True Victimhood

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

The first reading and the gospel both present us with two polar opposites of how we view ourselves and others, which ultimately defines the way we relate. In the first reading, Job sees himself as a victim of circumstances and perhaps even God’s seemingly capricious unfairness. He has lost everything - his wealth, his family and his health - all are common denominators of one’s personal happiness and success. As he moans, groans and rants, he speaks from a place of entitlement. Did he not earn God’s favour by living a righteous life? This is not the same Job whom the Lord praises at the beginning of the story because at that point of time he lacks nothing, nor is this the Job who is enlightened by these series of tragedies and ensuing debates with his friends who emerges vindicated at the end of the story. In this passage, Job’s experience mirrors many of ours. We praise God for His blessings when life has been good to us, but the moment these favours are withdrawn, we immediately descend into petulant rantings of a spoilt entitled child.

In the gospel, we are given two positive examples - one is the mother-in-law of St Peter and the other is our Lord Jesus. But to add contrast to the story, we are also presented with the negative examples of the crowds who come to the Lord for healing and together with the disciples form a cohort of entitled persons, believing themselves to be uniquely deserving of the miracles of the Lord and would not wish to share Him with others. In contrast to this second group, note how Peter’s mother-in-law made no demands of the Lord but was most willing to serve Him the moment she recovered. There is no sense of entitlement but rather a sense of service to others springing from gratitude. Her actions merely reflect that of our Lord’s ministry, who tells us that His primary mission and duty is to preach the gospel of the Kingdom, to offer the gift of salvation to others, for this is the reason why He came.

So, this question is now placed before us as a choice: do we live for ourselves with a sense of entitlement, or do we live for others with a sense of duty and responsibility? Most of us would be conflicted. St Paul, however, resolves this tension within his own life and ministry. In the second reading, Paul writes: “I do not boast of preaching the gospel, since it is a duty which has been laid on me; I should be punished if I did not preach it! If I had chosen this work myself, I might have been paid for it, but as I have not, it is a responsibility which has been put into my hands. Do you know what my reward is? It is this: in my preaching, to be able to offer the Good News free, and not insist on the rights which the gospel gives me.” He rejects the sense of entitlement and embraces the responsibility which has been placed on him to preach the gospel and he claims that carrying out that duty is itself, his reward.

This tension exists even till today. Our culture today, is a battle ground between the values of entitlement and the values of duty or responsibility. The person with a sense of entitlement believes: everything that happens should somehow benefit them. Anything unfavourable or unfortunate that happens in life is happening “to” them. They constantly see themselves as poor victims. The person with a sense of responsibility believes: it’s their duty to deal with whatever comes up, to be accountable, and to accept all of the consequences of their own actions. The person with a sense of duty lives for others. They do not ask: “what’s in it for me?” but rather, “how can I help and be of service for others?” The model for this sense of duty is our Lord Himself.

Our Lord is often described in our liturgical text as both Priest and Victim. But what does it mean to be a Victim, in the sense of being Christlike? The victim here is a reference to the animal sacrifice or holocaust offered by the priests in the Temple to atone for the sins of men. It was meant to be a sacrifice of atonement, to take our place in receiving God’s judgment and punishment. But until the time of Jesus, no animal sacrifice was capable of accomplishing this despite the number of animals being killed to appease what seems to be a blood-thirsty God. But all this changed when God Himself offered His only begotten Son as the sacrifice. Jesus is the perfect sacrifice or Victim, because He alone is “spotless and unblemished”.

In the Eucharist, Christ victimhood is at the heart of the Sacrifice of the Mass. The Bread which is consecrated during Mass is called the Host, which is derived from the Latin “Hostia” which means Victim or Sacrifice. See the connexion? So, whenever we participate in the Holy Mass where the Host is offered and consecrated, and whenever we receive that consecrated host in Holy Communion, we too partake in the victimhood of Christ, a victimhood which atones sins and redeems us from the devil. Christ’s victimhood is a victimhood for others, rather than the sordid victimhood of a culture of entitlement which only seeks to benefit oneself.

The Victimhood of Christ is the necessary antidote to the malaise of victim mentality we see in today’s culture, a mentality that is extremely tempting and popular today. Today, claiming the status of a victim grants one status, power, and moral high ground. It conveys the moral certainty that one is automatically right. Now even the smallest offense is trumpeted all over social media. Social media has raised ranting and complaining to an art form. “Victims” feel extremely entitled and have become extremely unforgiving. Even mild or merely awkward remarks are interpreted in the harshest way possible and as aggressive attacks on the purported victim.

How different is this false victimhood from the true victimhood to which Christians are called. The image of Christ as victim runs throughout the Christian theology, hymnary, and scripture. First, Christ was a true victim in what He suffered. He did not experience some imaginary suffering or claim that mere words are violence. On the contrary, He suffered the worst and cruelest humiliation and death and yet found it within His heart to forgive His enemies.

Second, He suffered for others. He called Himself the Good Shepherd and said He would lay down His life for His sheep. And then He did it. The modern victim suffers nothing for no one except himself. The smallest slight becomes a reason for seeking revenge.

Our Lord also suffered in silence. Pilate even prodded Him, urging Him to denounce or contradict His accusers. He invited our Lord to proclaim His innocence, and our Lord would not do it. Isaiah prophesied this moment when he spoke of the Suffering Servant, “He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth” (Isaiah 53:7).

A Christian is called to accept true victimhood, and with humility. We are told we must take up our crosses and suffer with our Lord. And not only with Him but like Him. As parents, spouses, children, brothers, sisters, and friends, every Christian is to be a victim - not of the entitled and demanding type but of the self-giving and sacrificial type like Christ. To be willing to suffer for others, to forgive, and to do so quietly and with dignity.

The Economics of the Cross

Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

One of the most common vices which has taken a firm grip on us is our penchant to whine and complain. Who hasn’t complained, grumbled and ranted about others or a situation? We constantly complain about our parents, our children, our spouses, our leaders, our bosses, our subordinates, our fellow church members, our priests, and of course, God - no one has been spared from our list of complaints. What underlies our disgruntled feelings, unbeknownst to most of us, is our sense of entitlement. But here’s the irony. We feel entitled to respect from others, often without giving respect in return. And worse-yet? We feel that God owes us everything because we feel that we’ve either earned it or deserved it.

