skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A
The first reading taken from the prophet Zechariah is familiar in that it is quoted as the prophetic text which heralds our Lord’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. A contrast is made within the text between the humble donkey which the Messianic king rides and the war chariots and battle steeds which are now abolished. This deliberate change in the mount of the king marks a time of peace instead of war. The hard gruelling work of war is over; the time of peace and rest is at hand. Well, it does seem to be rest time for everyone except the poor donkey who continues to carry the burden of his king. They say that there is “no rest for the wicked,” or at least for this poor animal
This seems to reflect the tension in our Lord’s invitation and promise, “Come to me, all you who labour and are overburdened, and I will give you rest,” which comes with an additional catch, “shoulder my yoke.” Seems to be a contradiction - on the one hand, we are promised rest, but on the other hand, it comes with an additional burden, “the yoke”, although our Lord does promise us that His “yoke is easy and my burden light.” We would have preferred no burden at all to an easy and light burden.
The key to understanding this rest, is the Hebrew word sabat, which means "to rest or stop or cease from work." The origin of the Sabbath goes back to Creation. After creating the heavens and the earth in six days, God "rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had made". God used the example of His resting on the seventh day of Creation, to establish the principle of the Sabbath day rest for His people. God gave the Israelites the third Commandment (fourth in some versions). They were to "remember" the Sabbath day and "keep it holy." One day out of every seven, they were to rest from their labours and give the same day of rest to their servants and animals. This was not just a physical rest, but a cessation of labouring.
With the establishment of the Old Testament Law, the Jews were constantly "labouring" to make themselves righteous before God. Their labours included trying to obey a myriad of do’s and don’ts on the Sabbath. It is interesting to note that the Law was often described in rabbinical teachings as a “yoke”. But what really happened was that this yoke of the Law, which was meant to free them, turned out to be an impossibly heavy burden that had enslaved them.
The Law of Moses did not actually bring any real relief to the people. This was because it was merely an anticipation of Christ, the One who came to fulfill the Law, the Only One who could truly bring peace and rest to all. Because of what He did on the cross, we no longer have to "labour" in keeping the Mosaic Law in order to be justified in the sight of God. We can now cease from all our futile spiritual labours and rest in Him, not just one day a week, but always. And because Jesus, our Lord, is the Only One who can give us lasting rest, the day in the week in which we commemorate His resurrection, which Christians over the centuries have called “the Day of the Lord”, is now our new Christian Sabbath.
So, how can we experience this lasting rest? What our Lord proposes seems strange - we need to shoulder His yoke in order to find rest. Wouldn’t it be reasonable to believe that since Christ has carried the cross, we wouldn’t have to? Yet, it is He who issues this call to discipleship to all of us to take up our crosses … our yokes. A yoke was not created for rest; it was created for work. It literally has nothing to do with rest at all.
When Jesus invited the weary and heavy laden to come to Him and find rest, we would expect Him to say something like, “Take off the yoke - be free!” But our Lord’s solution for weariness was not to cast off the yoke; but rather to yoke ourselves to Him, to walk in step with Him. Those who were under Mosaic Law were said to be yoked to Moses. Likewise, those who call themselves Christians, should be similarly yoked to Christ. To be yoked to Him means to submit to His authority. Instead of being crushed by His authority, Christ offers us freedom and rest. This is a different kind of yoke, one perfectly fitted to support us. When we are yoked to Christ, He carries most of the weight. That doesn’t mean being yoked to Christ will always be comfortable, but it’s not supposed to crush us either. His yoke ultimately points to the cross. The cross will demand self-denial, but it also promises salvation.
Sometimes, coming to Church on a Sunday feels like a heavy burden, what more when you have to convince your children, your spouse, get them all ready for Mass and then have to brave the judgmental stare from the hospitality minister or other parishioners when you arrive late after the readings or sometimes, after the homily has started. Is it worth all the effort? Wouldn’t it be easier to just stay in bed, wake up late, and enjoy the rest you deserve on that one day of the week where you don’t have to be ruled by alarm clocks and a work schedule? Is it worth all the effort, heart ache, tension and sacrifice?
How can this whole routine be anything but restful? In fact, it seems to go against the obligation to rest from servile work on Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation. But this is what the Code of Canon Law says, “On Sundays and other holy days of obligation, the faithful are obliged to assist at Mass. They are also to abstain from such work or business that would inhibit the worship to be given to God, the joy proper to the Lord’s Day, or the due relaxation of mind and body” (canon 1247). But assisting others to worship at Holy Mass does not violate this Law because at Mass your work is to worship God, and you are never called to rest from worshiping God.
