A shepherd's work is never done

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not Born but Intentional Catholics

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

One of the common self-descriptions you would hear from a Catholic, and only from Catholics, is this: “I’m born Catholic.” That is not entirely accurate, which is to say it is a false statement. No one is “born Catholic.” Through baptism, we all “become” Catholic. We are not exactly “natural” sons of God, but “adopted” sons, as St Paul teaches. The only “born” Catholic was Christ. It may be more accurate, therefore, to describe the person as a “cradle Catholic” rather than “born Catholic.” But often the term has come to describe a prevalent condition which many Catholics possess or suffer - we are Catholics not by our own choice, not intentionally, but often only nominally, that is in name.

Borrowing an idea from the Protestants, Catholic author, Sherry Weddell, wrote a book entitled “Forming Intentional Disciples” to propose a solution to this malady by fostering a culture among Catholics to consciously and intentionally see themselves as disciples of Jesus Christ and to follow and imitate Him by being His messengers to the world. Before I share some salient points from her book, I believe our readings for today provide us with an excellent template for becoming intentional Catholics. The dynamics of the three readings could be simply stated as this: we are called, we are chosen and we are sent.

The first reading speaks of the call of the prophet Amos. Here was a prophet that was sent by God to a foreign nation that needed him but did not want him. The reading begins with Amaziah, the priest of Bethel in the north, practically shooing off Amos and telling him to go back to where he came from, which is the South, Amos’ homeland, and to do his prophesying there. The irony of this encounter is that Amos too expresses his true feelings about his ministry, something which he had not bargained for nor had he personally preferred: ‘I was no prophet, neither did I belong to any of the brotherhoods of prophets,’ Amos replied to Amaziah ‘I was a shepherd, and looked after sycamores: but it was the Lord who took me from herding the flock, and the Lord who said, “Go, prophesy to my people Israel.”’

Just like Amos, most of us have no sense of being called. We would have preferred being left alone to our devices, going about our own business and doing what we have to do to earn our living and get along in life. But being called means that each of us is given a mission beyond what we would have personally desired or chosen. By our baptism, each of us is called to be priest, king and prophet. We are called to be priests because we are called to intercede for others. We are called to be kings because we are called to serve others. We are called to be prophets because the Word of God must be proclaimed by us.

This begs the question: “why me?” If you’ve paid attention to the readings for the past few Sundays, that it’s never about you. God chooses us not because we are qualified, or naturally gifted or because we are worthy. Quite often He chooses those who are not. This is what St Paul tells us in the second reading: “Before the world was made, He chose us, chose us in Christ, to be holy and spotless, and to live through love in His presence, determining that we should become His adopted sons, through Jesus Christ for His own kind purposes, to make us praise the glory of His grace …” That’s it! We are called, we have been chosen. Why? For God’s glory, for the praise of His glory. Not for our glory or because we have merited His attention, so, don’t get swollen headed!

And finally, we have the Gospel where we hear how the Lord sends out the Twelve apostles on a mission. They are called. They are chosen. They are sent out. They are given a mission. They are asked to take nothing along with them because that too is part of their witness. If they are going to lead people to have faith in God, it must start with them. But the call, the choosing and the sending is not just confined to the Twelve. How much easier for us if God only chose the Twelve Apostles and not us! How much easier for us if only the pope, the bishops, the priests and the religious must have responsibilities for preaching and spreading the Word of God and the joy of His Church!

So, knowing that we have been called, chosen and sent, is only the first step. How do we now make the response? I’m going to return to Sherry Weddell’s book and borrow some of her thoughts on this matter. She proposes 5 simple steps.

Step 1 is initial trust. Just like Amos, we must trust the Lord’s call and His mission even if it means getting out of our comfort zones. The greatest obstacle to being an intentional disciple of the Lord is to be contented with what is convenient and secure. Like the apostles in the gospel, we must gradually learn to let go of our crutches - material and emotional- and begin to learn to trust God more each day. If God has called us to this mission, He will provide us with the wisdom, the tools and resources to carry out His will.

