The Hope of Resurrection has dawned

Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed

Most of us have a myopic view of reality, we often only see the small picture and are oblivious to the bigger one. We are often told by contemporary wisdom to live in the present and not dwell in the past nor should we be anxious about the future. This is a drastic mistake as it often translates into bad decisions, despair or at the other extreme, false optimism. The truth is that belief in the resurrection is what enables us to live in hope. Hope is the desire for eternal life, "placing our trust in Christ's promises and relying not on our strength but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit" (CCC, #1817).

In certainly one of the most beautiful texts in the Roman Missal, we find these profound words meant to broaden our vision:

“In him the hope of blessed resurrection has dawned, that those saddened by the certainty of dying might be consoled by the promise of immortality to come. Indeed for your faithful, Lord, life is changed not ended, and, when this earthly dwelling turns to dust, an eternal dwelling is made ready for them in heaven” (Preface 1 of the Masses for the Dead).

Our Lord’s resurrection has brought about a new dawn of hope, the hope that one day we too shall share and partake in His resurrection and our bodies not be condemned to rot in the grave nor our souls dissipate into oblivion. This is certainly consoling for those who mourn over the death of their loved ones knowing that they have been promised immortality. St Paul exclaims this in his letter to the Corinthians: "This corruptible body must be clothed with incorruptibility, this mortal body with immortality" (1 Corinthians 15:53).

We struggle to find analogies to explain this reality, but the process of metamorphosis that changes a caterpillar into a butterfly comes to mind. The Greek word used to describe the Transfiguration of the Lord is precisely the word that has been used to explain this transformation from nature. Another analogy comes from St Paul in his letter to the Corinthians. To show continuity and discontinuity between this life and the next, Saint Paul turned to the seed and the plant. The seed buried in the ground has one form, and the plant that springs from the ground is in another form. The continuity between the seed and plant is accompanied by discontinuity or radical change. Paul uses this image to contrast the resurrected body with the physical body: what is sown corruptible will be raised incorruptible; what is sown dishonorable is raised glorious; the weak will be raised powerful (1 Corinthians 15:42-44).

But our vision is not just broadened by faith and hope to see what becomes of mortal bodies and immortal souls. We are also given a new vision of the Church as a “bigger tent”. As much as it is a popular jargon to declare that “we are the Church,” it would be pure hubris to declare that we the living faithful are the only members of the Church. We are only “a part” of the Church, a small part. The Catechism of the Catholic Church explains how there are “three states of the Church … at the present time some of his disciples are pilgrims on earth. Others have died and are being purified, while still others are in glory, contemplating ‘in full light, God himself triune and one, exactly as he is'” (CCC 954). Traditionally, these three states have been referred to as the Church Militant, Church Suffering and Church Triumphant. Together, these three make up the Communion of Saints which we profess in the Creed.

As Catholics, it is not just incumbent for us to pray for the living, for their needs and protection and ultimately for their salvation, but we should also turn our prayers to the saints to ask for their intercessions. But let us never forget to pray for the dead, the members of the Church Penitent or Church Suffering. They seem to be the most neglected category in these times when man is unable to see beyond the veil and threshold of death and heaven, for many they remain a mere illusion and mystery. We need to remember the words in the Preface, that in death, “life is changed not ended.”

The idea of funerals and in this particular day in the year, specifically set aside for praying for the dead, is premised on the belief that not all persons who die will immediately go to heaven. In fact, for the vast majority of us, we would most likely be in Purgatory, even if we have lived a fairly good but far from perfect life. Rather than a downer and a wet blanket, this should be a cause for hope and joy, that heaven is not entirely denied to the imperfect but open to those who were on the path of perfection, unfinished products, but through God’s mercy and providence, are brought to that perfection through the fires of His blazing love. As St Paul wrote in his letter to the Romans which we heard in the Second Reading, this hope “is not deceptive, because the love of God has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit which has been given to us.” It is a hope not based on human merits but the result of the sacrifice of Christ who “died for sinful men.”

It is in Christian hope that the Christian community commends the dead to the mercy and love of God for the forgiveness of their sins. The Church encourages you, therefore, to seek indulgences, pray novenas, fast, make sacrifices and have Masses said for the deceased, especially for those who have no one to pray for them. These acts of charity will increase the love of God in your heart and soul and help those who have gone before us in death. As St Ambrose reminds us, “we have loved them in life, let us not forget them in death.”

