Change of Heart

Third Sunday of Easter Year A

Metanoia is a Greek word which we priests like to brandish to show off our grasp (or lack of it) of this scriptural language. It sounds like a good name for a medical condition or a punk band. It is Greek for “change of mind,” meaning a change in one’s life direction resulting from a spiritual conversion. The word is formed by combining two smaller Greek words: meta (beyond); and nous (mind or spirit). Together, they form the verb (metanoeō), which means something like “go beyond the mind that you have.” But a change of mind seems too tame. I would think that Metanoia involves a radical change that goes much deeper - a change of heart, a change of the core of our being, forcing one to dig deeply.

St Luke, in the last chapter of his gospel, beautifully illustrates this concept by painting this life-changing, conversion inducing encounter of two disciples with the Risen Lord. Without missing a beat, he incisively describes how the disciples had completely lost their bearings and sense of direction (both spiritual and geographical) in the overwhelming aftermath of Jesus’ death: “They stopped short, their faces downcast”. So caught up in their own pain, they were unable to recognise the One who stood before them, the One who bore our pain and who suffered on the cross so that we may not have to bear them for eternity.

The Road to Emmaus, which originally started as a walk of shame and a retreat after a massive defeat, was transformed into a march of restoration and growth. On that road, there was a re-learning on the part of the disciples. They had most likely heard these scriptures many times before. The stories were familiar but now they needed to be told once again. This was necessary for them to really grasp the significance of the Cross. Who better to teach them these things than the very One who sent the prophets and gave them those inspired words?

What brought about these two men’s conversion – their change of heart? In fact, this is what St Luke wishes to emphasise by using the term “kardia” which translates as “heart” three times in the road to Emmaus story (the term kardia is used more frequently by Luke than by any of the other evangelists). First Jesus upbraids the two disciples for being “so slow (of heart) to believe the full message of the prophets!” (24:35). When he vanishes from their sight, they say to each other that their hearts burned within them while he spoke to them on the road (cf. 24:32). Finally, after they have told their story to the eleven and the other disciples, and Jesus appears in the midst of them all, he rebukes them all for the questioning which has arisen in their hearts, their failure, even upon seeing him, to believe in him (cf. 24:36–38). For Luke, the heart is the place of repentance and conversion or the lack thereof, and his use of the term expresses his abiding concern for conversion, in the complete sense.

But this dialogue would not be the high point of the story. All this merely leads to the climax which takes place at the end of the story - the breaking of bread. The Word of God leads to the Sacrament of God. We say that the Scriptures are light for our path, and that path leads to the Eucharist.

Some commentators have suggested that the disciples finally recognised Jesus simply because of a familiar gesture on His part. But this understates how Luke purposefully uses words which he had used in his account of the Last Supper (Lk 22:19-20). Yes, the disciples certainly recognised that gesture, but the recognition was a gift of grace - it was the very celebration of the Eucharist that helped them recognise the Lord.

The Church recognises that Christ is present in the congregation, the priest and the Word of God. But there is something unique about His presence in the Eucharist. The Catechism of the Catholic Church (1374) teaches that this Eucharistic presence “is called 'real' - by which is not intended to exclude the other types of presence as if they could not be 'real' too, but because, it is presence in the fullest sense: that is to say, it is a substantial presence by which Christ, God and man, makes himself wholly and entirely present."

Each time our Lord celebrates the Eucharist for us, He invites us to recognise Him. As in an old Hymn, the Lord is inviting us to “open the eyes of our hearts.” Each time we celebrate the Eucharist we meet the Risen Lord, not just symbolically or as a memorial, but in person, in the flesh, although He hides under the guise of bread and wine. He does not compel us to do so, through spectacular miracles. Instead, He gently invites us. It is because He comes so quietly, so respectful of our freedom to respond in faith, that we can miss Him in the Eucharist. Too often we yearn for the spectacular religious experience, and miss the lifegiving encounter so repeatedly offered in the Mass. And yet in this quiet celebration, we find life, abundant life.

