The Cursed and the Blessed

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

What does a world without trust look like? If subjects no longer trust politicians and their leaders, our society would descend into chaotic anarchy. If consumers no longer trust that their data and money can be safeguarded, then the modern financial system could collapse. If litigants no longer trust the legal and judicial system, justice would be an elusive illusion. Marriages will breakdown, families will divide and communities would be perpetually splintered. Trust is the base layer of all human relationships. Without trust, there can be no value exchange, no community, no intimacy. It would seem that Confucius was right when he declared: “without trust we cannot stand.”

And yet, our Lord begins His soliloquy in the first reading with these words: “A curse on the man who puts his trust in man, who relies on things of flesh, whose heart turns from the Lord. He is like dry scrub in the wastelands…” Is God calling us to abandon trusting humans altogether? Is He advocating that we should be perpetually weary of the deceit and untrustworthiness of others? I believe reading the passage in its entirety will help us to understand these troubling and challenging words.

If we were to go to the beginning of this chapter in the Book of Jeremiah, which has not been included in our lectionary selection, the prophet correctly observes that “sin is engraved with an iron tool, inscribed with a flint point on the tablet of their hearts.” That hardened sin is why God is so harsh in His condemnation of Israel and it is sin which has rendered the heart “deceitful above all things and beyond cure.” So, what the Lord is warning us is to distrust sin which causes man to be deceitful. The problem with marriage that results in divorce is not the institution of marriage itself nor due to some inherent defect of the partners to the marriage, but sin which corrupts the heart and leads us to break covenant with each other. Sin makes the human heart inherently self-centered, unable to see itself accurately and correct itself.

On the other hand, the man who places his trust in God will not be disappointed or as the text of Jeremiah assures us, he will be “blessed.” The reason for this is that God is not only truthful, He is truth, and therefore, ever faithful, and borrowing the language of a marriage covenant, He is true to us in good times as well as in bad, in sickness and health, and unlike the partners to marriage, even death cannot separate us from the love of God. At the end of the day, our Lord is not advising us to treat every person with suspicion. No relationship can be sustained and no society can survive without learning to trust others. But trusting in others requires faith in someone far greater than them. We lay our hearts on the line knowing God is the only one who ultimately keeps them.

There is no greater proof of this proposition than the Catholic Church. Christ founded His Church on the foundation of weak men and where is the Church today? She remains standing despite centuries of persecution, ostracisation, schisms, heresies and bad shepherds. On the other hand, look at the empires, kingdoms and governments built by strong, talented and charismatic men. Where are they now? Most are in the dust and reduced to the pages of history books. One thing is true, our trust in God would not disappoint because God will not fail us. If men can betray us, break their promises to us, disappoint us with their failures, God will never do so. He can’t. It’s against His very nature. This is why St Paul can declare that “hope does not disappoint” (Rom 5:5), because that hope is founded on a God who will not disappoint!

So, we can now understand the simple binary picture painted in both the first reading as well as in the gospel, where our Lord Jesus sets out Luke’s version of the beatitudes matched by a set of woes or curses. Those whose hearts turn away from the Lord are cursed and those whose hearts trust the Lord are blessed. It’s as simple as that. There are just two kinds of people in the world—the cursed and the blessed—and the difference is whom they trust. In a world filled with differences and divided by those differences, that is a revelation. It’s not black or white, rich or poor, Jew or Gentile, male or female, old or young that ultimately matters. It is where the heart of each person places their trust.

If you still can’t see the difference in this morally ambiguous world of ours, Jeremiah sets it out in stark contrast. He describes what being “cursed” means with an image of a bush in the desert, where there is no steady water supply. Such a person will live on the edge of existence, always thirsty for more water, always on the verge of dying, so that when water finally comes in the form of an occasional thunderstorm, it won’t lead to a good harvest or abundance. Such a person will survive, but just barely. Life will be parched and lonely and unfruitful at its core.

