Treasure and Ponder

Solemnity of Mary Mother of God

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love is Sacrificial and Life-giving

Solemnity of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph

If Bill Gates had heard God’s promise to Abraham in the first reading, that Abraham would be blessed by God with descendants as numerous as the “stars in heaven,” he would be appalled and would have decried that God is plotting a global catastrophe. Many like Bill Gates are promoters of this massive lie - a population explosion equals global overcrowding and would eventually lead to widespread famine, hunger and immeasurable human misery. In other words, a child is not a blessing or a gift from God. In fact, a child is seen as a liability, a curse, an additional burden to a world already laden with all sorts of heartaches, suffering and scarcity of resources.

But today’s readings remind us that children are indeed a gift to all families as the Christ-child was a gift to the Holy Family. Today we celebrate the feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. The celebration reminds us of the importance of family through the lens of faith. Mary and Joseph bring the infant Jesus to the temple in Jerusalem to present their firstborn son to the Lord. The very act of presenting Jesus is a thanksgiving to the Father for the gift of their son. They recognise that Jesus is a gift, as is every child, spouse and parent. The ritual expresses their gratitude.

And then we have two elderly individuals, who not only appreciated the value of life, but had lived lives fully immersed in God. They had both dedicated the remainder of their years to worshipping God in the Temple. Simeon and Anna likewise give thanks to God when they encounter this child. They recognise in the child Jesus the dawn of salvation.

 

In his canticle of praise, Simeon says: “Now, Master, you can let your servant go in peace, just as you promised; because my eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared for all the nations to see, a light to enlighten the pagans and the glory of your people Israel.” Simeon sees something in this child. This blind old man sees with the eyes of faith and recognises that this child is the hope and salvation of the world.

At the conclusion of this gospel passage, we are told that the Holy Family returns to their own town of Nazareth where “the child grew to maturity, and he was filled with wisdom; and God’s favour was with him.” It is in these so-called “hidden years” that the life of the family is central to our Lord and His mission. He is being prepared for His public ministry and for the ultimate act of love – His passion, death and resurrection. This is alluded to what Simeon says to Mary, “You see this child: he is destined for the fall and for the rising of many in Israel, destined to be a sign that is rejected – and a sword will pierce your own soul too – so that the secret thoughts of many may be laid bare.” As our Lord grows as a person, He learns how to love in sacrificial ways as did Mary and Joseph. We can see in the life of the Holy Family, how an example of sacrificial love shown by parents can determine the future of their children. The key to family life is not just love, but sacrificial love.

Most of us think we know a lot about love. But the truth of the matter is that we live in a world short on love.  Today, love is too often understood as romantic sentimentality rather than unbreakable commitment. But sentimentality is unsatisfying.  Material things, and comfort, and pleasure bring only fleeting happiness.  

 Love—real love—is about sacrifice, and redemption, and hope.  Real love is at the heart of a rich, full life.  Real love is at the heart of the Holy Family. Just like the Holy Family, we were made for this real and sacrificial love. And all that we do—in our lives, our careers, and our families especially—should be rooted in our capacity for real, difficult, unfailing love.

But today, our culture rejects love when it rejects suffering and pain, when it rejects the sacrifice of the Cross. We want all the benefits and privileges that come with marriage, but we are not prepared to pay the necessary costs, we are not ready to make the necessary sacrifices to live that life to the fullest. This is the reason why contraception and abortion are so rampant. 

If love entails sacrifice, then children will always be regarded as a blessing, the fruit of that love. But this is not what the world tells us. Our culture often teaches us that children are more a burden than a gift—that families impede our freedom and diminish our finances.  We live in a world where large families are the objects of spectacle and derision, instead of the ordinary consequence of a loving marriage entrusted to God’s providence.  But children should not be feared as a threat or a burden, but rather seen as a sign of hope for the future. 

St John Paul II wrote that our culture suffers from a “hedonistic mentality unwilling to accept responsibility in matters of sexuality, and… a self-centred concept of freedom, which regards procreation as an obstacle to personal fulfilment.”  Generous, life-giving spousal love is the antidote to hedonism and immaturity: parents gladly give up frivolous pursuits and selfishness for the intensely more meaningful work of loving and educating their children. Although it may seem to selfish immature parents that children actually bring to an end the romantic phase of their marriage, children actually challenge the couple’s love to grow and flourish. Children challenge a couple to embrace others beyond the two. 

A family thus shows us that man is called to a fullness of life which far exceeds the dimensions of his earthly existence, because it consists in sharing the very life of God.  The sexual intimacy of marriage, the most intimate kind of human friendship, is a pathway to sharing in God’s own life.  It is a pathway to the fullness of our own human life; it is a means of participating in the incredible love of God.  When God gave man and woman the ability to have sexual intercourse, He tied it with the ability to procreate. This is the reason why the Church teaches against the use of contraception. Contraception is a selfish act and never the product of love. Contraception not only breaks the ties between the sexual act and procreation but also impedes our share in God’s creative love.  Cut off from God, man can never experience true lasting joy.

Joy seems to be in short supply these days, with multiple things to worry about. The rise in the cost of living, the uncertainty of our economic and political future, the anxiety that comes with having to navigate unchartered territory especially in these times of a pandemic may seem daunting to any family, what more newly married couples. And I guess, most parents would say, “I’m not sure if I want to bring another child into a world like this.” Let’s be honest, I’m not sure whether we are truly altruistic when thinking about the future welfare of our children or we are just selfishly not willing to make the necessary sacrifices for them.

But on this Feast of the Holy Family, the Church challenges us with this question: Do we let fear, anxiety, selfishness, or worry determine the size of our families? Do we entrust ourselves to the Lord, whose generosity provides for all of our needs? Can we see our children as gifts from God? If we have any doubts about this, let us turn to the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. May our families be always guided by their example of sacrificial love.