The effect of recognising Him "in the breaking of the Bread" is action. The disciples did not linger at Emmaus. They hurried back to Jerusalem to proclaim that they had seen the Lord. This is what true conversion of the heart entails. Likewise, the Christian is not expected to linger at the Eucharist. It is an encounter with Jesus, in Word and Sacrament, which sends the Christian out to witness. We come to Mass so that we may go back into the life of discipleship, renewed by the encounter with our risen Saviour, and made ready for action in His service.

Just like the two disciples who dragged their feet in shame and grief back to Emmaus, our faith can sometimes become stale just like our experience of the Eucharist. Routine can deaden our spiritual senses. The flame of faith that had been instilled in us can become dimmed to the point of being extinguished. That is why conversion, repentance, a change of heart, must be the daily constant in our lives. This is because our faith needs constant refreshing by the experience of an encounter with the Risen Lord.

Repentance, conversion—metanoia—stands at the heart of the Christian journey. This is why the story of the Road to Emmaus does not only remind us of the importance of one sacrament but two – Penance and the Eucharist. The sacrament of Penance, confession, must precede the Eucharist. So, let us ask the Lord this day—and each day after—where, when, and how He is calling us to go beyond ourselves to experience the conversion, the change of heart and mind, that He longs to perform in us. In every encounter, there is always an opportunity for our hearts, our “kardia”, to burn once again with new fervour and excitement, and opportunity to look back at all the pitfalls, difficulties and losses we’ve experienced, and recognise that He was not far away, even though sometimes we may choose to walk away from Him.

Mercy and the Sacramental Life

Second Sunday of Easter Year A (Divine Mercy Sunday)

The beautiful prayer which closes each decade of the Chaplet of Mercy goes like this:
“Eternal Father, I offer you the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of your dearly beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world.”

These words are a reminder that this devotional prayer, the Chaplet, is an offering of the Slain-Risen Lord to the Father—by His priestly people—asking the Father to be who He has shown Himself to be in Christ: Mercy. As such, the Chaplet is an extension of the liturgical offering of the same Slain-Risen Lord that is the holy sacrifice of the Mass. A reminder that today’s feast of the Divine Mercy, just like that of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus and Corpus Christi, is essentially Eucharistic.

We often equate mercy with compassion, sympathy and forgiveness. But mercy is all that and so much more than a sentiment. It has a face - it is the face of the Lord who gave up His life on the cross and from His side, that side which has been opened in loving sacrifice, comes a spring of water and blood that brings to fruition the whole of history. From the ultimate self-sacrifice of Jesus springs forth blood and water, the Eucharist and baptism, as the source of a new community. The two rays emanating from the heart of the image of the Divine Mercy represents these two sacraments: the pale white light is baptism whereas the red ray represents the Eucharist. But the face of mercy is also that of the Risen Lord - it is His love, the God of Love, the God who is Love, encountering evil and death and overcoming it, healing it, redeeming it, and raising out of its ruins, surpassing goods that could never have been apart from these evils. This is best illustrated in the image of the Risen Lord who appears to His disciples behind closed doors, gifting them with the Holy Spirit, peace and forgiveness, instead of unleashing His wrath against their cowardice, failure and betrayal.

In the first reading, St Luke paints a somewhat ideal picture of the post-resurrection, post Pentecost Christian community - the Church of the early believers. It is a community to which anyone would wish to belong, a community where love prevails, where each member is attentive to the needs of others, where mercy rather than judgment and bickering is paramount. It is not surprising that their number was constantly on the increase. We may view this picture with envy as we contemplate our own broken and imperfect communities. We ask ourselves: what is the secret of their success? The passage shows us that the pillar of this community is the “breaking of bread,” the Eucharist, which bookends the passage. The source of their joy and spirit of generous sharing was the Eucharist. The highlight and focal point of their communal living was also the Eucharist. In other words, the Eucharist is indeed (borrowing the words of the Second Vatican Council) the “source and summit of Christian life,” of community life, and of ecclesial life.

In the second reading, St Peter tells us that in baptism, the Lord in “His great mercy has given us a new birth as his sons, by raising Jesus Christ from the dead, so that we have a sure hope and the promise of an inheritance that can never be spoilt or soiled and never fade away, because it is being kept for you in the heavens.” Baptism is the gateway to life in the Spirit and the door which gives access to the other sacraments. It is the wellspring of life and holiness, the drowning of sin and resurrection into new life. But baptism does not only make us coheirs with Christ but also incorporates us into the Body of Christ, the Church, washes away original sin, places us within the flow of God's mercy. In baptism, the Father adopts us, the sacrificial love of the Son conforms us to His Body, and the Spirit transfigures us into witnesses of the Good News.