And then Jeremiah describes what “blessed” means with the image of a tree planted by a stream that never dries up. Because its roots are sunk deep in the “spring of living water,” the person who trusts in the Lord does “not fear when heat comes,” “in a year of drought.” His life is always verdant, and he continually bears fruit. So, he does not live in fear and worry. Life is abundant for the person whose heart trusts in the Lord, rather than in human beings.

So, how do we grow in trusting God rather than in ourselves and our resources? The answer is prayer. When man works man works but when man prays, God works. The self-sufficient man does not pray because he sees no need for prayer. The mystic and saint, Padre Pio puts it in the simplest terms: “Pray persistently, daily, and with love. Pray in the face of every challenge, every crisis, every failure, every cross. Pray, and hope, and don't worry, and by the power of the Holy Spirit, we shall renew the face of the earth.” Don’t let prayer be your last resort when all else fails. Begin every venture, every decision, every challenge with prayer. Do not just do your best and let God do the rest. Let God be the fuel, the guide, the inspiration and the object of everything you do.

To sum it, let us listen to the words of this spiritual author, Thomas a Kempis who gave us this classic literature on spirituality, The Imitation of Christ:

“Vain is the man who puts his trust in men, in created things.
Do not be ashamed to serve others for the love of Jesus Christ and to seem poor in this world. Do not be self-sufficient but place your trust in God. Do what lies in your power and God will aid your good will. Put no trust in your own learning nor in the cunning of any man, but rather in the grace of God Who helps the humble and humbles the proud.”

Here I am, send me

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

There is a tendency among many to be drawn to certain charismatic preachers and leaders. Can people be faulted for this? Who doesn’t want to be inspired or motivated or moved to tears or action? And whether one wishes to admit it or not, who doesn’t want to be entertained by amusing anecdotes and colourful illustrations? That is why crowds would throng to a rally or a preached mission whenever a popular and dynamic preacher is in town. But the readings which we hear this Sunday provide us with an important and necessary corrective - the gospel is always greater than its greatest proclaimers. An important truth that preachers, like me, should remember and need. “For what we preach is not ourselves,” wrote St Paul to the Corinthians, “but Jesus Christ as Lord” (2 Cor. 4:5).

The prophets of old like Isaiah and the great missionary apostles like St Paul and St Peter, were anything than rockstar-like celebrities of the faith. The quest for celebrity-like fame can actually be a distraction from the work of preaching the gospel. The habit of seeking ever-larger audiences through new technologies always runs the risk of trivialising the message, fueling the culture of celebrity, and losing sight of the everyday work of evangelisation.

In all three examples that are offered by today’s readings - Isaiah in the first reading, St Paul in the second and St Peter in the gospel - there is a keen awareness of their own personal unworthiness. Isaiah protests that he is unworthy to speak God’s words because he is a man of unclean lips. Paul claims that he is the “least among the apostles” and that he “hardly deserve the name apostle.” When Simon Peter discovered the enormity of what he has just witnessed, the Lord performing a miracle before his own eyes, he pleaded, “Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man.” None of these men stated a claim that they were entitled to the right of proclaiming the Word of God. On the contrary, all three clearly admitted their own disqualification.

Many of us would have similar sentiments and that is the reason why so many Catholics fail to undertake the work of sharing the good news with others. If you have ever felt that you were not good enough for God or the work He wishes to entrust to you, know this - you are in good company - because that’s just how Isaiah, St Paul, and St Peter felt when God called them.

Feeling inadequate before God is certainly understandable. In a way, this isn’t wrong. It’s a sign of humility to recognise our inadequacy before God. After all, God is God! He is perfectly good, perfectly righteous, and perfectly pure. We are none of those things. When we imagine ourselves before a being of such power and purity, we can’t help but feel small and unworthy by comparison. Yet, despite our unworthiness God continues to call us. Don’t take my word for it. Take God’s Word. He still chose Isaiah and Peter and Paul, despite their protestations of being unworthy. If it takes humility to recognise that we are unworthy, it takes greater humility to admit that it’s not about us! It’s all about God - the sovereignty of God and the freedom He exercises in choosing who He pleases even if the world or the person thinks nothing of it. It would be arrogance for us to question God’s choice.