The sense of entitlement rears its ugly head in today’s gospel parable. It is what transforms the initial sense of gratitude into a gnawing sense of resentment. The story is told by the Lord in response to Peter’s question. A modern rephrasing of Peter’s question would sound like this, “What’s in it for us?” Peter wanted to know what reward would be given to those who give up everything to follow Jesus. In a sense, Peter wanted to know what his entitlement is.

Yet there is something in Peter’s comparative attitude and his need for the assurance of reward that does not fit well with labouring in the Lord’s vineyard. If Peter is worrying about a poor payoff which does not match the sacrifice he is called to make, the Lord overwhelms him with vision of gratuitous abundance. To Peter’s self-serving motivations, our Lord proposes another paradigm, that of generosity – a generous heart is one filled with gratitude and sees everything as grace. A generous heart considers the struggles, difficulties, the welfare of others, instead of just focusing on the injustices that life has dished out to us.

The story starts out with a conventional plot, hiring day workers, which already suggests that they were unemployed till that moment. But it has an unconventional ending - people who worked the least got equal pay, and got paid first. The owner of the vineyard orders that all be equally paid a denarius, whether you had worked the entire 12 hours or less than an hour. Something immediately strikes us as wrong. Conventional social dealings would dictate that those who only worked one hour would receive a twelfth of what the first group agreed to. But there is a greater surprise. To add injury to the already incensed members of the first group of workers, the latecomers get paid first. The master’s generosity, which is a pleasant surprise to the latecomers, becomes a cruel disappointment to the early birds.

The dissatisfaction of the first group of workers is understandable. They had endured the unrelenting heat of the sun, the hot scorching desert winds throughout the whole day, while the others worked for far less during the cool of the evening. Economic justice would demand that “to every man (be given) what he deserves.” Weren’t these workers entitled to a larger pay-out and extra benefits for the time and effort which they had put in? Therefore, thinking in terms of standard social and economic conventions, they expected more. But was their complaint justified? Didn’t they get what they deserved, what they had agreed upon at the beginning, and even more than the prevailing market standards? The landowner’s offer of one denarius for a day’s work is indeed generous. They had accepted it happily at the beginning. Furthermore, where vineyard day workers were victims of an exploitive socio-economic system, the graciousness of the landowner to provide work opportunities to them at a wage that was unequal to their job, was not a sign of meagerness but rather generosity.

We, therefore, come to realise that the root of their indignation came not from an exploitive wage scale but from seeing the good fortune of others whom they felt were not deserving of the same. The landowner had not been unjust, he has every right to do what he wants with his money. The real problem is that the grumblers harbour envy. The master’s generosity is an expression of gracious freedom, not callous arbitrariness, while workers’ complaints are an expression of their loveleness, not of their unfair treatment.

It is here that we see the radical difference between their sense of justice and that of the landowner, who symbolises God. The parable thus shows that God’s justice is not according to man’s calculations. God’s justice bestows mercy on the hapless and rebuffs the proud claims of merit. In contrast to human justice which rewards “every man what he deserves,” the divine principle of justice accords “to every man what he needs.” This is the economics of the cross. Our Lord Jesus died on the cross for us not because we deserved it. He died for us because we needed His perfect sacrifice of love. Thus, the bestowal of grace is not correlated to the work done – the sacrifice made, the amount of prayers offered, the expanse of one’s missionary efforts. It flows from the nature of God who is good, loving and gracious. Grace operates on the basis of the free choice of God, who dispenses his gifts with generosity.

Our society has truly been infected by an epidemic of envy and complaints. Rather than blaming God for the injustices in the world, the parable calls for honest self-examination – have we truly allowed our obsession with self-interest to dampen our joy and blind us to the needs of our neighbours? Pope Francis rightly states the problem in the second paragraph of Evangelii Gaudium, “The great danger in today’s world, pervaded as it is by consumerism, is the desolation and anguish born of a complacent yet covetous heart, the feverish pursuit of frivolous pleasures, and a blunted conscience. Whenever our interior life becomes caught up in its own interests and concerns, there is no longer room for others, no place for the poor. God’s voice is no longer heard, the quiet joy of his love is no longer felt, and the desire to do good fades. This is a very real danger for believers too. Many fall prey to it, and end up resentful, angry and listless.” (EG 2)

The generosity of God should always awaken us to greater mercy, compassion and generosity, rather than be a cause for complaint and grumbling. At the end of the day, for Christ’s disciples, all rewards are really “gifts” or expressions of divine favour and not earned “wages” or “mercy”. Don’t ask “what’s in it for me?” but rather, “What’s in it for the other guy?” That is a hard lesson to learn, because oftentimes when we go to God in prayer we think we deserve something from Him. We believe He owes us something. The same goes with service offered to the community of the Church. This parable is a painful but necessary reminder that what we receive from God is an undeserved gift. The Church owes us nothing. God owes us nothing. In fact, we owe the Church and God who works through the Church, everything.

A wise priest once gave me this potent piece of advice, “in God’s business, rule number one is that no one works for himself. Everybody takes care of somebody; in that way, all our backs are covered. If you doubt this kingdom paradigm, you will never be happy… so instead of looking at your neighbour as a nuisance and a burden, pray that he be your opportunity and strength.”

Gratitude unlocks the door to prayer

Twenty Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Today’s gospel brings us the story of how ten lepers were healed by the Lord but only one returned to express his gratitude. What distinguished this particular leper from the other nine was not merely the fact that he alone had returned to thank the Lord for the healing he had received. What was remarkable about this man, a detail which St Luke himself noted and did not overlook, is that this man was a Samaritan. This is what makes the story of the ten lepers so significant. Nine are Jewish and one is a Samaritan. Once again, a Samaritan proves to be the protagonist and model of virtue at the skilful hands of St Luke the Evangelist.

You would have heard by now that Samaritans and Jews didn’t really get along although they shared a common heritage and many religious customs. For the Jews, the only thing worse than being a leper was being a Samaritan. The Jews viewed Samaritans as an aberration of their own race and religion - as Tolkien’s hideous orcs were said to have descended from the beautiful race of elves. The former regarded the latter as renegades, having compromised their observance of the religion and cavorting with the enemy including inter-marrying with them, thus sullying their bloodlines.

