors take up responsibilities of shepherding, sanctifying and teaching the flock that has been entrusted to them. Never forget this - the priest, the figurehead who stands in persona Christi (in the person of Christ), may change but it is the same Christ who remains, for He is the same, yesterday, today and forever. He should be your real focus because He is the One whom the Heavenly Father speaks these words: “You are my Son, the Beloved; my favour rests on you.” Turn to Him in prayer, in hope and in trust, and you will not go astray!

Sharing in the Lord's Suffering

Twenty Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

This episode takes place immediately after our Lord had prophesied His death and resurrection for the third and last time. Instead of responding to this and seeking further clarification, the disciples respond once again in the most inept and tactless way. On the first occasion, St Peter tried to convince our Lord to change His mind on going to Jerusalem. In the second instance, we have them secretly discussing who will be the greatest. Now on this third occasion, we have the two brothers privately seeking places of honour, and the others feeling indignant because these two had obviously jumped the gun in trying to secure promotions before the others had a chance to do so. They were more concerned about their positions in our Lord’s future organisation, that they were oblivious to His words on His imminent suffering and death.

In wanting to secure the top positions in the Messiah’s future government, the two brothers and other disciples had once again misunderstood the nature of our Lord’s mission and their identity as His disciples. Our Lord then throws them a challenge - will they be willing to drink the cup which He has to drink or be baptised with the baptism with which our Lord must be baptised. What is the meaning of this cup and baptism?

Obviously, our Lord is not just referring to the drinking cup which intimate friends and family members sometimes share at a meal as a sign of fellowship, nor is He referring to the baptism He received at the River Jordan when He was baptised by St John. In both instances, He is speaking of a future event symbolised by both the cup and the baptism. Our Lord is asking His disciples, which includes all of us, if we are willing to be united with Him in His redemptive suffering. Both the Eucharistic cup of the Blood of Christ and the baptism by which Christians are to undergo, are a participation in the death of Christ. In contrast to the world’s standards which see a sharing in a great king’s perks and benefits as a sign of honour, to share in Christ’s death and suffering would be the greatest privilege and honour for Christians.

Our Lord reminds us that the values of His Kingdom will be in stark contrast with the values of the world, values which prioritises privilege, power, and riches: “This is not to happen among you.” In fact, the values of the Kingdom will be profoundly counter-cultural and counter-intuitive: “anyone who wants to become great among you must be your servant, and anyone who wants to be first among you must be slave to all.” There is no place for self-promotion, rivalry or domineering conduct among Christians.

Ultimately, we are to look to Christ as the model par-excellence for greatness in the Kingdom of God. This last line sums up our Lord’s messianic mission: “For the Son of Man himself did not come to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” The words of our Lord are thus the fulfilment of the prophesy of Isaiah concerning the atoning suffering of the Servant which we had heard in the first reading. There is no way around this. This is the mission of the Suffering Servant. He has come to suffer for the atonement of sins. And it is clear in the gospel, that He did not only suffer, but came to die, “to give his life as a ransom for many.” God sent His Son to die on the cross for us and for our salvation. He could have redeemed us in another way that involved less agony for Jesus, but the suffering was a key part of the sacrifice. In the words of the theologian Jürgen Moltmann, “God not only participates in our suffering but also makes our suffering into His own, and takes our death into His life

The redemptive suffering of Christ which we are called to share, flies against common notions on suffering. Suffering is not an achievement trophy, like how athletes show us when they’ve put in the effort for a good workout. Neither is suffering a curse inflicted upon us by a cruel and sadistic God. Most certainly, suffering is not a mark of failure. By suffering for humanity, our Lord has transformed the curse into a blessing, into something redemptive.

But it isn’t only our Lord who suffers redemptively for us. He also invites us, by challenging us to share in the cup which He must drink and the baptism which He must undergo, to share in His work of redemption by uniting our suffering with His in an eternal offering of love. Seems like a crazy kind of love, right? But redemptive suffering is the most beautiful and perfect love. Offering up our suffering is a powerful way to become like Christ and love others, as He loves them. We are able to love this way because of grace. Redemptive suffering is a gift accorded to us because we are His friends. It is impossible for us to love this way on our own. It is only possible with God.