Throughout the week, we strive, we work hard to achieve our goals, but on this special day, when our Lord ended His three days of rest in the tomb, we are asked to place all our burdens, cares and struggles at His feet. We are called to rest because God continues to work even when man ceases to do so. So, if you are feeling restless, distraught, discouraged or even perhaps at the edge of despair, put your shoulder into His yoke, so that He might bear all your burdens. Learn to walk yoked to our Lord, and you will find rest for your soul. This is His promise. “Come to me, all you who labour and are overburdened, and I will give you rest.”
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A
Most people would agree, and you don’t have to be a Christian to lend your support, that maintaining unity at any cost is generally considered unsustainable. While unity fosters cooperation, forced or blind conformity often demands the compromise of fundamental rights, personal identity, or core truths. True, lasting unity should be built on something much deeper, not just the suppression of disagreement.
Today, our Lord challenges any attempt at fostering weak unity based merely on societal pressure and group think. Group cohesion and communal unity are important but they cannot be our ultimate goals. As Christians, our ultimate goal is to grow deeper in our relationship with Christ and all other relationships, no matter how good or praiseworthy, must ultimately be subject to and take its cue from this relationship with Christ. The foundation of our unity is Christ as reflected in the motto of our Holy Father and his spiritual father, “In the One, we are One.” There can be no true unity if Christ is not part of the equation.
Our Lord explains that His gospel will inevitably force us to choose and this choice will be the cause of division. The proclamation of the kingdom will cause division not because the message is divisive or hateful but because of the ways people will receive it. Responses will range from full and open reception to lukewarm reaction and finally to hostile rejection, and this will lead to discord - even hostility - within families, communities and among friends. So, the “worthiness” of His disciples will be tested. The “worthy” disciple does not love father, mother, son or daughter more than Christ. That does not mean that we Christians should not love our parents or family members. We should. But what our Lord is insisting here is that loyalty to Him even before one’s family is the hallmark of true discipleship. The relationship offered to us in Christ is something which goes further and deeper than even the very closest human relationship.
The gospel of Jesus is not only about an ethical way of life founded on love and mercy, but it is above all about the person of Jesus himself. We are “Christians” not only because of our words and deeds, but because our entire lives have been reshaped and transformed into “another Christ.” As St Paul in today’s second reading tells us, “when we were baptised in Christ Jesus we were baptised in His death; in other words, when we were baptised we went into the tomb with Him and joined Him in death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the Father’s glory, we too might live a new life.” Because we are “joined” to Him in baptism, our Lord claims a special place in our lives, more important than our dearest ones and biological kin. Being a disciple is not a marginal aspect of my life, it is central.
If our relationship to Christ is what defines us, then our fate too is ultimately intertwined with His. That is why the next test of our “worthiness” is to be found in our willingness to take up the cross. “Anyone who does not take his cross and follow in my footsteps is not worthy of me. Anyone who finds his life will lose it; anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it.”
The idea of taking up a cross in today’s context has been sanitised and trivialised. It is often used as a metaphor to describe bearing with life’s daily burdens and inconveniences, like a long wait in traffic, being subjected to the blistering heat, putting up with a difficult boss or spouse, enduring aches and pains. When your “cross” happens to be the most common cause of your complaints and griping, you would know that it isn’t the cross which our Lord speaks of. It’s self-pity. This is so far from the reality of the cross which our Lord had to endure. No, when Jesus says that the true disciple must “take up his cross,” He is not merely calling for acceptance of life’s little inconveniences and hardships. He is calling His disciples to give up everything, even their lives if necessary to follow Him.
The cross is a radical call to die to oneself. Taking up one’s cross or denying oneself is not something optional to Christianity. In fact, it is the defining action of Christianity. Denying self is not to be confused with denying something to oneself, whether material things, food, pleasure, or whatever. Wicked people often deny themselves many things in order to achieve their selfish goals or conquer their enemies. What Jesus meant by self-denial is far more radical than denying something to oneself. He meant that one must say no to oneself. All man’s sin and self-destruction centers in self-love, self-trust, and self-assertion. The cross means the opposite, it means “no” to self and “yes” to God.
But self-denial is not without value. Our Lord promises His faithful disciples, “If anyone gives so much as a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is a disciple, then I tell you solemnly, he will most certainly not lose his reward.” In this following of Christ, this union with God, we will ultimately share in the reward which Christ has won for us. It is true that now we must endure the trial of discipleship by having a share in His cross but later we will have a share in His glory. We can be assured that only in the One, the Only Begotten Son and Saviour of the World, can we be one.
Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A
From the moment of our birth, we are plunged into a world which simultaneously expects us to stand out, yet fit in; encourages us to be an individual, but to behave according to the norm; desires us to be creative, but within the parameters of approval; demands that we bring about societal change, so long as we do not upset or offend those around us. This is at the heart of the modern paradox where we are taught to be unique and yet placed under so much pressure to conform. Society often commercialises "individuality." We are encouraged to express uniqueness through consumer choices (what we buy, wear, or post), while the underlying systems—education, career paths, and social etiquette—demand strict uniformity.
Unfortunately, even when it comes to religion, such prevailing currents subtly seduce us towards the lowest common denominator, never encouraging us to rise above or strive to achieve greater heights. When someone strives for perfection and holiness, he is immediately put down: “Don’t try to be so holy” or mocked and ridiculed with the label “holey moley.” This should not be so. The life of a Christian must always go against the flow. Instead of mediocrity, he is called by the Lord to perfection. Instead of just fitting in, he is called to stand out. That means risking putting your head on the chopping block.
I am reminded of G. K. Chesterton’s statement in The Everlasting Man: “A dead thing can go with the stream, but only a living thing can go against it.” Likewise, a true Christian goes against the current of our sinful age; a false one is swept away by its swiftness. Any weak Christian can live like the world; it takes a vital, healthy faith to enable someone to stand on their convictions, firm against the tide of opinion and every fashionable and popular trend that draws our fancy.
In the first reading, we have the prophet Jeremiah bewailing his pitiful situation where he is being persecuted and hemmed in from all sides by his detractors, some of whom had been his friends. He complains that the Lord had ‘seduced’ him so that he cannot stop prophesying disaster. His suffering, pain and anxiety are real - there is no doubt about this. He understands that if he stops proclaiming the truth, the persecution will stop, his friends will return, the situation will normalise. The logical solution, the urge to survive, is just to shut up and fit in. But then instead of giving up and giving in, Jeremiah proclaims his faith: “But the Lord is at my side, a mighty hero …Sing to the Lord, praise the Lord, for he has delivered the soul of the needy from the hands of evil men.”
Rather than allow his emotional and physical torment to move him to abandon his mission, Jeremiah doubles down on his resolve to remain faithful, to persist in trusting God, despite all the challenges that are thrown at him. His story is a lesson for us too. When our hearts align with God’s values, we will view the dangers around us differently. Death, discomfort, and dire circumstances don’t have the same sting when we have God’s eternal perspective. When God’s values and our values align, we will understand what is most important and live out the purpose we were created for. Life is ultimately about seeking God’s approval and not men’s.
Throughout the gospels and especially in today’s gospel passage, our Lord repeatedly tells us, “Do not be afraid.” Do not be afraid of speaking the Truth; do not be afraid of intimidation from those who wish to silence you: do not be afraid of opposition, persecution and even martyrdom at the hands of your enemies; do not be afraid because we are of great worth in the eyes of God. At the end of the day, do not be afraid of proclaiming the gospel.
There is no denying that it is tempting to stop preaching the gospel or to soften the message in order to make things easier and protect ourselves from suffering and opposition. That’s part of the survival mechanism. But that should not be the goal of our lives. Our purpose is not just survival, getting by, avoiding conflict, being liked. Our ultimate purpose in life is salvation and nothing should ever get in the way of this even though this may mean walking a lonely path. Jesus gives this important reminder in Chapter 16: “For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul?” (Matthew 16:25-26).
It may seem for now that whatever is the Truth may be passed off by society as a lie, but we are assured by the Lord that those who bravely proclaim and defend the Truth will experience vindication one day. Even if the Truth seems obfuscated in our lifetime, one day, “everything that is now covered will be uncovered, and everything now hidden will be made clear.” In any argument, you don’t need to have the last word and make sure everyone knows that you were right. That’s exhausting and untenable. There will always be someone who disagrees with you. What is more important is striving to be right or righteous before God and we are assured that this will happen at the Final Judgment, where all lies will be exposed and all truths revealed, where the wicked would be punished and the innocent be vindicated. So, do not be afraid!
Our Lord reminds us in today’s gospel that the goal of a Christian witness is not just survival and personal safety but salvation. “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; fear him rather who can destroy both body and soul in hell.” Therefore, we should fear God more than our persecutors. Tell the Truth and risk the wrath of the mob. But tell a lie and risk the wrath of God. We should prefer the former to the latter.