From the impurity of their bloodline to competing claims over the centre of worship to disputes over the canon of scriptures, Samaritans were as similar and yet as distant from the Jews. The fact that our Lord uses a Samaritan in His Parable of the Good Samaritan and depicts him as a paragon of mercy and charity, in contrast to the Jewish priest and Levite, was a real slap in the face of the Jews. Likewise, the fact that only the Samaritan leper returned to show his gratitude in today’s passage would have equally provoked the ire of the Jews, and would have thrown a spotlight on their sense of entitlement and ingratitude.

The Lord tells all the men to go to Jerusalem and show themselves to the priest, but the Samaritan knows he’s not supposed to go to the temple. Being a Samaritan, it would have been strange for him to follow our Lord’s instructions to show himself to the Jewish priest. Samaritans had their own priests who offered sacrifices on Mt Gerizim instead of Jerusalem. And in any event, a Samaritan would have been turned away from the inner courtyards of the Temple before he was allowed to enter and defile it, with or without his leprosy.

Perhaps, this could be the real reason the Samaritan turned back. When all ten men were healed, the Samaritan was the only one who returned to say “thank you” to the Lord. Not being able to fulfil the prescript of the Law as far as Jews were concerned and not being able to even complete the instructions the Lord had given to Him and to the others, he alone turned back. But he did so not out of frustration or resentment (for not being a Jew), but out of gratitude and appreciation of what the Lord had done for him. As a Samaritan, he could never imagine how he too could be a beneficiary of this miracle. His heart overflowed with gratitude.

This Samaritan leper shows us that at the heart of our Christian faith must be this constant attitude of gratitude and thanksgiving, the urge to praise God must surge and coarse through our veins, and be the very air which we breath and words which we speak. At every Mass, during the Preface, a profound dialogue occurs between the congregants and the priest. The priest says, “Let us give thanks to the Lord our God,” to which the congregation replies, “It is right and just.” The priest then continues: “It is truly right and just, our duty and our salvation, always and everywhere to give you thanks, Lord, holy Father, almighty and eternal God.”

Thanksgiving is right and fittingly given to God. Ultimately, nothing we have or experienced is earned or merited; it all comes from God. It can be easy in our society to take what we have for granted: a warm, sunny day; the food we eat; the security of a job, the people we love. We fail to see the wonder in these because they seem so ordinary. Yet offering thanks and praise to God reminds us that God is the primary mover.

Unfortunately, such gratitude is in short supply these days. We live in a culture of entitled persons. One sure sign that we treat everything as an entitlement instead of a blessing —is a lack of gratitude. Ingratitude exposes an attitude of entitlement. How often do we acknowledge God’s graces? How often do we say thank-you to Him and others? In fact, we are more likely to complain when those privileges are withdrawn. The man who seldom comes for Mass, even on a Sunday, and even less frequent for confession, may well throw a royal tantrum when he hears that the Church has suspended both during the pandemic. “How dare the bishop do this?” (Or when the live-streaming feed is down)

This is the painful truth - Entitlement keeps us from praying because true prayer is the overflow of gratitude and desperation. Since entitlement strangles gratitude and ignores need, it leads to the death of prayer.

Ironically, one way God wakes us up to our ingratitude is through difficulties and suffering. Difficulties and suffering often lead to renewed prayer in a Christian’s life because they expose our needs. Wondering if you’ll have a roof over your head tonight and a job at the end of the year, tends to chase away feelings of entitlement. Worried over the future of our country and the world in the aftermath of this pandemic, if there is a future to speak about, makes us start thinking that we aren’t that special after all - everyone is in this - young and old, rich and poor, from New York to Paris. God will bring difficulty into our lives so that we will see our need and pray.

But we do not have to wait until difficulties come, to deal with entitlement. When we spray gratitude on the weeds of entitlement, they shrivel up and die. Not only does gratitude kill entitlement, but it also nourishes the soul, supplying nutrients necessary to see prayer blossom and grow. Gratitude to God leads to intercession for others.

If gratitude is one of the keys that unlocks the door of prayer, then we must get serious about gratitude. Instead of ranting and complaining about all the things which you feel are amiss in your family, office, school or in the church, count your blessings in heartfelt gratitude, instead of making a list of your woes.

The more serious you are about gratitude, the more likely you’ll become consistent in prayer. And instead of feeling grumpy, depressed or entitled, turn to the Lord like the Samaritan who threw himself at the Lord’s feet in adoration and thanksgiving. Our Lord desired the lepers to return to Him to give thanks, not because He had need of their thanks but because He desired to give them an even greater gift: the gift of faith. “Your faith has saved you.” Faith is the source of our salvation; giving thanks cultivates the gift of faith. It is the gift of faith so necessary for salvation which we receive in offering our thanks to God.

Sir, give us this bread always

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Last week, we took a break from our marathon reading of Saint Mark’s gospel as we read St John’s version of the miracle of the multiplication of loaves and the feeding of the multitude. This week we continue with the first instalment of the discourse on the Bread of Life which is unique to the Fourth Gospel. Like the other discourses in Saint John’s gospel, we see our Lord expounding a theological truth in the course of a dialogue - a back and forth exchange with His audience. And like other exchanges, we can’t help but smile at how the message of our Lord flies over the heads of His audience.

After having heard our Lord say that it was not Moses who gave their ancestors bread from heaven but it was His Father who is the real source of that live-giving bread, the crowd immediately demands a share in this wondrous food: “Sir give us that bread always.” In response to their request, our Lord gives this enigmatic answer, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never be hungry; he who believes in me will never thirst.” The irony of this story is that this crowd who had pursued our Lord with such eagerness to get more of Him, would turn their backs on Him after He had done explaining the true meaning of these words.

In both the first reading as well as in the gospel, we see people acting out of a sense of entitlement rather than gratitude. The Israelites complained to Moses about their lack of food. They had forgotten that it was God who had liberated them from the misery of slavery. Strangely, God in His mercy rewarded them by raining down manna from heaven. Similarly, the crowds in the gospel demand that our Lord gives them this “bread of God … which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world,” despite having feasted on a sumptuous meal of miraculously multiplied bread and fish. Instead of reprimanding them for their greed and sense of entitlement, our Lord provides them with this life-saving truth of the Bread of Life - our Lord Himself is that very Bread of Life. Yes, our Lord is truly, really and substantially present in the Eucharist today, the true bread of heaven that gives life to the world.