The next step is spiritual curiosity. As Weddell says, “When we live lives that are inexplicable apart from the grace and power of the Gospel, we will often find that curiosity is sparked among people who were formerly hostile to the Faith. To be a witness does not consist in engaging propaganda, nor even in stirring people up, but in being a living mystery. It means to live in such a way that one’s life would not make sense if God did not exist.”

The third step after trust has been given, curiosity aroused, it is time to challenge our listeners. Often, we tip toe around difficult subjects and try to soften the demands of Christ. But without this challenge, Christians will remain infants, perpetually “born Catholics” or “infantile Catholics”, who are unable to make a breakthrough in their spiritual growth.

All the previous steps will lead to the fourth step - spiritual seeking. Here, the seeker is abandoning the false notion that God stands in the way of freedom and happiness, and realising that God is the good he or she has sought all his life in his pursuit of the shadows and copies of beauty that are mere earthly beauties.

So, how does one live the Catholic faith in the real world? It is certainly not enough to be “born Catholic” or even to be a “cradle Catholic.” These labels mean nothing unless we are intentional about it. Our lives cannot just be dictated by doing the bare minimum, even though many cradle Catholics these days don’t even do the bare minimum like observing the precepts of the Church – attending Mass every Sunday and holy days of obligation, making confession at least once a year etc. We must be consciously aware that we are called, we are chosen and we are sent. Today we are invited, each one of us, to recognise our own calling and to seek to know what God asks of us in order to spread the Good News of the Kingdom. Let us open our hearts and our minds in faith. No more excuses. No more delays. Time to get out of our cradles and be rock solid intentional disciples of the Lord!

Fidelity not popularity

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

There is much talk these days about the spirit of Synodality, that the Synodal way is the way the Church must progress and move forward. One could simply describe it as the culture and attitude of different members of the Body of Christ walking together and attentively and effectively listening to each other. Most people would agree that it is a good thing to have more listening, to have ears closer to the ground, to the real issues and struggles of the people, to be able to empathise with the challenges and problems people are facing.

But there is also much disagreement as to what Synodality in practice entails. There is much misunderstanding as to what is the end game. Someone cynically gave this mischievous definition: “journeying together without a destination.” The concept begs the following questions: Is it a Parliament where people get to vote on critical issues including norms of morality and doctrine? Would sensus fidelium be reduced to public opinion where the position of the majority will rule the day? Is it all about brainstorming ideas and sentiments and then try to merge and synthesise these positions, even opposing ones, into a single all-inclusive corporate mission statement?

The answer to every one of these questions must be a clear and definite “no”! Synodality can never mean a popularity contest, neither can it entail blurring the lines between good and evil, truth and falsehood. The Church does not and cannot march along with the drumbeat of the world. We simply cannot subvert the Church and her scripture and tradition-based teachings, in order to please the world.

Certainly, we cannot ignore the world, and that’s why it’s a mistake to entrench ourselves in the past and enter into a time sealed cocoon, insulated from what is happening around us. However, we must never forget that we are in the world, but we are not of the world. This is what the readings today wish to emphasise. To be prophetic is not just being a contrarian, objecting to every mainstream opinion or dissenting with the establishment. To be truly prophetic means learning to live in the world while not being of the world. It is a call to be faithful to God’s Word while learning to communicate that Word to a world that lacks a vocabulary to understand. It is having our feet firmly planted on the ground but with our eyes constantly gazing heavenward. It is an amphibious existence.

In the first reading, we have the call of the prophet Ezekiel. This serves as a prelude to the gospel where our Lord Jesus likens the people’s reception of Him as how their ancestors treated the prophet. From the very beginning, God is laying out the difficult task and mission of the prophet. A prophet is not simply someone who foretells the future. The task of a prophet is to tell people how God sees things, for the prophet sees things as God sees them. This directness of vision is not always popular, for we don’t always like being told home truths about ourselves. The truth about ourselves is often unwelcomed, particularly when it involves criticism and demands change. But the ministry of the prophet is not dependent on the people’s reception or lack of it but rather on the call to be faithful to the mission which has been entrusted to him by God. As God tells Ezekiel: “Whether they listen or not, this set of rebels shall know there is a prophet among them.”