Eternally Begotten of the Father

Christmas Mass of the Day

We celebrate birthdays because it recalls the beginning of human life. Well, that isn’t exactly true. Life begins from the moment of conception but the pro-choicers, of course, will argue that this is a disputed fact.

But is this the reason why we celebrate this day with such great fanfare - for isn’t this the day of our Lord’s birth? Yes, but Christmas does not mark the beginning of the life of Christ. The glory of Christmas is that it is not the beginning of Christ. Most people would be familiar with the Christmas story told at the Christmas Mass during the night. Few remember the larger story which is told this morning, a story which is as essential to Christmas as the story of the birth in Bethlehem.

Long before that first Christmas, our Lord’s story had begun — not just in various prophecies, but in a divine person. Christmas may be the opening of the climactic chapter, but it is not the commencement of Christ. Christmas does indeed mark a conception and a birth. We rehearse the tale of Mary giving birth in the Bethlehem stable, and the shepherds’ visit to pay homage to her new-born son, and read she “treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart”. For mere humans, no doubt, such is the stuff of our origins, memories to be treasured and cherished. Prior to earthly beginnings, we simply did not exist.

But it is not so with the Son of God. His “coming forth is from of old, from ancient days” (Micah 5:2). Unlike every other human birth, Christmas is not a beginning, but a becoming. Christmas isn’t His start, but His commission. He was not created; He came. No other human in the history of the world shares in this peculiar glory. As remarkable as His virgin birth is, His pre-existence sets Him apart even more distinctively, even as He is fully human, He is also fully divine.

This is what we profess in the Creed. Christ, the Word made flesh, is eternally begotten of the Father. He was not “made,” He was not “created.” Unlike us who are created from nothing, there wasn’t a time when He was not! He was “begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father.” This eternal generation from the Father happens outside of time, in the mystery of eternity. Yes, we acknowledge that through the Virgin Mary, He was born in the flesh, He was born in time. But being God, He existed before His human mother. In fact, it was Him who created His own mother, something none of us can claim.

Christmas is far more than the celebration of a great man’s birth. God Himself, in the second person of the Godhead, entered into our space, and into our frail humanity, surrounded by our sin, to rescue us. He came. He became one of us. God sent God. The Father gave His own Son for us and for our salvation.

The birth of Jesus in Bethlehem is the birth given most attention at Christmas. But if you don’t see this birth in connexion with the eternal birth of the Word from the Father, then you miss what is essential. Then all that is left is a warm fuzzy story: a sweet child who for a few moments may touch your heart, but who is really not allowed to seize your heart. You may have another tale of the birth of a great hero, but not a saviour which this world really needs.

God’s Incarnation is the greatest mystery in Christianity, the most incomprehensible and unfathomable. How can the great God make Himself so little? How can this vulnerable, crying baby be “my Lord and my God”? It is precisely this mystery that is the great stumbling block for non-Christians; but is the very same mystery which defines us as “Christians.”

If you believe this truth, you have the solution to all the riddles and difficulties in the world. Then you can no longer doubt that God loves His creation. That the Almighty God has become a little child, for our sake, is a definitive proof of the definitive victory of His love. To doubt that you are loved by God is only possible if you forget the manger. And if you do not wish to forget the manger, never forget that this Child is eternally begotten of the Father before all ages. Jesus is the Son of Mary but He is also the Son of God. Gloria in excelsis Deo!

In Obscurity and Hiddenness

Christmas Mass at Dawn

Of the three Masses which make up the Christmas liturgy (one could add a fourth Mass if you include the Vigil Mass too), this Mass celebrated at Dawn, is the most obscure of all. Generally, most parishes will have a slew of Christmas Masses during the night (traditionally known as the Christmas Midnight Mass) and the Christmas Mass of the Day. But the Mass at dawn is a rare anomaly, most likely because most Catholics who had attended the Mass in the night would have been too sleepy to wake up for this Mass which is celebrated at such an inconvenient and unearthly hour. Secondly, most priests would never think of preparing a different homily for Christmas. One homily works well for all Masses!

Perhaps, the obscurity of this Mass and its timing seek to highlight the paradox of God’s revelation at Christmas. The gospel reading speaks of an epiphany to the Shepherds. Unlike the visit of the Magi, those wise men from the East who may have been kings, there is little pomp and pageantry and glittering costumes associated with these humble shepherds. The silent, secret and obscure birth of the King of the Universe is now made manifest to a group of persons who share His anonymity, due to their profession and status in society. God takes on the flesh of a deplorable and reveals Himself to the deplorables of society. God who is the centre of the Universe enters into the fringe of the universe and makes Himself visible to the marginalised and disenfranchised.

The presence of these shepherds is no accident. Outside the Holy Family, they are the first to receive this wondrous news from the lips of angels and they would be granted the inestimable honour of being the first to be granted an audience before the King of kings - a privilege many prophets, seers, kings and queens could only dream of.

Why would God choose these shepherds to be the first witnesses of His birth? Obscurity may be one of the reasons that united this child with the shepherds. The humility of the Messiah may have been another reason. But perhaps more significantly, the shepherds and the Christ Child shared a common vocation. Throughout the history of God’s involvement with His chosen people, shepherding has been the key way in which He cared for them. David was a boy whom God had taken from among the sheepfolds to be king of Israel. Shepherding was intended to be the model for the monarchy.

In the darkest despair of their defeats, when king, prophet and priest had failed, God declared Himself to be the Shepherd of Israel. So, when God descends to Man in the Christ Child it is entirely right that the first visitors of this Shepherd-King, His admirers and companions should be those whose ministry most clearly reflects His. “Birds of a feather flock together!”