In these past few months where many of you have been forced to observe intermittent fasting from the Eucharist due to the lockdowns, I hope that you have had the opportunity to reflect deeply on the mystery of the Eucharist and the privilege of receiving Holy Communion. In the past, when Masses and Holy Communion were readily available, and many took it for granted because of its unobstructed accessibility, many may have unknowingly suffered a loss of the sense of the sacredness for this sacrament. As the adage goes, “familiarity breeds contempt.”

We often forget that receiving our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament is a privilege rather than a right. If it is a right, then God and the Church owes us a duty to dispense it to us without questioning our motives or disposition. But if it is a privilege, then the Eucharist is a pouring forth of God’s beneficent grace to the undeserving, a privilege which we should never take lightly. And this is why we pray this at every Mass before receiving Holy Communion: “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you under my roof, but only say the word and I shall be healed.” This sense of unworthiness is also reflected in one of the two prayers said by the priest quietly before he receives the body and blood of Christ: “May the receiving of your Body and Blood, Lord Jesus Christ, not bring me to judgment and condemnation, but through your loving mercy be for me protection in mind and body and a healing remedy.”

The teaching and practice of the Church is rather clear. We receive Holy Communion only when we are in communion with God and His Church. In order to receive Holy Communion, a Catholic must be in a state of grace, meaning that no mortal sins have been committed. If one is in a state of mortal sin, then it is necessary to have those sins forgiven in the Sacrament of Penance before receiving Holy Communion. That discipline is based on the clear teaching of Saint Paul, who says that to receive the Eucharist unworthily is to invite condemnation (1 Corinthians 11:29). Saint Paul was encouraging the church to live the faith authentically, entirely and with integrity.

We who profess the faith of the Church, must live as the church commands us because through His Church, Jesus Christ calls us to repentance, forgiveness and holiness. To approach the Eucharist otherwise is to condemn ourselves at the altar of the Lord. That is why we say that the Holy Eucharist, both offers us “a healing remedy” for those who are properly disposed, but can be poisonous for those who are not. This risk comes with our freedom to live lives that are coherent or incoherent; lives that are consistent with God’s truth or not. To approach the Eucharist casually and without the fear of possible condemnation is to risk one’s eternal salvation. That is why when the Church trivialises the danger of an unworthy reception of the Eucharist, she fails to properly love those who continue to jeopardise their souls.

To modern ears, the above may sound unmerciful and unloving. Yes, love is indeed merciful, but authentic love is also truthful. Our Lord in His ministry gives us many examples: Saint Peter and the apostles, the woman caught in adultery, Zacchaeus, and the Samaritan woman. Love acknowledges that condemnation is within reach. It recognises that how we approach the altar and the reception of the Eucharist requires a sense of the sacred which is preceded by a healthy fear of the Lord.

The Eucharist is a gift, not an entitlement, and the sanctity of that gift is only diminished by unworthy reception. While it is likely that too many receive the Eucharist in a state that is objectively separated from God without having made a good confession, this is no reason to lower the bar. Low expectations lead to mediocrity not spiritual excellence, and the path to hell is pathed by spiritual sloth. This is not an issue of equity or equality but of sanctity. We are all called and challenged to imitate the Saints, which is to say to imitate Christ. None of us are perfect, as no saint is perfect from birth save for the Blessed Virgin Mary, which means that we are constantly called to repent, amend our ways and deepen our communion with God before we receive Holy Communion in a worthy fashion. Only then can we utter with true conviction, humility and gratitude, these words: “Lord, give us that bread (the Eucharist) always.”

Treasure and Ponder

Solemnity of Mary Mother of God

It’s that time when making a list of the most memorable highlights of the year seems all the rage. It’s a time-honoured tradition to look back and reminisce, to count down the best moments and experiences of a year gone by. In a normal year, it would have been quite easy to pick out some gems. But this year, most people would be scraping the bottom of the barrel to find a reason to be thankful. It seems that only one thing stands out and continues to hang over our heads like the proverbial Sword of Damocles. Covid 19! And it’s no cause for rejoicing.

When we recall the upheaval wrought by this pandemic in 2020, the tempting thing to do is to say “good riddance.” Let’s be honest, no matter how you wish to spin it, it hasn’t been a good year. Anyone who tells you otherwise is either delusional or lives on the planet Mars. 2020 brought with it plenty of suffering and perhaps for many of us, the most unbearable had been spiritual in nature - deprived of our Masses and sacraments, with cancelled Christmas Masses being the last straw. But the answer to suffering isn’t bitterness. It’s thankfulness. Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is to count your blessings when things are going poorly.

This is what our Lady teaches us. A week ago, someone sent me a caricature of the Holy Family at the first Christmas, with Mary complaining to Joseph, that it’s all his fault for not having made prior reservations for a hotel room. The caption below this make-belief scene: “The real reason why it was a Silent Night?” The meme suggested that Mary was upset with Joseph and was giving him the silent treatment. As humorous as this tongue-in-cheek remark may have been, it is the furthest thing from the truth.

Instead of a petulant, sulking and exhausted young mother adversely reacting to all the mishaps on that first Christmas night, a nightmarish disaster, we see the exact opposite - a woman who was composed, meditative and grateful. This is how St Luke describes Mary’s composure and demeanour: “she treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart.”

The word ‘treasure’ is used twice to speak of Mary’s reaction to the events of the Infancy of her child, Jesus. The first instance is here in today’s gospel passage after she had given birth and the shepherds had left. Then later at the end of Chapter 2, we see Mary reacting to another incident in the life of her child, now a young adolescent. Those of you with children transitioning into teenage years will know how this story resonates with you. She and Joseph had just lost their 12-year-old in the Temple, and upon finding Him, they must have been shocked by His nonchalance attitude. Yet, St Luke again tells us ‘His mother treasured all these things in her heart’.