Our Lord in the gospel also reminds us that we should not expect a warm welcome from those who seem closest to us, especially when we choose to stand by the side of truth rather than along party or sectarian lines. As He so rightly pointed out: “A prophet is only despised in his own country, among his own relations and in his own house.”

As much as we often measure the success of our efforts by the extent of their approval, this should never be our yardstick. When it comes to our Christian witnessing, fidelity and not popularity should be the benchmark. In fact, the more faithful we are to the cause of Christ and His message, the more opposition, ridicule and even persecution would we receive at the hands of our audience. This seems counterintuitive. We would be so much more motivated when we receive positive appraisal from others. But here’s the secret which St Paul shares with us in the second reading - God assures us: “My grace is enough for you: my power is at its best in weakness.” It is for this reason that we can make our weaknesses our special boast and be content with all kinds of hardship because as St Paul rightly puts it: “For it is when I am weak that I am strong.”

Yes, we are called to a Synodal way in which we recognise that we are fellow companions on a journey. But it is a Synodal way that has a direction rather than listless wandering and an ever-changing goal post depending on the latest fads and mainstream opinions. Our direction is that whatever we do or say, our goal is to get to heaven and not settle for some transient earthly utopia that promises big things but delivers little.

We must be committed to a Synodal way that is not dictated by the complaints and erroneous ideas or sinful preferences of the unfaithful, but rather, a call to listen to and follow the Only One who matters, our Lord Jesus, no matter how unpopular His teachings may be. Synodality is a call to deeper fidelity and not a substitute for it. We must do what is pleasing to the Lord rather than seek external validation from our peers and contemporaries.

Yes, being Synodal means change, but not in the way of changing the gospel or the teachings of the Church to suit our every whim and fancy but rather to humbly acknowledge our sinfulness and undergo repentance and conversion that will lead us to a deeper and more challenging commitment to follow Christ. We must remember that our goal is not to sneak into heaven by the skin of our teeth, but to be transformed in Christ, even on earth. Yes, we must be transformed in Christ – and not into another rival of Christ. This is the ideal.

Finally, it is good to be guided by the wise words of St Ignatius of Antioch: “Our task is not one of producing persuasive propaganda; Christianity shows its greatness when it is hated by the world.”

Love is stronger than Death

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

In the collective imagination of the Anglosphere, Robin Hood is second only to King Arthur in the hold he has on the public mind. The idea of the Merry Men living in self-constructed freedom “all under the merry greenwood tree” in Sherwood Forest – robbing the rich and helping the poor and staying loyal to King Richard the Lionheart during the regency of his brother – has been embraced by countless generations.

Robin Hood and his merry band of thieves have often been portrayed in a heroic light, as those who sided with the poor and stood against the despotic tyranny of the rich and powerful, symbolised in the person of the Sheriff of Nottingham, ironically, a medieval representation of the “blue”, the law enforcement agencies. Robin’s actions were not only regarded as justified but lauded as virtuous because he “stole from the rich to give to the poor!” There seems to be a resurgence of this spirit in many of the liberal ruled cities in America, where criminals are often vindicated as deserving of the spoils of theft and looting due to their disadvantaged social economic status. In fact, stealing is now regarded as a kind of reparation for what many would claim had been stolen from them. Ironically, the law enforcement officers, men who wear the “blue”, are regarded as the “bad guys”, very much like the wicked and conniving Sheriff of Nottingham.