At the end of the day, the real motivation for our decisions, our actions and our speech should not be the fear of public reaction but rather, the judgment from God. St Gregory the Great teaches “The further (the soul) is pushed out of human favour, the closer a neighbour he becomes to God.” Our Lord tells us that He will acknowledge us before His Heavenly Father, if we stand resolutely to acknowledge Him before His enemies. His enemies may harm our bodies, but God will save our souls. We may be “cancelled” by the angry mob, but we will be affirmed by our loving God. So, stand for what is true and good and morally right, and be saved from eternal damnation.
Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A
One of the most common questions I get from Catholics, young and old, is this: “Why did God choose Israel out of all the nations of the world?” I guess this seems troublesome within the Asian context because we have so many great civilisations to boast of. If you belong to one of these great civilisations with its rich legacy of tradition and history, I’m quite sure you would feel a little envious at God’s choice. But an answer may be more urgent and pressing in the light of growing anti-semitism in both the East and West. Just like the Nazis did in the past, it is quite convenient and popular these days to blame everything on the Jews, the synagogue of Satan. So, the question “Why did God choose Israel out of all the nations of the world” requires a clear answer, if not merely to assuage our curiosity but also to see their role in God’s plan of salvation. Was the choice merely accidental or intentional?
The truth is, as we had heard in the first reading, God chose Israel to be a distinct, holy people not out of favouritism, but to serve His purpose: “you of all the nations shall be my very own for all the earth is mine. I will count you a kingdom of priests, a consecrated nation.” What does this mission entail?
Firstly, their election served to reveal the One True God in an ancient world dominated by polytheism and idol worship. Monotheism was a radical revolution in an age of institutionalised relativism, where every deity was as good as another, or as long as the people whom they protected flourished. The claim of divine election was less to do with an arrogant claim of a nation to be superior to others, which many nations have done so, but rather the assertion of the supreme authority and sovereignty of One God over all nations.
Secondly, the election of Israel is a preparation for the human lineage which will give rise to the Messiah. In fact, this is the primary mission of Israel, that is to be the tribe and family through which the Saviour, Jesus Christ, would be born. He was not just a national saviour for the Jews hoping to be unshackled from the chains imposed by Imperial Rome, but the Saviour of the whole world who came to free us from slavery to sin and death.
Finally, it is the universal mission of Christ that reminds Israel of its own universal mission, that it was elected to be “a light to the Gentiles”. God did not choose Israel just for their own privilege, but so that they could act as a "kingdom of priests" that would eventually draw all nations to Him. They were chosen to be a model to show all nations how to worship the One True God and obey His commandments.
But all the above could be said about any other nation on earth. So, why Israel? Why the Jews? There is no definitive answer that can be given beyond the fact that it was a gratuitous act of God’s love and mercy. God's choice of Israel was to fulfill the promises He made to their ancestors, such as Abraham. In the story of salvation, God chose persons before He chose nations. In the Book of Deuteronomy, we hear God giving His reason or non-reason for this simply inexplicable choice: “For you are a people holy to the LORD, your God; the LORD, your God, has chosen you from all the peoples on the face of the earth to be a people specially his own. It was not because you are more numerous than all the peoples that the LORD set his heart on you and chose you; for you are really the smallest of all peoples. It was because the LORD loved you and because of his fidelity to the oath he had sworn to your ancestors” (Deut. 7:6-8).
While the Israelites struggled with unfaithfulness throughout the Old Testament, their “chosen-ness” set the foundation for the New Covenant. Jesus (who was Jewish), the Apostles, and the first Christians were all part of this chosen people. And in today’s gospel, we see an affirmation of the divine election of Israel with the selection of twelve Jewish men. The Lord’s choice of twelve leaders was symbolic and suggestive — even provocative. For a Jew of the first century, it recalled the twelve tribes of Israel, the tribes now dispersed among the Gentiles and assimilated into other peoples. The gathering of the scattered was seen as an essential component of God’s salvation and the work expected of the Messiah.
This begs the next question: Is the modern state of Israel the Israel of the Old Testament (and of the New), who is the beneficiary of all the above promises and mission? The Catholic answer may surprise you. A simple answer is “No.” As simple as this sounds, it requires some unpacking. The Catholic Church views herself as the New Israel. The Church doesn’t simply replace Israel; rather, in a very real sense, the Church is Israel. It is the multi-ethnic and multi-national family made up of both Jews and Gentiles that the Old Testament prophets always said Israel would one day become. But rather than the old Israel whose membership was based on lineage, the members of the New Israel would be based on their relationship with Christ.