The word ‘treasure’ has to do with what has most value to us. And sometimes we do not really appreciate the value of something until we’ve lost it. So many Catholics have shared with me how the absence of the Eucharist in their lives have led to this insatiable and painful hunger. Online Masses can only provide so much band-aid to a Catholic deprived of the sacraments, but it cannot fill the gaping hole in his starving soul. When something is common-place and readily available, we often treat it with contempt because we know that if we were to lose it, it would be so convenient to buy a replacement off the shelf. But when something is rare, we will appreciate its true value when we no longer have it. This entire year has been a painful experience for many Catholics deprived of the Eucharist. But it has also been a year to help them cultivate a deep longing for what they often take for granted and have little thought of, once received.

To treasure is not just at the heart of gratitude but the way of prayer. Christian prayer begins in treasuring and pondering these things. And through prayer, every experience, whether painful or sweet, can be transformed into gratitude. That’s where Mary shows us the way, with regard to our own life and experience. Now most people will tell you that it is easy to ‘treasure these things’ when the events and words are all positive. We treasure sweet memories, the highlights of successes and achievements, we immortalise what is favourable to us by filling our display cabinets, walls and photo albums with trophies, memorabilia, and photographs, reminders of the most positive and memorable experiences in our lives.

But Mary shows us that we can’t be selective when we wish to “treasure” things. The befuddlement she must have experienced upon hearing the angel’s announcement, the prospect of being rejected and stoned to death if it was known that she was with child without being married, the arduous journey to Bethlehem while she was heavily pregnant, the inhospitable and unsanitary conditions in which she had to deliver her child and the visit of a rag-tag group of undesirables in the form of shepherds, the inability to fully comprehend the nature and mission of her child and finally, the horror of having to witness her own Son’s execution, would have been some of the things which she had to endure, treasure and ponder upon.

The painful as much as the pleasant, what breaks the heart as much as what fills it with joy is to be contemplated, prayed and be grateful for. That’s what Mary teaches us. That’s the example she shows. Prayer in this contemplative sense is for all of us, because all our lives are a mixture of what pleases and what pains, and all the grey areas in between. All our experiences, be they welcomed or unwelcomed, are to be the subject matter of our prayer. Our Blessed Mother was able to hold the terrible tension and pain of these long moments without wilting or breaking down or sinking into despair. To ponder in this sense is no joke; prayer in this sense is no joy, to be grateful in this sense requires more than human effort. It is all endurance and grace.

Through the lenses of Mary, we have a new appreciation for what matters. For me, I’m grateful to God for helping me to trust Him more than my own devices, cutting back on the noisy clutter in my life and helping me realise that He’s given me far more than I’ve ever asked of Him. Faith. A Parish Community. Family. Friends. That’s what’s important. It was a difficult, trying year. But God has a way of moulding us in tough times, and 2020 was no different. Love is perfected through suffering, faith is strengthened when put to the test and hope is deepened in the midst of darkness. Yes, 2020 was a difficult year. But it would also be a memorable year!

Mary’s experiencing of treasuring and pondering helps us to see that God didn’t abandon us even when all is dark and uncertain. If suffering provides us opportunities to love others, trials will give us opportunities to grow in faith and the uncertainties of the future will give us more opportunities to place our hope in the Lord. So, on this day as we celebrate a new calendar year, we look ahead into the unknown future, knowing that our God will never desert us no matter what circumstances we find ourselves in. It is also a day to be thankful, to be grateful, for all the opportunities we have been given this past year. Mary teaches us that with Jesus by our side, that’s a blessing we should never ever take for granted.

This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Be Happy at All Times

Third Sunday of Advent Year B

We’ve been constantly reminded that Advent is a season of conversion, of penance, of subdued celebration and finally, of reigning in our impatience. Yes, it’s Advent and not Christmas, well at least not for now. This, however, does not mean that you should rush to take down your Christmas tree or store away your Christmas decorations in anticipation of the Parish Priest’s unannounced home visit cum spot-check. Don’t worry the CMCO has taken care of that. Home visits have been cancelled this year. But Advent being an entirely Grinch-like experience is a gross mischaracterisation of the season. Today, the Church wishes to give us a foretaste of the joy of Christmas that is now at hand. In fact, Advent is indeed a time of joy, whilst remaining a time of sober preparation. This is because looking forward to a person’s arrival is always a cause of joy and Advent is the quintessential season of expectant waiting for the coming of our Lord. This joyful dimension is present in the readings of this Sunday.

The First Reading is an insistent invitation to rejoice. There is a verse therein which seems to be an early echo of the song of Mary, the Magnificat, “I exult for joy in the Lord, my soul rejoices in my God.” This joyful exclamation follows the words of prophecy of Isaiah that will be uttered by our Lord at the beginning of His public ministry in Nazareth: “The spirit of the Lord has been given to me for the Lord has anointed me...” The passage continues with a description of the ministry of the Messiah (the Anointed One) - He will heal, liberate, bring good news and declare a great Jubilee year. Thus, the joy with which we Christians speak of, springs not from a happy situation, a resolution of difficulty, a remedy to some affliction but like Mary, from the knowledge that the Messiah is coming and in fact, has already come.

According to Isaiah, God has given us a gift - the garment of salvation. If nakedness symbolised man’s sinfulness and depravity, being clothed reminds us of God’s precious gift of Grace. One of St Paul’s favourite leitmotifs is that of being clothed in Christ. The image also reflects a Christmas theme. We are immediately reminded of a mother tenderly wrapping her child up in swaddling clothes. The child, who is truly God, is now adorned with the flesh of humanity.

Of course, the joy that is promised in the prophetic text of Isaiah will find its fulfilment in Jesus. Indeed, in coming into the world He gives us His joy, just as He Himself confides to His disciples: “These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete” (Jn 15:11). Our Lord brings new sight to the blind, liberation to the captives but more importantly, He brought His people salvation, a new relationship with God that overcomes evil and death.

In the Second Reading, we heard how St Paul invited the Thessalonians to make joy, prayer and gratitude a permanent feature of their lives. “Be happy at all times; pray constantly; and for all things give thanks to God.” What is the reason for this “permanent” disposition? St Paul explains that it is “because this is what God expects you to do in Christ Jesus.” Such exhilarating and lasting joy is not the product of some intoxicant nor is it the result of a hedonistic lifestyle, pursuing one fleeting pleasure after another. In fact, St Paul calls for Christians to be rational in their decision-making and be steadfast in doing good and avoiding evil. So, joy is not something momentary. It is a lasting joy that demands commitment. And our commitment is merely the proper response to God’s commitment – His faithfulness which is enduring: He “has called you and He will not fail you,” as St Paul tells us.