In the second reading, we see St Paul writing to the wealthy church in Corinth and requesting them to send aid to the impoverished mother church in Jerusalem. He begins his appeal by first commending them on their spiritual wealth - “You always have the most of everything – of faith, of eloquence, of understanding, of keenness for any cause, and the biggest share of our affection – so we expect you to put the most into this work of mercy too.” Paul is trying to explain that this act of charity is not merely an act of generosity but also a work of mercy - another spiritual good. In other words, the more they give, the wealthier they become spiritually. Then he sets out the standard and model of such generosity - it is none other than Christ Himself: “Remember how generous the Lord Jesus was: he was rich, but he became poor for your sake, to make you rich out of his poverty.”

Of course, St Paul was not himself resorting to a Robin Hood mentality by taking from the rich to give to the poor. He was making it clear that any such giving should be done from a cheerful and willing heart, rather than grudgingly. Furthermore, he was not insisting that the Corinthians should impoverish themselves by enriching the folks in Jerusalem. He proposes a pragmatic rule to giving: “This does not mean that to give relief to others you ought to make things difficult for yourselves: it is a question of balancing what happens to be your surplus now against their present need, and one day they may have something to spare that will supply your own need. That is how we strike a balance …”

This is the reason why the vow of poverty which is taken by a religious is not meant to be pure renunciation of material goods, but rather a commitment to share everything in common. An interior spiritual poverty is required for communal living. A lack of it rings a death knell to the community, especially when every member is only looking out for his own interest and security, whilst failing to be concerned with the welfare of his brothers and sisters.

We see in the gospel the true hero worthy of our praise and emulation - it is not the fictional Robin Hood but the very real Jesus of Nazareth. Our Lord shows us how God’s generosity and providence can be given and is given to all, without depriving one whilst blessing the other. In the longer version of the gospel, we see both the adult and the child being recipients of our Lord’s mercy and healing powers - the woman who had suffered from internal bleeding for many years and the young girl whom our Lord brought back from the brink of death. It is arguable as to who was in the more dire situation. The focus seems to be on defeating death in the girl. Our Lord returning life to the dead girl confirms what is written in the Book of Wisdom that “death was not God’s doing,” and that God had made “man imperishable, He made him in the image of His own nature; it was the devil’s envy that brought death into the world …”

So, it is death and devil that seem to have robbed us of our immortality and they have done so without enriching anyone but impoverishing all of us. But our Lord comes to the rescue. He robs the devil and death of their booty and final victory. Death may be strong, in fact, it may be the strongest thing that anyone of us knows of - no medicine, no elixir, no insurance or guarantee, no fortress or bunker, no “Iron Dome” can keep us safe from its clutches. But there is one who is stronger, so strong that nothing can stand in His way - not the cross which took His life, not the stone rolled over the mouth of the tomb, not the gates of Hades could keep Him imprisoned. It is Christ our Lord and Saviour. He has plundered the fortress of death and the devil and restored our inheritance to us - life, eternal life.

And this is what St Baldwin of Canterbury declared in the 12th century, a truth that has not grown old nor will ever be obsolete:

“Death is strong: it has the power to deprive us of the gift of life. Love is strong: it has the power to restore us to the exercise of a better life.

Death is strong, strong enough to despoil us of this body of ours. Love is strong, strong enough to rob death of its spoils and restore them to us.

Death is strong; for no man can resist it. Love is strong; for it can triumph over death, can blunt its sting, counter its onslaught and overturn its victory. A time will come when death will be trampled underfoot; when it will be said: ‘Death, where is your sting? Death, where is your attack?’

‘Love is strong as death,’ since Christ’s love is the death of death. For this reason he says: ‘Death, I shall be your death; hell, I shall grip you fast.’ The love, too, with which Christ is loved by us is itself strong as death, since it is a kind of death, being the extinction of our old life, the abolition of vice, and the putting aside of dead works.”

Not Why but What

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Someone once gave me a tip on how to sound smart even when I am not. “Ask a question which you do not have the answer. The other person most likely may not know either.” Of course, if the person did know the answer, you can always curtly tell him: “Wrong. When you find the right answer, come look for me!” Mischief managed!