The role of both shepherd and king is to watch over their flocks, to defend them from the prowling predator, to lead them into good pasture, to rescue the lost and foolish who stray, to tend the wounds and to bring them safely home to the fold. That is why Christ came – to be the Good Shepherd. Those are the very tasks our Shepherd-King takes upon Himself and thus upon His Church.

It is the self-same job description that is one of the most beautiful of the Papal titles, Pastor Pastorum, shepherd of the shepherds. For, wherever the Church is, there is the Pastoral work of Christ. And that work cannot be done other than among the flock. It is why Pope Francis uttered that pithy reminder, ‘The shepherd should smell of the sheep’.

The Pope’s comments seem to be utterly counter cultural today. Most of us reasonable and upstanding folks would not wish to smell like unwashed sheep. For most people today, and Christians are by no means an exception, personal identity and fulfilment depend upon being well-known not unknown, visible and not invisible, honoured rather than ignored, important instead of insignificant, and in demand rather than out of commission.

But when we consider how thoroughly invisible our Lord’s birth was, visible only to those who are regarded invisible in the eyes of the powerful and influential, we are reminded that God can be found in obscurity as well as in spectacular fanfare, and He often chooses the obscure to overturn our evaluation of what is important and throw us off our high horses.

So, let us strip ourselves of our false pretences of grandeur and face this ignoble truth - most of us live unexceptional and unheralded lives. We live, die, and then will be forgotten to history. However, hidden and obscure our lives might feel, either literally or figuratively, whether voluntary or involuntary, in that very hiddenness God is redemptively present. If we recall that we are mere sheep, we would know that we will always have a Shepherd who has our back.

So, this morning, as we come before His august presence so humbly concealed under the guise of bread and wine, let us kneel with those shepherds as the sky is filled with the glory of the whole company of Heaven praising God - for that is what we do every time we come to Mass. From the Gloria to the Sanctus we raise our voices and our hearts to join the Angelic chorus before the throne of grace. At every Mass, we come to adore our Shepherd- King and receive Him in the Holy Sacrament of the altar, as the Lord of Lords and God of Gods places Himself in our hands and in our hearts. And finally, with amazed and thankful hearts, let us remember what the shepherds did next; St. Luke tells us, “When they saw the child they repeated what they had been told about him, and everyone who heard it was astonished at what the shepherds had to say.”

In short, the shepherds were the first to preach the Good News. They were the first evangelists. Imagine that? Shepherds, the obscure, deplorables, the unwashed, the insignificant ... but evangelists nevertheless. Like the shepherds we know the truth. We have beheld His Glory. We know who Jesus is. The last act of the Mass is to send us out into the world to share that truth. And we do so in imitation of the shepherds who went home “glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen; it was exactly as they had been told.”

What time is it?

Christmas Mass during the Night

Priests and parish staff are oft to repeat this rant about Christmas, especially in the run up to the big day. The office phone will be ringing off the hook inundated with calls enquiring about Mass timing. The icing which tops the cake has to be this seemingly innocuous question: “What time is Christmas Midnight Mass?” Let that sink in.... it’s like asking, “what time is your noon lunch break?” Sometimes, the obvious isn’t that obvious even when it is stated explicitly.

Well, there may be a reason why someone would ask for the timing of the Midnight Mass. It has been a long time since Midnight Masses were celebrated at midnight in most parishes, especially here in Malaysia, where multiple Masses are celebrated throughout the night to accommodate the massive crowds and the vernacular communities. The Holy Father’s decision to move the Christmas “midnight” Mass to 7.30 pm this year due to a curfew imposed by the civil authorities for public health reasons has enraged many traditional-minded Catholics and befuddled many others as the Mass during the night appears to move further and further away from its traditional midnight slot. To be fair to Pope Francis, it was St John Paul II who had moved the “midnight” Mass to 10 pm during his pontificate on the pretext that he needed to wake up early in the morning to celebrate the dawn Mass.

I can understand why Catholics would be upset with this change of timing as the traditional timing has deep significance. In the first place it corresponds with the traditional belief that Christ was born at midnight. Secondly, from the material darkness around us, we are reminded of the spiritual darkness in the world which only Christ the Light can dispel.

But what is more important than the timing of the Christmas Mass is the significance of this day in human history. To understand this, we need to know that there are two Greek words and concepts associated with “time.” There is “chronos” which refers to time measured by the clock, by seconds, minutes, hours, days. Here in this story of the birth of Christ, we are given such an indication with St Luke recording that the event took place during the reign of Caesar Augustus and his empire-wide census. As important as this historical date or event may be (some historians have questioned its historicity), it is a mere cursory note in Luke’s narrative.

The Greeks, however, have a second type of reckoning of time - “kairos” - the opportune moment, the right moment, the perfect time for acting and making decisions. And it is here that we see how the Divine Kairos moment converges with the chronological hour. The story shifts away from the chronological hour to the Kairos moment of God’s decisive intervention in human history - the Eternal Word takes on flesh, God becomes man, the Timeless One enters into our time and space.

This is what the angels announced to the shepherds and what we proclaimed in the response to our psalm, “Today a Saviour has been born to us, He is Christ the Lord.” What we celebrate at Christmas is not so much the birth of a baby, as important as that is, but what’s so significant about the birth of this particular baby is that, in this birth, we have the incarnation of God Himself, we have the birth of our Saviour.

The fullness of time had come. For thousands upon thousands of years, God’s people waited for the coming of the Son of David, the Messiah-King of Israel, the promised Prince of Peace, Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God. And now, their prophets’ wildest dreams finally materialised as angel choirs announced, The King is here! Born this very day. It doesn’t matter whether it was midnight or 10 pm or 7.30 pm in the evening. The point is that with Christ’s coming, that’s always the right time, the perfect time, the ultimate Kairos moment.