Born Loser Raised Victorious

Solemnity of All Saints

If there is one cartoon character which I most identify with, it is Charlie Brown, the main male protagonist of the Peanuts comic strip created by Charles M. Schultz. Charlie Brown reminds me so much of myself growing up and even now, as an adult.

Personality-wise, he is gentle, insecure, and lovable. Charlie Brown possesses significant determination and hope, but frequently fails because of his insecurities, outside interferences, or plain bad luck. Although liked by his friends, he is often the subject of bullying, especially at the hands of Lucy van Pelt. He’s (what I often describe myself as) “bully-able.” Charlie is the perennial victim of bullying by the stronger, the proverbial Born Loser. He is described by his creator as “the one who suffers because he’s a caricature of the average person. Most of us are much more acquainted with losing than winning. Winning is great, but it isn’t funny.”

To be a Christian today often feels like being a loser, being an easy target for bullying, which isn’t a laughing matter. Christians, especially those who choose to live and practice their faith publicly, will end up being mocked, cancelled, side-lined and even persecuted. This explains why there are fewer and even fewer practising Christians even in traditionally predominantly “Christian” countries, and our neighbours think less of us because of our strange values and ideas. We are increasingly outsiders. And how we respond to this reality may be the defining question of our time.

The good news is that Christianity has always been a religion of losers. It is not a recent phenomenon in a highly secularised world. We have been persecuted, our beliefs have been ridiculed and rejected, our values have been maligned, sometimes driving us underground to practice our faith secretly. But though we may appear to be weak, powerless, failures, and losers in the eyes of the world, in the eyes of God we are victorious and winners! In this world we will have trouble; in this world we will be bullied and even appear to lose; but take heart, Christ has overcome the world. And this is what the Saints in heaven declare in song and praise: “Victory to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.” These were the same figures who appeared to be defeated by anti-Christian forces, persecuted, tortured and martyred and yet, emerged victorious holding palms as trophies of their victory.

Nowhere is this truth more evident than in the Beatitudes. One could paraphrase the list of beatitudes as this: “Happy or Blessed are the losers!” “Happy are the ‘bully-ables’.” This is what the paradoxical and counterintuitive values behind the Beatitudes seek to display. Our Lord and Saviour, just as the Beatitudes would describe, had to experience poverty, pain, suffering, loss, persecution and death for the sake of righteousness in order to gain the victory and joyful blessedness of the resurrection and the gift of eternal life for all of us. This is the core of the Christian message - death before resurrection, loss before victory, last before first, poverty before riches. For in the Christian story, ‘success and failure’ is inverted.

Although we often describe the Saints in heaven as the Church Triumphant, those who have “run the race” and are crowned with glory in Heaven, the proverbial “winners,” it often doesn’t feel this way here on earth. The biography of every saint often reads like an episode of Charlie Brown. Our earthly experiences of failure and loss make us doubt the promises of the beatitudes.

But if we take a deeper look at the promises which are proclaimed by the Beatitudes, we begin to recognise the veracity of their claims even in this life without waiting for the next. The losers can discover something about themselves that winners cannot ever appreciate – that they are loved and wanted simply because of who they are, and not because of what they achieve. Love is never earned but freely given by the Lord to all, to even those who are undeserving, especially to them. That despite it all, raw humanity is glorious and wonderful, entirely worthy of love. This is revealed precisely at the greatest point of dejection – our Lord’s death and resurrection.

The resurrection is not just a magic trick at raising a dead body to life. That’s a neat and impressive trick. But it is so much more than that. It is a revelation that love is stronger than death, grace is stronger than sin, that human worth is not indexed to worldly success, but to one’s fidelity to the path laid out by Christ. The lives of the Saints are testimony to this. On this side of heaven, they may appear to be losers. But as the vision of St John in the first reading lifts the veil, we are given a glimpse of their true worth - they are winners and victors in the Kingdom of Heaven.

A successful Christian, if you can call him or her one, called to be a saint, ought to be hated rather than feted in this world. Yes, it does seem that the modernist forces seem to be attacking the Church from every angle, that orthodox Christian beliefs and values are aggressively under assault, yet this feast reminds us that we are not alone in our experience and that this epoch in history, is not that unique as the Church has always suffered derision, rejection, humiliation, and bullying from her inception. We often forget that until our Lord returns in glory as He brings judgment upon the earth, battles and wars will remain. So, no matter how peaceful we wish our lives could be, the truth is our lives, this side of heaven, will be tainted with conflict.