Today’s readings are sandwiched between questions. In fact, the first reading is a set of rapid fire questions which God poses to Job. The gospel closes with the disciples asking this question about Jesus: “Who can this be? Even the wind and the sea obey him.” Ironically, the answer to the questions in the first reading would also serve to be the answer to the last question posed by our Lord’s disciples in the gospel.

Throughout the book of Job, we see our protagonist and his friends asking all sorts of questions directed at God and Job’s righteousness. The basic question is whether Job deserves his current loss and suffering. His friends say “yes” but Job defiantly protests his innocence by saying “no.” God finally breaks the silence and the book presents it in a most dramatic way: “From the heart of the tempest the Lord gave Job his answer.” Just like our Lord answered His disciples in the gospel in the middle of a storm.

God’s first question to Job (which has unfortunately been redacted from our first reading) sets the tone of their mostly one-way conversation and series of rhetorical questions, “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding” (Job 38:4). In short, God is reminding Job and his friends, “Who are you to question me?” At the end of this age, we will stand before our Lord as Judge and King of the Universe. It is we who will be questioned, and it would be audacious for us to believe that we are entitled to question Him.

St Paul puts it more directly: But who are you, a human being, to talk back to God? “Shall what is formed say to the one who formed it, ‘Why did you make me like this?’” (Rom 9:20). Some translations of this passage in fact make this point clearer: “can a pot question the potter why it was made this way?”

Does it mean that we should never ask questions? Certainly not. As St Anselm wisely reminds us: “faith seeks understanding.” This is what we see in the episode of our Lord calming the storm in today’s gospel passage. The lack of faith exhibited by the fearful disciples who thought that they were drowning and that the Lord had abandoned them were now challenged to ask questions, questions which would deepen their faith and expand their understanding of who the Lord is: “Who can this be? Even the wind and the sea obey him.“ It’s a rhetorical question that can only have one answer. The answer, of course, is God - Jesus is God because only God could have such power and authority over the wind and sea - and yet, they were not ready to make that leap of faith, a leap which they will eventually make after the resurrection when they witness for themselves that Jesus also has authority over death, His own death.

There is, therefore, no dichotomy between faith and reason. But our pursuit for full understanding should not be the reason to demolish faith. The basis for asking questions and the goal for seeking answers should propel us to recognise our limited knowledge in comparison to God’s immense wisdom which is always beyond and above ours. Curiously embedded in the midst of our questioning nature is a profound insight into the human condition. At once this both affirms our search for understanding and demonstrates its limits.

The wisdom God puts in our inward parts makes it possible for us to yearn for an answer to the mystery of suffering. Yet our wisdom comes only from God, so we cannot outsmart God with wisdom of our own. In fact, He has implanted in us only a small fraction of His wisdom, so we will never have the capacity to comprehend all His ways. As we have seen, it may be good for our souls to voice our complaints against God. But it would be foolish to expect Him to admit His error, that He had made a mistake. The truth is that God never makes mistakes. We do but He never does.

It’s not wrong to experience grief or anger or any other emotion when we’re going through a hard time, when we find ourselves in a middle of a maelstrom wondering whether the Lord is sleeping on the job or that He has abandoned us. It’s ok to ask God our questions. It’s ok to tell God how we’re feeling, He already knows anyway. A key invitation of our spiritual journey is to be emotionally honest about our uncertainties. Questions…are signs of a living, growing, active faith, not evidence of a dying one.

But when we do ask questions, it is good to remember that we may not always get an answer right away, but when it comes, it will certainly shift my perspective. God is giving us a larger picture of our circumstances, just as He was doing it for Job and for the Lord’s disciples. Much like someone who stands too close to a painting and cannot appreciate the artist’s perspective, we need to step back a few steps so that we can glimpse — if not fully understand — God’s larger purposes with greater clarity. Part of this enlightenment is to show us that we may have been asking the wrong questions.