This is why in our human frailty, we cannot just merely depend on our abilities and resources. We have abilities and we do have resources but we also have our limitations. But God supplements these with His abundant grace. This is what St Paul declared in the second reading: “I am the least of the apostles; in fact, since I persecuted the Church of God, I hardly deserve the name apostle; but by God’s grace that is what I am, and the grace that he gave me has not been fruitless.” Like Paul before his conversion, many of us continue to live in the delusion that we are self-made, that we have to chart our own destiny, orchestrate our own achievements, work hard to achieve our goals. But there is also grace that shapes and perfects us and as Paul so rightly noted, that it is by “God’s grace that is what I am.”

This is also what Peter experienced in the gospel. The dawn of his new life marked by the success which could only be brought on by the Lord’s miraculous assistance had to come after a long night of struggling and repeated failure. Peter would continue to experience this pattern in his own life. Whenever he depended solely on his bravado, his personal leadership skills, his speaking out of turn and jumping the gun, he would meet with failure and disappointment. Tradition tells us that this pattern continues even after the Lord had ascended and he had received the mantle of leadership and the gift of the Holy Spirit. But despite his shortcomings and failings, and in spite of it, our Lord would continue to return to him, renewing his election and commission. Peter too can declare with Paul that the Lord’s “grace that is what I am.”

Now many of us would argue that unlike Isaiah, we were not given a vision of heaven, or like Peter and Paul, called by the Lord personally to be His apostles. How does the Lord qualify us who are unqualified? The answer is simple and yet profound. The Lord continues to call and He continues to act and He continues to pour out His graces through the Church, especially through the sacraments. All of the sacraments are tangible means by which God imparts His intangible grace to us. Baptism is that first sacrament that binds us to Christ, Penance is the sacrament that restores us to union with Him when we have strayed, the Eucharist is what He chooses to sustain us with His own body and blood. That is why when people avoid the sacraments, they do not know what they are missing out. Just like the air we breathe is necessary for our survival, the grace we receive through the sacraments is necessary for our salvation. Without grace, we will perish.

But for all our dependence on grace, does it mean that we just sit back and do nothing? We are not Calvinist Protestants who hold on to the erroneous sola that only grace alone saves. St Paul was the greatest evangeliser the world has ever known, and he certainly worked hard at it. But he was only able to succeed by relying on God’s grace. This is the key: we can’t do God’s work on our own. Nor can we just sit back and be lazy Christians, relying on God to do all the work. The truth lies in the middle: we need to put forth effort, because God wants to work through us and in us, our will cooperating with His. God knows exactly what you are capable of. He knows exactly how strong you are, and how weak you are. He knows your knowledge and your ignorance. He knows your capacities and your limitations. And He says, my grace is sufficient for you (2 Cor 2:19). We just need to trust that the God who calls us will provide whatever grace is needed to answer that call. All we need to do is say, like Isaiah, “Here I am” (Is 6:8).

There is a moment that comes at every Mass, just before we receive Communion. The priest holds the consecrated host up before us and proclaims, “Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the Supper of the Lamb.” At that moment, like Isaiah and St. Peter, we find ourselves in the presence of divinity. We stand before perfect goodness. And if we feel unworthy before that presence… let us pray with earnestness and complete sincerity, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.” We acknowledge our sins and trust God to forgive us. We acknowledge our weakness and trust God to strengthen us. We have faith that God will accomplish His will through us and in humility we say, “Here I am; send me.”