If baptism initiates the life of grace and mercy, the Eucharist sustains it. Yet, our Lord adds another element, in fact another sacrament, to this winning formula of salvation. It is forgiveness and reconciliation. That is the reason why when our Lord rose from the dead, the first thing He did when He returned to His apostles was to confer on them the power and faculty to forgive and absolve sins. He had already given the Church the gift of the sacraments of Baptism and the Eucharist from the cross, but now He needed to ensure that the life of grace which He poured forth from His sacrificial death would continue to be renewed, healed, revived and sustained through the sacrament of penance. The extent of His mercy did not stop with the cross, it continues in Him forgiving us and reconciling us, continuously healing the wounds inflicted by our sins on His Body, the Church. Baptismal grace without the Eucharist would be unsustainable but the Eucharist without confession would be fruitless and untenable.

That is why on this Sunday of the Divine Mercy, we need to remember that God’s mercy is not just nice platitudes, excusing sinners without genuine repentance, approving immorality for the sake of appearing merciful, acceptance of all forms of lifestyles and behaviours without discernment and righteous judgment. Such mercy is false. God’s mercy is real, infinite, and tender—but it is not automatic. It requires sincere repentance, a firm purpose to change, and a willingness to avoid the near occasion of sin.

Sadly, in today’s world, many Catholics—both priests and penitents—treat the Sacrament of Penance like a burden to be avoided or a routine instead of a spiritual battle. They confuse God’s mercy with leniency, forgetting that true mercy always leads to conversion. God’s mercy is not a license to continue in sin—it is the bridge that leads to holiness. But to cross that bridge, we must walk with repentance, not sit down with indifference. To love a soul is to help it reach heaven, not to comfort it on the road to hell. As St John Chrysostom rightly taught: “Many souls are lost for lack of correction.” Or as the apostle James tells us: “Confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, and this will cure you: the heartfelt prayer of a good man works very powerfully. My brothers, if one of you strays away from the truth, and another brings him back to it, he may be sure that anyone who can bring back a sinner from the wrong way that he has taken will be saving a soul from death and covering up a great number of sins.” (James 5:16,​19-20)

Today, the Church invites us to gaze on the holy image of the Divine Mercy. It is both the Crucified Lord who allowed His heart to be pierced and laid bare so that it can become the fount of mercy and the wellspring of sacramental graces. But the image also shows us the Risen Lord, the One who descended into hell and defeated our ancient enemies - sin, death and Satan - and now appears to us with His wounds as a victor’s trophy promising peace and reconciliation. This should be a description of the inner direction of our Christian life. We should look upon Him, keep the eyes of our heart turned upon Him, and thereby to grow more humble; to recognise our sins. As we look upon Him, let us take hope because He whom we have wounded is He who loves us. Jesus, I love you! Jesus, I trust in you!

Something is Missing!

Easter Sunday

Those of you who are avid followers of TikTok trends would know that there is a new trend trending on an Easter theme this year. Nothing religious. In fact, one could say that it is highly irreligious. It’s called "Your Chocolate Easter Bunny Is Missing Something.” The trend revolves around the idea that traditional chocolate bunnies are "missing something" (like a creamy filling), leading to funny or ironic reactions. The whole point of the meme is that it’s pointless, nobody cares, one should not even be bothered. And yet this obnoxiously trivial matter has been shared and reshared to oblivion making it another viral sensation.

Who could even imagine that something as mundane as a missing item may have such a massive effect that it could go viral. But that’s exactly what we celebrate today. The story of Easter is about a missing body. But the finding of this missing item is so much more exciting and surprising than when it first went missing. This may be the reason why Catholics experience a great sense of loss whenever something familiar in their faith goes missing.