Many of us would find ourselves questioning God’s timing which sometimes seems at odds with our own timing, our plans. Many would have made plans this year to travel, to get married, to further their studies, to move jobs, to grow their business, to buy a house or a car. But here comes this global pandemic which seems to have ruined all our plans and thrown every timeline and dateline of ours into utter chaos. What lousy timing? Could God have delayed this until things were a little bit more secure, or couldn’t He just allow this to happen earlier without throwing our plans into disarray?

But the truth is this: God's timing is always good timing. It’s perfect timing. God is never too early, never too late, but always on time. Our timing isn't God's timing. For us, God's timing often feels like a long, desperate delay or it comes too soon when we are least prepared. God's perfect timing does two things: It grows our faith as we are forced to wait and trust in God and it makes certain that He, and He alone, gets the glory and praise for pulling us through.

So, it is “Today”, not “yesterday” nor “tomorrow,” but “today!” “Today a Saviour has been born to us, He is Christ the Lord.” It may not be the ideal slot at midnight; it may seem a little too early to celebrate the Christmas midnight Mass, but what we celebrate today at this Mass is always perfect timing: “Today a Saviour has been born to us, He is Christ the Lord.”

Many people may be complaining that this year, because of this destructive pandemic, has been the worst year of their lives - an “annus horribilis”, an awful year, as opposed to an “annus mirabilis”, a wonderful year. This year has turned people’s worlds upside-down in so many ways. Many would say that this pandemic and government restrictions have also rendered our Christmas, the worst Christmas of our lives. With smaller budgets for shopping, restrictions on festive celebrations, uncertain future and disrupted plans for next year, and public Christmas Masses suspended, it does seem that this Christmas does deserve that ignoble accolade.

But before you throw your own pity-party, it’s good to remember the experience of the Holy Family that first Christmas. A couple, with a heavily pregnant young mother finding themselves out in the cold on a winter night, separated from kin and away from their home, only finding refuge in an animal stable, giving birth to a child in an extremely hostile world of insecure tyrannical despots, a child who will be placed in a manger, a feeding trough for animals. All the elements needed for a disaster movie, making it one of the worst experiences for any family. But this is not the case.

Rather than being a start to an annus horribilis due to such harsh and horrid conditions, the birth of this child will inaugurate an aetas mirabilis, an age of such great marvel, simply because “Today a Saviour has been born to us, He is Christ the Lord.” That alone will cast a light that would immediately dispel the surrounding darkness in this world. That alone, would transform misfortune into a blessing, a bleak future into a hopeful one, a sense of loss into one of abundance. Whatever situation you find yourselves in tonight, no matter how you may question God’s timing, know this - the birth of this Child changes everything. So, if someone tells you that Christmas has been cancelled this year due to the pandemic, you should respond, “No, this pandemic has been cancelled by Christmas!”

Nothing cancels Christmas, absolutely nothing!

Because “Today a Saviour has been born to us, He is Christ the Lord.”

The Famous, the Powerful and the Nameless

Christmas Vigil Mass

The story of the birth of Jesus Christ has been told for centuries. The most familiar accounts can be found in Christmas cantatas and children’s Christmas plays, and they usually involve the story of the annunciation to Mary, the birth of the Christ-Child in Bethlehem or the appearance of the angel to the shepherds, yet the liturgy of the vigil Mass begins the story where Matthew begins his Nativity story, that is with the genealogy of Jesus.

I enjoy reading this long list of weird sounding names and love the sound of each rolling off my tongue. I’m quite sure that I would have mispronounced some and butchered most of them. For many, the list seems pointless to our Christmas narrative and many would choose to just skim over or even skip this portion completely, which the liturgy anticipates by offering us the shorter version which includes the last few lines of the text whilst excluding the rest. But I am convinced that our understanding of this vigil liturgy will be impoverished when the genealogical list is missing. And it’s not because I’m a liturgical masochist.

The inclusion of this list in Matthew’s gospel is not accidental. Matthew appears to be teaching us a powerful message about the Messiah by recording His lineage. Matthew divides the genealogy into three main sections of fourteen names each. The first section lists the patriarchs, the second lists kings, and the third lists names of people mostly unknown to us.

The genealogy begins with Matthew stating, "A genealogy of Jesus Christ, son of David, son of Abraham.” Does Matthew wish to present his entire gospel of Jesus Christ as a genealogy? One would imagine that this short line would be an adequately succinct summary of our Lord’s human origins. But then Matthew continues with the list by going into the details starting with the great patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. These were men of great faith who left us heroic examples of righteousness. Right from the start, Matthew appears to be giving us a key to understanding his message. Each of these men were promised that through their seed all the nations of the earth would be blessed, a blessing that would be fully realised only through the birth and coming of the Messiah.

In the second section of the genealogy, we have a list which includes Judah’s kings from David to the Babylonian captivity, emphasising the importance of the dynasty of King David. David was seen by the Jews as their greatest king. Through him the nation of Israel was united. Under his command, the temple was built by his son Solomon. Through his seed the nation was ruled by the line of the kings. One would imagine that his successors would meet up to his legacy. But none of them did, save for two. Only two of the fourteen kings mentioned were considered righteous. Most of them failed to guide their people to the Lord. In fact, they led the people astray with their idolatry and burdened them with social injustices. The true King of Kings in David’s royal line would only be fulfilled through Christ, the anointed one.

Finally, the last section lists names of those that are otherwise mostly unknown in the Bible. Matthew shows us the critical role these unknown persons played in the story. We can easily view ourselves as nothing special when compared to great spiritual and political leaders like the patriarchs and kings in the previous two sections. But many of us would find good company among those mentioned in this third section, namely the unknowns and insignificant.