One of the most profound witnesses of redemptive suffering was Pope Saint John Paul II. Karol Wojtyla, as a young man and even during the early years of his pontificate, was a picture of health, vigour and vitality. However, in 1981, he suffered an assassination attempt in Rome. In the early 90s, however, a series of health problems began to take their toll. Describing the Holy Father in the fall of 1998, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger stated: “The pain is written on his face. His figure is bent, and he needs to support himself on his pastoral staff. He leans on the cross, on the crucifix....” Despite the visible pain, he carried his suffering in a prophetic manner. His courage and perseverance in carrying out his activities as pope, despite his physical afflictions, was a heart-lifting example for all of us.

 In 1984, he published the apostolic letter “On the Christian Meaning of Suffering.” When confronted with suffering, most of us desperately seek answers to the question ‘Why’? Why me? Why now? The pope responds by telling us, that Christ does not really give us an answer to such questions, but rather a lived example. When we approach Christ with our questions about the reason for suffering, says the pope, we cannot help noticing that the one to whom we put the questions “is himself suffering and wishes to answer...from the Cross, from the heart of his own suffering.... “Christ does not explain in the abstract the reasons for suffering,” he points out, “but before all else he says: ‘Follow me!’ Come! Take part through your suffering in this work of saving the world... Gradually, as the individual takes up his cross, spiritually uniting himself to the Cross of Christ, the salvific meaning of suffering is revealed before him” (#26).

Many who suffer the infirmities of aging and illness may ask the poignant question, ‘What can I possibly do in my present condition?’ Old age and illness both seem to be impediments to all the things a person hopes to achieve in his or her life. But the Lord and the witness of the Saints remind us, especially those of you who are leaning on the cross of Christ, that your suffering need not be futile nor meaningless. Do not waste your sufferings by complaining about them or grow bitter as a result of them. For in courageously bearing with your sickness, your pain, your troubles, in continuing to show love despite your fatigue, you reveal and proclaim the profound mystery of Christ’s presence even in the midst of suffering. Through your suffering, you make visible and audible the Suffering Christ from the cross who invites us: “Can you drink the cup that I must drink, or be baptised with the baptism with which I must be baptised?”

Ephphatha!

Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Being a deaf and mute person would have been a double handicap in any ordinary society. Much of social interaction and communication and in fact all aspects of life, education, work, entertainment, religious worship, heavily depend on one’s ability to hear and speak. Technology, sign language skills and interpreters may help mitigate some of the obstacles to communication, but it is clear that in a normal hearing and speaking society, the deaf and the mute are grossly disadvantaged.

In today’s passage, we have this man who was both deaf and had a speech impediment. He was not just cut off from the rest of society by his inability to communicate, but would have also been considered an outcast in the highly ritualistic and auditory Jewish community. The most fundamental commandment incorporated into the daily prayers of a Jew begins with these words, “Shema, O Israel” or “Hear O Israel” (Deut 6:4-5), but for a deaf person, these words would have made no sense whatsoever as he is unable to heed the call to listen to God. The rite of passage for a child as he passes into adulthood would be determined by his ability to read the Torah and proclaim it in the community thus qualifying him to be called “Bar Mitzvah” or a “Son of the Law/ Commandments” but once again, a mute person would have to remain perpetually infantilised as he is unable to read and proclaim the words of the Torah.

But wait – I forgot to mention that this deaf and mute man hails from the Gentile territory of the Decapolis, so it is likely that he is a Gentile and not a Jew. His disabilities not only accentuate his marginalised position but is also symbolic of it. Like this deaf man, the Gentiles too are disqualified from being “Sons of the Law”.

You may recall that this is not our Lord’s first recorded excursion to this Gentile territory. The last time He had visited the area, it didn’t go well. He had healed the Gerasene demoniac and the reception He received was entirely different from the one He was experiencing now. What should have been a show of victory on His part, turned out to be a disaster. Instead of impressing the local population, they chased Him out of the area. We can only speculate their reason for doing so: perhaps due to the financial loss of losing an entire herd of swine or that our Lord’s action had disrupted the status quo which they had grown accustomed too. But there is a flicker of hope in that story. Our Lord did something which He had never done before when healing others on Jewish territory. He commissioned the liberated former demoniac to be His emissary, His first Gentile “apostle.” And it could have been the work of this man that had produced a less hostile and more hospitable crowd, which brought this deaf and mute man to our Lord.