But despite the onslaught she experiences, not only from earthly enemies but also demonic forces, the vision described in the Book of the Apocalypse will be the final outcome. As we stand before the throne of the Lamb, we will know that we are conquerors, not losers, in this life we may be bullied but at the Last Judgment, we will be vindicated and that failure will be redeemed by the victory won for us by the Lamb which was slain.

Listen and See

Thirty First Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

What connects the first reading to the gospel is that fundamental Jewish statement of belief which provides us with the first part of the daily prayer of every Jew. “Sh’ma Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad.” “Listen, Israel: the Lord our God is the one Lord.” If one were to understand the two-fold commandment of love which follows this statement, one needs to unpack and grasp the width and depth of this profound and supreme testimony of the Jewish faith, and by extension, the Christian faith.

The Hebrew word “Shema” translated as “listen” or “hear” deserves our attention. It is no coincidence that the first of the Apostles, Simon Peter, takes his Hebrew name from this word – “Shimon”. That is irony for you. Although, Simon Peter responded to the call of our Lord by listening, it would appear that his listening was often selective and did not lead him beyond a superficial and shallow understanding of our Lord’s identity and his mission as a disciple. His listening would be impaired until he “saw” the Risen Lord with his own eyes. This seeing would complete his listening.

But let us go back to our original verb. Listening goes beyond exercising one’s auditory sense. Listening must lead to understanding and understanding to acceptance. For the Jews, it shaped both their culture and world-view. This is how Moses describes the supreme revelation on Mount Sinai: “Then the Lord spoke to you out of the fire. You heard the sound of words but saw no form; there was only a voice” (Dt 4:12). There was a profound difference between the two civilisations of antiquity that between them shaped the culture of the West: ancient Greece and ancient Israel. The Greeks were the supreme masters of the visual arts: art, sculpture, architecture and the theatre. Their culture focused on sight. Jews, as a matter of profound religious principle, were not. God, the sole object of worship, is invisible. He transcends nature. He created the universe and is therefore beyond the universe. He cannot be seen. In fact, it was strictly prohibited to make a visible representation of God.

The God of Israel reveals Himself only in speech. Yes, His presence was sometimes mediated by angelic beings and natural and supernatural phenomena like a pillar of cloud and fire, a flaming bush, lightning and thunder. But though these pointed to God’s power and sovereignty, they were never understood to be a visible manifestation of God, just signs of His presence. Therefore, the supreme religious act in Judaism is to listen. Ancient Greece, on the other hand, was a culture of the eye; ancient Israel a culture of the ear. The Greeks worshipped what they saw; Israel worshipped what they heard. We Christians, thankfully, are heirs of both culture and our liturgy perfectly expresses both paradigms. Both hearing and seeing mark the two pillars of our sacramental economy and the Holy Mass.

When God chooses to reveal Himself to us, He is revealing His will for us, He is giving us His Law. The primary meaning of the word Torah is the Law! It would seem to follow that a book of laws or commandments must have a verb that means “to obey”, for that is the whole purpose of an imperative. Yet there is no verb in biblical Hebrew that means to obey. The closest word to obedience is “listen.” Where there seems to be a lacunae in the Hebrew language, the word for “obedience” in Latin binds the two concepts - “obidere” means “to listen, to submit and to be responsible.”

Despite its intense focus on Divine commandments, the Jewish faith is not a faith that values blind, unthinking, unquestioning obedience. There is no true listening or authentic obedience, if we do not internalise the commandments. The God of revelation is also the God of creation and redemption. Therefore, when God commands us to do certain things and refrain from others, it is not because His will is arbitrary but because He cares for the integrity of the world as His work, and for the dignity of the human person as His image. He reveals His laws to us, He commands us to obey, because He loves us, and He wants us to make love the foundation of our entire being and way of behaving and relating.

This is how we must understand the two-fold commandment of love. It is insufficient that we hear the command to love God and neighbour and profess it with our lips and then claim to know it. Listening must lead to understanding and understanding lead to acceptance, but such acceptance must be shown forth in action. To prove ourselves to be good listeners, it must be “seen” in our actions.

