To Teach is to Serve

Sixth Sunday of Easter Year A

Recently, there was a very public disagreement between Pope Leo and the President of the most powerful nation on earth over the latter’s actions in prosecuting war in Iran. You may think that the word “disagreement” is an understatement. Although Trump was not named in the earlier statements by the Holy Father, the reference to the immorality of war and call for cease fire by the Pope was obviously interpreted by the media as referring to him. Who else could it be meant for? Well, Trump did not hesitate to name the Pope in a blazing rebuttal. The supporters and defenders of Trump’s policy, however, did clearly question the authority of the Pope to speak on matters beyond his expertise accompanied by a cautionary note that the Pope should stay within his lane. Was the Pope speaking out of turn? This criticism would not be the first nor would Pope Leo be the first pope to be accused of meddling in the affairs of the state.

But it is interesting that many of those who have come to the defence of the Pope had been the Church’s greatest critics on her position on other moral issues. Were they now reneging from their earlier position that the Church had no authority to dictate on matters concerning gender ideology and reproductive rights? Why the sudden switch in allegiance? In the words of St Augustine, we love the truth when it enlightens us but hate it when it rebukes us.

One of the most controversial points surrounding the Catholic Church today, as it has been from the very beginning, would be the Church’s claim that she is able to teach and govern authoritatively; in fact she claims to teach, govern and sanctify with the authority of Christ Himself. This is more than just a claim to offer an opinion among many but a claim that the Church speaks Truth, teaches Truth and defends Truth. While most experts can claim some form of authority from training and experience, only the Catholic Church, or the Magisterium, which is the teaching authority of the Church, can claim authority from the Holy Spirit. The Magisterium speaks with the authority of Christ, guided and empowered by the Spirit. But why would He do that?

If Christ wanted to ensure that His teachings would have the efficacy of leading humanity to salvation, He would have taken the necessary measures to ensure the same teaching would have this purpose, rather than become a cause for confusion and destruction. This is why Christ promised to protect the teachings of the Church by conferring this very authority of interpretation on to the Church’s Magisterium: "He who hears you, hears me; he who rejects you rejects me, he who rejects me, rejects Him who sent me" (Luke 10. 16).

Pope Benedict XVI of happy memory noted in a homily that “this power of teaching frightens many people in and outside the Church. They wonder whether freedom of conscience is threatened or whether it is a presumption opposed to freedom of thought.” But then the erudite pontiff noted, “The power of Christ conferred upon Peter and his Successors is, in an absolute sense, a mandate to serve. The power of teaching in the Church involves a commitment to the service of obedience to the faith.” This authority of the Church, as the Lord has reminded all His disciples, is not one which seeks ‘to lord it over others’ but ultimately one of service. The Magisterium is not superior to the Word of God. Instead, the Magisterium is clearly under its authority–it is the servant of the Word. Its role is not to add to God’s revelation or to subtract from it. Only to faithfully interpret and apply it (CCC 85-86).

We see an excellent example of the exercise of the Church’s Magisterium in today’s first reading. The issue of whether pagan converts to Christianity would have to submit to circumcision and other Jewish observances had become a major issue that threatened to split the leaders of the Church and the Church itself. During the Council, St Peter strongly defended the position that the Gentiles, who were not circumcised, were accepted by God. The apostle James then delivered his judgment that the Gentile converts would not need to be circumcised but laid down certain guidelines that would allow Jewish and Gentile converts to live in harmony. So, finally the apostles and elders adopted the position proposed by James and chose men from among them to send to Antioch with Paul and Barnabas. In the letter, they wrote, “It has been decided by the Holy Spirit and by ourselves ...” The apostles and elders who had gathered at the Council of Jerusalem were conscious that their decision was no mere human decision. They believed that it was the Holy Spirit who guided their decision, and so, ultimately it is God who has decided on the matter.

Unlike what many dissenters often claim, the Holy Spirit is not the source or muse for innovation. “We have to let the Spirit lead”. Unfortunately, this is often a euphemism for excusing oneself from following the Church’s teachings and disciplines. The Spirit does not provoke us to disobedience. In fact the Lord Himself tells us in today’s gospel, “If anyone loves me, he will keep my word.” Likewise, the Holy Spirit is not a spirit of confusion. Our Lord sent the Holy Spirit to guide His Church into ALL Truth. He promised His disciples and us that the Advocate, the Holy Spirit “will teach (the Church) everything and remind (her) of all.” Despite the cultural winds that have blown through the ages, the faithful have always had a visible, easily identifiable magisterial “rock” on which they could safely stand on in all seasons.