The Light which enlightens

Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

Although today’s feast is clearly not part of the Christmas season, it does complete the Christmas cycle. I like to call it “the icing on the cake.” It is considered a Christmas feast because we are still contemplating the Lord Jesus as an infant rather than as an adolescent or an adult. Today’s feast usurps the Sunday liturgy, which is a rare thing in the first place but prescribed by the rubrics. Usually, other feasts have to give way to the Sunday liturgy which ranks much higher, but not today. In other years, where this feast is celebrated ideally early in the morning or in the evening for obvious aesthetic reasons, the Mass begins with the blessing of candles followed by a candlelight procession into the Church. Apart from the evening anticipated Mass, we have been deprived of the benefit of witnessing the most apparent feature of this liturgy, which you can deduce from the old name for today’s feast - Candlemas – or the Mass of the candles. Today is the Church’s Festival of Lights.

If you had not come for the service in the evening, you would have missed out on one of the major highlights of today’s feast – the candlelight procession, as the priest and the congregation enters the Church. This procession takes on a greater significance when we understand the history of this feast. According to the erudite Pope Benedict XVI, today’s feast supplanted an early rowdy pagan celebration which also featured a procession: “the pagan world’s wild cry for purification, liberation, deliverance from dark powers, meets the “light to enlighten the Gentiles,” the mild and humble light of Jesus Christ. The failing (and yet still active) aeon of a foul, chaotic enslaved and enslaving world encounters the purifying power of the Christian message.”

But in order to appreciate the wonder of the light, our story begins in darkness. Even though it is hard to appreciate the interplay of shadow and light in broad daylight, we can understand why it is important to have darkness in order to discern the importance of light. Light makes no sense without the darkness. In fact, shadow and light are the reality of our lives and our world.

As promised, our reflexion must begin with a meditation of darkness. Darkness is not just the absence of light. It has come to be synonymous with all that seems “negative” and “bad.” We recognise the darkness of the world around us – death, violence, selfishness, injustice and sin. We fear both the darkness and yet seem attracted to it. Sometimes we hide in the darkness avoiding the light because of our shame or guilt. There is also the darkness of uncertainty, especially about our future. There is a sense of powerlessness and life seems out of control. Sometimes we experience the darkness of ignorance and confusion.

But as Simeon would discover, there is a light which no darkness can keep out, there is a light which the darkness cannot defeat, there is a light which persist to shine in the darkness. No matter how large the shadows or how dark the night, the light is still present.

Something happens when we encounter the light. There is power in this light. It is a light which conquers the darkness. Wherever there is the least bit of light, darkness is forced to flee. You can be in the darkest place imaginable and just a tiny match, when lit, has the power to drive away all that black, oppressive darkness. Without light, our world would be dark and it would be drab. There would be no colour. But with light, a dreary world becomes brighter, and even the coldest chill will thaw. The light also gives life and thus is the enemy of death. God uses the light of our witness and testimony to warm the dead sinner’s heart and to draw them to Jesus for salvation. And then there is the Light which brings order to chaos – a Light which sets everything right, in its proper place and order.

But that Light, that Illumination, also reveals. It reveals hope, especially in this Jubilee Year of Hope – the hope that the night of darkness will not last for ever. Hope is sure to come with the dawning light. It reveals mercy and forgiveness in the shadows of guilt and shame, presence and courage in the night of fear, compassion and hope in the black holes of sorrow and loss, a way forward in the blindness of ignorance and confusion, and life in the darkness of death. The flame of God’s love consumes the darkness, fills us, and frees us to go in peace, just as God promised.

But every revelation is also a bittersweet reality. Truth can be painful. God’s salvation will be costly, not only for Jesus, but also for those who love Him. So, instead of offering Mary congratulations on her fine Son, Simeon prophesies that a “sword shall pierce” Mary’s heart. This prophecy does not only reveal the suffering which the mother must endure but also provides a glimpse of what is to become of the Son. In the Light which enlightens, we see the silhouette of the cross. But it is in the cross, that Christians will behold their brightest light – the light of the resurrection, God’s final victory over death, sin and darkness! And that is God’s promise to us on Candlemas Day: that whatever we’re going through, light and hope will win out in the end.