The question to ask is not “why?” but “what?” with a heart to learn God’s wisdom and purpose for us. Instead of asking, “why did this happen?”, we should actually be asking, “What do you want me to learn from this experience? What good do you want to come from this?” God generally does not answer any of our ‘why’ questions, but He will gradually answer those ‘what’ questions as He moulds us into a stronger person of faith. Because He wants us to trust Him like never before.

If we are looking for a reason for Job’s suffering or ours, we may not find it. But this we do know: Job’s ordeal has given him an even greater appreciation for God’s goodness. Job’s relationship with God has deepened, his faith has grown stronger and he has become wiser as a result. The same could be said of us whenever we experience hardship or face adversity. It’s not always easy to trust in the Lord’s providence and wisdom. But we are assured by St Paul, “we know that in everything God works for good with those who love him, who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). We may not see it clearly now, but it makes the hard times a little easier to bear, knowing that there is something to learn (and one day, to teach and encourage others) and that God will answer us “from the heart of the storm.”

It's not about you

Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

We often oscillate between two extremes - on the one hand, we feel so motivated that we are totally confident in our ability, capacity and sufficiency of our resources to move mountains and reach for the stars - a kind of Thomas the Train or Obama concession speech, “yes, we can!” moment. On the other hand, after a series of setbacks and failures, a much wiser and less naive tone sets in, sometimes to the point of hapless despair. Our initial “yes, we can” is now replaced with a more realistic “no, we can’t. It’s simply impossible.”

Our Lord offers us two agrarian parables which offer us a different way of looking at things. You see, Christians are neither expected to become naive optimists nor cranky pessimists. We are asked to be people of faith and hope. Both optimism and pessimism are inadequate categories. Though they appear to be at opposite ends of the spectrum of how we should perceive life and any situation, they both share something in common. They are both flip sides of the same coin. Both give too much emphasis to self - either to our ability or inability to accomplish something.

In one of the most epic scenes in the movie Dr Strange, which sets the stage and prepares our eponymous hero for the final showdown, the hero enters into this profound conversation on the spectral plane with his mentor, the Ancient One, as the latter lies dying in the emergency operation theatre. It is the last piece of wisdom which the Ancient One imparts unto her student. Dr Strange started off as a cocky brilliant brain surgeon, so confident in his own ability to heal, but after a disastrous car crash which ended his career, he is now uncertain about himself and fears failure. The Ancient One tells him: “Arrogance and fear still keep you from learning the simplest and most significant lesson of all.”
Dr. Stephen Strange: “Which is?”
The Ancient One: “It’s not about you.”

Yes, this is the powerful message of these parables and the first reading: “It’s not about you!” Rather, it is all about God. In the first reading, after the glory of Jerusalem had been destroyed and the Temple laid waste, the returning exiles from Babylon would have felt a heavy pessimism hovering over their future. Could they ever dream of rebuilding what had been destroyed and lost? Where would they find the resources to do this? It all seems to be a hopeless situation even if they are now given the opportunity to return to their homeland. This is where we see the prophetic genius of Ezekiel at work, painting a picture of how God would do the rebuilding and reconstruction of their nation by using images from nature. Ezekiel promises that Israel will again become a great cedar tree, in whose shade the nations will come to take shelter. But this great tree would not be the result of human planting or cultivation. It would be God’s doing.

The parables we find in the gospel reinforces this theme of God’s assured Providence. In the first parable which emphasises how the seed sown grows into a plentiful harvest with little intervention from the farmer and unbeknownst to him, we are assured that God’s purposes are accomplished in spite of our feeble and fumbling efforts. God is constantly working behind the scenes and His work is always successful, despite us not being able to discern it in a sensible manner.