This does not mean that God has revoked with Israel. The Second Vatican Council (in Nostra Aetate) reiterated that God's original covenant with the Jewish people remains irrevocable and holds a special place in the mystery of God's plan. But now because of Christ, Gentiles or other nations have been grafted to Israel, the original People of God. Given that the Church truly is Israel, what practical consequences does this have for our spiritual lives? In a nutshell, it means that we have inherited the vocation of ancient Israel: we are called to be “a kingdom of priests, a consecrated nation.”
We normally think of priests as people who celebrate Mass and run parishes, but the office is actually much broader than that. A priest is essentially someone who mediates between God and humanity. He stands before God as a representative of the people and before the people as a representative of God. More specifically, in ancient Israel, priests taught the people God’s laws (Leviticus 10:11) and blessed them (Numbers 6:22-27), so that’s what the Israelites were supposed to do. In other words, they were supposed to evangelise the rest of mankind and bring them back to the worship of the One true God.
And as the New Israel, we now have this same vocation. In fact, the New Testament describes the Church in a way that calls to mind what God said about Israel in Exodus: “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, that you may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9).
So, as members of the Church, the New Israel, we are indeed privileged to be the Chosen People of God. Does that make us special or entitled? Hardly. As Spider-Man’s Uncle Ben rightly puts it, “With great power (or privilege) comes great responsibility.” We have a fundamental responsibility to share in the mission of the Church to preach the gospel in season and out of season, in whatever circumstances we may find ourselves, and bring others to Christ, thereby fulfilling our vocation as the New Israel to be God’s priestly people among the nations.
Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ Year A
The readings provide us with three words which serve as the basis of our reflexion on the Eucharist.
The first word is “memorial” or as Moses uses the imperative command: “Remember!” The Book of Deuteronomy is a retelling of the most important event in the history of Israel, their deliverance from slavery in Egypt and their journey in the wilderness. The Passover meal was a ritual meal that celebrated the memory of this deliverance from Egypt. But when the Jews celebrate this meal, they bring God’s action into the present by asking for deliverance from whatever is harming their communities right now. By doing this they are not just remembering an event of thousands of years ago. Deliverance is a present experience; it is happening now.
Why is this important? It is the background needed to understand the Eucharist which was instituted by the Lord at the Last Supper. When the Lord celebrated the Last Supper with His disciples, they were following the ritual of the Passover meal, at least in part. But our Lord changed the whole dynamic by the words He used, shifting the focus from the Passover lamb to the bread and wine which He now describes as His own Body and Blood. There is no mention of the ritual lamb in any accounts of the Last Supper because Jesus is THE Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. No other sacrificial animal or gift is needed. Then he added the sentence that would change forever what the Paschal meal was all about for his followers. He said, ‘Do this in memory of me.’ “Remember!”
No longer would we Christians celebrate the meal in memory of the escape from slavery in Egypt. We would celebrate this meal in memory of Jesus who freed us from the slavery of sin by His death on the cross. That is why we explain the Holy Mass as a re-presentation of the One unique sin atoning, life redeeming sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. Re-presentation here does not mean symbolising something or someone standing in place of Jesus’s death on the cross. The key word is “present”. Every Mass makes present that sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. At every Mass, we are standing at Calvary, witnessing His crucifixion, agony and death. This is what we remember. That is why in the Collect of today’s Mass the priest describes the great Sacrament of the Eucharist as “a Memorial of your (Jesus’) passion.”
Remembering this should lead us to revere and worship Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist. The Eucharist is not just a ritual symbolic meal. It is Jesus who presides at the altar. It is Jesus who dies on the cross giving us His Body and Blood. Without such reverence, we risk condemning ourselves as St Paul warns us that “for anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body, eats and drinks judgment on himself” (1 Cor 11:27). Such reverential remembering prepares us for the next word in our Eucharistic vocabulary: “communion.”
Communion is a very popular word these days, perhaps seen as interchangeable or synonymous with Synodality or conciliarism or unity. This is a nice idea but that is not the primary meaning of the Greek word “koinonia” which is translated as “communion” as we had heard in the second reading: “the blessing-cup that we bless is a communion with the blood of Christ, and the bread that we break is a communion with the body of Christ.” Communion is generally understood in a horizontal sense. A better translation of the word is “participation” which implies sharing something in common. What do we Christians share in common? St Paul in the second reading provides the answer - the Body and Blood of Christ. The concept of communion is above all anchored in the holy Sacrament of the Eucharist, the reason why we still today speak of the act of consuming the Eucharist as communion. So, the community does not make the Eucharist communion but it is Jesus in the Eucharist which makes our ecclesial community. The Eucharist makes the Church, as St John Paul II taught. Through communion, there is a participation, a communion, a commingling with the life of Christ. It is truly the one Lord, whom we receive in the Eucharist, or better, the Lord who receives us and assumes us into Himself. When we consume bodily nourishment, it is assimilated by the body, becoming itself a part of ourselves. But in the Eucharist, it is not we who assimilate it, but it assimilates us to itself, so that we become in a certain way "conformed to Christ", as Paul says.