Preach the Complete Truth

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

This passage has often been cited as a model for preachers to keep their sermons short and sweet. If you had paid attention to the last line of the passage, many have claimed that this is indeed the shortest sermon ever delivered: “This text is being fulfilled today even as you listen.” But such a claim is grossly inaccurate and in fact, quite mischievous. It is clear that when we read the rest of the text in this pericope, our Lord has much more to say. And it would be stretching it to see how our Lord won the approval of the audience and caused them to be “astonished by the gracious words that came from His lips,” with just this one liner. The “gracious words” here, would obviously point to other things which our Lord said, as evidenced by our Lord’s use of two Old Testament illustrations if you read the rest of the following verses, which are not included in our lectionary selection.

Pope Francis has often reiterated his preference for brevity in preaching, which in his opinion, should not exceed 10 minutes. By the number of likes and retweets we see in social media whenever the pontiff’s advice on succinct preaching is reported, we get the impression that many Catholics are certainly in support of this guidance and show us how little our well-thought-out homilies are appreciated by the masses.

But should our homilies be solely measured by their length? It is good to note that our Lord was not known for the brevity of His Sermons. We have both the Sermon on the Mount (St Matthew’s Gospel), which stretches across three chapters, and the parallel albeit shorter Sermon on the Plain (St Luke’s version), as proof that our Lord did deliver lengthy sermons when necessary. His lengthy discourses in the Fourth Gospel are further evidence of this point.

In short, it is always much more effective if you can say things in a far more efficient way with less verbosity, but brevity can never be the sole or the most important criterion. In fact, I dare say that our generation suffers more from a lack of hearing the Word than it does from over-hearing it. Our problem is not “too much” of the Word of God” but rather “too little.” Our generation can sit through a two-hour or sometimes three-hour movie, a student can endure an hour-long lecture involving complex ideas, a young person can be totally engrossed in his gaming for hours on end without requiring any break, and yet, find a ten to fifteen minutes homily something beyond endurance.

A good homily is never to be measured by its brevity or entertainment quality but by how it corresponds with God’s agenda as in the case of our Lord’s preaching in today’s passage. Our Lord was not just spewing nice platitudes and entertaining anecdotes. He was setting out not His own agenda but God’s programme for His ministry which He faithfully desired to adhere to. So how long should a sermon or homily take? As long as it is necessary to convey what God wishes to say to His people, and no clock is going to put a cap on that.

Returning to our gospel passage and our Lord’s supposed short 10 seconds sermon, it is good to remember who Jesus is, which no one else can claim to be. It would seem from the brevity of our Lord’s sermon that the words of the prophet Isaiah which our Lord had just read were sufficient and our Lord only needed to declare that if His congregation wished to understand its meaning, they only had to look at Him. Our Lord, the Word Enfleshed, is the living fulfilment of that message. So, our Lord has the sole privilege of delivering the shortest 10 seconds homily, only because He is the Word. The rest of us poor preachers need more time to get the message across, precisely because we are not the Word, merely its servants.

The homily provides an unmatched opportunity for us priests to remind or inform our congregation what exactly we believe, and why. It is said that St Dominic often reminded his confreres in the Order of Preachers that they only had two tasks – to speak with God or to speak about God. Notice what’s missing from this formula? The homily is not meant for the priest to speak about himself. It is not meant to entertain, to provide practical self-help or adapt to your comfort level. It is a chance for us to provide a clear, unafraid, proclamation of the fullness of the Truths taught by the Scriptures and the Church which guards the deposit of faith. We may or may not need 30 minutes to achieve that, but we do need to make sure that what is said is distinctively and challengingly Catholic.