That is why it is not enough that our Lord enunciates the commandment of love and commands us to listen. That is the theory. He then demonstrates the perfect fulfilment of this commandment through an example which can be seen - His own death and resurrection. On the cross, we hear His words of complete abandonment and obedience to the Father and on the cross, we saw the most powerful testimony and evidence of His love.

This is how we should treat the commandment of love as how the Jews treated the Shema. It is the greatest command and the first prayer a Jewish child was taught to say. God gave His people the Shema and instructed them to recite it daily, memorise it, meditate on it, teach it, instruct it, put it on their clothing and post it on the doorframes of their home. God wanted to remind them of loving God with all their heart, soul, mind and strength every time they woke up, put on their clothes and entered or left the home. It is the quintessential expression of the most fundamental belief of Judaism.

Likewise, for us Christians too. Love must be the quintessential expression of the most fundamental belief of Christianity. For the Jews, following the Law or the Torah was their way of expressing this fundamental commandment. But for us Christians, we fulfil this commandment by imitating Christ. Our Lord is essentially saying, “to follow Me is to love God and to love others.” In the Gospel of John, our Lord tells us, “A new command I give you: love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are My disciples…” (John 13:34-35). The newness of this commandment is not found in its content but in its standard. Christ is the new standard. He is the Incarnation of love whom we can listen to and see. And therefore, if we wish to love God and neighbour, we should love as He did.

Broken but not Beaten

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

As much as we hope to see the Church grow in size and influence, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, the future Pope Benedict XVI, made this prophecy back in 1969 which has been proven to be true, at least in the West as we have witnessed, a free fall drop in members and vocations:
“From the crisis of today the Church of tomorrow will emerge — a Church that has lost much. She will become small and will have to start afresh more or less from the beginning. She will no longer be able to inhabit many of the edifices she built in prosperity. As the number of her adherents diminishes, so it will lose many of her social privileges (…) And so it seems certain to me that the Church is facing very hard times. The real crisis has scarcely begun. We will have to count on terrific upheavals.”

This prophecy seems to be in the vein of the doomsday prophecies so commonly uttered and recorded in the Old Testament - all fire and brimstone and destruction. On the surface, the words of Pope Benedict do little to inspire but rather can be a cause for despair. Perhaps, this is reflective of the life of the blind Bartimaeus before his chanced meeting with the Lord. Like Bartimaeus, when thinking about the terminal diagnosis given about the Church, it is easy to wallow in self-pity, to complain about our dire situation and view everything around us through the lenses of darkness. And yet the good news is that light shines brightest in the dark.

In the first reading, the Prophet Jeremiah is commanded by God to make the following announcement to the remnant population of a decimated nation: “Shout with joy for Jacob! Hail the chief of nations! Proclaim! Praise! Shout: ‘The Lord has saved his people, the remnant of Israel!’” In the midst of disaster and national tragedy, the prophet declares that God is the father to Israel, and in fact, Israel is His cherished first-born son - the sole heir to His inheritance according to the law of primogeniture. Who are these remnants? The idea of a “remnant” sounds either like the survivors of some Holocaust or a band of puritanical hold-outs who have kept themselves unsullied from the depravity of their present age. But this is not the biblical understanding of the word, even among the Jews.

According to an ancient Jewish tradition, the universe is sustained by the presence of at least thirty-six tzadikim, or “righteous ones”, in every generation. The story of Abraham’s intercession on behalf of the evil cities of Sodom and Gomorrah may have inspired this tradition. Just like any good apocalyptic prophecy which continues to maintain the suspense, no one knows the identity of those tzadikim. They are humble souls who quietly pray and perform good deeds for the benefit of the world. Just like the description given in Hebrews of the role of the High Priest, as someone who “has been taken out of mankind and is appointed to act for men in their relations with God, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins.” And so, it is believed that God does not judge the world on account of these saintly “remnant” souls.

If the understanding of what a remnant means is connected to the presence of this mysterious group of righteous saints, a pattern seems to emerge here which should allow us to understand the nature and mission of the remnant. The remnant is neither the victim of God’s wrath nor do they delight in it. Quite the contrary: the remnant exists to appease it. They never take advantage of their status as righteous ones in the eyes of the Lord to call fire and brimstone to rain on the sinners’ heads, but they pity the sinners and sacrifice themselves for them, even the unrepentant ones. They are not harbingers of God’s justice, rather they are the emissaries of His mercy. Through them, God’s mercy becomes manifest to all mankind.