From these divisions, we can see that God is able to work through both the spiritually and politically powerful, as well as common ordinary folks that appear to be powerless. It teaches us that each of us can play a critical role in helping to build the kingdom of God.

What more, rather than an evolution which leads to the production of a perfect man due to centuries of selection of the fittest over the weakest, the genealogy seems to indicate a regression. What seems more scandalous is that after listing out the genealogy of Joseph which can be traced back to Abraham and David, Matthew makes a simple cursory note that the Saviour is to be born of Mary, but He will not be scion of Joseph. The Saviour, is ultimately, unconnected to this genealogy of both notables and unknowns. Which leads us to this truth - that though the Messiah is prophesied to be “a son of David, a son of Abraham,” He will not be the product of good genes and an impeccable lineage. The Saviour of the World would come to us as God’s decisive intervention in human history. God will be the cause of this messianic evolutionary leap, not genetics.

Another intriguing aspect of Matthew’s genealogy is the inclusion of five particular women. Women are rarely mentioned in genealogies in the Bible. Thus, it would again seem that Matthew is trying to teach us something by including their names; what more when these women have questionable or suspect backgrounds. Tamar, the first, dresses as a harlot to seduce her father-in-law and out of this scandalous incestuous union, the line of Abraham would be continued. The second, Rahab, a real harlot and not just a make-believe one, was also a Canaanite woman who betrayed her own people, the residents of Jericho, by helping the Israelite spies escape and later returned with an army to destroy their city.

Ruth, though a faithful and incredible woman, was a Moabite and not of Israel, making her a foreigner. The story of Ruth suggests that she may have seduced her boss Boaz, and became the grandmother of David. Finally, we have Bathsheba, wife of Uriah the Hittite, who was seduced by King David who later had Uriah killed. It does not seem that Bathsheba was an innocent or unwilling participant in both the crime of adultery and murder. Well, she didn’t complain to Uriah when David first slept with her, nor did she avenge his death.

The insertion of their names in this otherwise patrilineal genealogy stands out remarkably. Of all the women ancestors of our Lord, why would these four be named. Once again, we are shown the subversive side of God and the paradox of God bringing something exceedingly good out of something apparently bad. It is a reminder that, not only do bad things sometimes have good effects, but that in some cases the badness of the cause is essential to the realisation of the good effect. If not for Adam’s sin, our Saviour would not have come. If not for Christ’s death, we will not be saved. If not for these women to continue the line of Abraham and David, our Lord would not possess the messianic title of being called “Son of David” or “Emmanuel.”

The last woman mentioned is Mary. She does not have any illustrious genealogy to boast of. Her origins are unknown. Her place in the story highlights the truth that the Messiah’s true origin is God. Jesus, our Saviour, comes from God and is indeed God because God alone can save us from our sins.

As we read the genealogy of Jesus Christ and consider the people mentioned in His lineage, we learn how God chooses all sorts and weaves them into His story of salvation. Whether a righteous prophet, an imperfect leader, an unknown helper, or someone with a questionable background or reputation, all are known to the Lord. No matter our status, background, or station in life, we too can have our name added to the long beautiful list of those who play a critical role in God’s plan of salvation.

God is building a House

Fourth Sunday of Advent Year B

Many of you older folks would recall this old ditty which barely passed off as an entrance hymn back in the 70s and 80s, “God is building a house ... that would stand.” The upbeat melody and repetitive brain-liquifying lyrics which sounded like a toddler’s action song was hardly inspiring but the simple message is honestly quite profound. It reinforces a truth that is being communicated to us this Sunday in our readings: “God is building a house.”

The first reading has David ruminating over the prospect of building a house for God - the Temple, was literally a house of God (Beth-El). David was done with all the warring, the destruction, the tearing down of his enemies’ houses. Now during a lull in the fighting, a relatively peaceful time of his reign, he decides to dedicate the rest of his life and legacy to building and his first major project would be his utmost priority - a Temple dedicated to God. For a long time and during the Israelites’ wanderings from Egypt to the Promised Land, a portable temple, a mere tent, had been used to house the ark of the covenant. David could sense the ridiculous disparity between him and God. Whilst he was now living in a regal palace, God’s house remained a humble make-shift temple.

One would think that God would be pleased and would have immediately accepted the offer. Surprisingly, and perhaps not so surprising after all, God rejects David’s offer and then makes a counter offer. God doesn’t need David to build a house for Him. God makes it clear that the only one who could build an everlasting house is God Himself; He promised to eventually “raise up” an heir who would establish an everlasting throne and kingdom. See the irony? Instead of David building a house for God, it is God who is going to build a house for David. So where is this magnificent edifice which God had promised to construct? The answer is found in the gospel.

The Theotokos—the Mother of God—is the House of God built for the salvation of man. Eastern Christian hymns describe our Lady as the “container of the Uncontainable God,” and “the womb of God enfleshed.” Many of the early Church fathers spoke of Mary as the new ark of the covenant. “Mary, in whom the Lord himself has just made his dwelling,” the Catechism remarks, “is the daughter of Zion in person, the ark of the covenant, the place where the glory of the Lord dwells” (CCC 2676).

Mary, created without sin, and accepting in faith the call of the Lord, became a living, breathing House of God - a new ark of the covenant. “Full of grace, Mary is wholly given over to him who has come to dwell in her and whom she is about to give to the world” (CCC 2676). As God once dwelt in the tabernacle among a nomadic people, He now comes to dwell, through a woman, among men—pilgrims journeying toward their heavenly home. “For the first time in the plan of salvation and because his Spirit had prepared her, the Father found the dwelling place where his Son and his Spirit could dwell among men” (CCC 721).