Just before Christmas last year, Elon Musk tweeted a photo of two piles of documents which were meant to be passed by the US Congress to ensure that their government did not shut down. One was a voluminous bill with thousands of pages and the second was just a thin tiny fraction of the former with just over one hundred pages. The message of the juxtaposition was clear and simple. Smaller, thinner, less is better. A Catholic apologist affixed his own commentary to the picture. The thicker pile represented the deposit of faith of the Catholic Church while the vastly thinner pile represented the Protestant watered down version. When it comes to matters of faith, the Word of God, more is always far superior than lesser.

On this Sunday of the Word of God, let us make it our resolution to be read more, immerse ourselves deeper, and listen more attentively to the Word of God. Lesser isn’t better. In fact, we may spiritually die from being impoverished in reading and hearing the Word of God being proclaimed and preached. Instead of demanding for shortcuts and soundbites, let us be hungry for the full and complete Truth. God intended to give us solid food, let’s not settle for baby’s mushy gruel. He wants to reveal to us the complete Truth, let’s not be satisfied with partial truths. There will always be depths of God’s revelation that needs to be plunged, mysteries that need to be explored, theological understanding that could be better expounded. Likewise, in sharing the Catholic faith with others, we should always resist the temptation of dumbing-down the message of Christ. People are hungering for the complete Truth, don’t give them sound bites. It’s either the complete thing that we must demand for or it’s a fake.

The Best Wine for the last

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Every drinker would appreciate the wisdom found in this Bible verse taken from the Book of Ecclesiastes (9:7), “Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for it is now that God favours what you do.” Wine or alcohol can be a bringer of joy, albeit temporary. But when the initial momentary elation wears off, the mood can descend into tears, anger, and even violence... and don’t forget the massive hangover that is certain to follow. After the string of drinking parties stretching from Christmas to the New Year, it’s time to sober up. The celebration is literally over when “we have run out of wine”, money and leave!

The Bible treats intoxicating drinks ambivalently, considering them both a blessing from God that brings joy and merriment, and potentially dangerous beverages that can be sinfully abused. The wine in today’s gospel story bears the first sense. Thank God for that! The symbol of wine used with the theme of the wedding feast expresses the exhilarating joy of ‘the Hour,’ not just the hour of nuptial bliss for the couple, but the ‘Hour’ marking the decisive intervention of God and manifestation of His glory in Christ. This is the hour of Israel’s liberation. Her Saviour has come! But just when the celebrations were gaining momentum, it risked being turned into a disaster. The festivities encountered an untimely snag: “they ran out of wine.” The mother of Jesus announces the sobering news, “They have no wine.” For all those present, this would have sounded like a death sentence.

This incident is a very fitting illustration of the failure of all this world’s joys. As much as we hope for an inexhaustible supply of resources, as much as we pray that the party and the honeymoon will never end, we always end up with an empty casket after everything has been drained. We know what it means for the wine to run out. Sooner or later in every situation, in every lucky streak, in every relationship, in every type of human pleasure, the wine runs out. Our family members, one by one, leave the nest. Divorce or separation may come even after years of a happy married life. Our friends, with whom we've shared so many enjoyable times, slowly move away. Our motivation to work and to produce is soon replaced with fatigue and burn out. In the parish, the exodus of the young, and the gradual decline of the BECs seem to signal the death of a once vibrant community. In every human achievement, pleasure, and joy — the "wine" is bound to run out.

What do all these experiences tell us? Have we truly run out of wine? Has the party ended? Or are these scenarios merely pointing to the fact that we are often dictated by our subjective experiences, especially our emotions? It is interesting to note that our assessment of any situation is often dictated by our subjective experience. “How do I feel?” This is quite natural. The problem is that we often assume that our subjective assessment is conclusive and infallible. But our feelings say more about ourselves than objective realities. We confuse our emotional urges for the voice of conscience. In any event, emotions are always beyond our control and they never last. This kind of wine is inevitably doomed to run out.