Therefore, the mission of a remnant Church is not resignation, nor is she to wallow in self-pity nor should she grow resentful in complaining about her plight. When we do this, we are like the crowd of by-standers and disciples who try to silence the cries of those who cry out like Bartimaeus. Rather than facilitating an encounter with the Lord, we act as His greatest detractors and become obstacles to others to make progress on the path to holiness. No, this is not the mission of the “remnant Church.” Rather than withdrawing into a cocoon of self-pity and safety, we are called to be intercessors and mediators. We should go out and redouble our efforts to share the gospel message and invite others to join the faithful remnant. We are called to uphold the true teachings of the gospel and be a beacon of light in a world seen as darkened by sin and apostasy. To those cowering in fear and shrouded in darkness like Bartimaeus, let us encourage them with this exhortation: “Courage, get up, He is calling you.”

So, let us not perceive the Church’s smallness with fear or reticence, but with faith and courage. Our voice may seem small but it is amplified with the roaring power of the Holy Spirit and Christ’s sanctifying grace working in and through the Church. Salvation will come not from success and efficiency measured by the standards of the world, but from Jesus Christ alone, who has promised never to abandon His Church. We must be joyful and content, for it is only when we’re weak that we’re strong (2 Cor 12:9-10). It is only by being the grain of mustard that we, as a Church, will be able to grow into the greatest tree in the field, where the birds from heaven will be able to roost, rest and sing (Mk 4:30-32).

In an interview, our Holy Father Pope Francis summarised the prophetic vision of Pope Benedict XVI in these words: “Pope Benedict was a prophet of this Church of the future, a Church that will become smaller, lose many privileges, be more humble and authentic and find energy for what is essential. It will be a Church that is more spiritual, poorer and less political: a Church of the little ones.” Rather than bemoan the passing of her bygone glory or seek to insulate herself in bubble-wrapping, we should rejoice at the grace of being tenderly pruned at the hands of a Loving Father, for what would emerge from this “smaller”, “humbler”, “more spiritual,” “less political” church is something that will continually surprise and excite us.

In the visionary words of Pope Benedict: “But in all of the changes at which one might guess, the Church will find her essence afresh and with full conviction in that which was always at her centre: faith in the triune God, in Jesus Christ, the Son of God made man, in the presence of the Spirit until the end of the world. In faith and prayer she will again recognise the sacraments as the worship of God and not as a subject for liturgical scholarship.” This is our conviction of faith and hope – that when we come to our Lord with the enduring faith of Bartimaeus, we are convinced that we will see again, we will be refreshed again, our vigour and excitement will be reignited again to follow Christ once more.

Redemptive Suffering

Twenty Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

One of the most fundamental mysteries that most religions seek to grapple with is that of suffering - what is its cause and what is its antidote? The Buddhists make existential suffering as the first of their four foundational Noble Truths. The second Noble Truth is its prognosis – desires is the cause of all suffering. Others would argue that suffering is punishment from God for one’s sinfulness and waywardness. Bad people suffer while good people are blessed and rewarded. However, our experience would often throw a wrench into this simplistic association. We all know of bad people who seem to prosper while good and innocent folks seem to suffer for no obvious reason. The unfairness of the situation often leads us to question the existence of God or perhaps view Him as a capricious and sadistic deity who loves to watch us suffer while observing our plight from the sidelines.

Our modern world tells us to avoid suffering at all cost and instead seek comfort by any means necessary, such as taking a pill to alleviate pain, or seeking divorce when marriage becomes unbearable, or giving up a project when satisfaction or results do not seem immediate. The world sees instant gratification as a right and suffering as a senseless evil to be avoided at all cost. But Christianity actually proposes that suffering can have immense value for ourselves and others. Rather than focusing on identifying the root causes of suffering which are many or attempting to run away from them, Christianity invites us to view and embrace suffering as something redemptive and salvific.

We need to be clear that suffering, in and of itself, is not naturally redemptive. It is up to us to respond in a way that gives it a redemptive value in imitation of the love with which Christ suffered for our sake. Our suffering was not originally what God had intended for us. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches, “As long as he [Adam] remained in the divine intimacy, man would not have to suffer or die” (376). But Adam forfeited this gift through his disobedience. Human suffering entered the world due to the effects of original sin. God does not cause the suffering. He simply permits it to happen in our lives so that it can be used for good and not wasted.