David longed to build a temple and his son Solomon did build the temple, but only God could and did create a sinless, human temple. Only God, because of His power and love, could become so small and humble so that He might save us. It is God who reaches out, who dwells among man, who becomes flesh and blood for our sake. Nothing, the angel Gabriel explains to the young Jewish virgin, “will be impossible to God.”

“Let what you have said be done to me.” With those words, Mary demonstrated the proper response to God, bursting with faith and trusting love. Opening herself to God’s word, she was filled with the Word who is God. Filled with the Holy Spirit, she became the throne of God.

“Behold,” exclaims the Akathist (Eastern Orthodox) hymn, “heaven was brought down to earth when the Word Himself was fully contained in you! Now that I see Him in your womb, taking a servant’s form, I cry out to you in wonder: Hail, O Bride and Maiden ever-pure!”

During Christmas we cry out in wonder at God’s greatest masterpiece, the house where He would dwell, not built by mortal hands but by the hand of God Himself. Now that the house is ready, it’s time to welcome its occupant - Emmanuel - God-with-us. A house could be a 1000 room palace or a squalid hovel, but if its occupant is God Himself, the dwelling takes up the splendid honour of being the House of God. Today, we honour Mary, the House of God, and on Friday, we welcome the occupant of her womb and worship Him as the Son of God.

It may not be a proper hymn or even a Christmas Carol, by any stretch, but it may be good to bellow that ditty at the top of your voice, ”God is building a house! God is building a house! God is building a house that will stand!” This is the great secret hidden for endless ages but now revealed to us in this age, a news that St Paul tells us in the second reading demands broadcasting so that it can reach all peoples “to bring them to the obedience of faith.” Christ our Saviour is Coming! On Christmas Day, He will be born!

Be Happy at All Times

Third Sunday of Advent Year B

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strip and Plunge in

Second Sunday of Advent Year B

Few Catholics would have had the privilege of experiencing baptism by immersion. Our current norm of pouring water over the forehead of an infant or an adult seems overly sanitised. The closest I’ve come to this has been the most memorable (though overrated) experience of the Lourdes bathe. Now for those of you who have never experienced this, spoiler alert. Before you get dunked in the miraculously curative waters of Lourdes, something else has to happen. It doesn’t take much imagination to guess that you would have to be stripped down to your knickers, and then to your birthday suit as you descend into the waters, with only a small hand towel to act as a fig-leaf like cover. Don’t worry about the shame of being nude in front of others. The freezing water will take care of that.

Today, the gospel introduces us to a luminary figure associated with Advent - St John the Baptist, whose ministry straddles both the Old and New Testament. He fulfils the mission of this enigmatic figure called “the Voice”, prophesied by Isaiah in the first reading. The Voice will announce the coming of the Lord and will call the peoples to make the necessary preparation by undertaking a massive engineering exercise to remove all obstacles and smoothen the passage of the returning King.

Of course, St John’s call (or Isaiah’s prophecy) is not of a physical nature - he is not suggesting that we should undertake infrastructural public works. The transformation is one which is spiritual - it is a call to repentance which is signified by the baptism which St John performs. Please note that the baptism of St John is not the sacrament of baptism, which introduces us Christians to the life of grace. His baptism is more of a ritualised form of confession - an outward sign of one’s interior repentance.

What would this repentance entail? There are two aspects to it. The first is a stripping down. He calls us to strip down to our most naked core before God- to strip ourselves of our false pretences, our soaring pride, our sense of self-sufficiency in order to create space for God. John is not only preaching this in mere words but models it in his own life. His austere lifestyle, robing himself in camel skin, living off locust and wild honey, choosing the barren wilderness as home over the comforts of a roof over his head, were testimony to his sincere desire to strip himself of all false security and empty himself of pride in order to live for God and God alone.

But I guess most of us would not need to emulate his severely ascetic lifestyle. Thank God for that. Nonetheless, here is a call to live simply, to live without being a slave to our material possessions, to trust in God’s Providence rather than in human machination and our own resources. Instead of covering ourselves with the “fig-leaves” of false security, we are challenged to stand before God naked, vulnerable and totally transparent. The call to strip down is an invitation to live counter-culturally, to resist the allure of placing more importance on things than persons, on one’s personal ambitions rather than the well-being of others, a secular culture that has relegated and exiled God to the fringes. The world invites us to grasp and try and fill our lives and homes; John calls us to strip away (like Marie Kondo).

This stripping away is reflected in the Greek word “metanoia,” used by both John and our Lord in the first chapter of Mark’s Gospel. It is often translated as “repentance” in English. Our modern sense of repentance partially contains what John was saying, but not entirely. Metanoia demands a radical orientation, a total change of direction, a giving up of our original goals for something new. The Greek word, metanoia, literally means to expand or open (meta) the eyes of the heart or interior self (-noia). So, when John called the people to metanoia, he was calling them to open the eyes of their hearts, to recognise their present folly, so that they may grasp the wisdom of God.

After stripping, it’s time to take the plunge. John not only called the people to repentance, he also baptised them with his baptism of repentance. After stripping down, it was now time to immerse themselves in the waters of rebirth. The word baptism literally means to plunge or be immersed.

Of course, when John was ‘baptising’, baptism wasn’t the first sacrament of initiation into the church. The church didn’t exist. It was immersing people in water to symbolise a total change, and something new coming forth. It symbolised being cleansed and prepared for this new life and new reality. That’s also our invitation, to be immersed in God’s presence. To open to something new and create space inside our hearts, then to be immersed in the Divine Life. That’s right at the heart of our work of Advent.