Thousands of years ago, the people of Israel also thought that the destruction of their country meant the end of everything. They were mocked by their neighbours as the “Forsaken” and “Abandoned” People. Israel had only herself to blame for this due to her infidelity. But Isaiah in the first reading gives an entirely different ending to the story, an objective one as far as it is the vision of God. It is a message of hope. All is not lost because God will return to redeem them. They will be called by a new name; they will be called “My Delight” and “The Wedded” for God has taken delight in them again. God has renewed His covenant with them – He has wedded them again. What brought about this change? They finally realised that glory and blessings come from God alone. No human power, riches or glory will last. Eventually all these things will run out except that which is given by God.

Our most common folly is that we often realise this important point only too late, after our own resources have been depleted or exhausted. In our drunken merriment, self-absorbed in our own human achievements, we often fail to recognise that Christ is the true source of joy, an inexhaustible and irrevocable joy, unless we choose to ignore Him. He is not only the provider of the wine that will never run out. He is the Best Wine often mistakenly kept for the last.

Thus, we must guard against the deception of subjective assessment and be misled into thinking that this is the end, merely on the basis that we feel it is so. When we allow our subjective impressions to dictate our lives, it would only lead to chaos and confusion. Here, our Catholic understanding of the Sacraments is important. Sacramental theology speaks of an objective reality, which is the grace we receive in the Sacraments, that is not dependent on our subjective experience or our emotions. Christ is present, truly, really, substantially at every Mass and in the tabernacle whether you “feel” it or not. The truth that Christ is present here is a fact. Your feelings do not matter. “Facts have no feelings!”

Likewise, even when the parties to the marriage no longer feel anything for the other, this does not spell the end of the marriage. The subjective experience of the parties does not determine the end of the objective reality proposed by the sacrament. Objectively, Christ remains faithful; He continues to confer the necessary grace through the Sacrament of matrimony, and this ultimately defines the permanency of the marital bond. In another instance, even if everyone in the congregation felt listless and bored during the entire mass, or the priest was ill-prepared to celebrate the mass, the mass is still objectively the Sacrifice of the Cross. As the fate of marriages cannot be determined by changing sentiment, the victory of the Cross is not undone by our fluctuating moods.

So, what do we do when the wine runs out? What do we do when the thrill is gone? What do we do when the faith dissipates? Many look for substitutes, only to find themselves disappointed once again because the wine will also run out. ‘Running away’ is no solution too. Mary shows us the way. The strength of Mary’s faith is when she tells the servants to follow the instructions of her Son. We run to Jesus with faith that He can do even the impossible, even outmatching the miracle of transforming water into wine. Mary teaches us to come to Him in humble submission, ready to listen to what He has to tell us, even though it may go against our better judgment. So, when the wine runs out, don’t attempt to brew some more, don’t look for cheap alternatives and don't run away. It’s not over. The best wine has been saved for the last – it is Jesus.

The New Adam

Feast of the Baptism of the Lord Year C

The story of the baptism of the Lord is found in all four gospels with tiny but significant differences. In the Fourth Gospel, the account is reported speech or a hear say account by St John the Baptist, whereas Matthew, Mark and Luke record this event directly as if they had witnessed it or received the testimony of other witnesses. But in all three Synoptic gospels, we see both similarities and differences in the basic order. Matthew, Mark, and Luke all follow the same basic order of events: the appearance of St John the Baptist and an introduction to his ministry followed by the Baptism of the Lord.

Although both Matthew and Mark record that the Lord is baptised by John, Luke remains silent on this. We can only assume as the reader and from comparing this text with the other parallel texts, that our Lord was baptised by John. But this omission may in fact be deliberate. In fact, Luke may have wanted to emphasise that Jesus baptised Himself since no one was worthy to do so: “Jesus after his own baptism.” Unlike us who are adopted children of God through baptism, that is being baptised by another person, Jesus who is already the Son of God by nature had no need of such elevation or coronation. In Matthew and Mark, immediately after hearing the voice of the Father, Jesus is led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted.