Throughout the centuries, the Church has also experienced many crises that threatened to shake its very foundation and unity. In the early centuries, many Church leaders were divided as to the issue of Christ’s divinity. In later centuries, there were also disagreement about many church teachings and practices. In modern times, the most contentious issues revolve around sexual mores. Throughout its histories, the Church had to contend with schisms (splits) and heresies (erroneous teachings) but remain steadfast on its course, the course set by her Lord and Master. And yet despite these many centuries of crises and trials, the Church has continued to survive and grow, only because of the guidance of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit’s guidance ensures that despite all our personal opinions and ways of thinking, and despite the wickedness and failings of her shepherds, we can be sure of a certain authoritative position that reflects the will of God. In other words, the Holy Spirit is the guarantee of unity within the Church.

Today, we are facing a crisis that has made many Catholics to no longer know what to believe or what kind of conduct God expects of us. What is needed as a remedy for this is a firm standard, a reliable guide or teacher who can tell us both what we must believe and what we must do. We need a Church who can ensure that the light of Christ’s saving gospel will shine on every generation. We need a Church that does not only provide us with good ideas and opinions but who teaches authoritatively, who is able to give us great light & clarity in a world that seems often enveloped in the darkness of sin; in a world enamoured and confused by the fallacious philosophy of relativism which provides so many competing false lights. We need a Church and successors of the Apostles who will “discharge their exalted office for the salvation of all, and so that the whole flock of Christ might be kept away by them from the poisonous food of error and be nourished with the sustenance of heavenly doctrine” (Vatican I, Constitution on the Church of Christ). And as G.K. Chesterton once said, “I don’t need a church to tell me I’m wrong where I already know that I’m wrong; I need a Church to tell me I’m wrong where I think I’m right.”

Jesus is the Answer

Fifth Sunday of Easter Year A

You may have heard this glib cliched line: “Jesus is the answer.” Some cheekily retort, “but the answer to what? What exactly is the question?” But what I’m going to say today is going to ruffle some feathers, if not shock and scandalise many of you. Before we say that Jesus is the answer, we must recognise that Jesus is also the problem.

Jesus is the reason that the Christian faith is a problem. See what He claims in today’s gospel. “…No one can come to the Father except through Me” is the bone of contention. There is no way of getting around this declaration, unless you choose to ignore it or expunge it from the Bible for being too fundamentally exclusive. He tells us in no uncertain terms: “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life.” Not just any way, or one among many truths or merely a path of life among other valid paths. He is The Way, The Truth, and The Life.

That Jesus is the only necessary Saviour of all is a truth that for over twenty centuries – beginning with Peter’s discourse after Pentecost – it was never felt necessity to restate. This truth is, so to speak, the minimum threshold of the faith; it is the primordial certitude, it is among believers the simple and most essential fact. In two thousand years this has never been brought into doubt, not even during the crisis of Arianism, and not even during the upheaval of the Protestant Reformation. The fact of needing to issue a reminder of this in our time tells us the extent of the gravity of the current situation.

When people claim that all religions are principally the same, with merely insignificant and superficial differences, as open-minded as they may sound, it actually betrays a certain ideological superiority and ignorance. No one could ever possibly make this claim unless he is abysmally ignorant of what the different religions of the world actually teach. Certainly, there are similarities and analogous parallels, but there are also many differences and even contradictions between truth claims. It doesn’t take a genius to tell you that there’s a world of a difference when one religion that states that there is no God and another one that asserts it, and one could obviously not sweep this inconsistency under the carpet and term it as ‘insignificant’ or ‘non-essential.’ To ignore or to collapse every single difference and contradiction into a single voluminous salad bowl of beliefs is like thinking the earth is flat.