The second parable adds an additional aspect to this theme. The beginnings of God’s work of building His kingdom often seems tiny and imperceptible, but never underestimate the outcome which will be massive. Small beginnings can produce grand endings. This would come as a message of hope to the early Christians who saw their movement as one led by a motley crew of underdogs, obstacles at every turn, impossible hurdles to overcome, and having to face the constant threat of extinction. What could a tiny mustard seed accomplish? It was not hard for these Christians to see how this metaphor applies to them. Yet, that very same mustard seed planted by God and nurtured by His hands would grow into a Church that would eventually overturn an empire without unsheathing a single sword. This was no optimistic vision of the future but something which eventually became a reality despite all the odds being stacked against it. The reason is simple. God is the mover, not us! So, don’t flatter yourself nor denigrate yourself, “it’s not about you!”

This is what Christian hope is about. Hope provides us with a vision of seeing the world, our current situation and the future through the lenses of God. The glossary section of the Catechism of the Catholic Church describes hope as “the theological virtue by which we desire and expect from God both eternal life and the grace we need to attain it.” An optimist may view things as attainable because of his strong confidence in his own ability to determine the outcome of his actions. A pessimist views a goal as unattainable because he only focuses on the futility of his own actions. But a man of faith with hope, is confident that God would fulfil what He has promised us and that He will supply us with sufficient grace to both endure our current situation and to attain the purpose which He has destined for us.

The solution to our despairing culture is not to pump it with more motivational hog wash and sell us the over-used idea that we are incredible, brilliant, capable and strong. What these programmes are trying to message is this - it’s all about you. You determine your future. You determine your own success and failure. You are in charge of your life and your destiny. The harsh reality of life would soon burst the optimistic balloon and expose these propositions as lies. The more you lead a self-focused life, the more you’re prone to discouragement. Every time you forget that it’s not about you, you’re going to get prideful or fearful or bitter. Those feelings will always lead to discouragement because they keep you focused on yourself.

The good news is that you don’t need to have all the answers. You don’t need to rescue yourself or others from a fix. You don’t need to be in control. You don’t need to be superman or superwoman. God has your back. God is the answer. God is always working even when nothing seems to be happening. God will always accomplish His purpose even when our efforts seem to fail, and every situation seems hopeless. This is the reason why in scripture, we often see God deliberately choosing men and women that culture overlooks to expose the hollow pretensions of the people who think they are something. God chooses what the world considers nonsense, weak, and ordinary to not only shame but also destroy all pretentious thinking and inflated pride. He does this so that the only thing that one can boast about is – Christ. Let us exclaim with St Paul “that we are full of confidence” not in ourselves or in our meagre resources but in Christ, who one day we hope would welcome us home!

Kinship and Discipleship

Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

One of the most colourful English expressions to describe a person who is out of his mind is “a sandwich short of a picnic.” Don’t attempt to wrap your head around this. What is pertinent in this description is the metaphor of a sandwich. In today’s gospel passage, although our attention is immediately focused on the heated argument between our Lord and His antagonists on the latter’s accusation that He is performing miracles with the power of demons, this is our first opportunity to see one of Mark’s sandwiches. Here, we begin with a story about our Lord’s family and end with another story about His family, while sandwiched in between is the story of Jesus and His conflict with the scribes.

The upper loaf of the sandwich begins with the story of how the family of Jesus wishes to take control of Him because they were of the opinion that He was “out of his mind.” Perhaps, one of the most painful experiences is to be accused by one’s loved ones as being insane. Those closest to our Lord tried to put a claim of control on Him because they thought He had gone crazy. This is a startling reminder that proximity to Jesus is not enough; allegiance to Jesus is what matters. That is what marks the followers of Jesus. It is striking that they want to silence Him, because He had just silenced the demons.

The scribes, a group of our Lord’s strongest critics, jumped at the opportunity to attack our Lord by accusing Him of being possessed by the Prince of Demons, Beelzebul. Mental illness in ancient times was a sure sign of possession. They were confident that this time their accusation would stick since our Lord’s own family had turned against Him and had become the prosecution’s star witnesses. The evidence is clear - the miraculous actions of our Lord preclude a natural explanation. There can only be two sources - it is either divine or demonic. The scribes don’t deny the supernatural power; they just redefine its source.