“Mogilalos”, the Greek term used to describe the deaf man's condition, appears only in one other place in the Bible, which helps us to see that this gospel passage is a fulfilment text: Isaiah 35: 5-6. Isaiah 35 follows a series of oracles in which the prophet proclaims judgment against nations and cities including Tyre (chap. 23), Jerusalem (chap. 28), and Edom (chap. 34). After the destruction of these lands, Isaiah 35 explains, there will be a great restoration accompanied by everlasting holiness and joy. Among the wonders to occur are the healing of the deaf and mute, those who suffered the condition of mogilalos. Originally, the Isaian text refers to the joyful return home of the Jews after their exile in Babylon, but St Mark is now hinting that the Gentiles too are now co-heirs of the same blessing. By healing the deaf and mute man in a pagan territory, our Lord proved that the era of restoration had come, salvation was at hand, and that God would be restoring all things through His Son.

Most of our Lord’s miracles were performed publicly but this one is unique, in that our Lord takes this man aside away from the crowds. There is a poignant intimacy in this private encounter. Our Lord then performs the healing not just by uttering a formula as in other cases but speaking in some form of sign language to this deaf-mute in no less than seven different actions. After taking him aside, our Lord puts His fingers into the man’s ears, spits, touch his tongue, gaze up to heaven, groans and says to him, “Ephphatha!” A signature feature of St Mark’s gospel is the retention of certain Aramaic words.

This healing illustrates once again, the sacramental quality of the body - its ability to be a visible sign and instrument of divine grace - and the fact that our Lord’s work of salvation involves the whole human being, soul and body. The strange foreign sounding word, “Ephphatha”, that came from the lips of Jesus in His very own language, can still be heard and pronounced in churches today every time we pray that a person be enlightened with the gift of faith, and emboldened to proclaim it. As Christ removed the impediments that would have prevented this man from becoming a Son of the Law, through baptism, He removes the obstacles that would keep us from becoming sons and daughters of God.

It is not surprising to see how the Ephphatha rite has been incorporated into the catechumenal ministry or Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults (RCIA) because there are so many parallels between the story of the healing of the deaf-mute and the coming into the faith of a person seeking baptism. St Ambrose, as early as in the 4th century, gives us a glimpse as to how the rite of signing the senses was used as a pre-baptismal preparation: “Open then your ears. Enjoy the fragrance of eternal life, breathed on you by means of the sacraments. We explained this to you as we celebrated the mystery of “the opening” when we said: Ephphatha, that is, be opened [Mark 7:34]. Everyone who was to come for the grace of baptism had to understand what he was to be asked, and must remember what he was to answer.”

The deaf-mute man who needs healing is an unbeliever just as the enquirer. He is brought by others - much as a catechumen is accompanied by sponsors. They ask for hand-laying, just as is practiced in the exorcisms of the scrutinies. Our Lord takes the man apart from the crowd, just as catechumenal formation takes place apart from the community. Our Lord works the miracle through actions and words, just as how we celebrate sacraments. And the man who was once deemed disqualified from rendering worship to God because of his impediments, was restored to a condition where he can now participate fully in the sacred assembly.

Like all healings in the gospels, the physical cure of the deaf and mute man is real, but also has a deeper spiritual significance. The relationship between the inability to speak and deafness, pictures some of sin's effects. Those who are deaf to the Word of God will have great difficulty speaking properly of spiritual matters. God designed human beings not only with physical senses but also with marvellous spiritual capacities to see, hear and relate to Him. These interior faculties were disabled by original sin, causing a severe communication breakdown between God and humanity. Our Lord’s healing of people who are deaf, blind and lame, is a sign of His restoration of humanity to the fullness of life and communion with our Creator. Now by the grace of Christ, we are able to hear God’s voice in our hearts, sing His praises, and proclaim His mighty deeds to all nations. Let us not behave as if we are still spiritually deaf and mute.

We are meant to soar

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

A popular metaphor for describing the transition from adolescence to adulthood is that of the eagle pushing her young, forcibly and abruptly, out of the nest. The falling eaglet either has a terror-induced epiphany, “Hey, I’m an eagle, I can fly!”, or hits the ground because it believes it’s a chicken. In certain respects, this is an apt metaphor for the process of discipleship. After a period of nurturing, comes the phase of challenging and breaking new ground. For those who are willing to accept the challenge, they can soar like eagles. For those who continue to have doubts about their calling or capabilities, they will forever remain grounded like chickens.