But Luke uniquely breaks the flow by offering us Jesus’ genealogy between the baptism and the temptation. This is a curious placement for a genealogy, and at first pass, it might seem to interrupt the flow of Luke’s narrative. We might expect Luke to place the genealogy at the beginning of his Gospel (such as we find in Matthew), or perhaps at the end of Luke chapter 1, right before Jesus’ birth. Yet Luke strategically places it here, just after our Lord’s baptism and prior to the episode on how the Lord endured temptations in the wilderness.

The key to understanding the placement of the genealogy is found within the genealogy itself. Unlike Luke, Matthew’s gospel is written to the Jewish community. As such, Matthew’s genealogy (presumably following Joseph’s line) links Jesus to King David, the greatest of the Jewish Kings, and then to Abraham, the father of the Jewish people. And there Matthew’s genealogy stops. But Luke’s gospel is written to a non-Jewish audience, and his genealogy does not focus on Jesus’ relation to Abraham. Instead, Luke (presumably following Mary’s line) traces Jesus all the way back to Adam, and then ultimately to God.

Matthew’s genealogy presents Jesus as the second David, a son of Abraham. Luke’s genealogy presents Jesus as the second Adam, a son of God. This should not come as a surprise to any reader of the Gospel of St Luke, as the angel had already announced to Mary at the Annunciation: “He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High.” But what is more surprising, unlike Matthew, Luke begins his genealogy with Jesus who is described as the Son of God and then traces it back to Adam, another son of God. In fact, the last name in the genealogy is not even Adam, it is God: “Adam, the son of God.” That this genealogy terminates with God Himself is a feature unparalleled in the ancient world, including the Old Testament. Having begun his genealogy with Jesus instead of Adam, Luke wishes to emphasise that Jesus’ identity had no need of validation by tracing his lineage back to Adam. On the contrary, it is Adam who is being validated and confirmed by his descendant, Jesus, the Son of Mary and the only begotten and Beloved Son of God.

And thus, Luke offers us the genealogy — linking Jesus to Adam, and ultimately to God — as a means of introducing Jesus’ temptation. With the placement and nature of his genealogy, Luke intends us to see Jesus’ wilderness temptation as a recapitulation of Adam’s garden temptation. It is Jesus — the descendent of Adam and the Son of God — who will overthrow the devil. Where Adam failed the test, Jesus will endure Satan’s temptations and remain faithful to the Father. Where the first Adam failed, the Second Adam would succeed.

So, what our Lord accomplished by nature, we enjoy through the grace, especially the grace of baptism. Most people often believe that baptism serves as a means of washing away our sins. It does. Others believe that it is a rite of passage which incorporates us into the “club,” the Church. That too happens. But most importantly, baptism incorporates us into the life of Christ. We follow Him into the waters of baptism to partake of His death and to die to our old selves but we also rise from the waters of baptism as a new creation, a Christian, in other words, a little Christ, as we now share in the graces of His resurrection. We cast aside our fallen nature which we inherited from the old Adam so that we may now be adorned with Christ, the new Adam, and because of this ontological or substantial change in us, we have now become sons and daughters of God. As the Catechism teaches: “Baptism not only purifies from all sins, but also makes the neophyte "a new creature," an adopted son of God, who has become a "partaker of the divine nature,” member of Christ and coheir with him, and a temple of the Holy Spirit” (CCC 1265).

Herein lies the deepest mysteries of the Sacraments instituted by Christ for our salvation and growth in holiness. The Sacraments are not just “things” that we do, archaic ceremonies that are performed to appease God. Our Lord Jesus did not come into the world merely to do things for us, but rather He came to open up through His humanity a way to participate in His divinity, to graft ourselves into His very life. So, today as we celebrate the Feast of the Baptism of our Lord, let us remember with ever greater certitude that the heavenly voice that spoke “my Beloved” that day was referring no less to us than to Christ, that it applies in equal measure and with equal intensity to all of you who have been incorporated into Him “through the bath of rebirth.”