The reason for this sentiment is that Catholic piety is deeply rooted in objective realities. A leaf, water, candles, a crucifix, bread and wine are not just mere objects to be used, they come alive through our celebrations - they make our faith real and visible. They help us touch, see and taste the very invisible mysteries which we are celebrating. Our faith is not a faith built on ideas. It is faith that it firmly grounded on the sensible and the tangible, because the Word of God did not just remain the Word of God. The Word of God became flesh, dwelt among us and was swept up in the events which we commemorate every Holy Week, where He suffered His passion, died on the cross for us and finally rose from the grave.

Today, we have a missing body from the tomb. But instead of leaving us to languish in despair at what has been taken away, it is good news to us Christians. A corpse may be missing, but the Risen Saviour and Lord is not. Most of us grief over the loss of missing things – whether it is a missing loved one, a missing valuable treasure, or a missed opportunity. But an empty tomb and a missing corpse is always good news!

The empty tomb is a necessary condition for the Resurrection, but atheists are right in stating that it's not sufficient. The Apostles needed to see in the flesh that the Lord was alive again in His body, but in a transformed and glorified state. And this they did, and so did many others who witnessed the resurrected Lord in the flesh, not just in their dreams or imagination. Even as Christianity spread throughout the Roman Empire, the Resurrection was one of the stumbling blocks for its spread. Christians were mocked for their belief. It's impossible; even ancient people knew that dead people stayed dead. And yet, we witness the rise of the Church in spite of all these unfavourable odds.

The Resurrection of Christ is and must always be the foundation of our Christian faith. The missing body on Easter is not a cause of shame or make us soft targets for mockery. On the contrary, the resurrection gives reality to our faith. It proves salvation is real for millions and millions of believers down the age from all over the world and also, the millions who have gone to be with the Lord hoping to be resurrected someday. “The Resurrection above all constitutes the confirmation of all Christ’s works and teachings. All truths, even those most inaccessible to human reason, find their justification if Christ by His Resurrection has given proof of His divine authority, which he had promised” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 651). St Paul reminds us, “if there is no resurrection of the dead, then is Christ not risen. And if Christ be not risen, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain” (1 Cor. 15: 14-15).

Today, in the face of wars that may spiral into global conflict on the scale of another World War, rising costs of fuel and goods, dark uncertain future of a highly inflated but depressed economy, injustice, the darkness of sin, the loss and death of our loved ones, we cry out to God to act quickly and decisively to destroy what remains of death’s powers. But God waits patiently, offering every opportunity for our enemies and us to come to our senses and embrace the ways of His kingdom. And we must wait too; but not passively. By our words and actions, we boldly announce God’s Easter victory over death – light has triumphed over darkness, truth over falsehood, love over hate, grace over sin. In God’s new order, war, distress, sickness, death, displacement, sin and violence will no longer hold sway. They will be replaced by joy, peace, hope, truth and love. This is not wishful thinking. This is real because Christ has Risen! Indeed He has risen, Alleluia!

Do not be afraid!

Easter Vigil of the Holy Night

“Do not be afraid!” The message of the angel and our Lord to the women witnesses of the resurrection was simply this: “There is no need for you to be afraid” and “Do not be afraid!” This seems to be a strange message to these women unless it was meant to assure the women and the other disciples that the resurrected Lord was not a ghost, but fully alive in the flesh. I guess that’s what you would say if you came back to visit your family after you’re dead.

But these words could very well speak to all of us in our current situation - fear of failure, fear of aging, fear of separation, fear of losing control of our lives, fear of another economic recession or fear of the conflict in the Middle East and Europe ballooning into another World War. Or are we trapped in the trinity of fears which our neighbours in Singapore famously acknowledge - fear of losing, fear of death and fear of wives? But if we were to make a deep analysis of our fears, we would soon realise that they ultimately culminate in the fear of death, the fear of our final extinction. Our greatest fear is that when we die, we become nothing.

Let’s be honest, all of us fear dying. We seem to make a show of bravery by joking about it to our friends. But beneath the veneer of courage lies the fear of our inevitable mortality. One day all of us will die, sooner or later, for one reason or another. I am afraid of dying. I’m afraid of leaving behind a mess which others would have to clean up and perhaps suffer from their constant griping and complaining about my past mistakes. I’m afraid that I may be the last to go as I watch all my friends and family die before me, without anyone to mourn my passing. I fear the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, because I know I’m nowhere near as ready as I ought to be. Do we fear death? Should we? It’s comforting to know that Pope St John Paul II when asked during his transfer to the hospital for an operation to deal with colon cancer whether he was afraid, answered simply and clearly – and courageously, in my view: Yes!