Communion with Christ necessarily means communion with the members of His mystical Body. This is beautifully expressed in our Holy Father’s motto which is attributed to St Augustine: “In the One, we are One.” We all are assimilated into Christ and so by means of communion with Christ, united among ourselves. To communicate with Christ is essentially also to communicate with one another. We are no longer each alone, each separate from the other; we are now each part of the other; each of those who receive communion is "bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh” (Gen 2:23).
Finally, understanding the Eucharist as both memorial and communion leads us to this question: “what is it” (the meaning of the word “manna”). What is it that we are asked to make a memorial of? What is it that we are asked to communicate and makes us enter into communion with Christ and His mystical Body, the Church? And the answer is given by our Lord Jesus in the gospel: “my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood lives in me and I live in him.” And this is the third and last word in our Eucharistic vocabulary – “Real!” We affirm that the Eucharist is truly, really and substantially the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, soul and divinity. This is what we affirm when we assent to the words of the priest or extraordinary minister of holy communion, “the Body of Christ,” with the Hebrew word, “Amen.” At the core of our belief in the Eucharist is that He is really present. When we genuflect before the tabernacle, when we kneel at the words of the consecration, when we say Amen before receiving holy communion, we are ultimately declaring: “Lord Jesus, You are here!”
Today, as we contemplate the mystery of the Eucharist, let us be led to worship Our Lord who lived not just two thousand years ago but who is even now “truly and really” present here in our midst and who now offers His Body and Blood to us so that we may be one with Him and He with us. Not only does this sacred meal allow us to enter into sacred time and bring a past event into the present, it also incorporates the future because we are always looking forward to celebrate the fullness of this meal in the heavenly banquet. Sacred events collapse past, present and future into one mysterious and eternal NOW. And so we echo the words of Eucharistic Prayer IV as we pray:
“Therefore, O Lord, as we now celebrate the memorial of our redemption, we remember Christ’s Death, and his descent to the realm of the dead, we proclaim his Resurrection and his Ascension to your right hand, and as we await his coming in glory, we offer you his Body and Blood, the sacrifice acceptable to you which brings salvation to the whole world.”
Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity Year A
The Most Holy Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—is central to the Mass. The Mass begins, ends, and is saturated with invocations to the Trinity. We sign ourselves at the beginning of every Mass in the name of the Holy Trinity and then receive a Trinitarian blessing at the end. Both the Gloria and the Creed are shaped and structured with the Holy Trinity at its foundation. In the Eucharistic prayer, the heart of the Mass, the priest (acting in persona Christi) prays to the Father through the Son, asking for the Holy Spirit to consecrate the gifts and then concludes with the doxology which makes this profound Trinitarian statement: “Through him, and with him, and in him, O God, almighty Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit..."
But today, I would like to draw your attention to one of the greetings by the priest at the beginning of Mass. People often ask me, “Why start the Mass with a ritual greeting? This sounds so stiff-and-official-like. Why not just start with a warm and friendly greeting like ‘Good Morning’?” Good question. This would, indeed, be the right approach if the Mass were nothing more than a meal with family and friends, but, in reality, it is infinitely more than that. The Mass is not an informal gathering of a group of people. It is a sacred moment before God. This is why the Missal gives the formal, stylised greeting that the priest is expected to use. If we believe the Mass is a representation of the Holy Sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross, you wouldn’t appreciate being greeted with a happy chirpy “Good Morning” as you contemplate our Lord’s suffering and death on Good Friday, would you? Since it is a sacred moment before God, then the formality and solemnity of the words should be befitting God, for the Eucharist is an anticipation of the heavenly wedding banquet which God Himself prepares for us.
As far as liturgical greetings are concerned, there are three options available. Each option highlights the special nature of our gathering for Mass. Today, I would like to consider the first option, the Trinitarian option. The priest utters these words immediately after the sign of the cross. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.” As warm and as friendly as a “good morning” greeting sounds to common folks, the liturgical greeting is far more superior. It all makes absolute theological sense. We come for Mass not because of the priest (although truth be told, many people choose their priests. Fr Friendly Smile is always preferred over Fr Prune Face). We come for Mass not just to see each other. We come for Mass because of God. And it is only proper that the priest, the minister of God, should greet us in the name of God, the Most Holy Trinity. The Most Holy Trinity, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and not Fr Michael who is now inviting us to enter into their intimate communion, the basis and foundation of all other communions.