Our Lord then exposes the fallacy of their accusation and skewed reasoning by asking this logical question: “How can Satan cast out Satan?” It’s a rhetorical question because our Lord doesn’t wait for the answer from His attackers, He provides it. If our Lord is actually using or being used by demons, then wouldn’t such a civil war in the demonic realm lead to their ultimate destruction. That would be preposterous.

Our Lord proceeds to give the right interpretation. There is not a civil war from within but a direct invasion from without— from heaven itself. This is a heavenly war. Satan’s kingdom is not being built; it is being plundered. Someone stronger has come - God Himself. And Satan (the strong man) has been “tied up” and now his house is being plundered. Jesus the King, the Lord of all that has been and all that will come, and no one, certainly not the ruler of the demons can stand up to Him. He cannot bind Jesus—Jesus binds him and plunders his house.

Rejecting our Lord has now led the scribes to commit a sin that has eternal consequences: blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. The blasphemy or sin against the Holy Spirit is saying that Jesus has an unclean spirit. They are saying that Jesus is motivated by evil rather than good, by an unclean spirit, rather than by the Holy Spirit. It is an unforgivable sin because they are rejecting the very gift of salvation which is being offered to them by the Lord. In this sense, they are the people Isaiah warned about: “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness” (Isaiah 5:20). This is a stunning irony.

We have reached a fork in the road: One road leads to life and the other, to death. The Pharisees charge Jesus with blasphemy (Mark 2:7, and now Jesus charges them with blasphemy. No neutrality is possible. Someone is blaspheming—either Jesus or the Jewish leaders. Which side will we take?

Thankfully the answer is given by none other than the family of Jesus. At the start of this story, they misunderstand His intentions and believe Him to be mad. They who are supposed to be “insiders” prove themselves to be “outsiders.” But at the end of this passage, we can detect a transformation, though subtle. Jesus provides the true criterion of discipleship: “Anyone who does the will of God, that person is my brother and sister and mother.”

This is where the Catholic interpretation takes an entirely different tangent from that of Protestants. For Protestants, our Lord’s words are putting Mary in her place, that is putting her down. But for Catholics, this is a clear affirmation of Our Lady’s esteemed position as our Lord’s most favoured disciple.

The clue is to be found in what our Lord meant by “family”: “who are my mother and brothers?” Who is our Lord’s true family. Once again, we are forced to decide the meaning of this word, as we were forced to decide on the source of His power - is He speaking of His earthly family or heavenly one? The Lord does not call us to simply belong to an earthly family. He comes to adopt us into His Heavenly family. For those hearing His teachings, He comes to adopt those into the household of our Heavenly Father.

So, back to our riddle. Did the Lord push aside His mother Mary when He says the words in this passage? Listen to what Jesus says, “Anyone who does the will of God, that person is my brother and sister and mother”. What does Mary say at the end of the Annunciation? “Let it be done to me according to thy word … according to thy Will!” Mary is the only one who declares so freely and openly that she is willing, and she does the will of God the Father. There can be no better candidate who meets this criterion of discipleship. So, it’s true that in one sense, our Lord is putting Mary “in her place”. It just happens that her “place” is as His mother not just by virtue of blood but more importantly in faith.

A slice of bread does not make a complete sandwich. You need two slices, two perspectives - one as a starting point and another as an ending. The truth of the matter is that sometimes we do behave like the family of Jesus at the beginning of the story trying to take charge of our lives by taking charge of our God. But this is a lie, the very same lie sold to our first parents which caused them to be expelled from paradise. We have to learn the painful lesson that no one can take charge of God. He is in control. He is the One who subdues, not the one who is subdued. It is we who must be subdued, who must submit willingly and lovingly to His will. Mary provides us with the perfect example of this. Only then, can we attain our true identity as members of God’s heavenly family and “that when the tent that we live in on earth is folded up, there is a house built by God for us, an everlasting home not made by human hands, in the heavens.”