Doctors will tell you that there are various ways of confirming before declaring that someone is dead. You look for the absence of certain vital signs. But the Catholic Church does not define it in a purely physical or physiological way. The Church’s definition is somewhat spiritual. Death is at the moment the soul is separated from the body. This is not something which can be determined empirically but rather can be explained theologically. Our soul, is created by God, comes to be at its union with the body. A body is simply dead without a soul, and a soul is “out of place” without a body.

I recalled accompanying my former Parish Priest, Fr Andre Volle, to pay respects and pray at the wake of his good friend and fellow French missionary, Fr Bernard Binet. As he filed pass the coffin of the corpse of his friend together with other well-wishers, he declared in a booming voice, a final funny jibe at his friend, “Oh Binet, this is not you!” Some would take the comment as inappropriate while others would assume that the ever-humorous Fr Volle was in form. But I understood that Fr Volle was theologically correct. Fr Binet’s body in the coffin was no longer Fr Binet. A body is simply dead without a soul, and a soul is “out of place” without a body.

That is why the resurrection is not merely the resuscitation of a body or a soul materialising for others to see but rather a person who truly died, his soul and body having separated, is made whole again - the body and soul are united again. This is truly amazing. It defies scientific and medical explanation. But it is crucial, it is central to our Christian belief! Why is the resurrection of the Lord such good news for us? Because the resurrection of Christ is a signal to us, an irrefutable proof to us that death is just a straw man, a toothless tiger. Though death may separate our souls from our bodies and may seem to sever our relationships with our loved ones, it does not have the final word. Christ has the final word.

Christ by His obedience conquered death and won resurrection and salvation for mankind. For those who live in Christ through Baptism, death is still painful and repugnant, but it is no longer a living reminder of sin but rather a precious opportunity to co-redeem with Christ, through mortification and dedication to others. St Paul assures us by declaring, “If we die with Christ, we shall also live with Him” (2 Tim 1:11). Hence, thanks to Christ, Christian death has a positive meaning. The enigma of death can only be understood in the light of Christ’s resurrection and our resurrection in Him.

Our Lord does not promise Christians complete success on this earth, for our earthly life is always marked by the Cross. He did not promise us an ageless and deathless existence, one free from pain, suffering and tribulations, for all must suffer and die. He promised us something far greater - eternal life, the life of the resurrection. The women who came to the tomb that first Easter morning were filled with grief and fear. But they left with something more – joy! Joy is not the absence of fear. Who says that one cannot be joyful even though we can be fearful of so many things, especially an uncertain future? Fr Paul Scalia, the son of the famous Catholic member of the US Supreme Court bench, Anthony Scalia, tells us that “only when that fear is present can joy arise. Easter joy is not something manufactured or created by us. It comes from the Resurrection or not at all, precisely and only when we surrender control and allow the risen Lord to intrude on our gatherings and activities just as surely as He appeared on the road, in the upper room, and on the seashore. If we want Him on our own terms – and thus without fear – then it is not the risen Lord we want, but a caricature,” a figment of our imagination.

So, my dear brothers and sisters, my dear catechumen, as some of you step forward to be baptised and others renew your baptismal promises, do so knowing that the Lord has conquered death and sin, the Lord has shown Himself victorious by rising from the dead, and the Lord will return one day in glory to call you forth from your graves, not just your souls but also with a new spiritually refined body. So, “do not be afraid!”

It's a Good Day!

Good Friday

Today is the day we remember how our Lord, innocent though He was, was put to death by His enemies. Today is the day our Saviour is nailed to the cross because those whom He had come to save rejected Him. Today is the day when His thousands of followers and even His most intimate friends abandoned Him and leaving just four women and a man to accompany Him during this horrible ordeal. Today, the Word of God is silenced on the cross - no farewell speech to encourage or inspire His followers. And yet we Christians call this day “Good Friday” and our Eastern brethren have an even more audacious sounding name for it - the Great Friday.