When we talk about preparing for the Incarnation, the early church didn’t understand the incarnation as something that just happened to the one man, Jesus. But the larger understanding was that when God became human, God took on all human nature - the whole species! God did not just dip a finger or toe into the waters to test the temperature. No, He first stripped Himself of His status and dignity as God, and then plunged straight into the human experience, without losing His divine nature. Our Lord was completely united to our humanity. As the church Fathers write: “God has clothed his own self with humanity so that we might be clothed with divinity.” “God became human so that we might become divine”. The Incarnation is about our intimacy and union with God, as much as it is about God’s unity with man.

So, let us celebrate His first coming at Christmas and prepare to meet Him at His second coming at the end of this age, by stripping ourselves of our pride, our consternation, our need to be in control and immerse ourselves into the mystery of His Incarnation. This is the opportune time to open the eyes of our hearts and behold the glory of God.

Wait, Watch, Witness

First Sunday of Advent Year B

For the past few months, we have been constantly reminded by the public health authorities to practice three actions which should form the basis of a “new normal.” To help us remember they adopted a simple mnemonic: 3 W’s- Wear a mask, Wash your hands, Watch your distance.

Today, the readings also present us with a simple 3 action formula, not just for this season of Advent but for the entire season of our lives as we await the Advent of our Lord at the end of this age. Taking the cue from public health mnemonics, let’s consider them under our own set of 3 W’s: Wait, Watch and Witness.

Waiting is one of the principal movements of Advent. At every Mass, after praying the Lord’s Prayer, we hear “. . . as we await the blessed hope and the coming of our Saviour, Jesus Christ.” This prayer reminds us that during Advent, we wait in joy, in hope, and in anticipation for the wonderful event we are about to experience—the feast of Christmas, the coming of Christ into our lives in new ways, but also the return of Christ in glory at the end of time.

Isn’t it amazing that the Church has an entire season dedicated to fostering the virtue of waiting because she understands its essential value in our lives. Fasting is the necessary prelude to feasting; excellence is contingent on the readiness to sacrifice; enduring joy can only emerge after passing through the crucible of aches, trials and sometimes, great suffering. There are multiple examples taken from nature to back up this proposition. A tree does not just spring into existence without having to pass through various stages of growth, from seed to sapling, from the first leaf to sprouting branches, and finally producing its first flower from which the first fruit would emerge. Everything of value takes time and when it finally bears fruit, there is a realisation that it was worth the waiting. Unfortunately, waiting is not popular in today’s society which is driven by an obsessive attitude of instant-gratification. In an “instant” culture, waiting can seem unbearable, almost “hellish”. Waiting, therefore, requires a maturity that many of us do not possess. Children want instant gratification. Adults should learn to wait.

The Church’s liturgy helps us to understand that there is a sacred dimension to waiting. In Advent, the Church takes on a very counter-cultural stance. We don’t turn our days of waiting prematurely into the commercial Christmas that surrounds us. We take seriously the importance of learning the art of waiting in joyful hope, prayer and spiritual preparation. This waiting is far from empty. It fosters self-denial, a spirit of sacrifice, repentance, prayer and learning to trust in God’s providence. In this time of pandemic, Advent is the perfect season to assuage our fears and impatience. It teaches us to wait upon the Lord, for as the prophet Isaiah assures us “those who hope (wait upon) the Lord will regain their strength…” (Isaiah 40:31).

Advent is also a season of watching. In the gospel, our Lord calls us to sober watchfulness: “Be on your guard, stay awake.” This is what we hear in the First Advent Preface: “Now we watch for the day, hoping that the salvation promised us will be ours, when Christ our Lord will come again in his glory.” Watching is not just a major theme for Advent but also a major theme in scriptures. Our Lord frequently warns us to be alert and to watch, because we do not know when He will return. There is a double sense of His coming. At some unknown time, perhaps soon, He will return and we must be alert and watchful, our lamps burning, ready to give an account. But even more urgent is the fact that probably much sooner, He will call each of us to Himself as we pass over into eternity. We are then, in the words of Paul, to avoid the works of darkness and to watch and be sober (see 1 Thess 5:6 and Rom 13:11-14).

We watch for we know not the day and the hour of the Lord’s coming. We watch because we must be constantly on guard against temptation and sin. We watch in prayer, because prayer is the only antidote and defence we have against the power of Satan. To watch means to enter into the mystery of Christ’s passion and death. Notice that in the parable of our Lord, four specific times are mentioned: “evening, midnight, cockcrow and dawn.” These are the names used for the four “watches” between 6 pm and 6 am. Although, the Hebrew tradition counted three watches, the Romans divided their night into four segments. Interestingly, these four hours also correspond to the four hours of our Lord’s Passion, the evening of the Last Supper, the midnight at the Garden of Gethsemane, the cockcrow at the moment of Peter’s denial and the dawn of His trial and subsequently His resurrection. It is as if we are plunged into a long night that only breaks into dawn on Easter morning. We would have missed the most important event in human history and the climax of salvation history, if we fail to be watchful.

This leads us to the third thing we must do – we are called to give witness. St Paul commends the Corinthians in the second reading because they were filled with enthusiasm, richly endowed with the Holy Spirit and “the witness to Christ has indeed been strong among” them as they awaited the return of the Lord. Advent may be a season of waiting but not idle waiting. Advent should always be an opportunity to shape our faith, inculcate patience in waiting, and sharpen our vigilance. It is anything but a season of stagnation and passivity. On the contrary, Advent is a season where Christians must go to work and much work has to be done before Christ returns.  We recall the parable of the talents where we are invited to imitate the example of the first two industrious servants and avoid the folly of the third servant who was idle. Likewise, Christians must take this opportunity between our Lord’s first coming and His second coming, to witness to God’s mercy and grace, and be committed to working for the salvation of souls.