This formula is based on the last words of Saint Paul’s second letter to the Church of Corinth (2 Cor 13:13) which we had just heard. It expresses the Church’s belief in one God who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. It briefly sums up the very essence of the Christian life. This is a good reminder that the Trinity is not primarily the subject of intellectual discourse. No, the Most Holy Trinity is first and foremost, the object of our worship, of our liturgy. To grasp the Mystery of the Most Holy Trinity, we must do so on our knees, in humble adoration and worship. In this greeting, Saint Paul does not follow the order in which we normally name the divine persons of the Trinity. Rather, he first mentions Jesus, who is the Son before he names God the Father. This very unusual word order, unlocks for us the theology of Saint Paul about how we are saved. Paul begins the greeting by saying “the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ”. He uses the word “grace” to express the salvation event. Through the death and resurrection of Jesus, our sins are forgiven and we are reconciled with God. Thus, it is through the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ that we come to the Father. As Jesus Himself said, “No one comes to the Father except through me” (Jn 14:6).
Paul ends the greeting with the words “the communion of the Holy Spirit”. In the translation of the third edition of the English translation of the Roman Missal, “communion” replaces the word “fellowship”. Both words translate from the Greek word “koinonia.” It’s good to unpack this word because the word “fellowship” and the word “communion” have taken on very different meanings from the original “koinonia.” When we think “fellowship”, we often think of the potluck meals that conclude our gatherings and when we use the word “communion” it is almost always a reference to the reception of Holy Communion during Mass. But the original Greek word “koinonia” goes beyond such shallow and trivial meanings.
First of all, the expression “the communion of the Holy Spirit” reminds us of the intimate relationship that every believer has with the Holy Spirit. The Risen Lord pours out His Holy Spirit on each of us. It is because of the Holy Spirit dwelling within us, that we can call Jesus, “Lord” (I Cor 12:4); and it is in the power of the Holy Spirit that we call God “Father” (Gal 4:6).
Second, the expression “the communion of the Holy Spirit” also reminds us that the Holy Spirit gives to each of us different gifts for a purpose. Using these different gifts, we are to work together for the good of the whole Church and thus form one body, one communion of faith (I Cor 12:7; Gal 5:22).
Something else needs to be said about the syntax of this greeting. In the original Greek found in Saint Paul’s letter, the word “be” is missing, so it can be understood both as a statement of fact and as a wish. But now with our liturgy adding the verb “be” in the greeting, the Church is confident in declaring her faith in the Trinity – it is not just a wish but a statement of fact, a statement of faith. She is confident of the love of the Father who has called together His children into His Church and who has sent His Son so that by His sacrifice we may be gathered into a communion whose inspirer and unifier is the Holy Spirit. This is what happens at every Mass. In the liturgy, all three persons of the Trinity are taking us up into their life as the one God and forming us here on earth as the Body of Christ.
So, the next time you are tempted to walk up to the priest and ask him to change the wording of the Mass, so that it would sound less off-putting, less formal, more familiar and affable, remember this simple truth – the Mass is not about you, it’s not even about the priest, it is first and foremost about God, the Most Holy Trinity, whom we worship, who reveals Himself to us and the very same Holy Trinity who now invites us, unworthy though we are, into the community of Persons, where each is distinct and yet perfectly united. “Unity in diversity” is not just a pretty slogan. It is already a reality in the three divine persons whom we call God. The deeper we grow in union with God, the deeper and more authentic would our communion be. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.”
Pentecost Sunday
Any discussion of the Second Vatican Council often exposes a bi-polarity within the Church. We are still living today in the aftermath of the Council - debate and discussion continues about the nature of the council, its inner workings, and the interpretation of the documents it produced. Spend enough time in the online Catholic world and you know this to be true. For some, it is the best thing since sliced bread was invented, an impetus for growth and change in the Church that had been far too long fossilised by its Traditions and man-made rules. On the other end of the spectrum, some view this Council as the most pernicious weapon of the Enemy, the portal by which the smoke of Satan had infiltrated Holy Mother Church, resulting in her decline and eventual destruction by promoting endless heresies and schisms.
It’s good to return to the intention of Pope St John XXIII who opened the Second Vatican Council with a prayer to the Holy Spirit to “renew your wonders in our day as by a new Pentecost.” What did he mean and how does this idea of a new Pentecost help explain some of the motivation behind the council? To understand the Council, one would need to revisit the story of Pentecost and what it means for us, the Church.