The initial phase of training the Twelve is complete, and they are ready to participate actively in the mission of Christ - to become fishers of men. The first task of the apostles was “to be with Him” (Mark 3:14), the second, is to be “sent out” (this is what the Greek word “apostello” literally means) and thirdly, to carry out the same works our Lord Himself had been doing. By this time, the apostles would have trembled at the tall order given to them: to do the same mighty deeds as the Lord. They would have been happy just basking in His fame and glory, allowing our Lord to do “the heavy lifting,” while they just did the simple work of managing the crowds. The fact that the text tells us that the Lord “began to send them out” suggests that He did not send all Twelve at once, but took time with each pair, ensuring that they were fully prepared and had the confidence to leave the nest and take flight into mission. But it is obvious that remaining in the security of the nest is not an option.

They were not to go alone but in pairs, as little units of Christian community, since their mission was to gather God’s people into a community centred on our Lord. Our Lord too chose to share His mission and ministry with the Twelve. The Church’s experience over the ages has confirmed the wisdom of this approach. We see evidence of such missionary partnership and collaboration in the Acts of the Apostles and the epistles of St Paul. Our Lord understood that a lone missionary is at risk of discouragement, danger and temptation; but a pair of missionaries can pray together, encourage and support each other, correct each other’s mistakes and discern how to deal with problems together. Moreover, under the Law of Moses the testimony of two witnesses is needed to sustain a criminal charge. Likewise, the testimony of two or more witnesses would give greater credence to the gospel.

Our Lord’s instructions regarding their traveling gear may strike us as rather austere, even by Marie Kondo’s minimalist standards. The apostles are to take nothing with them other than the clothing on their backs, sandals on their feet and a walking stick. The lack of a haversack meant that they could not even accept provisions from others for the journey - no take-aways! Our Lord’s intention is not so much to encourage asceticism as such (they are after all to expect and accept hospitality), but to emphasise that loyalty to the Kingdom of God leaves no room for a prior attachment to material security. The Apostles had to learn not to rely on their own resources but on God’s all-sufficient Providence. Because they were occupying themselves with God’s work, God would occupy Himself with their daily needs.

The disciples’ lack of material possessions also lent credibility to their message, since it demonstrated that they were preaching the gospel out of conviction rather than the desire for gain. Through their simple lifestyle, they would testify to the Truth which is proclaimed by St Paul in the second reading: “Blessed be God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with all the spiritual blessings of heaven in Christ.” God’s blessing was more than sufficient.

Though the disciples are instructed to refuse any material benefit or gain from their work, they are not asked to refuse hospitality shown to them by those who are receptive to their message. Hospitality shown to the disciples is synonymous with acceptance of the Gospel and the stakes involved in accepting or refusing the Gospel are high. Our Lord equates the response given to His apostles with a response to Himself. To welcome them, is to welcome Him. And to refuse to listen, is to forfeit His invitation to eternal life. This, therefore, explains the instruction of shaking off the dust from their feet. This action was not just a matter of hygiene. It was a symbolic act of repudiation, meant as a warning to those who reject the message. For the Jews, the soil of Israel was holy, therefore, upon re-entering the Holy Land after a journey, they would shake the pagan dust off their feet as a sign of separating themselves from Gentile ways. Here in this context, this action pointed to the fact that our Lord was establishing the new Israel, and those who rejected His message, would also be excluded from the Kingdom.

How about us? As the Lord chose and sent out His apostles in those days, He continues to call us and send us out as His messengers, in these days. What is clear is that we cannot volunteer for this job. In fact, all of you have been chosen from the beginning, before you were born. As St Paul reminds us, we have to be chosen, “chosen for (the Lord’s) greater glory.” Since you have been chosen and you did not apply for the job, there are no specific credentials. As the prophet Amos reminds us in the first reading, you do not need to belong to a particular elite group of trained professionals. The One who chooses you for mission, will empower you for mission. You are not meant to spend the rest of your lives in the comfort and security of a risk-free nest. You were never meant to stay put and stay grounded. You have been chosen because you were meant to be sent – you were meant to soar. You are born eagles meant to rule the skies, not chickens bound to the earth.