After the first two readings, let us come to the Gospel. While the theme of joy seems clearly evident in both the first and the second readings, it may require a little effort on our part to discern the message of joy that seems hidden beneath the stark veneer and seriousness of St John the Baptist in the gospel. One would not readily associate the austere figure of John with the characteristic of joy. John, for all purposes, comes across as your proverbial kill-joy. Nevertheless, the gospel does not depart from the central theme of this Sunday. How so?

John shows us that the secret of Christian joy is found in our fundamental vocation to be a witness for Christ. Pope Francis is fond of reminding us that joy is at the heart of the announcement of the gospel – we must be joyful witnesses of Christ. Dour, sour-faced Christians make bad witnesses of the gospel. St John the Baptist provides us with a clear example of what it means to be a witness for Christ. St John was happy to tell his audience that he isn’t the main protagonist of the story but another is. John humbly admits that he isn’t the Light which the people had been waiting for; he is merely a witness of the Light. When they questioned him, John says that he is not the Christ, not Elijah, nor the prophet. Most pointedly, he declares, “I am not”. This is the gospel, which again and again has Jesus say, “I am”. “I am” is how God introduces Himself in the Old Testament. John’s denials, his saying who he is not, is ultimately pointing to who Jesus is. Jesus is God, the great “I am.” The gospel is the gospel of Jesus and not of John’s or Michael’s or Elaine’s. As Christian witnesses, we must consistently reject any attempt to make ourselves the focus of our message. We must refuse to take the credit for what ultimately belongs to God.  In fact, credit must be given where it is due - Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Advent is surely the time for Isaiah, St Paul and the Baptist to be heard inviting us to focus on the One who can drape us with the garment of salvation, the One who is the source of all Light, the One whom we are unworthy to untie the straps of His sandals, and to respond to Him with joyful hope and fervent faith. As Christians, we rejoice in His coming. This is not a time to be gloomy-looking, or to put on a forced artificial entertainment. This is a time to express a real joy in our Lord’s victory over sin as He comes to live among us. He comes to give us the fullness of life; to give us a bounce in our step, a flutter to our heart-beat and a boost to our waning strength. And so, we must be ready to be His convincing witnesses to the world. How do we do that? “Be happy at all times; pray constantly; and for all things give thanks to God.”

Breaking and Building

Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A 

It’s quite tiring when you have to deal with incessant critics. There are loads of people who make it their life’s mission to criticise and find fault with others, few actually offer any solutions and even fewer would volunteer to make things better. Just like a house of cards, it is far easier to tear people down than it is to build them up. 

 

Today’s readings remind us that our duty is neither to maintain, defend and validate sick and evil behaviour and systems; nor should we be constantly tearing people and structures down just because they are not perfect. Yes, some things require dismantling. But there is also a corresponding obligation to build up and make things better. So, Christian growth requires a simple two-step approach - break and then build. 

Before we can “build back better”, it is necessary for us to break and tear down. It is quite alarming to think that it would be necessary to dismantle and destroy things before you can make a change. Sounds destructive, a favourite pastime for anarchists but not for ordinary folks. It would be destructive if we intend to destroy that which is good. But what is being destroyed here is actually vice - the ugly, sinful, unhealthy, destructive, and self-destructive behaviour that has warped our character. So, when you destroy what is destructive, you are actually being constructive. This is good: you’re negating the negative, destroying the destructive. 

This is what the prophet Isaiah is envisaging in the first reading. Using the metaphor of a vineyard that produces sour grapes, to represent Israel, the prophet speaks of the Lord having to make a radical transformative decision to tear down and undo everything, so that He can make a fresh start. The destruction is not punitive. The destruction is not final. It is therapeutic. It is meant to remedy the sickness that has taken hold of the moral root of the nation. 

We see a similar theme in the gospel. While clearly standing in line with Isaiah, our Lord offers a new and surprising twist to the story. He introduces a new set of characters – the tenants. Once again, it is the fate of the vineyard of Israel that is in question. However, here it is not the vineyard itself or the vine of Israel that is judged, but the wicked tenant farmers to whom the vineyard had been entrusted. The effect of Jesus’s reframing of the story is to shift the emphasis: it is not that the vineyard is failing to produce grapes, but it is the tenants who deny the vineyard’s owner his due and treat his emissaries (and son) violently. If the vineyard is a symbol of Israel, the tenants represent the religious leadership. 

The parable highlights one of the most common sins committed by leaders: the refusal of leadership to assume responsibility when things go wrong, to excuse themselves from all guilt by pushing the blame on the system. We often hear that a problem is systemic, which means that the problem is with the system and not with the persons in charge. Of course, no system is perfect but systems, we must remember, are amoral. It is the people who are involved in making decisions and acting upon these decisions who should be taking responsibility. If no individual wants to assume responsibility, can any system be reformed? 

But note that the parable also shows us that before radical steps are taken to tear down systems and structures, which includes removing individuals from offices of power and influence, there must be efforts at fraternal correction done with both patience and charity. The landowner sends his servants and then his son to reason with the wicked tenants, hoping to change their minds. The tenants are only removed after all reasonable efforts at reconciliation have been exhausted. 

But “breaking” is only the first step. If we merely stop here without any concrete plan to build back better, then our actions would truly be destructive. Constructive criticism is good. It is even necessary if we wish to make progress in spiritual life. But when criticism stops at highlighting the faults of others without providing a path of redemption and rehabilitation, then such criticism remains destructive and obstructive to growth. 

After tearing down the web of sin, we must be ready to build back, and we do so by building and cultivating virtue – the habit of good. You begin replacing the rotten stuff with good stuff. Each and every day, you come out of yourself to do a few little acts of kindness, of generosity; you give a bit of yourself to make someone else happy. St Paul provides us with an excellent blueprint in the second reading, “if there is anything you need, pray for it, asking God for it with prayer and thanksgiving and that peace of God, which is so much greater than we can understand, will guard your hearts and your thoughts, in Christ Jesus.” Notice that the wicked tenants in the parable were motivated by envy which eventually leads to their destruction. The remedy for envy is gratitude. Every day, our lives must be filled with prayers of thanksgiving, a reminder that all is grace. There should be no room for envy and resentment, but only gratitude and appreciation for everything that we have received from God. 