The foundation of redemptive suffering is found in the suffering of our Lord Jesus Christ which He willingly embraced. He is the fulfilment of Isaiah’s prophecy of the Suffering Servant which we heard in the first reading. Our Lord is the “servant” which God has pleased to crush with suffering because “by His sufferings shall my servant justify many, taking their faults on Himself.” He is the supreme High Priest described in Hebrews who had offered a sacrifice of His own flesh, a flesh united completely with our humanity. He is “one who has been tempted in every way that we are, though He is without sin.” He suffered for you and for me out of perfect divine love and catapulted the meaning of love from a warm and fuzzy feeling to an act of sacrifice, a total gift of self.

Our Lord today asked His disciples, He is asking us if we are ready to share in His redemptive suffering: “Can you drink the cup that I must drink, or be baptised with the baptism with which I must be baptised?”

So, how do we choose to make our suffering a means of redemption by uniting it with Christ. Here are some practical steps:

First, we are called to bear our suffering patiently without complaining. We can choose to be cheerful rather than be cranky, especially to those who care for us and are companions to us. The moment we grumble and complain and grow resentful, our suffering loses its redemptive value and becomes a curse.

Second, we can choose to forgive and pray for those who cause us pain instead of cursing them, or rant about them or hold a grudge against them. You can quietly offer your pain as an act of compassion for these persons, just as our Lord forgave His enemies from the cross.

Third, you can embrace the suffering and pray for endurance and perseverance. The harder it gets, the more redemptive it becomes. This was the conviction of little St Therese de Lisieux when she joined the Carmelite monastery at the young age of 15. She would later explain that her vocation was motivated by her desire to offer her suffering for others. And she did suffer grievously both physically and mentally, while offering up her suffering for the salvation of souls.

Lastly, choose the path of humility and even that which brings humiliation as our Lord exhorts in today’s gospel - to be the last instead of being first, to be the least instead of being the greatest, to be a servant instead of being a master for “the Son of Man himself did not come to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

Choose and offer these acts of sacrificial suffering for other people’s salvation as an act of love and a desire of their ultimate good, which is heaven. By uniting our suffering to Christ and offering it to God in self-sacrificial love we become like Christ, who offered His suffering in self-sacrificial love so that we might receive the reward of eternal life. In this ultimate gift, we see that suffering not only can play a role in our own salvation but also in helping others obtain salvation.

Let me end with this beautiful catechesis from the great Cure D’Ars, St Jean Marie Vianney:

“There are two ways of suffering – to suffer with love, and to suffer without love. The saints suffered everything with joy, patience, and perseverance, because they loved. As for us, we suffer with anger, vexation, and weariness, because we do not love. If we loved God, we should love crosses, we should wish for them, we should take pleasure in them… We should be happy to be able to suffer for the love of Him who lovingly suffered for us.”

Wisdom pursues eternal life

Twenty Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

If you had a chance to walk through the main doorway of what was once the greatest church in Christendom, the Church of Hagia Sophia (now relegated to a working mosque), a privilege that was once reserved only for emperors and their consorts, your attention would be immediately drawn to the strange mosaic icon on the tympanum which depicts a scene of an emperor kneeling, almost prostrating himself before an enthroned Christ, the Hagia Sophia (Holy Wisdom). The kneeling monarch is Leon VI or better known as Leon the Wise. He is not specifically famous for his intellect but had earned the notoriety of being married many times with even rumours of him killing his wives in order to be free to marry again. He was the Henry VIII of Byzantium. Leon took a mistress as his concubine and after she had given him a son, decided to make her his fourth wife, which could only be done after having performed a long penance and having made a vow to not seek any further marriage. Thus, the image appears to depict the repentant Leon begging for mercy.

Leon serves as a symbol for all other emperors who have passed through these doors. While the walls of this Church is littered with the royal portraits of other emperors and their consorts occupying seats of honour on the left and right of an image of the enthroned Christ, only here do we have a clue to the answer to the rich young ruler’s question in our gospel: “Good master, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” True wisdom is to be found in humbly kneeling before the One who is the True Source of Wisdom, Christ. He is indeed the source of eternal life. No amount of accomplishments, wealth, power or influence or even virtuous deeds can win us that honour. The hubris of believing oneself to be important, on the other hand, is the epitome of abject folly.