Why on earth would Christians refer to this Friday as “good”?

It’s called Good Friday because even while powerful men were conspiring to kill the Son of God, God Himself was acting to save the world from itself, once and for all. Even while the world’s authorities were conspiring to perpetrate history’s greatest evil, God was working overtime to bring about history’s greatest good.

Yes, we Christians have not made a great blunder in naming today as Good Friday. It isn’t a misnomer. Far from a mistake, our Lord’s death and sacrifice on the cross is God’s greatest achievement, His most prized trophy.

Today is good because on the cross, our Lord suffered so that we would not have to suffer eternally. Yes, we are not saying that Christians are insulated from suffering because of what Christ did. Christians are no strangers to suffering. It’s part of our DNA. In fact, to be a Christian means to deny ourselves and take up our crosses in imitation of our Lord. But all suffering in this life, no matter how unbearable it may seem, is only temporary. Suffering has a shelf life because of what our Lord did today.

What Christ did is that He “traded places” with us. He lived the sinless life that we should live and died the death that we deserve to die. He took our guilty record, died for it, and offers us His perfect record in return. That is why Saint Paul declared that “there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom 8:1).

Today is also not just a good day but a great day because by His death on the cross, our Lord Jesus reconciled us to the Father. Long before social distancing became the norm, man had already socially distanced himself from God by our sins. It is not God who had distanced Himself from us; it is not God who had abandoned us. It is we who have abandoned Him through sin. Because of our sins, we have alienated ourselves from God and others, but Jesus saves us from our sins in order to mend those relationships. The reconciling powers of Christ will cause all relational barriers to be torn down, including the barriers of ethnicity and nationality (Rev 5:9-10).

Finally, because of the cross and the resurrection we have hope for the future. As you all know, Good Friday is not a stand-alone feast. The story doesn’t just climax and end with Jesus dying on the cross on Good Friday. The real ending is found on Easter when Jesus will burst forth from the tomb, break the shackles and prison of death and rise again so that now we may have new life. With every darkening which seems to come with Good Friday, there is the new dawn of Easter.

Though Christ’s death has defeated the powers of death, suffering and evil, we must still wait for the day when He will return to put all these enemies under His feet. Until then, we must hope and believe that the victory is already His, that death is not the end, that suffering will not have the final say. Mission accomplished. A pandemic or any other calamity, natural or otherwise will have no hold over us. The work of Christ is complete. From the cross, He assures us, “It is accomplished.”

It does seem odd to refer to anybody’s death as “good.” Yet, God’s good plan is often counterintuitive: As Jesus says, “He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for my sake will find it”; “the first shall be the last and the last shall be first” (Mark 10:31). And yes, through the “good” death of God’s Son, humanity can receive new life, abundant life. He has given us eternal life that will never be defeated by any infection, calamity or even death.

So, my dear brothers and sisters, have a “good day”! In fact, have a “great day!” You deserve it because Christ has earned it for you!

A Fool's Feast

Maundy Thursday

I believe that none of you would need to be reminded that yesterday, the 1st of April, was April Fool’s Day. It’s a day when we traditionally pull pranks on each other, not maliciously but in jest. If a day’s pranking was not enough, sometimes it spills over to the remainder of the week. But sometimes pranks can test the limits of friendship. People can be the best of friends before this but after having suffered a prank in bad taste, even the closest of friends can from henceforth become sworn enemies.

How the world judges our actions as foolish is exactly how the world judges Christians from the early centuries of the Church until present day. Our liturgical celebrations, though it may not seem to be so, always had a certain edge to them, like those who engage in extreme sports who court death as they experience a rush of adrenaline. You may find this unbelievable. How could the Mass, which so many find boring, be a dance with death? Perhaps, the only danger we could perceive is to die of boredom.

We often forget the context of today’s celebration. Today we commemorate the Lord’s Last Supper, a Passover Feast and tomorrow, we commemorate His death. They are not two different events but a single one, for what our Lord celebrated today at His Last Supper, He will complete on the cross. The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, the Mass of the ages is a bloodless re-enactment, re-presentation of the gruesome bloody sacrifice of our Lord at Calvary. Risk, death and danger have always been part of the DNA of the Holy Mass from the moment of its institution.