Christianity is not a system of man's search for God but a story of God's search for man. Throughout the Bible, man-made religion fails but God continues to reach down, in spite of our failure. There is no human way up the mountain, only a divine way down. Of course, if these roads to salvation were indeed man made, it would indeed be stupid and arrogant to absolutise any one of them. But if God made the road and the path, He must indeed be a fickle and schizophrenic deity who enjoys confusing his creation by creating contradictory alternatives. But if He made only one path – One Way, One Truth and One source of Life, His Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ and the Church which He has left behind as that one certain path for all humanity – then it is humility and not arrogance to accept this one road from God, and it is arrogance, not humility, to insist that all our man made roads are as good as God’s God-made one.

To the common argument that this fundamental understanding of salvation radically changed as a result of the Second Vatican Council, it is good to have a look at what the Council Fathers actually taught and not what we assume they taught. The Council taught that on the one hand there is much deep wisdom and value, or “rays of truth” in other religions and that the Christian should respect them and learn from them. But, on the other hand, the claims of Christ and His Church can never be lessened, compromised, or relativised. The Church continues to proclaim that God intends the salvation of all, and He does so through the mediation of His Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ, and the Church, which is His Body. And yet those who through no fault of their own do not know Christ or His Church, but who follow the dictates of their conscience as prompted by the Spirit, may also be saved. But their salvation too comes from Christ and never apart from Him. That is why the Church continues to proclaim that God intends the salvation of all, and He does so through the mediation of His Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ, and the Church, which is His Body.

Has this position changed in 2026 with a new pope. Without skipping a beat, Pope Leo recently reiterated this truth to a group of altar servers who had come from France: “Who will come to save us? Not only from our sufferings, from our limits and our mistakes, but even from death itself? The answer is perfectly clear and resounds in the History of 2000 years: only Jesus comes to save us, no-one else: because only he has the power to do so – He is God Almighty in person – and because he loves us. Saint Peter said it emphatically: ‘There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved’ (Acts 4:12). Never forget these words, dear friend: imprint them on your heart, and place Jesus at the centre of your lives.”

Though the world may appear to be a free marketplace of ideas, opinions, theologies and ideologies, where we are constantly tempted to come up with a recipe or salad of ideas, we Christians have already made our choice. There may be many rivers which may ultimately lead to the sea, but there is only one Way, one Truth and one Life that leads to Heaven, it is Christ, for He is both the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the Source of Life itself and its destined End.

Priest, Prophet and King

Fourth Sunday of Easter Year A

Good Shepherd Sunday

I am going to do a “show and tell” for today’s homily. The perfect illustration for the threefold office or ministry of a priest as Priest, Prophet and King, is to be found in the principal liturgical furnishings in the sanctuary. The altar and the ambo are obvious candidates but that’s only two. How about the third since the office of Christ and the priest is threefold? Let me give you a clue. It serves as the most functional furnishing if you do not expect the priest to stand throughout the Mass. Yes, it’s the presider’s chair!

Together with the altar and ambo, the celebrant’s chair is considered one of the three principal liturgical furnishings in the sanctuary of every Catholic church. The altar stands as an image of Christ exercising His priestly office and gives a foretaste of the heavenly banqueting table. The ambo signifies the dignity of the Word of God proclaimed and magnifies its importance. The chair, too, has its own mystagogical role to play: the cathedra, or bishop’s chair, signifies the teaching, governing and sanctifying role of the bishop in his diocese as successor of the apostles. By extension, every priest celebrant’s chair in a parish church signifies the priest’s headship during the sacred liturgy and his mission to sanctify and govern those in his care.

If you think that the above explanation is insufficient, try Bishop Robert Barron’s take on it. He writes: “A classic characterisation of Jesus is that He is priest, prophet, and king. As priest, He sanctifies, that is to say, He reestablishes the lost link between divinity and humanity; as prophet, He speaks and embodies the divine truth; and as king, He leads us on the right path, giving guidance to the human project. You might say that, as priest, He is the life; as prophet, He is the truth; and as king He is the way.”

The readings chosen for this Sunday also provides us with further insight on these three offices. Let’s start with the order of the offices rather than the sequencing of the readings.