It is obvious that the man who is a seeker in today’s gospel had not internalised the words found in the Book of Wisdom: “I esteemed her more than sceptres and thrones; compared with her, I held riches as nothing. I reckoned no priceless stone to be her peer, for compared with her, all gold is a pinch of sand, and beside her silver ranks as mud.” In Luke’s gospel he is described as a “ruler,” someone of authority and of important social standing. Furthermore, all three synoptic gospels speak of him as a man of great wealth. If he had truly grasped the real worth of “eternal life” which he sought, our Lord’s challenge to go and sell everything and to give the money to the poor would have been easy. His reaction to our Lord’s challenge betrays his real priorities - his wealth was more valuable to him than the eternal life which he claims to be seeking. When it came down to a simple choice between the two, he chose the former, which meant he chose to walk away from Christ.

But to be fair to the rich young ruler, there is depth to his question, something which most of us would never ask God if we were given a blank cheque. The usual list would certainly include wealth, health and success. But to ask for eternal life - that item would most likely not appear on our average radar. Perhaps, it could be argued that this man had already attained all three commonly sought after achievements and felt that there was only one thing lacking - the last item on his bucket list - eternal life. Our Lord had rightly noted that there is one thing he lacked - but the irony is that his “lack,” the emptiness in this man’s life was due to the fact that he lacked nothing. He claimed to have achieved and possessed everything, even in keeping the commandments. When man lacks nothing, he will have no need for God.

This is the reason why the first of the beatitudes speak of the happiness and pronounces a blessing on the poor. The beatitudes are not meant to canonise poverty as a virtue in itself. Jesus is not praising poverty. He is calling His disciples to acknowledge their own powerlessness and utter dependence on God. For who are the poor but those who do not have the resources to meet their own needs. They are poor to the extent that they recognise that everything we are and everything we have, is a gift from God on whom we are totally dependent. The “poor”, therefore, are those who welcome the good news. They are the ones who are ready to “follow” the Lord, because they have no possessions or achievements or accomplishments that will hold them back from this path. This is the wisdom of Christian discipleship, which the world scorns and condemns as folly.

The rich, who are already satisfied with what they possess, or continue to desire for more of such treasures, have little appreciation for the greatest treasure of all - the kingdom of God. They are already self-sufficient and would be unwilling to recognise their own powerlessness, poverty and need for God. Their pride causes them to be self-reliant and closed themselves to the graces and blessings of God. They are the foolish ones even as they scoff those Christians who have chosen to prioritise God and His Kingdom above all else.

The poor, on the other hand, are happy and blessed because they recognise their total dependence on God. In this world, they may have nothing which they can boast of, and yet they are rich beyond measure in the kingdom of heaven, because such riches are not part of this world which is passing, but they are part of a realm that will never pass away.

Now, though the hidden logic of this way of thinking is apparent now but it begs the question, is this practical or even doable? The disciples thought otherwise as they exclaimed in utter despair: “who can be saved?” It is here that our Lord reveals another layer of wisdom to them. Salvation is never just a matter of personal effort, no matter how heroically holy we strive to become. Our Lord reminds them and all of us as well: “For men … it is impossible, but not for God: because everything is possible for God.” Without the sacraments, without the Mass and confession and the prayers of friends, neighbours, saints, and angels, without God’s grace, where would we be? Be assured of this - God doesn’t give you any challenge He won’t send you the grace to handle. If you’re faithful to His calling, you will survive; you will thrive; you will inherit eternal life.

Many decline the path to holiness because they are anxious about failing, even before they have even tried. But the “good news” is that it’s not wholly up to you. The “good news” also involves the way of the Cross. Many of us think we need a beginner’s hack, an extra push, a miraculous spark of luck to get to where we need to go. We forget we need what only Christ’s eternal victory over sin and death can provide. But don’t be in a hurry to see quick results or push your timetable which you expect Him to keep. He’ll do things on His schedule, and not a moment earlier. The process takes time. It takes effort. It requires faith. But the final results are not in doubt: God will make what seems impossible possible. So, in the meantime, as the Book of Wisdom suggests, pray that understanding may be given to you; entreat, that the Spirit of Wisdom may come to you, and as you fall at the feet of the Lord of Lords, He will confer on you what no one else can give – the gift of eternal life.