St Paul, adds this final advice to us, “fill your minds with everything that is true, everything that is noble, everything that is good and pure, everything that we love and honour, and everything that can be thought virtuous or worthy of praise.” How often should we do this? St Paul tells us, “keep doing all the things that you have learnt from me and have been taught by me or have heard or seen that I do.” In other words, doing good must be a life-long commitment – no time for slacking off – we must keep on doing good, we must keep on loving and showing honour, we must keep on doing everything virtuous and worthy of praise. The moment we cease building back, we may end up tearing down the good that has been done. 

Ultimately, all our efforts in breaking with sin and building back with virtue would be in vain, if Christ is not made the foundation of our lives. For He is “the stone rejected by the builders that became the keystone.” Remember, “unless the Lord builds the house, its labourers labour in vain.” (Psalm 127:1) No amount of good deeds, good thoughts, or good words on our part would be able to remedy the destruction wrought by sin unless we allow the Lord to use us “like living stones, being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” (1 Peter 2:5)

Be grateful and learn to forgive

Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

When we have been wronged, our first instinct is usually to get angry. Our second instinct then is to hold onto our anger, because we somehow feel justified in doing so. It is as if because we can’t make the person actually pay for his offence, we do so mentally and emotionally, by punishing him over and over again in our minds. Forgiveness comes later, if at all. In contrast, the Psalmist tells us that “the Lord is compassion and love, slow to anger, and rich in mercy” (Psalm 102). Could this be the meaning of the adage, “to err is human, to forgive divine”?

The readings today remind us of the heavy price we pay for resentment, holding unto unforgiveness, and the incalculable reward we receive when we choose to forgive. The message of the sage ben Sirach in the first reading is simple and hard to miss but makes tough reading. His observance of our human behaviour is quite penetrating. “Resentment and anger, these are foul things, and both are found with the sinner.” Resentment is a sin. It is poisonous. It is like a cancer in a person’s soul.  Anyone who has felt it knows the experience St. Augustine described as “curvatus in se”—being “curved inward on oneself.” Clinging to anger and resentment may feed our egos and give us a sense of moral superiority, but ultimately it undermines love by leaving us disconnected from the source of all love.

The sage, therefore, counselled that those who wish to receive forgiveness from God must be aware that this forgiveness is conditioned upon our readiness to be forgiving toward others. He then proposes two meditations to help those who struggle with forgiveness - contemplating the Last Things, which is ‘death, judgment, heaven and hell’, and secondly, the commandments. How would this help? As much as we desire an accounting from those who have hurt us, it is crucial to remember that we must also give an accounting to God. The measure by which we use to treat others, will ultimately be used against us. So show mercy if you want mercy. “Forgive your neighbour the hurt he does you, and when you pray, your sins will be forgiven.” But if you want God to hold your sins against you, then, by all means, hold others’ sins against them. Remember, he who pulls the trigger, may end up shooting himself.

St Paul reminds the Romans in the second reading that the Church is not just a loose association of individuals whose lives have little effect on others. Rather, “the life and death of each of us has its influence on others” because we have been purchased by God with the blood of Christ. Church and community life cannot exist when its members continue to hold on to a culture of resentment, refusing to forgive when wronged, and resisting all attempts at reconciliation. Forgiveness is not just something that is necessary for each Christian individual for his or her survival but also essential for the life of the Church.

There is no denying that forgiveness may be the most difficult thing to do in life. We may be comforted to know that even St Peter struggled with it. The question he asked presumes there must be some limit to it, especially when it involves a repeat offender. But the answer given by the Lord stresses that no limit should be placed on the number of times we should forgive. The Greek word for “forgive” means literally to let go. Forgiveness is not “forgive and forget”; we can’t erase a terrible wrong from our memory, but we can let go of the resentment that continues to poison our lives. And so, our Lord uses a parable to illustrate His point.

The parable takes the meaning of forgiveness to another level. Here it is not the number of times which is highlighted but the gravity of the offence which is stressed. The ten thousand talents owed by the wicked servant to the king is contrasted with the one hundred denarii owed to him by his colleague. The meaning of this contrast is often lost on modern readers as we are not familiar with the rate of conversion of these ancient currencies. But when we convert these two amounts to our current currency, we realise the enormous disparity. Ten thousand talents would be equivalent to the staggering national debt of a modern state, whereas one hundred denarii would be three months wages. The wicked servant could never repay what he owed the king in a thousand lifetimes, which highlights the magnanimous generosity and mercy shown by the King to him. But instead of emulating this example of generosity, the wicked servant demands reparation from his fellow servant who owes him a considerably smaller amount. The story does not only reveal the calculative and uncompromising attitude of this wicked servant but his abysmal lack of charity and gratitude.

One of the points of the parable is to drive home precisely what forgiveness is and is not. Forgiveness has nothing to do with erasing the blame. Rather it assumes a frank and realistic knowledge of wrongs committed. Everyone should be accountable for their sins. Furthermore, if we cannot recognise the wrong done to us, how can we begin to forgive? Mercy can only be shown to the undeserving. If someone deserves mercy, it wouldn’t be mercy. It would only be true mercy if the person deserves punishment.

The parable also reminds us that the key to forgiveness is gratitude. God wants to teach us gratitude so we can be forgiving and be forgiven! So, if you wish to be a forgiving person, cultivate gratitude in your life. Resentful people are often ungrateful people. This was the wicked servant’s greatest failure. He was ungrateful because he had forgotten how much he had been forgiven and therefore, was unable to show mercy to his companion. That is why forgiveness does not entail forgetting. In fact, to forgive, one must choose to remember. Remembering can be painful. Forgiveness can be difficult, if not impossible. But if we learn to be grateful by remembering how we have been shown unlimited mercy by God, we should also respond to others who have wronged us, with limitless forgiveness.