For the office of priest, let us look at the second reading. The idea of Jesus as High Priest is most apparent in the letter to the Hebrews, whereas the evangelists often depict Him as a prophet and king. But here in this pastoral letter by the first of the apostles, our first Pope, St Peter shows us Christ in His priestly role of sacrificing Himself in atonement for our sins, in healing our wounds by allowing Himself to be wounded, in laying down His life so that we may live. In this passage St Peter encourages Christians to follow the sacrificial example of Jesus Christ in the face of persecution. Persecution is, in fact, the assumed “default state” of the Church, with times of peace and tranquility being exceptional rather than normative. And so Peter reminds us that, “Christ suffered for you and left an example for you to follow the way he took.” That is why a priest is called to die so that others may live.

The first reading speaks clearly of the need for prophets, those who speak the truth of God. Peter is once again featured here. Without courageous preaching of St Peter at that first Pentecost, putting himself at risk of arrest and even death, the three thousand men who were in attendance would not have come to the faith. Just like prophets of old, Peter, the apostles, and all who call ourselves followers of Christ, in fact Christians which mean “a little Christ,” we must issue the very first call of our Lord to everyone to repent and believe in the gospel. We think that it is sufficient to just be a good neighbour, be kind to everyone we meet and choose not to rock the boat by declaring our faith and our deepest convictions. All that is needed but it is insufficient. The prophetic role calls us to disturb the comfortable as well as comfort the disturbed.

Pope Benedict XVI in speaking of the prophetic role of the priest tells us that “the priest does not teach his own ideas, a philosophy that he himself has invented, that he has discovered or likes; the priest does not speak of himself, he does not speak for himself, to attract admirers, perhaps, or create a party of his own; he does not say his own thing, his own inventions but, in the medley of all the philosophies, the priest teaches in the name of Christ present, he proposes the truth that is Christ himself, his word and his way of living and of moving ahead.”

Finally, we turn to the gospel as our Lord’s illustration of what it means to be a king. This is part of the Good Shepherd discourse of our Lord found only in St John’s Gospel. The alignment of king and shepherd may not be so apparent in modern times but the image of kings as the shepherd of the people of Israel goes back to the ancient Near Eastern concept of the king as shepherd of his nation. Think of the shepherd’s crook as one of the sceptres, symbols of authority, of the Egyptian Pharaoh.

But here in this section of the discourse two other images are used by the Lord, images connected to the shepherd. Our Lord tells us that He is the gatekeeper as well as the gate. It is interesting to note how Bishop Barron rightly associates the third office of King with being the Way. Gatekeeping seems to have taken on a negative connotation these days, implying elitism, which seems to be associated with Pharisaical behaviour: “Woe to you experts in the law, because you have taken away the key to knowledge. You yourselves have not entered, and you have hindered those who were entering” (Luke 11:52). But as our Lord suggests in today’s parable, the role of the gatekeeper is twofold - the first is to grant safe passage to both shepherd and his flock and the second, is to prevent those who seek to bring destruction, “the thieves and brigands,” from entering. The second part of this pastoral ministry may cause discomfort to many moderns as inclusivism and relativism have become integral parts of modernist theologies. In seeking to create an inclusive borderless Church, many make the mistake of ignoring our Lord’s caution in today’s gospel passage: “anyone who does not enter the sheepfold through the gate, but gets in some other way is a thief and a brigand.” The only way we are going to get in is through the gate, through Christ who is the Way, the Truth and the Life, and on His terms, and not on ours.

The threefold office is not just attributed to Christ and ascribed to ordained ministers by virtue of their sacramental identity as in persona Christi Capitis. All of us by virtue of our baptism, also share in this three fold ministry. The baptised serve as priests through their sacrificial efforts to bring people to God. They serve as prophets through their witness to the truth in word and deed. And they serve as kings in their efforts to lead others—again through word and deed—to use their talents to advance the Kingdom of God (see CCC 1241).

The final part of the Mass could arguably provide a call to any of the three offices depending on the language used that day. One of the options is this “Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord!” This speaks to the prophetic office most clearly as we are called to “announce” by our words and actions what has been shared with us. Another option of the dismissal is “glorifying the Lord by our lives.” This implies the priestly office as our holiness incarnates the blessing we have received from God in the world. Finally, for us to “Go forth in peace,” would be the result of establishing justice and order, which are the roles of the kingly office. So, my dear brothers and sisters, “go and announce the gospel of the Lord,” “glorify the Lord by your lives,” and “go forth in peace”!

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!”