We see in both the story of Pentecost in the first reading and that of the first Easter in the gospel, the disciples in a somewhat similar situation, at least on the surface. In the gospel, the disciples were hiding in the upper room behind closed doors “for fear of the Jews.” This could be the best allegory to describe the position of many leaders within the Church during the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century. Since the middle of the nineteenth century, the Catholic Church had been on the defensive. In the battle against liberalism, socialism and communism it was anti-modernism that dominated its image. When you are in a defensive mode, you secure your defences, board up your windows, barricade your gates and surround yourself with a moat that prevents entry as well as anyone choosing to exit. But our Risen Lord can break through any defences as He did on that first Easter evening. And the first words He uttered are the very words we need to hear when we are trapped in fear: “Peace be with you!”
In the story of the first Pentecost which we heard in the first reading, the disciples are gathered once again in the upper room behind closed doors, but they do so not out of fear but obedience to the Lord that they should remain vigilant in prayer while waiting for the descent of the Holy Spirit. Their default impulse would be to flee but now they chose to remain in obedience. Things have changed. And things would undergo a greater change with the coming of the Holy Spirit. Not only would the door and windows of their room be thrown open but also their hearts would be reinvigorated to go out to the whole world to proclaim the good news.
The Pentecost event is a decidedly evangelical one: instead of being huddled away from fear of what lay outside, when the Holy Spirit came upon the apostles it gave them precisely what Jesus promised it would give them: power to become witnesses to Jesus ‘throughout Judaea and Samaria, and indeed to the ends of the earth’ (Acts 1:8). Such was their fervour and excitement that people thought they were drunk (2:13). Peter was boldly able to stand before the crowd and preach the good news that Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified, had been raised from the dead, and now the forgiveness of sins and life in the Holy Spirit was possible (2:38). The recovery of this evangelical spirit is one of the intentions of the Second Vatican Council, as well as to speak in a language that was intelligible to people.
As Bishop Robert Barron is fond of saying, the Second Vatican Council was intended to be a “missionary council,” that is the council aimed at transforming the world, rather than just settling technical doctrinal disputes like earlier councils. The progressives, as much as they believe that they are forward looking, are actually quite inward looking, in that they seem to be obsessed with what they believe to be “not working” in the Church. Such a hyper critical attitude is not evidence of humility but rather narcissism, intending to make the Church in our image and likeness rather than to rediscover and reinvigorate her core mission to preach the gospel to the ends of the earth. The imagery of opened doors and windows is not meant to suggest that one should throw out all that is old and stuffy by letting the fresh air of the world enter. What you get may not be fresh air but “the smoke of Satan” as mentioned by Pope St Paul VI. Rather the opened windows and doors of the Church serve as a challenge to all of us to go into the world to transform it with the values of the gospel. This is the “new Pentecost.”
Pentecost is a permanent invitation to the Church and to every Christian to renew their commitment to the evangelising mission. The Holy Spirit gives His charisms, or spiritual gifts, to each believer to build up the community and carry out the mission of evangelisation. Pentecost reminds us that every Christian, thanks to the presence of the Holy Spirit, has the power and responsibility to be a witness to the faith and to contribute to the spread of the Gospel.
Many Catholics are only comfortable to huddle together and talk only privately about the Lord behind closed doors but are afraid to go out of the doors of the Church and speak a word about the Lord. Perhaps they will be laughed at, scorned or asked questions they cannot answer. The general Catholic approach in terms of evangelisation does not seem to be to open the doors and go out but, rather to open the doors and hope people come in. But Christ said “GO.” And still we huddle together fearfully and with an inward focus. We spend most of our time talking about inward things like what colour to paint the church walls or the repair works that need to be done in the women’s restroom, who will be the new president of this ministry or that, or when will Father take notice of me. All perhaps important issues to resolve but the main mission of evangelisation is neglected and we focus on inward things too much.
Outside the church doors is a world that needs to hear from us, but still we huddle together, timid and fearful of opening the doors and going out. The Holy Spirit is present here in this church but He also wants to be out there for others. So, let us not keep the Holy Spirit locked up behind the closed doors of our fears but it is time to unleash Him in a new Pentecost. Pentecost is not just about personal renewal—it’s about mission. The Spirit empowers us to share the Gospel, to speak truth, and to witness to Christ in word and action. Sharing the Gospel doesn’t have to be complicated. A simple conversation, a word of encouragement, or a testimony of what God has done in your life can become a channel for the Holy Spirit to work through you. Pentecost isn’t just an event to remember—it’s a reality to live. The same Spirit who filled the apostles is available to us today. As you celebrate Pentecost, receive a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit, and share the Gospel with boldness and joy.