Grateful for being saved

Twenty Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Among priests, we often lament and complain about how the priesthood can be a thankless job. After a hard day’s work of attending to a myriad of needs and requests, celebrating mass, anointing the sick, counselling individuals and couples, instead of receiving a simple word of thanks, our efforts seem to earn us dirty looks or stares, or just an outright criticism that we had taken too long, not done enough, set the bar too high, failed to be sufficiently compassionate or should have just done it differently. I often stop myself when I begin this broken record litany of self-pity and remind myself, “Have I too been thankless for my priesthood, for my parish and parishioners?” “Have I forgotten to be grateful for the home cooked meals infused with love, the many dedicated lay persons who quietly carry out their apostolate thus making the work of a priest lighter, the kind words of encouragement and appreciation given when most needed, or the offer to chauffeur me, or the patience shown to me even when I was testy, impatient and annoyed?”

So, should I be complaining about the ingratitude of others when I suffer the same malaise too? I guess it is a good reminder that it is not just priests who occupy thankless jobs, but almost everyone too. It was G.K. Chesterton who said, “Gratitude, being nearly the greatest of human duties is also nearly the most difficult.”

In today’s gospel, among all the ten lepers who were healed, it was the Samaritan leper alone who distinguished himself when he returned to thank the Lord. To be fair, all ten lepers stepped out in faith and cried out to the Lord for help; they were obedient to His counsel to show themselves to the priests, and as a consequence they were healed of their disease. Yet only one expressed gratitude for the miracle. And to add irony to this story, this person was a Samaritan, despised by the Jews. The story illustrates two points. The first point is that no one is excluded from the love of God, God does not discriminate when He shows His abundant mercies to both saint and sinner alike, to the grateful and the ingrate.

But the gospel pays greater attention to the second point - the former Samaritan leper gives us a powerful lesson in gratitude. Gratitude is not about ‘looking at the bright side’ or denying the realities of life. It’s not saying, ‘Thank God, it could be worse!’ Gratitude goes much deeper than that. The leper’s action reveals the heart of gratitude – it is treasuring Christ more greatly and savouring His redeeming work more sweetly. In the first reading, in the story of the foreign general Naaman, we recognise that gratitude has the power to heal. But this is only part of the mystery of God’s grace. In the second reading, St Paul reminds us that gratitude also liberates. But it is in the gospel that we discover climatic apex of this godly virtue – gratitude saves.

Notice that although the nine lepers were ‘cleansed’, but our Lord reserves these words for the Samaritan leper alone, “Your faith has saved you.” Only the foreigner is grateful for the grace received and that is his salvation. The others think solely of the benefits received, physical healing and social acceptance; but neglected to pursue the path of well-ness right to its very end, which is salvation. Salvation is the one thing which we must desire most above all gifts from God. Most people search for a cure to our disease, longevity to life, a solution to life’s problems; but ultimately lose sight of the greatest gift of all, the reason for the Father having to send His Son to die on the cross for us – our salvation. No work of God's is more worthy of gratitude than salvation.

If gratitude opens the window to heaven, then ingratitude is what unlocks the gates to hell. It was St. Ignatius of Loyola who asserted:  “The essence of sin is that of ingratitude.”  We have forgotten that before coming to know Christ, each of us lived in a self-imposed prison of guilt, spiritual blindness and sin. But Christ not only rescued us from the power and penalty of our sins, He also lifted us to the realm of grace. He delivered us from punishment and brought glory. He defeated death and won for us eternal life. He took away the threat of hell and gave us the hope of heaven. Gratitude is therefore keenly linked with memory – memory of the grace of salvation we have received from God and who continues to complete and perfect the work which He has begun in us.

Gratitude isn't something that should pass from our minds with the passing of a season. It's an attitude, a God-centred response to circumstances that should pervade every season of our lives. Perhaps the most difficult time to be thankful is when we're in the midst of a setback, a challenge, or a trial. When the storm comes, giving thanks is rarely our first reaction. Being thankful for adversity is never easy, but it is always right. Our faith reminds us that the difficult times are the ones in which God seems to be most at work in our lives, strengthening our weak spots, comforting our hurts, and drawing us to greater dependence. A person cannot be complaining and thankful at the same time, nor can they worry about money or health or anything while being thankful. With gratitude comes joy, hope, peace and love.

At the very heart of the Eucharist, described by the Second Vatican Council as the “source and summit of the Christian life,” is gratitude. The word ‘Eucharist’ comes from the Greek word, “eucharistia,” (εὐχαριστία) meaning to give thanks (for the good graces we have received).  The Eucharist is the primary place where we can express our gratitude to God. The entire Mass is a prayer of thanksgiving – it is first and foremost, Christ’s thanksgiving to the Father, and secondarily, the Church’s thanksgiving for Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. It is here that we give thanks because the Sacrifice of the Cross re-enacted at every Eucharist has saved us and continues to make us whole – completing, bringing together and finishing the grand work of salvation which God has begun in us. The Eucharist contains and carries many deep and inexhaustible realities; it helps continue the incarnation of God in history; it is God’s physical embrace; it is the new manna that God gives to nurture His people; it is the antidote to death and the true elixir of immortality, it is God’s gift of reconciliation and forgiveness; it is an invitation to a deeper discipleship; and it is an anticipation of the heavenly banquet that the Lamb and Bridegroom has prepared for us.

Yes, we’ve often heard people complain (and perhaps we have been guilty of it too), “I don’t get anything out of Mass.” My reply is that, “The problem is not that you are not getting anything but because you fail to recognise how much God is giving to you through the Eucharist.” When we lack gratitude, when we only have complaints, the Eucharist becomes an empty, boring and meaningless ritual. We have been healed from the effects of sin. We have been freed from the bondage of sin. We have been saved! Rather than adding on to our litany of woes and complaints, let us add on to our list of praises and thanksgiving. Thanking God for saving us should be the unceasing occupation of our lips. Gratitude should make us sing of salvation, talk of salvation, and finally witness the salvation we have received in our daily lives. And so we give thanks not just because God has healed us or answered our prayers, but primarily because He has liberated us from sin, fear and anxiety. The prospect of being made whole, being healed, being liberated and being saved should be enough to make us turn around, rush back again to Jesus, and say thank you, Jesus. “Thank you so much.”