The message of Advent challenges our impatience, and heals our frustration and anxiety. We’re called to wait with greater calmness, to watch with greater vigilance, to witness with greater resolve, and finally, to live with greater hope. So, we wait not like a lost ship at sea seeking a distant port, but as God’s people already comforted by the knowledge that we have a permanent and eternal home. We wait with not so much idly for a “second coming,” but for signs of the Risen Lord who is already in our midst and who calls us to cooperate in completing His work of salvation: “Wait with Hope! Watch with Vigilance! Witness with Courage!”

King, Shepherd and Judge

Solemnity of Christ the King

Acknowledging Christ as King of the Universe seems easy enough. But how is He a king? The readings today provide us with two additional concomitant images: this King of ours is also a Shepherd as well as a Judge.

Out of these three images, King, Shepherd and Judge, the one which least sits well with a modern audience would definitely be that of Christ as Judge. We have no issues acknowledging that Christ is Lord and King of our lives, nor would any reasonable person reject the image of a kind and loving shepherd who tenderly cares for his flock. But the notion of Christ being the Supreme Judge flies against our modern sensibilities which frowns on any attempt by individuals or institutions to pass moral judgment on others.

But there is a great deal of hypocrisy at work here. Notice that those who profess and say that they strive to make our society more open, inclusive and tolerant have no qualms coming up with an array of insults and labels for their perceived ideological enemies. It’s quite rich to profess that one is striving to be non-judgmental whilst labelling others as Pharisees, sexists, misogynists, homophobes, xenophobes, fascists etc. Seems like “rules for thee but not for me.” This is the very definition of unfairness and also the very reason why we need a fair, just and objective Judge who can defend the truth and expose the lies. Our society, no matter how enlightened it may claim to be, cannot be trusted to make that final judgment.

The parable of the sheep and the goats is wonderfully simple: there will be judgment for all; all of us will end up in one of two destinations: eternal life or eternal punishment. Here, we are presented with the Catholic teaching of the Last Things: death, judgment, heaven and hell. But the parable is not about what heaven or hell are like. What the parable seeks to set out are the grounds by which the determination of each person’s destination is achieved. So, the parable is about who gets to go there and on what basis. The criteria is determined by Christ our Judge.

It is vital to understand that in first century Palestine, sheep and goats were basically regarded as the same animal, and were not distinguishable, as they are now. In the account of the first Passover, the Passover lamb, could have actually been a goat. ‘Take a lamb from the sheep or the goats’, they are told. Sheep and goats would graze together, only to be separated at the end of their lives. This tells us that ultimately God makes distinctions that we do not, and when those distinctions are made, there will be an element of surprise. Likewise, in the parable, no-one knows whether they are a sheep or a goat, and only God can tell the difference and He will sort us out in the end, like a divine Hogwarts sorting hat.

Even more important in this parable is the rationale behind the Day of Judgement. The parable makes it clear: where you go when you die depends on how you have lived. And the good guys are those who have shown compassion and care for the weak and vulnerable. It doesn’t require knowledge in rocket science to understand the basis of judgment: if you cared for them you will be saved, if you didn’t, woe betide you.

So, this parable is meant to provide us with an important lesson that the Last Things are certain – death is certain, judgment is certain, both heaven and hell are certain – and we should orientate our lives and make the correct choices in line with the intended final outcome. The Church views this as a serious obligation on her part to teach this. The importance of this lesson is demonstrated best during the period of the mediaeval Western Church, when the emphasis at funerals was that of judgment. Hell and purgatory were very much in evidence in the liturgy. Funerals became a public event at which the Church attempted to instruct the people about the Last Things, and artists depicted the torments of the damned and the rewards of the faithful. Similarly, ‘mystery plays’ portrayed the souls of the damned being dragged into hell, or purgatory, and Dante emphasised this in his Divine Comedy, which actually, isn’t that funny.

Over the centuries, as human society claims to have become more enlightened, we have witnessed a movement away from this traditional image of the End Times. For example, our funerals have come to look more like extended eulogies, celebrating the life of the person, canonising the virtues of the deceased, rather than an occasion to intercede on behalf of a sinner, pleading with God to pardon his sins. By obscuring the judgment of the soul at his death, we have done so to our detriment and his. For when the spectre of a final judgment is obscured from our vision, the consequences are dire.

First, immorality and sin are normalised with no accountability to God.

Secondly, we attempt to find perfect solutions to every problem in this life because we have stopped believing that Christ is the Final Solution and His solution would only be made manifest at the Last Judgment.

Thirdly, we eventually grow desperate and fall into despair when we recognise the folly of our solutions and the continued prevalence of injustices in this world.

Finally, we neglect our duty to pray for the dead. We forget that the dead do not need our praises. They need our prayers.

As you can see, contemplating the Last Judgment is not all just dark and dreary and feeds on some morbid Catholic preoccupation with death and destruction. Contemplating the Last Things gives us a renewed ability to rely on the hope that there is a Final Solution and only in Christ will we find it. He offers us the hope of the resurrection.

For those who wonder whether it makes any difference to be good in this life or if our wicked deeds will have any consequences, be certain of this truth: the wicked “will go away to eternal punishment, and the virtuous to eternal life.” Ultimately the road of human life divides into two, one half splitting off towards a punishment that never ceases and the other towards an undying life and an unquenchable love with the Lord in His kingdom. This is no empty promise nor toothless warning. Let us not treat these words lightly because they were spoken by the One who is King of the Universe, the Shepherd who pastures His sheep, seeks out the lost, bandage the wounded, the Judge who will separate the sheep from the goats. If we are prepared to take His words seriously, we should therefore live accordingly.