The juxtaposition of celebration and death is a constant reminder that the Church of Christ, our Church, is indeed a Church of Eucharistic fools because Christians were willing to do the craziest things in order to receive the most precious thing that could sustain them, not just in this life but for eternity. For example, there is the amazing story of the courageous martyrs of Abitene (in modern-day Tunisia). In 303, forty-nine Christians suffered torture and martyrdom because they defied the Roman Emperor’s order not to celebrate the Eucharist on Sunday. Despite this cruel law and the real prospect of death, this group of Christians risked everything to gather for Mass. When asked by the magistrate why they had disobeyed the emperor and put themselves at risk, one of them defiantly said, “Sine dominico non possumus” — “Without Sunday, we cannot live.” “Without the Eucharist, we cannot live.”

In fact, for nearly 2,000 years, Christians have risked their lives to participate at Holy Mass. During the Reformation in England, priests were martyred when caught offering Holy Mass clandestinely for English Catholics. Courageous lay people who gave their homes over as places of Catholic worship, and who harboured priests, suffered torture and death. This trend continued over the centuries. In the Twentieth century, Catholics in former Communist countries like the Soviet Union or Vietnam were persecuted for practicing their faith. Today, in places such as Egypt, China, North Korea, Iraq, Sudan, Saudi Arabia and countless other areas, Catholics risk their lives and travel for hours to attend Mass.

We rejoice that, unlike those in poor areas, we do not have to walk for miles, over hills or on dirt roads to attend. The vast majority of us can make a short drive to arrive at our beloved parish. In fact, we are spoilt for choices. But the ease, convenience, and accessibility of the Mass should not cause us to ever lose sight that the Mass is so precious that many of our Catholic brothers and sisters around the world are braving great inconvenience and persecution to receive what we, by God’s love, have available near us.

In his first Holy Thursday letter to priests, Pope Saint John Paul II touchingly recalled situations of the faith triumphing over persecution from his own personal experience of living under religious oppression, at a time when the priests were rounded up and there were none left to celebrate the Eucharist: “Sometimes it happens that [the lay faithful] meet in an abandoned shrine, and place on the altar a stole which they keep, and recite all the prayers of the Eucharistic liturgy: and then, at the moment that corresponds to the transubstantiation a deep silence comes down upon them, a silence sometimes broken by a sob … so ardently do they desire to hear the words that only the lips of a priest can efficaciously utter.”

I would like to close this evening with the words of Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, at the 2005 World Youth Day in Cologne Germany:

“The Eucharist must become the centre of our lives. … This is because the Eucharist releases the joy that we need so much, and we must learn to grasp it ever more deeply, we must learn to love it. Let us pledge ourselves to do this – it is worth the effort! Let us discover the intimate riches of the Church’s liturgy and its true greatness: it is not we who are celebrating for ourselves, but it is the living God Himself who is preparing a banquet for us.”

An Ass and a Colt

Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord

The gospel reading before the procession sets out the familiar scene of our Lord’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem. The lectionary provides us with slightly different versions of the same event and we are treated to St Matthew’s version this year. If you suffer from some pedantic streak like me, a connoisseur of the minutest and sometimes seemingly most insignificant details, you would notice a certain anomaly in the text. It is the mount of our Lord. It is not a single animal as mentioned in the other parallel text but two! The reason for the omission of a second beast in Mark and Luke could be due to neither quoting from the prophecy of Zechariah. Matthew, however, in fulfilment of the prophecy of Zechariah, which he quotes, and our Lord’s own prophetic instructions to His disciples, has the disciples bring an “ass and the colt.” I’m not sure about you but the thought of having two steeds instead of one strikes me as funny. Imagine our Lord straddling two animals like a circus performer.

Before we examine this seemingly strange phenomenon of having two animals, let us have a closer look at the original text in Zechariah 9:9. It is a messianic prophecy which speaks of the King (the Messiah) coming to His people in humility riding on an animal. The expression is easily explained as a common type of poetic emphasis used in Old Testament times. The Messiah sits on an animal. It is an ass. More than that, it is a colt, the foal of an ass, meaning very young. Therefore, most would take it (and this is what Mark and Luke does) to mean one animal instead of two. The language used is not a reference to an ass and a colt but rather to an ass which is also a colt, a foal of an ass. Are you still following? I hope I’ve not lost you.

But St Matthew takes the prophecy literally and so in his account, Jesus instructs His disciples to untie both the ass and the colt and to lead them to Him. Some commentators attempt to explain the reason this way. Christ first rode the ass up and down the hill and then transferred and rode the colt into the city. There is a practical reason for this. The she-ass would be stronger and more able to go up and down the terrain. Next, the colt, being more agile and light, would be able to bring Him into the city easily.

But more interesting is the spiritual sense or patristic allegorical interpretation given to these two animals. The she-ass and her colt signify the two sorts of people of which the world is made up—the Jews, accustomed to the yoke of the Mosaic law, who were represented by the ass; and the Gentiles, living up to this time without the Law of God, and who were denoted by the colt. Even though the ass had been well trained, the Jews had centuries of being familiarised with the Law of Moses, the law remained a burden to them. Likewise, just like a young colt that has not been ridden nor trained, Gentiles did not have the benefit of being trained by the Law. Christ our Lord rode both to signify that both the Jews and the Gentiles were called to be Christophoroi – Christ-bearers. That’s how we get the name of that famous saint, St Christopher.

Far from being absurd, the picture shows two things. First of all, it reveals our Lord’s control over nature and all created beings. A colt, so young that it has never been ridden and is even accompanied by its mother tags obediently along. It is fitting that Jesus, the Second Adam, should display Dr Doolittle powers lost to man after the Fall. Secondly, it emphasises the meekness and humility with which this One comes, exactly as St Paul describes Him in the second reading: “His state was divine, yet Christ Jesus did not cling to his equality with God but emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave and became as men are; and being as all men are, he was humbler yet, even to accepting death, death on a cross.” This is no conquering king who has destroyed Israel’s enemies and is riding triumphantly into Jerusalem at the head of an army, but upon a colt hardly able to support His weight. This is the Saviour who has come to die for the sins of the world.

Choosing an ass or its colt as steed may be more than an action which merely displays our Lord’s humility. In ancient times, dignitaries would ride donkeys in civil processions, and horses in military ones. A king arriving on a donkey would indicate that the person was on a peaceful mission, not one bent on military conquest. Whatever one makes of the rabbinic ideas about the Messiah, our Lord’s coming on a donkey shows His true intentions and agenda. He has returned as an undefeated victor without a sword in His hand but with the offer of peace and reconciliation. Even though His life would be met with violence which would end in death, He “made no resistance”, nor did He “turn away,” from the blows of His enemies, as we heard in Isaiah’s prophecy of the Suffering Servant in the first reading.

Lastly, today’s liturgy and the readings also serve as a mirror which shows up our true disposition as we come before the Lord, exposing our weaknesses, our sinfulness and unworthiness to welcome such a King as He. According to Talmudic tradition, if we are worthy, the Messiah will come in the clouds (a reference to Daniel 7:13). But if we are unworthy, he will come riding on a donkey. In other rabbinic conversations, some say the Messiah will come when all Israel repents and proves their worthiness; others, when all Israel observes one Sabbath together. Until that happens, we cannot expect the Messiah. These two comings are related to the two comings of Christ that we always speak about in the season of Advent. The first coming was in humility at the Incarnation. The second coming of Christ would be at the end of this age as He returns in glory, perhaps most popularly represented as coming in the clouds. But despite our unworthiness, our Lord still comes to His people sitting on an ass and a colt, as He retakes His seat of glory - now in apparent humiliation on the throne of the cross but later, He will assume His throne of glory at the right side of the Father in heaven.

At the beginning of Holy Week, an ass and its colt carried a King in procession to retake His throne, but at the end of this week, this King, our Lord and Saviour will carry the instrument of our salvation, the cross, like a beast of burden, so that we may now enter into His kingdom. He rode on a beast of burden because He came to bear our burdens. Our Lord calls us to place our burdens upon Him every single day that we live here in this world. He willingly carries our burdens. He happily carries them, knowing that in our weakness, in Him we are strong.